Gideon Book 3

GIDEON

“It appears that the vampire sirens are not as done as we’d hoped, sir,” I say to Caspian over the phone.

We’re driving back into the city from Pembroke’s old haunt. Serena drives while I talk to the prince in the passenger seat.

Genesis and Constantine sit in the back, comparing the things that they’d found—Constantine, the letters, and Genesis, some flasks of liquid and some forgotten notes.

“The words on this page are too smudged to make out,” Genesis says behind me, but I tune her out, instead focusing on my conversation with the crown prince.

Caspian, on the other end of the phone, lets out a low groan.

I can practically picture him putting his hand over his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose the same way he would do when he was dealing with a particularly difficult question on his math homework.

“What did you find, Gideon?” he asks.

My mouth twists into a frown as I think about the letter I’d read and the rest of the letters that I needed to read.

If Layla was mentioned in them, then I needed to know everything that was on those goddamn papers.

“As you know,” I begin, “Alistair Pembroke had some sort of compound where they were creating these vampire sirens, but what we now know is that Pembroke wasn’t working alone.”

“Who was he working with?” Caspian asks.

“More like who was he working for,” I correct, then pause. “Balthazar Aristophanes.”

Caspian hums. “Helen’s father?”

“Unfortunately,” I say, sighing.

“Out of all the people I know, I never thought you would be the one whose love life caused trouble,” Caspian says. I can hear his grin.

I scoff. “I wouldn’t say love life—”

“I would,” Caspian cuts me off, sounding much too cheerful.

“Why do you sound so happy?” I grumble.

“Not happy,” Caspian says. “Mirthful, perhaps? I just find it kind of funny, since it’s you. It’s as if you knocked up some maiden and her father had to battle you to defend her honor.”

“It’s nothing like that,” I deadpan.

“Well, I doubt the old bat will have much fight left in him,” Caspian says, “especially since his puppet is now out of commission. If there are no strings left to pull, what kind of puppet master is he?”

I’m quiet for a moment.

“He thinks I killed Helen for no reason,” I tell Caspian.

The prince’s frown is audible.

“What? He doesn’t know about Layla?”

“No, he does,” I say. My fist clenches on my thigh.

My claws threaten to come out, but I will them to stay in. “He just thinks she was a distraction from Helen. He doesn’t know she’s my erasthai. Or perhaps he does, but he thinks it’s a rumor.

I don’t know, but he needs to be set straight.”

The prince hums once more. “So, you want to pay him a visit?”

I sigh. “Want isn’t quite the word for it. But we need to get this matter resolved.”

“Have there been any more sightings of vampire sirens?” Caspian asks.

“Not on our end,” Gideon says. He glances at his comrades in the car to double-check, and they all nod affirmatively.

“Then how do we know that Balthazar even has the resources to make more of them?” the prince asks.

“We don’t,” Gideon says. “But we can’t really risk it, now can we?”

Caspian sighs. “Go ahead and gather a team. Looks like you’re going to Greece, lucky bastard.”

“Looks like I am,” I say. We exchange goodbyes, and then I hang the phone up. I clench my hand around the device hard. There’s a small crack.

“Watch it,” Genesis says, poking her head up by my shoulder. “Do you really want to waste time having to set up a new phone?”

I relax my grip but throw the phone down at my feet.

“What’s got you so upset? We’re going to Greece,” Constantine says.

“This isn’t a social call,” I remind him. “And this is more than just making sure that the vampire siren problem is eradicated.”

Serena furrows her brow, glancing over at me from the driver’s seat. “What is it, then?”

“It’s making sure that Layla is completely off of that old bastard’s radar.”

LAYLA

“So,” Quincy says, smiling prettily. “What have you been up to?”

“Not much,” I say. I kick my feet up on the ottoman. In front of me, I’ve muted the TV and turned to some mindless home improvement show. In my lap, I’ve got a bowl of ice cream.

Not the healthiest lunch, but I could use the cool down.

“What have you been up to?” I ask. I lick my spoon and point it at my camera.

Through the small screen of my phone, Quincy rolls her eyes fondly.

Then, she hoists up the young lycan princess, Venus—Quincy’s daughter.

“Oh, you know,” Quincy says breezily, “changing diapers, getting spit up on, trying to keep my nipples from getting too chapped.”

She boops Venus on the nose, then sets her down so she’s out of sight of the camera once more.

I wrinkle my nose. “What about your nipples?”

Quincy groans. “Breastfeeding is a bitch.”

“Another reason to hold off on the children aspect of a relationship,” I say.

Quincy blows a raspberry at me. “You’re no fun. Kids are great!”

There’s a shrill cry from her feet, almost as if to contradict her. Quincy picks Venus up once more, but this time she rests the girl’s head on her shoulder and sways a little.

“They’re great in small doses,” I say, remembering my nieces and nephews.

“So, no babies in the near future for you and Gideon?” Quincy asks.

“Quincy, we haven’t even been together for a full year!” I exclaim. “I think kids can wait. Besides, Gideon’s never really… said anything on that front.”

Quincy frowns. “You think he doesn’t want kids?”

I shrug.

“Do you want kids?” she continues.

I shrug again.

“I mean,” I say, “I guess? It’s always just been kind of expected of me, and my parents have really been hammering it in the past few months.

It’s kind of like… it’s like when your parents forbid you from seeing a bad boy, and then you want to see him even more, to piss him off. Does that make sense?”

“You wanna piss off your parents?” Quincy asks.

“No.” I laugh a little. “They want it so bad that I kind of don’t want it, at least not right now.”

“But sometime?” Quincy asks.

I nod my head slowly. “Sometime.” I frown. “But why are you so adamant about this anyway?”

“Maybe I don’t want to be the only friend with a baby?” Quincy offers. Venus lets out a little burp over her shoulder.

“Maybe you should have discussed that with friends before you went and got knocked up,” I tease.

Quincy waves a hand, then brushes a lock of flawless black hair over the shoulder that Venus isn’t on.

“Besides,” I say, “no one could ever hope to be as effortless a mother as you.”

Quincy frowns. “Don’t say shit like that. It’s too much pressure.”

“It’s not that. I just want you to know how much I admire you,” I say. Quincy is one of my best friends, though she was one that kind of snuck up on me.

After we knew that I didn’t have a wolf, my friends had abandoned me, and I’d just kind of assumed that that was how it would be with all werewolves.

But when I met Quincy, she’d turned that thought on its head. It was nice having a friend like that, though never in a million years had I thought that one day we would both be the same thing—lycans.

Venus lets out another shrill cry, and Quincy frowns. She pulls her baby back and sighs.

“I’m so sorry to cut our chat short, Layla,” Quincy says, “but Venus apparently wants to be fed again already. I thought I had another half hour at least.”

I wave a hand. “No problem, completely understand. Motherhood calls.”

Quincy makes a face but smiles. “You better come visit me soon!”

“Can’t make any promises,” I say, a little regretfully. Gideon and the others are pretty busy with the vampire siren debacle, so I don’t know the next time we’ll be able to travel.

“Bye, Layla!” Quincy says. She holds Venus and waves her chubby little baby arm.

I feel like my pupils turn into hearts at the adorable sight. “Bye!”

The call cuts off, and my home screen comes into view once more. It’s a picture of the beach I’d taken at sunset several months ago.

I would have loved to have a picture of Gideon and me, but he’s not one for pictures.

Honestly, it’s fine with me. That means there are no secret nudes lingering about in the webspace.

I pull my ice cream onto my chest and shove a large spoonful of it into my mouth.

The door to the penthouse opens just as I do.

“Gideon?” His name comes out garbled. I would be surprised if anyone could even make out what I’d said.

“Layla?” Gideon’s voice sings through the space. I stick my hand up over the back of the couch and wave. My mouth is still too full of ice cream.

I manage to swallow it down with minimal brain freeze by the time Gideon makes his way to the couch.

He’s dressed in military fatigues—a tight black shirt and khakis with heavy-duty boots—and his hair is stuck to his forehead and the back of his neck with sweat.

“Hey,” I say, smiling.

Gideon smiles back, blindingly white and bright. “Hi. Would you care to join me for a shower, Lady Archer?”

I raise my eyebrows and lick the back of my spoon. Gideon follows the movement of my tongue with his eyes hungrily.

“That could be agreeable,” I say.

I barely have time to set my ice cream bowl down before Gideon picks me up and slings me over his shoulder. He jogs upstairs and into the bathroom.

Our shower is chillier than usual, but no less passionate.

It feels like both forever and not enough when Gideon finally turns the water off and steps out.

He towels himself dry and hands me another one, which I wrap around my body, wringing out my hair with my hands.

“Get dressed,” Gideon says. “I have somewhere I want to take you.”

“Where?” I ask, though I know it’s futile. When Gideon has a surprise planned, he never lets it slip. I sigh and change tactics. “Should I wear that new red dress I got?”

Gideon’s eyebrows raise appreciatively, but he shakes his head. “No, simpler. You’d probably be fine in some shorts.”

I’m tempted to ask once more where we’re going, but I just shake my head and walk to the closet instead. I quickly dress in a pair of jean shorts and a purple crop top and slip on some canvas sneakers.

Gideon appears before me dressed just as simply. He grabs my hand and pulls me downstairs.

A car is already waiting, and we get in. The drive is short, despite the heavy traffic. We step out onto the Santa Monica Pier.

I raise an eyebrow at Gideon. “Have you ever been to a pier before?” It doesn’t really seem like his scene—loud and busy with cheap food and even cheaper trinkets.

Gideon shrugs. “Never with you,” he says, smirking.

“Louis?” I ask.

Gideon laughs. “The bright lights mesmerize him.”

At that, I can’t hold back a laugh. Gideon takes my hand, and we spend hours walking up and down the pier. We buy corn dogs and cotton candy, and we play skee ball in the arcade.

Skee ball is especially fun as it brings out that carefree side of Gideon I had come to adore.

Gideon has a laser-like focus in his eyes as he lines up the ball with the multi-colored targets, but there is a cheeky smirk on his face as he lets the ball fly.

Of course, each one of those balls plops perfectly into its target.

He turns to me and raises an eyebrow in challenge.

“Oh, you want to play that way,” I tease. “Think all that training is kicking in, hmm?”

“It has its advantages,” he smirks back.

I gather the rubber ball into my palm and turn away from him to the target, eyeing it up and down.

“Bullseye,” I whisper, and let loose. It nails it straight in, and I turn to meet Gideon’s gaze, triumphant. He rewards me with a peck on the cheek.

I gather enough tickets to buy myself a plastic tiara.

It sits on top of my head as we make our way down to the beach, the sun painting the sky a swirl of reds, oranges, and pinks.

Gideon’s hand is warm in mine, his fingers firm and sturdy. He stops me suddenly and turns me to face him, gathering my other hand in his as well.

“Gideon?” I ask, my stomach dropping a little.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise,” Gideon says quickly, then he makes a face. “Well, not too bad.” He takes a breath. “We have to go to Greece to talk to Balthazar Aristophanes.”

“Aristophanes? Is that…?”

Gideon nods grimly. “Helen’s father.”

“Why do we need to go there?” I would rather be far away from the family of the crazy bitch who tried to kill me, even if I would love to see Greece.

Gideon takes a deep breath in through his nose, closing his eyes. “Balthazar thinks that I killed Helen in cold blood. He doesn’t realize that she tried to mess with our bond.”

“So, what? You’re just going to tell him that you dumped his daughter for your soulmate?” I ask. “That doesn’t sound like it will go over very well.”

Gideon’s hands tighten around mine. “It has to. He… he’s got something planned for you.”

A chill lances through me. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Gideon says, looking out to the ocean, the waves lapping lazily at the shore. “But he’s behind the vampire sirens, and he wants to get back at me through you. Just like Alistair Pembroke tried to do.”

“So, we’re going to him? That sounds like playing into his hand,” I say.

“You will be completely safe,” Gideon swears. “The only time you’ll be out of my sight is when I go to talk to Balthazar, and then you’ll be stuck with Genesis as a bodyguard.”

My ears perk up at that. More lycan training. That could be fun.

“Well,” I begin, “I’ve always wanted to see Greece.”

“As soon as the matter is settled, we can do whatever you want,” Gideon says. He pulls me close and presses a kiss to the top of my head.

“When do we leave?” I ask.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Gideon tells me.

I pull back and smirk at him. “I’ll make sure to pack my camera.”