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“You’ve yet to inform me what time I currently find myself in?” Gideon asked.

“2026.”

“It can’t possibly be.” Gideon stilled, and dread coursed through him.

Aerin’s eyes turned sad. “I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. I’m not sure how long you were down there.”

“Two hundred years?” He finished for her, the words sticking in his throat.

“You remember what happened to you?” Aerin asked, closing the gap between them. He felt like she was studying him, but he was surprised by her courage; not many would dare get so close to a starving vampire.

“When I woke, I recalled getting on the ship. A date was carved on the ship; it read 1823. We were headed home, though I haven’t quite recalled where. I was hoping to find the captain, my crew in town, some sign of them, but I’m starting to get the feeling that they are dead.”

“From your accent, I’m guessing you’re from England. I should have mentioned earlier that our small town of Indigo Cove is in America,” Aerin added softly. “If you can recall the name of the ship, I might be able to find out more from the library, museum, or the antique shop where I sell my finds. We keep detailed records in town of all the shipwrecks in and around the cove in case anyone comes looking for lost loved ones.”

“America? Yes, that sounds familiar. Sell your finds?” he asked as they reached her front porch. The wind coming off the cliffs was brutal. He didn’t feel the cold, but the force whipping against him was unnerving.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to sell you,” Aerin teased, but the pity in her gaze was impossible to ignore. He wondered if she had lost people at sea. Gideon rubbed his brow, trying to pull any memory from the darkness, but there was nothing, only an empty void.

“That’s a relief, but I wish I knew more. Given my lack of blood for over two centuries, it’ll probably come back to me the more I feed,” he reasoned.

“Good thing I bought extra blood bags today,” Aerin told him, and he was relieved to have her help. Still, what was in this for her? If she sold her finds, she was used to profiting. So far, he had only cost her. Gideon silenced his doubt. He had no one else to rely on. He needed rest and blood, and she provided both.

Aerin opened the front door, and he couldn’t believe a single woman living alone and isolated from town didn’t lock her door. Then again, given how easily she had overpowered him, any unwelcome visitors should be the ones afraid.

Chapter Seven

Gideon

“You’re up,” Aerin said, finding him in the kitchen after sunset. She stared at him for a moment as though she had forgotten about the guest asleep in her basement, hiding from the sun.

“I wish I weren’t,” he said gruffly. He noticed the freshly caught fish in her hand, wrapped in newspaper, her dinner. His head pounded, and his eyes struggled to focus.

“Have you fed? You look terrible.”

“Thank you for that. I feel worse.” He shook his head, only to regret it. “No, I tried to find the blood you mentioned, but my skin is on fire, and I don’t have much strength to stand and look.”

“I should’ve hooked you up to another blood bag before you went to sleep for the day,” Aerin said, quickly dropping the fish in the sink.

He watched as she pulled out a blood bag from a cold rectangular cupboard and tossed it to him, but the chill made him want to gag. Everything about her home was cold and damp.

“Any chance you could pop it on the stove? I prefer my blood to be body temperature,” he said, leaving it on the table to warm up.

“Right, sorry. I’m used to cold foods.” Aerin grabbed the bag, and her lack of repulsion took him aback. “I can microwave it.” She poured the blood into a seashell-shaped cup and popped it into an odd metal contraption that glowed and buzzed. She didn’t seem bothered by the whirring or loud ding, but it pierced his already throbbing head, and he let out a sigh of relief when it ended.

Aerin popped open the small door, and the intensity of the smell made him growl.

“Did you just growl at me?” She smirked, removing the cup from the microwave. Her lack of fear only deepened his interest in her.

“Forgive me, I couldn’t help it.” His pupils dilated, his vision sharpened, and his nostrils flared as he breathed in the juicy, metallic sweetness, and he instinctively got to his feet.

“Shit, that’s hot,” Aerin snapped, dropping the mug. “I put it in for too long; I only use it when I’ve people over, which is pretty much never.” Her words were a hazy blur. His focus locked onto the cracked porcelain spattered with blood, and on the blood spilt all over the tiles and into the fine cracks. Every pore in his body cried out as he resisted the urge to lick it up off the floor. Looking away, he tried to focus on her to distract himself, but his attraction to her, mixed with the veins pulsing in her neck, called to him.

“Don’t worry, I have another—” Aerin didn’t finish her sentence as bloodlust claimed his mind.

So much blood, sweet and enticing. The smell overpowered his manners, his morals. He tossed the kitchen table across the room and lunged at her.

“That was my mother’s mahogany!” Aerin shouted at him, looking at the crumbled wooden table. Her lack of fear made him hesitate, but the human blood on her hand from picking up the cup sent him over the edge.