“Like you, healer.” Aidan couldn’t help but make the accusation. He hated the talk of his twin turning vampire.
Gregori didn’t flinch. “Exactly like me. That is the point. You will call for my aid should there be the need.” He was staring directly into the other man’s golden gaze. His voice was low and compelling, beautiful and haunting.
Aidan looked away from those silver eyes. Eyes that could see into a man’s soul. “I will, Gregori. I know what you say is true, although I do not want to believe Julian could turn.”
“Anyone can turn, Aidan. Any one of us without a lifemate.” Gregori glided across the room because he could not stand the physical distance Savannah had put between them. Her eyes were once again shadowed and haunted, the memorial service filling her with sadness and guilt. He slipped behind her chair, his hands coming down on her shoulders to begin a gentle massage. He needed the contact as much as she did.
Aidan hid his shock. He had known Gregori for centuries, had learned healing arts from him, had learned to stalk and kill the vampire from him. Nothing ever touched Gregori. Nothing. No one. But those cold silver eyes, as they swept over Savannah, were molten mercury, the man’s posture clearly protective, possessive, and the touch on her shoulders was frankly tender. Are you all right, chérie? Perhaps you should lie down for a while.
Savannah smiled wanly up at him. She was looking far more pale than he liked. He had hunted that evening despite the early hour, taking enough blood to sustain both of them. But she had refused to feed, as if denying her hunger were some kind of penance for her sins. His hand went to the nape of her neck and massaged gently. Her hunger beat at him, and he knew Aidan could feel it, too.
The Carpathian male was watching him, without obvious censure but with a puzzled expression all the same in his deep golden gaze. Gregori felt it like a knife: he wasn’t taking care of his lifemate the way he should.
Don’t be silly, Gregori. Savannah’s soft voice swirled in his mind. You take great care of me. Who cares what anyone else thinks?
“So, healer,” Aidan said, “have you made up your mind where you wish to lead these butchers?”
Savannah stirred, twisting to look back at Gregori, her blue eyes suddenly alive. “Do you have somewhere you particularly want to go?”
“You have a place in mind?” he asked. He knew it was a mistake to look into her eyes. He could drown in her eyes. It was like falling over the edge of a cliff.
“Yes. New Orleans. The French Quarter’s jazz festival is this week. I’ve wanted to go for a long time. Now we can go together. Do you like jazz? I love jazz.” She flashed a broad smile at him. “I had made plans to go before… all this happened. In fact, I got a place there.”
She really wanted to go. It was in her eyes, in her mind. This was important to her. Gregori could feel a terrible dread rising. It was almost impossible to deny Savannah anything. Yet he could not take her to New Orleans, vampire capital of the world, city of sin. The butchers probably had their headquarters there. He stifled a groan. “You have a residence in New Orleans?”
“Don’t sound so gloomy. You wanted to go somewhere, lead the society away from the Savages, so where better than the next place on my schedule? No one will think our move the least bit odd or suspicious,” she pointed out, “since it was already on my agenda.”
Gregori glanced at Aidan and shook his head. “Do you hear the logic of that? She has never been to the French Quarter of New Orleans, but no one will think it odd that she suddenly shows up in a home there.”
“Very logical,” Aidan agreed. “I can see you have your hands full, and I must return to Alexandria. First, though, I would very much like to visit with the reporter with you.” For a moment his face was hard, a cruel edge to his mouth. “I remember what was done to our people by this society.”