Page 102 of Marked By Moonlight

“Claire’s not a lycan.” Gideon was quick to interject.

“Yeah, not anymore.” Cooper glanced around the living room. “So, where is the woman of the hour?”

Again, Gideon shrugged, forcing his eyes to the television. Hedidn’t want Cooper to glimpse any of the torment that simple question elicited.

“You don’t know?” Cooper scratched his head. “After everything you did for her, I thought you two would be setting up house, picking out tea towels, china patterns. That’s actually what brought me here.” Cooper leaned forward in his chair. “You know NODEAL doesn’t allow married agents. No live-in girlfriends. Emotional entanglements can jeopardize security. So let’s clear the air now.” Cooper paused, his look grave. “How serious are you about her?”

Gideon looked at Cooper blankly, wondering what he would think if he knew Claire had left him already. Instead of directly answering, he said, “I didn’t really thinkstayingan agent was an option. Didn’t you fire me?”

Cooper shook his head as if it had all been a misunderstanding. “If you want back in just say the word.”

Gideon mulled over Cooper’s words before saying, “No. I’m finished.”

Cooper leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Mind telling why?”

Gideon leaned back on the couch, his stomach churning at the thought of giving up all he had ever known. If not a lycan hunter, then what was he? Vengeance had been his companion for so long now. But a life of destroying lycans left him hollow inside. Helping Claire, falling in love with Claire, had filled him with a purpose. Shit. And now she didn’t even want him.

“If I were to continue hunting, things would have to change. I couldn’t do things NODEAL’s way anymore. I wouldn’t want to simply destroy. If the chance arose, I’d want to save the infected, too.”

Cooper leaned forward, punching a button on the remote control. The television snapped off. “What’s really eating you? I’m not surprised about your wanting to quit NODEAL. You’ve brokenevery code, done everything possible to sabotage your job.” He looked around the room again, this time his tone insistent as he asked, “Where’s Claire?”

Gideon stared at his bare feet propped on the coffee table, hating the vulnerability gnawing at him as he confessed, “I don’t know. At her apartment, I guess. She left last night.”

“Uh-oh. What’d you do?”

Gideon blinked. “Me?” He pointed to his chest. “I didn’t do anything.” At Cooper’s skeptical look, Gideon added, “I told her I love her.”

“And she took off?”

“Yeah.”

Cooper grunted. Shaking his head, he stood up to leave. “You went through a lot of trouble to keep that woman alive.” He paused, his eyes drilling into Gideon relentlessly.

“Guess she doesn’t want anything to do with me now that the curse is broken,” Gideon said, despising the anguish he heard in his voice.

Cooper shook his head. “Sure looked like she loved you from where I stood.”

“Yeah, well, you know about love as much as I do.”

Cooper approached him and squeezed his shoulder. “Stop being an ass. Love makes people do stupid things, even run from the person they want most. Now go get her.”

Claire stood in her apartment doorway and stared at the deliveryman in front of her, a heavyset, balding man with a thick Italian accent who pronounced her last name with a silentg. Moron.Sadly appropriate.

What had she been thinking last night, going to bed withGideon? She might have fallen in love with him, but he hadn’t fallen in love with her. Not the true her.

Depressed, Claire took solace in comfort food.

She took a risk ordering delivery from Angelo’s since they never got the order right, but she hadn’t felt like leaving her apartment. Just to be safe, Claire had made the old lady repeat her order over the phone. Maybe this once it would be right.

As she studied the green paper receipt in her hand and read the scrawling handwriting, her hope died a swift death. Once again, she didn’t get what she had ordered. As in life.

She wasn’t going to dig into her favorite baked ziti and Caesar salad. Nope. Instead, it would be veal Parmesan and house salad.

Claire fumbled inside her wallet, her movements jerky. The telephone started to ring, but she ignored it.

Suddenly, she paused, fingers tightening on the bills as she looked up at the bored-looking deliveryman holding out the brown paper bag of food to her.

“You know,” she began slowly, “I ordered baked ziti and a Caesar salad.” She held out the green paper receipt to verify her claim.

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