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A sharp chill shot up her spine at the darkness laced in his voice, though she was pretty sure he’d spoken in the same tone he had before. Sirus was far from what she would have imagined a vampire to be, but she was struggling to doubt him. In fact, Gwen couldn’t help but believe him. It was a strange thing. For as dark, stoic, and withholding as Sirus presented himself to be, she felt a deep earnestness in those frosted silver eyes. Like he wouldn’t be bothered to lie.
The thought of Sirus hovering over her, all dark and ominous and hungry, should have made her shiver in her shoes. Instead, heat bloomed where the chill up her spine had laid a course.
“How though?” She kept going because at this point she was too far down the rabbit hole to turn back, and there was no one there to stop her. Except him. “Without fangs?”
The way he held her gaze was extremely unnerving but quite intoxicating. “We manage,” he replied, the words long and dark. Or so she thought.
Right. An involuntary shudder crept over her at his response. At the insinuation in it. Each answer and nonanswer drew her further in, spurred her curiosity that much more. She wanted the details and didn’t at the same time. Her desire to learn more about vampires, about him, was just feeding into fantasy, she knew. A fantasy she should be avoiding, not throwing herself into headfirst.
For a minute she simply stood there, looking into those captivating eyes, letting the silence linger as the fire cracked. The fantasy was a reality, though. He wasn’t just a dream anymore. Sirus was a real, blood-drinking vampire. Even without the two swords that were still strapped to his back, she didn’t doubt he was dangerous. It might have been funny if it wasn’t so utterly overwhelming.
In her real life, Gwen had a hard time trusting anyone, yet here she was, compelled to trust a complete stranger. Not only a complete stranger, but a man whom she’d only met in a dream. One that happened to be a sword-wielding vampire.
“I want to know—” she started. When the words came out in a whisper, Gwen cleared her throat and tried again. “I want to know what’s going on? Really.”
The muscles in his jaw tightened. The silence lingered for so long, she wasn’t sure if he was ever going to answer. It took everything in her power not to fidget or say something else to fill the void. “You’re being hunted,” he offered eventually. “I was contracted to find you and keep you hidden.”
They’d already told her that much. “But why? And who hired you?” she pressed, shaking her head.
“The details are irrelevant.”
Gwen scowled. Maybe he wasn’t honest so much as he was frustratingly withholding. “I’m sorry,” she retorted with a heaping pile of sarcasm, “but they’re extremely relevant to me.”
He let out a breath through his nose, and she assumed she’d succeeded in irritating him, if she hadn’t already. She wasn’t trying to annoy him on purpose, but—dammit!—she deserved to know!
When he motioned to the chair near the fire, she tensed. “Sit,” he told her.
She blinked back her surprise, taking a minute to process the command. “I’m fine,” she replied, none too delicately. She was tired, but she wasn’t going to crumple onto the floor. The moment she thought it, she teetered off balance, grabbing the back of the couch to steady herself.
His back straightened, turning him into an even more formidable presence. “Sit,” he repeated in clear command. “Then we will talk.”
She let out a heavy, irritated breath. Gwen could tell from his dynamic with Barith that Sirus was definitely the one in charge. That he was used to being heeded. She didn’t much care for being bossed around, but she moved toward the chair, her legs—and her curiosity—once more betraying her.
Gwen sat forcefully, her expression shifting to clear impatience when he didn’t immediately start talking. She wanted to be annoyed at the way he stared down at her, but it seemed her body had other plans with that as well. She flushed under his direct gaze, unconsciously fidgeting with fabric at the edge of the cushion. In her head, Gwen cursed. This was really getting ridiculous. She needed answers, she reminded herself. She needed to focus on reality, not?—
He began to remove his swords, and she froze.
His long fingers moved fluidly to unbuckle the black leather harness, sliding it off in one graceful sweep. He set his swords on the small table in front of her. Even in the dim firelight, Gwen could see that the leather was worn but well cared for. The exposed silver hilts facing her were elaborately molded with swirls of patterns.
He shrugged out of his jacket, revealing a dark blue cable-knit sweater underneath. Her mouth went dry, and she forgot all about the swords. The sweater hugged his body so close she could see the outline of his athletically muscled chest and shoulders. She’d felt how solid he was when she’d been pressed against him back at her apartment, but good grief, he was?—
Nope!
She forced herself to look away as she pushed the scandalously graphic thoughts of Sirus out of her mind. Yes, Sirus was hot—annoyingly hot—but thinking of him that way wouldn’t do her any good. She needed to focus. Gwen took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She couldn’t help herself. She peeked. The neck of his sweater was pulled down just enough that she could make out the stark outline of the dip just above his sternum, the smallest hint of dark hair, and…were those tattoos? That little fire he’d lit suddenly made her feel sweltering in the quickly shrinking space.
“Are you well?” he asked, his eyes on her as he tossed his jacket over the back of a chair.
Gwen fidgeted under the deepening heat of her face. “Fine,” she squeaked, resisting the urge to fan herself. “It’s just a little warm, and I’m waiting for you to start talking.” Which was true.
He turned and stalked over to the fire, prodding the logs farther apart with an iron. It was a simple act, but when she realized what he was doing a little flutter cascaded through her chest. He was lessening the heat because she’d said she was warm.
“Who contracted me, I cannot divulge,” he said, turning from the fire, his voice cool and even. “But know that you are safe. For now, that’s all you need to know.”
In only a few sentences, she went from flushed to annoyed again. “So you’re just not going to tell me?” she clipped back, indignant. Gwen had been inclined to trust Sirus because of her dream, but now she knew that was ridiculous. Beyond the fact that she needed to get a grip and focus on reality, he’d proven he was absolutely nothing like the shadow man in her dream. Well, not nothing like him. They both seemed to have the same knack for making her feel flushed. Though the real Sirus also had the equally uncanny ability to make her feel like she’d just been dumped in a frozen lake.
He took a seat on the small couch next to her chair, extending one long leg over the other, and shifted to meet her gaze. His expression was unreadable. Vacant. Cold. He didn’t say a thing.
Anger bubbled up inside her. If he wasn’t going to tell her anything, then why was he even here? “I’m sure this silent-treatment schtick you’ve got going on works wonders for your vampire image,” she grumbled sharply, “but I’m not going to just let this go. My apartment has been torn to shreds. You and Barith told me I’m being hunted. I deserve more than vapid promises of my safety.”
