her skin, inhaling the sweetness of her life.
She whimpered while he pressed her trembling body against his chest, supporting her head in the crook of his arm. Gideon scraped his teeth across her skin and waited. The final penetration was so much sweeter when he prolonged the tension and built the urgency.
The erotic give of her flesh beneath his fangs sent ripples of pleasure through Gideon’s entire body. Again he paused, savoring the physical connection before he began to feed. He absorbed her energy, renewing his strength with her human essence.
Power expanded within him. Hunger gradually abated, leaving in its place a tingling heat. Gideon pulled back, panting softly, before he swept his tongue across her skin to seal the wound.
He closed his eyes, his hunger appeased yet far from replete. The memory of Naomi’s blood, sweet and pure, taunted him. Why was this happening? He must not become ensnared in his own trap.
Pressing his lips to the woman’s temple, he took the memory of his face from her mind and muddled even her memory of Crispin.
“Take her,” he told Crispin, pushing the girl away. “Then return to me. We are not finished.”
Crispin returned alone a few moments later. Again Gideon smelled fear but none of it showed on his friend’s face.
“Did your plan work?” Crispin asked audaciously.
He was clever, this mortal man. The question inferred that any dissatisfaction Gideon was now experiencing resulted from some flaw in his plan.
“I told you to frighten Naomi.” Gideon spoke in an even, misleadingly soft tone. He stalked toward Crispin, intentionally revealing his predatory nature.
“And was she not frightened?”
A feral growl escaped Gideon as he sprang. In an instant, he grabbed Crispin by the throat and slammed him against the wall of the barracks. He could see the golden glow of his own gaze on the stunned face of his victim. “She was a bit more than frightened, Crispin,” he whispered.
“I did what you directed.” Gideon’s hold stretched Crispin onto his toes, but his features remained in a mutinous scowl. He reached up and clasped Gideon’s wrist. “You told me to make her believe the danger was real. Had I been any less aggressive, she’d not have been convinced.”
“How long were you prepared to be ‘aggressive’? You touched her breasts. You tasted her mouth! I should rip out your throat while you—”
“I acted on your command,” he interrupted hoarsely.
Gideon released him suddenly and stepped back. What Crispin said was true. Gideon had arranged the situation. Still, he had never imagined his own reaction to seeing Naomi writhing helplessly beneath Crispin’s big body.
“She should not have this power over me,” he muttered more to himself than to Crispin.
Crispin rubbed his bruised throat and wisely kept silent.
Gideon paced back and forth, his thoughts chaotic, his emotions seething. “Where is Gabriel?”
“He has retired for the night as you expected.”
“Did he speak with Naomi?”
Crispin shook his head. “No one approached while I was observing him. Where did you take her after you returned?”
A fresh rush of jealousy assailed Gideon. He shouldn’t care that another man had touched her skin and seen her naked breasts. The persistent memory brought violent urges ever closer to the surface.
“She twisted her ankle fleeing your tender ministrations,” he snapped.
“She threw herself from my horse,” Crispin objected then asked more quietly, “Is she in the infirmary or did you return her to the dormitory?”
“I took her to the dormitory, but you must be sure Gabriel checks her condition in the morning.”
“And how will she explain her injury to Gabriel?”
“That is not my concern. She can tell him whatever she likes.”
“Do you consider this a success? Will this help her trust you or was—”
Crispin’s question was cut short by Gideon’s fist. He managed to temper his strength but he could contain his wrath
Learning to Kill: Stories