Page 61 of Vampire's Choice

“Who?”

“Merc and Daegan.”

Her eyes widened. “Does Merc have a death wish?”

“Absolutely. But not for this. Merc’s pretty damn good. A blade is one of his favorite weapons. Daegan considers him a decent opponent, and that’s saying something.”

She’d learned something new about her incubus. She should try to push past the tidal wave of sexual power he emanated to find out other things about him. Did he have hobbies beyond sword play? Favorite foods?

Other than the life energy he could summon from a woman when he aroused her.

In addition to being the servant of Anwyn, Mistress of Club Atlantis, Gideon was also bound to Daegan, the Council’s hunter and enforcer. Over the years, the three had been to the island several times to spend a few days, helping out while taking a break from work. Unless a vampire was personally invited by Mal, usually that was a privilege reserved for higher ranking vampires. As a young, made vampire, Anwyn didn’t really qualify.

Daegan was a different matter.

While initially his identity had been a closely guarded secret in the vampire world, it was now generally known how he served the Council. If a vampire stepped out of line, or a threat to the vampire world required a hunter who could track it down and take it out, he was their choice.

Watching Daegan practice with his katana on the island, Ruth had witnessed a warrior’s integration with the weapon he wielded.

“Calling him a hunter suggests the prey might have a chance,” Mal had murmured to her. “He’s more like an exterminator.”

Daegan had not only occasionally observed her sparring with Gideon, he’d helped enhance the knife skills Mal had taught her.

She might not have been given the strength of other vampires, but they hadn’t had the opportunity to learn their fight skills from the very best. She’d survived the fight with the Trad, and done him damage, because of those skills.

She fell into step with Gideon as they went down the midway, headed for the Big Top. “Yvette considered giving Merc an act that uses his sword skills,” Gideon told her. “But at the time, Marcellus said he might decapitate someone if they pissed him off.”

“They should re-evaluate that. His control seems pretty good.”

“You’ve been here what, less than a week?”

She stiffened, but it was a valid point, and her defensive reaction was too telling. She covered it with a question. “I don’t know much about him, just impressions. Do you know his background?”

Gideon gave her a studied look. “He was young when a Dark Guardian found him, living in a sparsely populated area of Russia. He was near a fault line portal, so the theory is something thrust him through it and left him, like dumping a dog out of a car and driving off. They couldn’t bring themselves to kill him, but they didn’t want any association, either. Probably thought leaving him as a kid in the wilderness in the middle of winter would do the job.”

Ruth came to a full stop. “How young?”

“Maybe eight or nine years old, best guess. He was taken down to Hell, Lucifer’s domain, because it was safest to have him there.” Gideon grimaced. “Sounds bad, but they couldn’t treat him like a child. There was nothing childlike about him. They made zero headway with him until someone realized how much he liked to fight, and wanted to do it even better. So as Lucifer taught him, that became an avenue for Merc to learn other things. Like language and reading, wearing clothes, learning about the modern world. And how not to act like a stray, draining every female in reach because every meal might be his last.”

Gideon paused. “I’m not sure if I should be telling you this, but it’s not a secret. And maybe you need to hear it.”

She shot him an even look. “I’m not a child. Tell me.”

Gideon sighed. “He made them believe he was on board with all their plans to ‘civilize’ him, until he’d increased his skills enough to make him think he could handle being on his own again. Then he escaped. Hid out for about three decades before he was located again. Thanks to the trail of bodies he left behind.”

Gideon glanced at her. “The same Guardian was sent to track and execute him, which is what they do to any sex demon when their hungers take control. Because they weren’t sure what kind of abilities his angel blood gave him, they sent a Prime Legion captain as backup.”

Though that “trail of bodies” comment tightened the fist in her lower belly, another light dawned. “Marcellus.”

“Yeah, Marcellus.”

“So what happened?”

“Marcellus said any other incubus in that state would have been as mad as a rabid dog. When they found him, Merc wasn’t. They didn’t know if that was because of the angel blood, or because supposedly there was some black magic involved in his conception that changed the makeup of his incubus side. Regardless, he was brought back to Hell, where Marcellus recommended he be evaluated by a witch who’s more than a witch, and not just because she’s mated to an angel.

“She concurred with Marcellus, that there was a slim possibility of redemption. Under her guidance, he was kept in the Underworld for a while and ‘rehabilitated.’ Fuck all knows what was involved with that, but he did okay enough that eventually he was deemed ready to try the world again, under close supervision. And with the understanding there are no more free passes. He fucks up again, he’s done.”

She remembered what he’d said. Otherwise, you incur a death sentence for the crime of being who you are.