Page 51 of Brutal King

Quickly as I can, I toss in fresh wood from the stack next to the fireplace. But when I go to grab the matches from the mantle, I hear that ghostly moan right behind me.

Nearly jumping out of my skin, I whirl around and have to stifle a gasp when I see Gideon lying on the couch. “Must you creep around like a fucking vampire?”

His lids crack open just a sliver as he shivers and moans again.

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask suspiciously. “Are you sick?”

Sweat’s beads across his forehead and upper lip. His face is flushed and his eyes are glassed over.

“Worried about me, Little Bird?” He lifts his head and attempts, but fails, to give me one of his wolfish grins. It comes out more like a grimace and he drops his head back onto the couch.

“Jesus, you really are sick.” I place my palm on his forehead and snatch it back immediately. “You’re burning up.”

His trembling worsens and he wraps his arms around himself. “Bit cold, isn’t it?”

“The fire went out.” I look at the fireplace, then back at him. “When did you get back?”

“I…” His teeth begin to clatter and his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Gideon. Gideon!” I slap his cheek.

He startles awake, but almost as fast, he’s out once more.

Shit. I touch his face again. Clammy. Hot. Definitely sick. And with something nasty enough to knock a man like him out.

“Actually, it’s probably nothing more than a man cold,” I tell him. “You’re all the same. Big babies.”

Pushing off the couch, I’m about to grab the matches off the coffee table when something on the floor catches my attention. I bend down to grab the cell phone that Gideon must have dropped.

It takes me a moment to truly grasp what I have, probably because of how impossible it seems. I have a phone. A way to communicate with the outside world. Call for help. Call Luca and beg him to come for me even if it means I have to swallow my pride and tell him I was wrong. That I do need him to protect me.

I’ll do it!

My hands tremble nervously as I fumble with the cell. Unlike my phone, it doesn’t have the capability for an emergency call while locked. The digital touch screen turns on when I swipe my finger across it. It pulses when it scans my features and doesn’t recognize them.

I face it toward Gideon, and try again. But once more, it denies me access.

“It’s your eyes,” I whisper. Dropping down to my knees, I slap his cheek. “Gideon. Open your eyes. Look at me. Gideon!”

He does so, but it’s clear it takes a lot of effort. The second I see the blue of his irises, I aim the screen at his face. A checkmark appears, indicating it’s accepted his features, but then, to my horror, it requests a secondary form of identification.

“Dammit!” It’s asking for a numeric password. An inconvenience, to be sure, but if I can figure it out, I might also get access to the garage.

Maybe it’s his birthday, which I have no doubt is on Halloween. The question is, what year.

“How old are you?” I ask Gideon and speculate.

He’s not old enough to be my father, but there’s at least a decade between us. His dark hair is sporting the tiniest bit of silver near his ears, and thin lines have begun to form around his mouth and eyes.

“Ugh.” It makes me sick how those things, signs of aging, only serve to make him that much sexier.

Thirty-five. He’s at least that old. Maybe thirty-eight.

It occurs to me then, that his phone might have fallen out of his pocket. Which means, his wallet could be there too.

I’m digging in there before I can stop myself. Sure enough, I find his wallet.

“Black snake skin. How appropriate.”

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