He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was after three. Maybe he’d come up with a way to tell her about this new plan by the morning. He rubbed a hand over his face, and just maybe, he was kidding himself.
* * *
When he finished with his shower, Garrett tiptoed downstairs to the second floor, careful not to wake Gillian. He ducked into the guest room across the hall and booted up his desktop to check his email. His boss had sent him the client list from the Cherry woman. But how did it relate to Malcom? He’d been looking for the Ancient for over a century and had come up emptyhanded. The Du Sang Brotherhood had the vampire’s name written all over it. His sire had to be close.
He typed his name into the RHPD database and waited. The Ancient vampire had all but disappeared like a wisp of smoke after he’d left Hungary.
His hands curled into fists when he found a link to a website for some type of elite singles dating service that both Lawrence and a Malcom Strauss were involved in. Somehow this was all tied together. He felt it deep in his gut.
Sadly, it wasn’t in a neat little bow. He pulled out his cell and sent the info to the agents and his partner. For now, he’d just have to wait.
It wouldn’t be a stretch to assume that Malcom had come to Hoboken or the neighboring town of Raven’s Hollow because of Sybil’s Cave. From what he’d gleaned over the many years of living here, the caves were excavated back in the nineteenth century and held a natural spring. When a vampire drank the water, their vitality became restored, especially for those who sucked the blood from the sick and the weak, much like his sire had done to him. Vampires had flocked here from all over the world to gain access to the water until it became a rare commodity. Now only those with connections to shady figures could get their hands on it. The cops and the MBI left the caves alone, never having enough resources to do a clean sweep of the place. Could Sybil’s Cave be connected to the Brotherhood somehow?
Garrett contemplated all the possibilities as he tapped his fingers on his desk.
If Malcom was behind this trafficking ring, he’d make sure he paid. Thinking about his sire turned his mood dark. He leaned back in his chair and took deep breaths to calm the rage building in his gut.
After spending a few more hours researching the case, he finally logged off the computer. Drained, he got to his feet and stalked across the hall to the room Gillian was staying in. Even before he crossed the threshold, he could detect the steady sound of her breath and the soft flutter of her heart.
Moonlight spilled in from the window, illuminating her sleeping form. He walked to the bed and stood over her, mesmerized by the sight in front of him. She reminded him of a rare piece of art he got to admire for the first time. His chest grew tight when he saw her tear-streaked cheeks. Fighting the urge to wipe them away, he pushed his hands into his pockets. She’d been through hell tonight and held up remarkably well. Beams of moonlight licked across her skin. Her hair fanned her pillow like spun silk. The sight of her took his breath away. Her beauty tamed the beast within him. Women like her were the inspiration for sonnets and love songs—the downfall of kingdoms.
She murmured in her sleep and kicked off the covers, half expecting to see her in a scant piece of lingerie he’d spotted in her room, she wore a simple white tank top that emphasized the swell of her breasts and the outline of her nipples. He could almost make out their pink, dusky color. His cock instantly swelled.
“No, you can’t,” she whispered.
He realized she was having a nightmare. When he smelled her fear, he placed his hand on her shoulder. Her skin was even softer than he imagined. A gentle shake didn’t wake her, but when she whimpered, he shook her again, a bit firmer this time. Finally, she stopped twisting about and moaned in her sleep, her face flushing as pink as her nipples. Her breaths grew shallow. Whatever she was dreaming about now, it wasn’t a nightmare. He could smell her arousal.
“Garrett,” she whispered.
Part of him wanted to rouse her awake, wrap her in his arms, and comfort her with deep kisses and soft caresses. The other part of him feared he was in over his head. She let out a breath, turned on her side, and fell back into a deeper sleep. At least now how he knew she didn’t hate him.
Shaking with lust, and a possessiveness he couldn’t explain, he took a step back and sank into the chair. With the tempting scent of her arousal surrounding him and the soft breathy sounds coming from her lips, he wondered if this longing would ever go away. His body was strung tight, hard as stone.
One thing became crystal clear, he needed to push aside his selfish desires and relinquish this foolish infatuation once and for all. As long as he stayed frozen in his immortal existence, he had nothing to offer Gillian. Worse, his ties to his sire would put her in even more danger.
He’d do everything in his power to make sure no harm came to her, even if that meant pushing her away.
Chapter 10
Aray of bright morning sunshine filtered in from the bedroom window and forced Gillian to shield her eyes. Momentarily disoriented from being in a strange bed, she remembered where she was and turned her head so fast she was surprised she didn’t give herself whiplash.
Glancing over at the empty chair, she let out a sigh and sat up. Mulroney must’ve left his post at some point early in the morning. The idea of him watching her while she slept made her seriously self-conscious. Had he heard her snoring or caught her drooling? Goddess, she hoped not.
Fumbling around for her phone to see if anyone had contacted her, she realized she’d left it charging downstairs. What if Brooke had found a way to call? If only there was a way to know if she was okay.
Mulroney vowed that he’d do everything in his power to find her, and despite their differences, she believed him. If nothing else, he was a man of his word.
She had to try to find out more about where Brooke was being held. After she kicked off the covers, she walked to her suitcase and pulled out her tarot cards along with her crystals. She arranged both across the bed and tried to tune into Brooke’s energy. At first, all she could make out were the same dark, grainy images from last night. She cleared her mind and concentrated harder. After a few deep breathes, Brooke appeared. She walked through a maze of sprawling green lawns.
Her heart thumped against her ribs. She was alive, but she could be anywhere.
She blinked, and the image disappeared. Frustrated, she got out of bed and reached for her robe, which she’d hung on the back of the door. She threw it on over her tank top and PJ shorts and then grabbed her toiletry case out of her suitcase. It made no sense to unpack; she wouldn’t be staying long.
After she padded down the hall to the bathroom, she brushed her teeth and splashed cold water on her face. When she glanced in the mirror at her reflection, dark smears appeared under her eyes, and she had a serious case of bed head after sleeping on wet hair. She looked like death warmed over. She’d have to apply a boatload of concealer when she got ready for work. The idea of going about her day and acting natural when Brooke was still missing filled her stomach with nervous butterflies.
Mulroney said she needed to stick to her routine, and part of her morning routine involved meditation to replenish her magick and going for a run to clear her head. Nothing, except maybe a good orgasm, beat the endorphin release, and today, she could use both. But asking Mulroney to accompany her on her morning jog would be pushing it, although having him help her with the orgasm sounded tempting but completely out of the question.
The smell of coffee and cinnamon wafted through the hall, and her stomach growled in response. Once she made it to the bottom of the stairs, she froze, struck by the tantalizing image in front of her.
