by Sharon Page
God, she was exquisitely beautiful.
And of course he got a ruddy erection in front of the council. Fortunately he had the robe on. He heard the mutterings from the council. He heard chairs creak as the vampires responded to the sight of a nude, beautiful, unfettered Vivienne.
That was it. He was going to dump out their bowl of magic water and stop the voyeurism.
But before he could take a step, she moaned huskily in the image, and her eyes opened wide. She was looking at him, but he was climaxing and his eyes were shut. Her eyes shone for him.
She looked dazzled by him.
Stalking to an unlit candelabra, Heath yanked out one of the candles. He threw it into the pool. The splash and ensuing ripples destroyed the surface, and the erotic image disappeared.
He glowered at Adder, who must have arranged for the spying pool. “You had no right to watch her like that.”
Adder gave a mocking smile. “If you had obeyed, we would not have to.”
Heath could guess what was to follow. The damn council would use someone else to capture her….
Christ. Now he saw exactly why he was here. They had used the bats to get him away from Vivienne and had sent someone else to take her. Possibly Julian.
Which meant he had to get the hell out of here and back to Vivienne.
He closed his eyes and shape shifted. It was like catching fire from the inside out. His body stretched, twisted, and shrank, all in the space of a heartbeat. His scream roared out to the council. Then it was done. He stretched out his wings. Large wings, for he became a flying creature like a big bat.
He beat them fiercely and lifted to the ceiling. The curved panes of glass of the skylight beckoned; he could see stars beyond. He headed straight for the glass at full speed and exploded through it. Shards ripped into his body. His blood began to flow.
No other vampire should have been able to break through the glass. It was one of the advantages to having as his sire one of the oldest and most powerful of the undead.
Heath heard the cries of fury below him, but he tipped his wings on a current of air blowing off the Thames and swooped toward Vivienne’s home.
7
“Drink this.”
The harsh, cold command broke through Vivienne’s grogginess. She forced her eyelids to open. Faint light illuminated a beautiful face. A woman, a stranger with pale blond hair and black eyes, leaned close to her. The woman grasped her chin, shoved her head back with cruel force, and roughly pried her mouth open.
Vivienne struggled, but the woman’s grip was too strong. She tried to lift her hands, to shove the vile drink away, but her arms would only move an inch, and chains rattled, mocking her. Her limbs had been spread out and secured to a narrow cot. A velvet blanket lay over her body, but beneath the cover she was nude.
“No,” she croaked, but the fingers relentlessly held her mouth open and fluid splashed on her tongue. She desperately tried to spit it out. But she couldn’t. It was too thick, and it slithered down.
She shuddered. The taste was horrible, and it made her throat burn.
Where was Sarah? Was Sarah safe?
Desperately, she tried to ask about her daughter. But she could only manage to gasp, “Sar—” before her voice failed. She’d screamed and yelled for so long now she couldn’t even whisper through her dry throat.
How long had she been here, held captive? Hours? Or days? Everything was a jumbled mess in her head.
There had been a man in a hooded black cape. He had been inside her house. She’d tried to run from him, but suddenly he had appeared in front of her. And within the flapping circle of his hood he’d had no face. There was just a black void where his face should have been. Then he’d grabbed her arms.
She had screamed in panic. All her noise had finally dragged Sarah from a deep sleep. Julian had been fighting the remaining bats to protect her, but a group of cloaked men had burst into her house. Three had swarmed Julian, hitting him. Julian had collapsed; his body had suddenly stopped moving. His silvery eyes had stared blankly up.
She’d struggled wildly, screamed at Sarah to run. But it had been too late. The faceless men had caught them, brought them here, threw them in a dungeon….
She couldn’t stand this. She should be there for Sarah, to protect her. She wanted to hold her daughter.
And Heath. Heath must be dead, too, just like Julian.
Tears leaked. The thought of Heath gone made her heart clench, made her feel empty inside. But it was wrong. Sarah had to be the only person she cared about….
The burning began seconds later. It flared up in her tummy, then raced down to her quim. Vivienne pulled against the metal cuffs but she couldn’t break free. What was happening to her? Sweat prickled her skin beneath the velvet cover. Her skin began to tingle. To feel aware. She took deep breaths. Tension coiled low in her belly. Her cunny began to feel hot and it throbbed, like a second heartbeat. She writhed on the bed. Her quim seemed to explode, raging into fiery, intense sexual desire.
She knew what would quench the need. A man’s thick erection, sliding in and out of her. Thrusting deep and hard and slow, just the way Heath made love …
God, what was she thinking? She had to get free. But she couldn’t reach the shackles on her wrists and ankles. She could barely move. And now she couldn’t think….
Of anything except making love to Heath. She closed her eyes, moaning breathlessly. He looked so gorgeous when he was on top of her. When he was driving in hard, kissing her womb with his cock, then pulling back.
She’d loved the way he’d panted when he thrust inside her. Loved everything about his fucking. The thickness of his cock. The rough, raw sound of his grunts. The droplets of his sweat falling to her breasts …
“Interesting. That potion should not have taken effect for half an hour. Yet, on you, it has done so already.”
Blearily, Vivienne tried to focus on the voice. She tried to stop thinking of Heath on top of her, Heath coming in her. But it was so hard to think of anything else….
Dear heaven, there was a man standing over her, and all she could think of was sex—sex with beautiful Heath. But this man … she could smell the evil in him. He was danger.
She twisted around on the cot, trying to find him….
There. He paced around her slowly, his hand on his chin. Then he smiled down at her. His black hair was slick against his head, gleaming in the faint candlelight. He possessed a large, beaklike nose. Dark pools for eyes. His lips curled up again, into a hard, cruel leer.
The uncontrollable desire in her cooled at once. Fear took its place.
“Now, Miss Dare, we must release you and take you to the altar room. You are very beautiful. I anticipate this will be the most arousing sexual experience of my existence.”
His evil, gloating gaze felt like a thousand crawling, slithering things on her skin. “No!” Pain shot through her throat as she yelled, but her fear and loathing gave her strength. She would not let him do this. She would not let him touch her.
Not after Heath had touched her so beautifully. Not after he’d shown her what it was like to be caressed by a true gentleman: a man who could care, who had compassion, who had saved both her and Sarah.
She would fight. Kick, scream, bite, scratch. She would never let this man defile her.
Even if she died.
Was he too late?
Heath soared over the outskirts of Mayfair, above the houses, the crush of carriages on the streets, the glittering lights of the demimonde’s parties.
He wasn’t strong enough to face the worst. To find Vivienne … dead. And Sarah … Hell, he could not face being too late to save an innocent child. Not again. He could barely remember his daughter’s face. Meredith.
He’d forced himself to forget her at first. It was his punishment. He’d been so angry at what he’d done. He told himself he had no right to console himself with memories of her smiles and laughter.
He couldn’t face failing a young girl and
a beautiful, courageous woman again.
Somehow, just by making love to him once, Vivienne had made his heart ache again. Her allure had thrown him right back into the terror of love.
Heath swooped to her house and soared through the broken window. The pain of his shape shift screamed through him, then he stood naked in the moonlight, in her hallway. “Vivienne?” he shouted. His voice echoed through still darkness.
He didn’t sense anyone here. He sensed the slow breathing of her servants; the council must have taken control of their minds, throwing them into a deep sleep. And he didn’t sense Julian anywhere.
He reached Vivienne’s bedroom before his next heartbeat. Her sheets straggled across the floor. Her wardrobe had fallen. Her counterpane was in shreds and feathers from her mattress fluttered everywhere. The bats had ripped everything apart.
Sarah.
He rushed to the girl’s room, threw open the door. The bedroom was in shambles, too. Lace-edged bedcovers were pulled from the bed, the furniture tossed on its sides.
All Heath could hear was the loud, anguished thunder of his heart.
And he could smell blood in the air. Now his heart slammed in his chest. He spied small splatters of blood on the floor. It had to be Sarah’s. It meant she’d been cut, but not badly.
Bending close to the spots, he breathed in the unique scent of them. Giving his blood to Sarah had bonded him, like a parent to a child. Already he could begin to feel Sarah’s presence in his thoughts. He could see her. She was balled up on a cold floor. Her fear became a weight on his heart, an acrid burn on his tongue. She was surrounded by darkness, but he could see into it. He knew where she was: in one of the cells beneath the vampire council’s mansion.
If Sarah was there, Vivienne must be. He had to rescue them both before they were hurt. Or worse.
Torches flickered outside the grand steps to the council’s building. Stone gargoyles snarled along the roof edge. The dozens of paned windows above looked dark, soulless, empty, but Heath suspected the six vampires were within, along with a hundred servants. Breaking in to get to Vivienne would prove interesting.
Vivienne’s natural perfume was erotically spicy—cinnamon, jasmine, the mysterious scents of the East. Sarah smelled like daisies. He could detect both scents in the house.
Flapping his large wings, he hovered over the council’s mansion. Vampire servants would be guarding the windows on the inside. The doors were locked, barricaded. The skylight he’d broken had already been repaired, and the council had reinforced it on the inside with metal bands.
He needed to find a weakness. He retreated, then circled again. His wings rippled as he soared around the large, Georgian house. He stayed far away so he wouldn’t awaken the instincts of the vampires inside, making them recognize a threat.
What in blazes are you planning to do, Heath? She’s inside there, but they’ll detect you before you get close.
Julian’s voice sliced into his thoughts. Heath spun on a current of air and saw the younger vampire in his winged form. He swooped at Julian, his fangs bared, forcing the younger vampire into a dangerous descent to evade him. Fly away, Julian, before I rip you apart. You led them to Vivienne. You let them take her and Sarah.
Julian retreated. I didn’t. They almost destroyed me trying to get to the women. I barely survived.
You work for the council. I saw the spots of Sarah’s blood on her floor, which means she was hurt—
I’m going to help you, Blackmoor, whether you want it or not.
Julian suddenly wheeled in the air and flew toward the house. His, lithe, black shape passed the windows, turned, then swooped again. A window flew up and shrieking bats raced out. They dove after Julian, who spun in the air to evade them. Julian had lured the guard bats away. Heath swooped to the roof and flew straight down the chimney.
Streams of smoke flowed up, choking him, and soot fell on him. He carved out of the hearth at full speed, shooting over a fire. Flames licked at his belly, but he made it out unscathed. He landed and transformed in the hot, deserted kitchen.
He knew Julian could fly faster than the bats and escape them. Julian must want to make amends for betraying Vivienne and Sarah.
He smelled daisies. A faint trace wafted through the basement. He could breathe it through the stone walls, and he took off in a preternatural sprint.
He tore through narrow hallways. Down a winding set of stairs. He ran so swiftly past the mortal servants who toiled down here that they couldn’t see him. He had to knock out two beefy men at the mouth of a pitch-black hallway, the corridor to the cells. Both muscle-bound vampires dropped with a thud. Cautiously Heath stepped into the entrance. The corridor was the width of his shoulders and arched, formed of brick. At its end, he found a wall of inch-thick iron bars.
Those only slowed him down for a couple of minutes. After tearing them apart, he stepped through the twisted wreckage. He now stood in a large, empty circular space. And paused.
Then he ducked.
An ax blade slammed into the brick above his head, sending dust raining down on him. With lightning speed, Heath grasped the handle of the ax and tore it out of the hands of the vampire who had tried to behead him.
A kick sent his attacker sprawling on the ground and gave Heath a second to look over his foe. The vampire was seven feet tall, with a body the size of an ox. He wore a monk’s brown robe and his fallen legs looked like felled trees.
Heath somersaulted in the air, gripping the ax handle tightly, and he flew over the vampire. His bare feet slammed onto sharp flagstones just as the guard launched to his feet. Any beast with sense should run, once he’d lost his weapon. But this vampire had to know the price of failing the council. Boiling in oil. Burning at the stake. Being drawn and quartered by the bats. Nothing merciful for the council.
The vampire roared, fangs bared. Heath held up the ax. “Unwise,” he pointed out. “Don’t move.”
But the beast did. And Heath didn’t have time to waste in a fight….
The vampire pulled out a silver dagger and plunged it toward Heath’s heart. Heath blocked the blow with the hand of the ax. He couldn’t bring himself to slice off the vampire’s head.
The vampire pulled weapon after weapon from his robes. Two more daggers. A throwing star. Heath disarmed him with blows from the wooden handle. But he was tiring. And the other vampire was strong.
The vampire launched forward with two small knives. Heath lifted the ax; the vampire slammed directly into it, burying the blade into his chest. A wound like that should only slow such a huge vampire, but Heath watched as the guard slithered to his knees and fell face down. The prone body suddenly shuddered, jerked, then exploded into dust.
So it was an enchanted ax.
All that remained of the guard was his robe. Heath fished the ring of cell keys out of a pocket.
Seven hallways lead from the circular entry, but he could smell daisies from the middle one.
Sarah was huddled in the far corner, a dark blanket wrapped around her. One blond curl stuck above the gray wool and one toe peeked out at the bottom. He could see the torn hem of her now filthy nightgown.
Damn the council. He would rip Adder apart when he found him.
“Sarah?” He inserted three keys before finding the right one. The iron door swung open without a sound. With a squeak of terror, the poor girl huddled the blanket closer.
“It’s all right, love. I’m here to take you home.”
The blanket shifted. In the dark, he could see Sarah’s face pressed against a small opening, one large blue-green eye blinking. “M-my lord?” she whispered.
It speared him. She sounded so much like Meredith.… He shook his head. This wasn’t his daughter—and he was about to save Sarah, not helplessly watch her die. “Yes, it’s Blackmoor,” he answered softly. “Can you stand up?”
A sniffle came. “I can’t. My legs won’t move. They—they’re numb.”
He couldn’t scent blood but he asked, “Are you injure
d? Did they hurt you?”
“N—no.”
“Did they hurt your mother?”
“No, but cloaked men took her away. For a ceremony, they said.”
A ceremony. He got on his knees in front of Sarah and pushed the blanket back from her. Too late, he remembered he’d left his clothes behind when he changed shape.
Sarah’s eyes went wide at the sight of his bare chest. She gave a horrified squeak and scuttled backward. Loathing rushed through Heath’s heart. Sarah was afraid of him. Which must mean some of Vivi’s protectors had given the girl reason to be afraid. Had Vivienne quit her life as a courtesan to protect Sarah, only to be forced to seduce men for that damn medicine?
“I won’t hurt you. I had to shed my clothes to come and get you. Watch.” His muscles jerked and twisted, his bones expanded, his wings grew out on his back. He changed form, lightly moving his wings to hover. Then he changed back.
Sarah’s eyes were wide with fascination now, not fear. “He said you could do that.”
“Who, Angel?”
She gave a wavering smile. “Julian. He showed me that, too. When I was afraid. He told me he would make sure no one hurt me. But then these men appeared and they began to hit him. I tried to stop them, but then they hit me. I must have … passed out, for I don’t remember anything else until I woke up in a cart. Mama and I were being brought here.”
She tried to lift her hand to him, but it dropped listlessly.
He needed to give her his blood. He sliced his wrist with one fang. Sarah immediately shuffled toward him, drawn by the scent of his blood. He gathered her into his arms. She weighed so little, and she flopped against him. He pressed his wrist to her lips. “Drink this while we fetch your mother.”
Sarah drank a little, then pulled away from his wrist. “Do you think the cloaked men … hurt her?” she whispered.
Where would she be? The council chambers or a bedroom?
Heath crept up the servants’ stairs, clutching Sarah against his chest. After she’d taken his blood, she’d grown stronger. Her arms were firmly wrapped around his neck. Her heart raced fearfully.
