A Touch of Midnight (Midnight Breed 0.5)

Before Savannah ended up any further into the crossfire.

They couldn't stay here forever. Wherever they were. Tegan had never mentioned this place before. Even though the warrior had offered the old house up to Gideon, he had no misconceptions that Tegan meant it to be a very temporary shelter. Frankly, Gideon had to agree with Savannah that the place felt more like a neglected tomb than a home.

As much as Gideon hated to admit it, she needed to be moved to a more suitable, more permanent, arrangement. And unless he had lost his mind and meant to defy Lucan Thorne's edict for a second time in so many days, he couldn't very well bring Savannah to the compound. Gideon could just imagine how the Order's unyielding Gen One leader would react to a civilian being brought there against long-standing Order protocol.

But if she went there as Gideon's mate?

The notion hit him hard. Not because it was a fucking crazy, bad idea. But because of how sane and right it felt to him.

Savannah at his side, bonded together in blood and life for somewhere close to forever.

Take all that you want, Gideon.

Savannah, his Breedmate.

Holy hell . . . .

The thought opened up something hot and deep in his chest. A longing. A yearning so total, it rendered him motionless, unbreathing.

Ah, Christ.

The bloody last thing he needed was to let himself fall in love with Savannah.

He cursed roundly, making a vicious stab at the air with the long dagger he'd used to gut the Rogue who'd gone after Savannah. Pivoting on his bare heel, he lunged into another mock strike, this one intended for the unknown enemy he was determined to unmask--right before he would force that Breed male to swallow the same steel that killed his Rogue errand boy.

It was at that moment Gideon heard a soft stirring in the other room.

Savannah was out of bed. She drifted into the open doorway of the adjacent room where he stood, the long dagger gripped in his hand, his motion suspended in the stance of a man poised to kill.

"Savannah."

She stared at him, her big brown eyes still drowsy, her beautiful, lithe body utterly naked. So stunning.

Gideon drank in the sight of her with a greedy gaze, his pulse kicking with swift, fierce arousal.

But she wasn't looking at him the same way.

She seemed stricken somehow. Wooden with silent shock.

"Oh, my God," she murmured after a moment. Her voice was small and breathless, though not from sleep or desire. She gaped at him in a mix of shock and hurt, her pretty face twisted with confusion. "Oh, my God...I knew you looked familiar. I knew I'd seen you somewhere before--"

"Savannah, what's wrong?" He set the blade down on the fireplace mantel and headed toward her.

"No." She shook her head, held out a hand as if to bar him from getting any closer. "I saw you before, Gideon. When I held the old sword, I saw the murder of those two little boys all those years ago...but I also saw you."

His blood ran cold in the face of her fear. "Savannah--"

"I saw you, like this, with a blade in your hand--the way you looked just now," she said, talking over him. "Except it wasn't you. It couldn't be you."

He didn't speak, couldn't refute what she was saying. What she saw with her Breedmate's gift.

"I mean, how could it be you, right?" she pressed, a raw edge to her words. "The man I saw should be a couple of centuries dead by now."

"I can explain," he offered lamely.

He stepped closer toward her, but she flinched away. She crossed her arms over herself as if she were naked in front of a stranger now. "You're not human," she murmured. "You can't be."

He cursed softly. "I don't want you to be afraid of me, Savannah. If you would just hear me out now--"