THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

her life must be preserved.”
    Eli held his gaze for a few beats. “Does she know?”
    “No.”
    “When will you tell her?”
    He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “With any luck I won’t have to.”
    The soaring eyebrow again. Twice in a single night. A record.
    “Delano, I don’t like this—”
    “In the long run, it would be better for her if she doesn’t know.”
    That was the understatement of the century. And if she did know, she could very well withhold her consent. He’d seen the look on her face when she realized her attacker was dead. Relief so profound she couldn’t hide it, but mixed with an equally strong measure of guilt and remorse. If she felt that conflicted thinking that he had killed Edward Webber to avenge the attack, imagine the turmoil she’d feel to know that, strictly speaking, it was her blood that caused his demise. Even though her role in his death had not been an active or deliberate one, even though the responsibility still lay squarely on Delano’s shoulders, he knew she would suffer for it. And if he went on to use her blood to bring down other rogues, which indeed he planned to do, she could multiply that guilt a hundredfold.
    Once upon a time, taking the decision out of her hands would have been beyond him. As a physician — hell, as a morally upright human being — he could not have crossed that line. But he was infinitely older now, and his once black-and-white world had long since dissolved into gradations of gray, a world where he frequently had to choose between the lesser of evils.
    “What about her safety? Doesn’t she have the right to know?”
    “She’ll remain under my protection until all threat is removed. And if I’m not satisfied she’ll be safe in her ignorance, I will certainly tell her the truth. But mark my words, Eli, it would pain her greatly to know. I seek only to spare her the burden. You know the work must go on.”
    Eli held his gaze for a long moment, measuring the veracity of his words. “Okay,” he said at last.
    Delano inclined his head in acknowledgement.
    “But I still don’t like it.”
    Delano narrowed his eyes. “Nevertheless, it’s my decision.”
    This time, Eli inclined his head in acceptance. “You should eat.”
    Eat. Delano’s lips twisted. Despite being a medical professional, Eli clung stubbornly to language that characterized Delano’s nightly infusion as some manner of meal. And Eli well knew he never ingested anything, beyond the occasional sip of whiskey he took just to feel the alcohol sear his throat, or maybe a sip of ice water to feel the cold.
    For better or worse, caffeine could not jolt him. No amount of alcohol consumption could produce the warm, welcome, barely-remembered buzz of inebriation. No matter how many cigarettes he smoked, they couldn’t create, and then fill, receptors in his brain to give him an instantaneous nicotine rush. The only, the sole intoxication available to him whispered in the veins of humans.
    And that was an intoxication no vampire could indulge freely, lest he become ruled by it. That was how creatures like Edward Webber were born. Far better to imbibe disembodied blood from a bag. Granted, it was like eating a K-ration when a sumptuous, aromatic buffet beckoned, but it was the only path he dared walk.
    Eli handed him the unit of blood. “You’d best eat. Ms. Crawford knows you’re awake and is probably preparing to knock down that door this very moment. I won’t be able to hold her off much longer.”
    Delano’s fingers closed around the bag of blood. Warm. Thirty-seven degrees Celsius. Body-temperature. “She waits outside?”
    “I expect so.”
    “Then send her in.”
    “But—”
    “Send her in.”
    Eli sighed. “You don’t have to do this, Delano.”
    Ah, but he really did. “She’s a nurse, Eli. I don’t think she’ll develop a case of the vapors. You didn’t.”
    “I’ve also killed men in hand-to-hand combat.”
    “Show her in, Eli.”
    Without another word, Eli turned to do his bidding.
     
     

 
    Chapter 7
     
    AINSLEY’S MOMENTUM as she entered the study carried her right past Delano. Belatedly, she caught a glimpse of him in her peripheral vision, standing still as a statue just to the left of the door.
    “Over here,” he drawled. “You seem to have overshot me.”
    She rounded on him, a flush warming her neck. The rat. No doubt he’d positioned himself there strategically so she would blow right past him. Well, she refused to