A Touch of Midnight (Midnight Breed 0.5)

Smithson's chest rattled with a wet, gurgling breath as death took him under. His Minion dropped lifeless to the ground at the same time, the mind slave's life tied inexorably to his Master's.

"Savannah." Gideon dragged himself over to where Amelie hovered at her side. Savannah wasn't moving. Her back was covered in blood. The gunshot wound a dark hole burned through her pale gray sweater, up near her ribs.

"She's dying!" Amelie wailed, not looking at him, but focused completely on her sister. She petted Savannah with trembling hands, her face stricken with sorrow. "You promised to save her. You swore on your life."

"Move aside," he rasped thickly, his voice unearthly, ragged from injury and anguish and the crowding presence of his fangs, which filled his mouth. "Let me help her."

It was only then that Amelie turned to look at him. She sucked in a sharp breath and recoiled. She scrabbled backward with Savannah held close to her as if she thought she could protect her from the monster, bleeding and hideously transformed from the man he'd been just a few minutes ago. "Oh, my God. What kind of devil's spawn are you?"

"Please," Gideon hissed. His vision was fading, his pulse hammering heavily in his temples, bringing excruciating pain to his skull. He had to act quickly. There wasn't much time to do what was needed before one or the other of them died. He reached for Savannah's hand, gently took her limp form out of Amelie's grasp. "Please, it's the only way. Trust me in this. Let me save her."

He didn't wait. Couldn't let another second tick by without feeding the power of his blood to Savannah's wounds.

He bit into his wrist and held the opened vein over her parted lips.

"Drink," he whispered thickly. "Please, baby...drink for me."

Deep red droplets splashed down into her slack mouth. The stream picked up speed, pulsing out of him with every labored beat of his heart. "Come on, Savannah. Do it. Please take this gift from me. It's all I have to give you now."

Her tongue began to flick softly. Her slender throat began to work, taking the first swallow from his vein. She drank again, then another. Her eyelids started to lift slightly, just a hint of response, but enough to wring a sigh of naked relief out of Gideon's chest.

She would survive.

He felt it with a certainty that humbled him. His blood would save her.

She was alive. Smithson was dead, unable to harm her.

Gideon had kept his promise to her, after all.

His vision faded from dull gray to black, a numbness creeping over his scalp. He had to struggle to remain upright, invisible tethers dragging him down.

He fought the heavy pull of his injury and cradled Savannah's head in his arm, centering himself with the steady rhythm of her mouth working softly at his wrist, drinking from him, healing because of him.

For now, that was enough.

Chapter 16

Savannah was resting in a chair in the back bedroom of Amelie's house when Gideon woke for the first time since the shooting.

It had been nearly eighteen hours of waiting, of hoping.

Of praying that by some miracle, he would come back to her.

She had tended him as best she could, fully recovered from the ordeal herself and having never felt stronger in her life.

Thanks to him.

She went to his bedside as his eyelids began to twitch. Leaning over him, she stroked his face, smoothed back the soft spikes of his blond hair. He leaned his face into her touch, moaning quietly. His eyes opened narrowly, squinting in the dim light of the shaded bedroom. "Where are we?"

"My sister's house," she answered gently.

He wheezed slightly, anxious now. "Are we alone? Does anyone know I'm here?"

"Just Amelie. It's okay, Gideon. She knows about you. I helped her understand what you are. She'll keep our secret."

"Where is she?"

"In the other room, watching television."