had not fed in a good while. Her life essence was there, but
it was feeble, almost flickering. His kind could do that, but it required a bite
and he had not felt the presence of a vampire anywhere. A very powerful
witch or a demon would have that ability as well. Either could have been in
the crowd this evening, but the air had been filled with too much frenzied,
kinetic energy to hone in on that, not that he had been looking. He’d been
trying to piece together why the dragon was dropping bodies at Smith’s
mansion. He suspected it was Balor’s way of letting him know that he was
being watched.
Gavin looked down at Chloe. She was still pale, but not as deathly white as
before. He wished Nimue would make her presence known, the sooner the
better. Once the clue for the platter had been delivered, he could be on his
way looking for it. He was fairly sure that Sigurd would follow him, but Gavin
did not like the fact that two mortal women had disappeared in the process
of locating the spear and sword. He didn’t want Chloe—Miss Whitney—to be
the next target.
Of course, Nimue was probably scattering faerie dust somewhere, oblivious
to time in the real world.
Gavin edged himself onto the sofa and began massaging Chloe’s temples
lightly.
If he were alone with her, he could have tasted her blood to determine
exactly who—or what—had gotten into her mind, but with Smith and
Caldwell watching, he had to use a less obtrusive method.
“You are safe now.” He sent the thought silently. “You can come back to us.”
Her breathing deepened. Whatever had its hold on her was gone. In a few
minutes, she’d recover. Gavin eased himself away and as he did, a button
popped on her blouse, sliding off one shoulder and revealing the full
roundness of her breast. Quickly, he slipped the shirt back up before either
Caldwell or Smith had time to see what he just had. Under any other
circumstances, the sight of that luscious mound, a lacy bra barely covering a
pink nipple, would have had him salivating, but that wasn’t what had caught
his eye. Well, actually it had caught his eye—he was still a male, just an
immortal one—but it was something else that made a chill run down his
spine.
Chloe had a tiny red and gold dragon tattooed on the side of her breast.
He took a deep breath as she stirred and opened her eyes. Mr. Smith dashed
over to her with Caldwell close behind. Gavin ignored both of them, deep in
thought.
Was it possible that Sigurd had been following Chloe instead of him? The
likeness of the Pendragon, his nemesis, would certainly have attracted the
dragon. Some demon or witch had entered her mind this evening, so the link
was there.
If the dragon had attached itself to Chloe, the worst thing Gavin could do
was desert her while he went hunting for the platter. She would have no
idea of how to defend herself against it or the forces behind all of this.
Which meant, Gavin would have to take Chloe with him.
With the strange bloodlust urge he had when he was around her, Gavin
wasn’t sure which would be the most dangerous.
****
‘She was a prostitute? Oh, my!” Mr. Smith’s hands fluttered as he wrung his
linen handkerchief and stared at Captain Johnson sitting in his study.
“Whatever would a prostitute be doing in this neighborhood?”
“Doubtful she was working the neighborhood,” the captain answered. “There
was little blood on your lawn and, as gashed up as the body is, plenty of
blood had been spilled. She was dropped off.” He turned to Chloe who was
seated near Gavin across the room still looking pale. “You say you thought
you saw a flash of lightening?”
“I wasn’t sure. I heard the roar about the same time and thought a funnel
had touched down.” Actually, the noise outside from the media trucks
setting up and the general bustle of reporters crowding as close to the
property and testing their equipment was almost as loud.
“Not the season