In her visions, his face had always been cloaked by darkness. She'd never known, never dreamed that he shared the face of her lover.
«I'm told we're quite alike,” he murmured. His nails lengthened into razor sharp claws.
His words snapped Savannah out of her shock. “You're nothing alike. You're a killer, a monster! William is—»
His face tensed. “What is he?” He snapped.
Good. The word whispered through her mind. Decent. Strong. “Something you'll never be,” she said instead. “Something you can't even understand.»
He sprang forward, his arms outstretched. His fingers looked like knives.
Savannah stood her ground. Waiting for him, waiting for the perfect moment. She could see his long, sharp teeth. See the red of his eyes. See his rage. She slid her hand into her pocket. Just a moment longer…
Now!
She yanked her hand out. Her fingers were wrapped around a small can of mace. She aimed for his eyes, those red, glowing eyes—
He howled in rage and pain. His hands fell away from her and moved to cover his burning eyes.
She didn't stand around and wait for him to recover. She ran straight for her jeep. If she could get inside and lock the doors, she might be able to get away.
«You'll pay for that,” he snarled behind her.
Her fingers fumbled, dropping the mace as she searched desperately for the keys hidden inside her purse. She heard his footsteps, pounding on the concrete after her. Where were those damn keys?
Her fingers curled around them. She pulled them out, dropping her purse as she fled. Just a few more feet…
He grabbed her from behind, spinning her around and shoving her against the back of her jeep.
She brought her keys up, aiming for his injured eyes. She wasn't going to let him take her without a fight! She struck out with all of her strength.
His arm lifted, slamming into her wrist. She hit back, gouging with the keys. She missed his eye by an inch. But she left a bloody trail down his left cheek.
«You bitch!” His fingers locked around her wrist, squeezing the bone and tendon. She heard a sharp, sickening pop. The keys slipped from her suddenly nerveless fingers and fell to the ground.
The blood dripped down his cheek. He pulled her imprisoned wrist high over her head. She hit him with her free hand, pounding against his chest, his neck. He laughed and bent his head toward hers.
«I love a good fight,” he whispered, pressing his lips against hers.
She could taste blood. His, hers, she didn't know. She twisted her head back, feeling the cold metal behind her. She kicked him, over and over, using her shoes to pound his shins.
He didn't even seem to feel the blows. He pulled her forward and captured her free hand. Wrenching both of her arms behind her, he held her effortlessly with one steely hand.
He forced her to move back into the dark corner of the garage. She strained, struggling against him, against his overwhelming strength.
He was relentless. In seconds, he'd pressed her against the garage's cold brick wall. His legs pushed between hers, leaving her body open, helpless. She couldn't kick him. She couldn't hit him, so she opened her mouth and screamed as loud as she could.
His hand clamped over mouth, driving her lips back against her teeth. This time, she knew the blood she tasted was her own.
She stared up at him, hate consuming her. This was the murdering animal that had killed her brother. Killed Sharon. Attacked Mary. Her body shook with rage.
He smiled.
«I've waited a long time for you,” he whispered, bending forward and licking the skin of her neck.
She tried to jerk back, but her head just rammed into the wall. He laughed at her efforts, obviously enjoying the thrill of the fight. He began to nuzzle her neck, biting her lightly. He inhaled deeply, drinking her scent.
Pulling back, he gazed down at her with eyes that flashed. “I can smell him on you,” he snapped. “He's all over you.»
His left hand was still clenched tightly around her wrists. His right hand rose and locked around her throat. His hold tightened. She gasped, struggling for air.
«My brother's lover,” he murmured, staring at her with disgust. “How I will enjoy killing you…»
She slammed her head forward, catching him in the chin. He swore, but his grip never wavered.
Tears swam in her eyes. Her head throbbed, pounded. Pain radiated from her temples in a blinding rush. She couldn't breathe. Her throat burned. Her lungs ached. He was killing her.
William! The cry echoed in her mind. He had been right. She wasn't strong enough to defeat Geoffrey. She wasn't strong enough to kill the monster. And now, she would die. She wished she'd had the chance to tell William good-bye. William. Her dark knight.
Geoffrey's head suddenly jerked up and his nostrils flared. He released, spinning around to scan the dark garage.
Savannah fell to the floor, landing in a tangled heap. She gasped, desperately trying to take in precious oxygen.
Geoffrey took a step forward, crouching low. She pulled herself to her knees, pushing up with her hands. She knew her wrist was broken, she could see the bone pushing out at an odd angle. She swallowed. It didn't matter. The pain didn't matter. She had to block it. She had to fight.
Geoffrey's back was to her. She could tell that he was searching the garage, using his sharp senses to hunt.
He was obviously waiting for someone. For another kill.
She couldn't let him do it. She couldn't stand by while he murdered another person.
She sprang forward, throwing her body against his back. He snarled, spinning around. With an almost casual wave of his hand, he hurled her back against the wall.
She slid slowly down to the floor. The pounding in her head intensified.
He stalked toward her.
William. His name was a whisper that never slipped past her lips, a scream that echoed in her mind.
Geoffrey leaned down and pulled her to her feet. His fingers tangled in her hair, jerking her head back and exposing her throat. “Are you afraid to die?” he asked softly.
She stared into his eyes and saw her death. “No,” she murmured, knowing her time had come. She wasn't afraid of dying. For years she'd lived with the grim specter of death looming over her. She didn't mind dying. And she certainly didn't fear death.
But she was angry, fiercely and completely enraged, that her brother would go unavenged and William would be forced to slay his brother alone.
Her answer seemed to catch Geoffrey off-guard. He paused, staring into her eyes.
She swallowed, tasting death. “Are you?»
His eyes narrowed in rage. He opened his mouth, exposing his long, glinting fangs. They lowered toward her throat.