Blood Wicked

by Sharon Page

  “I knew if I took my own life, I would have no chance of seeing my family again. Ariadne and Meredith are in heaven. I was sure my daughter was looking down upon me, hating me.”

  There, the last of the wounds was stitched closed. She stroked his back. The beautiful expanse was a patchwork of black thread and raw, red skin. “You tried to save her life, Heath.”

  He shook his shoulders, as though shaking off her soothing words. Slowly, he got to his feet, and she gasped. She had never seen such agony written upon a man’s face. The handsome mouth contorted in a twisted sneer. His eyes burned like fiery embers.

  “I went to the Carpathians because I was a selfish man. I ran away from my estates, from grief, from guilt. And when there was nowhere left to run, save Siberia, I tried to run to the bottom of a bottle. I got so stinking drunk, I was lying on the frozen ground, wondering if I stayed there and died if that would be considered suicide and I would go to hell. Next thing I knew, two hunchbacks in brown cloaks found me. They hefted me between them and dragged me to a cart. My head slammed against wood planks and I passed out. When I awoke, I was chained in a dungeon lit by four flaming torches. A man entered the room; I watched him float through the air. His eyes were gleaming red.”

  “That was Nikolai?”

  “Yes. He tore open my shirt, which stank of spilled drink and vomit, and he touched my heart. Every memory of Ariadne and Meredith flashed through my head. It was the worst agony I’d ever known. I saw every moment, compressed into the space of heartbeats. I saw them die again. But this time, I experienced memories I didn’t know I had. The scream of my wife and child as the carriage started to go. My wife’s desperate, calming words to Meredith. Even facing death, Ariadne’s first thought was for Meredith—for our daughter, not herself.” He sighed. “Ariadne was like you. She was so loving, so giving.”

  Vivienne stared at him. “Your wife sounded like a good woman. I don’t believe I compare to her at all—”

  He suddenly caught her shoulders. His mouth slanted over hers, hot and loving. When he stopped, he glanced at her hand. She still clutched the needle.

  “Where did you learn how to treat wounds, Vivienne?” he asked softly.

  “From my mother. She would do it in the stews. She’d learned from her father. He was a doctor in Exeter.”

  He gazed into her eyes. “How did the daughter of a doctor end up in London’s stews?”

  After all he had told her, perhaps she owed him some truths. “That doctor married his daughter to a violent man,” she said bitterly. “I never understood why he did it. He tended to people and worried about his patients, yet he sentenced his daughter—my mother—to a living hell. Her husband beat her. And he was unfaithful. He enjoyed hurting her. Then he died. There were rumors my mother had poisoned him. So she ran away.”

  Heath frowned. “But you said you didn’t know who your father was.”

  She wrapped her arms around her chest. “That man was not my father. My mother had become pregnant twice and both times she lost her baby after he had beaten her. But he blamed her for the miscarriages, and beat her for that. She became pregnant with me in London, by some unknown man.” She didn’t want to speak of this anymore. “As soon as it is dusk, can we go to Dimitri’s? I’m worried about Sarah.”

  “She will be safe, but I promise we will go as soon as the sun sets.”

  After Heath’s story, she desperately wished to see Sarah and hold her. How she wished Heath could have another chance. She’d seen how protective he had been of Sarah.

  He had changed, even if he did not believe it himself. She was sure of it.

  “The night will be coming soon,” he said softly. “I need to plan how to make love to you.”

  Swallowing hard, Vivienne remembered. How could she forget that tonight would be the same as the other nights? She would crave sex, and Heath would have to think of a way to give her what she needed, without being the one to do it.

  First he had to leave Vivienne sexually sated. Then he had to find Nikolai.

  Standing outside Sarah’s bedchamber in Dimitri’s house, Heath cocked his head. He heard feminine laughter. A light giggle that belonged to Sarah and a sensual, throaty laugh that must be Vivienne’s. He cracked open the door to Sarah’s room. Vivienne and her daughter sat on the edge of the large bed. He saw the soft love in Vivi’s face for her child, and his heart gave a low, hard tug.

  She was like Ariadne. It was a good thing he carried a curse and already knew he couldn’t hope to have her.

  Silk skirts whispered behind him. He turned to meet Sadie’s large blue eyes. “Lord Heath, I thought I would find you here. Lord Dimitri sent me to entertain Vivienne again tonight.”

  He shook his head. “Thank you, Sadie, but tonight I intend to pleasure Vivi myself.”

  The long, amber lashes blinked. “Are you quite certain, my lord, it’s safe?”

  “I know to take care, Sadie.” Then he sent his thoughts to Vivi, hoping he didn’t startle her. Vivi, meet me in my bedroom.

  He lifted Sadie’s hand to bestow a kiss, then he went to his bedchamber where he stripped off his clothes. A long cheval mirror threw the reflection of his naked body at him. His skin was so pale it almost shimmered in the firelight. Being undead had made his body leaner. Muscle rippled beneath his skin. His back was still unhealed.

  Suddenly, Vivi’s voice came into his thoughts. I know what I wish to do tonight, Heath. I want you to tie me up.

  14

  “I want to leave this room and find out what scandalous things happen here,” Sarah cried, petulantly. “I am eighteen years of age. That’s hardly a child.”

  Hiding nerves, worry, and fear, Vivienne lifted an eyebrow in the way known to mothers—the arch that spoke volumes.

  Sarah stomped her foot on the floor and folded her arms beneath the bodice of her nightdress. “You do not let me have any adventures.”

  “No, I do not. That is what mothers are supposed to do. Keep their daughters safe from dangerous adventures.”

  At Vivienne’s side, the pretty vampiress and new friend, Sadie, tried to muffle a giggle.

  Sarah flopped down on her bed, bouncing on the mattress beside a small pile of books. Dimitri had sent many books to keep Sarah amused, including Pride and Prejudice, the novel that had so pleased the Regent. Sarah lifted a chocolate truffle from a velvet-covered box, flipped open her book, and popped the entire decadent chocolate into her mouth. “Fine then,” she mumbled around the candy.

  Leaving Sarah to read, Vivienne motioned Sadie to follow her into her bedroom. As soon as she gently closed the door, Sadie flashed a look at the bed and gave Vivienne a wicked smile. “Well, Vivienne, do you wish to—”

  Flushing, Vivienne whispered, “Not tonight.” And she swiftly posed her problem to Sadie: how to break through Heath’s guilt and touch his heart. She remembered how Guidon had told her Heath welcomed the curse. Tonight she’d learned the vampire librarian was right.

  Sadie tapped her chin thoughtfully.

  “I must show him I trust him,” Vivienne whispered.

  Sadie had brightened. “Is there anything you could do with him that would show him? It took me a long time to let a man make love to me in my rump. But eventually I knew he would be gentle, and he made me so hot and bothered by stroking me there that I wanted it, too.”

  Vivienne frowned. She couldn’t do that. Then she remembered the shackles in Heath’s carriage. And she knew. One way to prove she trusted him was to allow him to tie her up.

  Vivienne didn’t expect Heath to be wearing such a look of blatant confusion in his silvery-green eyes when he opened the door. Surely he could hear her heartbeat. It hammered so loudly. And it galloped faster when she saw he’d opened a tall wardrobe in the corner of his bedchamber. Ropes hung on hooks within. Whips—heavens, whips—lay across brackets on the door.

  He led her in, then cocked his head. “Are you sure you want me to do this?”

  “Yes. Do it now.” She might lose her
nerve if he didn’t.

  “Why?”

  Dear God, why would he ask that? Men were not supposed to. A woman offered an invitation and they hastily acted upon it, lest it went away.

  “I want to—” She wildly searched for a reason. His robe was open and she could see his body. All the hard muscle, the beauty of him, the large, heavy erection. Do this and she let him control her. Once her hands were tied, she would be entirely in his power.

  But desire now pounded inside her. She knew exactly why she had whispered the idea to Sadie in her bedchamber. “I want to do something with you I’ve never done with anyone else.”

  His breath hitched. His eyes glowed, more silvery and reflective than she’d ever seen them. He inclined his head, then prowled to the cupboard. Before her eyes, he took a length of red velvet rope. Crinkles appeared around his eyes, and he smiled wickedly.

  She expected him to tell her what he intended to do. Instead, he came to her, took hold of her wrists, and wrapped the rope around them. He wound an intricate figure eight with long trailing ends. Without a word, he pulled on those ends, forcing her to follow him. He looped them around a hook in his ceiling. And she was bound, with her arms extended over her head, secured like this.

  This wasn’t what she’d expected.

  She wished he would speak. It unnerved her.

  But this was to be about trust. She had to trust him.

  He undid the knot in the belt of her robe. One twitch of his hand and the silken thing slithered off her shoulders and fell to the floor. Underneath, she was naked. Now her breasts, with erect nipples, bounced slightly. She saw them move in the cheval mirror. And she saw …

  Her backside, too. There were two mirrors in the room. One placed behind her, so when she looked in the mirror in front of her, she could also see her rear. Her naked rear, provocatively displayed. And not six feet from her exposed derriere stood a closet full of whips.

  Trust, Vivienne.

  He moved so swiftly, she did not know where he was until he appeared before her and kissed her breasts. His mouth worshipped her nipples. Heat spiraled from each taut, happy tip and burst down in her quim. She ached. Throbbed. Needed. “Heath—”

  But he opened his hand and a black leather strap fell. He held the end with his fingertips. It seemed too small to be a rope….

  Grasping both ends, he gave it a firm snap and brought it to her face. With her hands bound, she couldn’t stop him. He slipped the strip of leather between her lips, tied it around the back of her head. He took care not to tug the tendrils of hair falling from her loose coil.

  Raw sexual anticipation shot from her sensitive mouth to her quim. But in the next heartbeat, she thought, Dear heaven, he has gagged me.

  Part of the game, he said gently in her thoughts, and she realized she had sent them to him. I don’t mean you any harm, Vivi. This is play. You can allow yourself all the thrill and excitement of being at my command, yet know I would never hurt you.

  She nodded. The point of the gag, she supposed, was so she couldn’t protest.

  You can speak in my thoughts whenever you wish. To tell me to stop.

  Never would she have dared try this. Never would she expect she would be so excited. She would never have done this with any other man but Heath. Her cunny was hot, slick, truly bubbling with juices. And he had barely touched her yet. So she whispered her thoughts to him. Don’t stop.

  From behind, Heath cradled her breasts. His large, almost glittery pale hands cupped her ivory curves. He tweaked her nipples.

  But she couldn’t see him in the mirror.

  Then he moved away, and she gave a little sob of frustration into the gag. When he returned, he plucked both her nipples at once. Something in his hand was metallic and cold and she jumped. Or as much as a woman could when her arms were stretched above her head and she was balanced on the balls of her feet.

  Then something clamped onto her nipples. Sudden pressure shocked her. “Ouch,” she gasped, but the gag absorbed it all.

  The mirror reflected her raised brows and quivering lip, her vulnerability. And she knew he would free her if she asked him to in his head.

  But the pain was easing. He had put clamps on both of her nipples. Small clamps lined with velvet. Chains fell from each and rubies hung from the links. Many massive stones, and they reflected the flames in the grate, flashing red fire around the room.

  Heath sank to his knees in front of her and kissed the plane of her bare tummy. Vivienne giggled into the gag. His tongue flicked out, tracing the round indent of her navel. She squirmed. The rubies danced as her breasts swayed.

  Then he kissed his way down.

  He parted her nether lips and a flood of her juices gushed out. She could tell from his growl he was surprised by how aroused she was. And excited by it. He slid two fingers inside her. She moaned, the gag smothering the throaty sound.

  Gently, he stroked between the cheeks of her bottom. Wet from her quim, his finger slid around her tightly closed anus. Slowly, he eased his finger in. Just the tip. But she gasped at the intense sensations.

  Two fingers. He had pressed both his index fingers inside her. They were filling her passage, stretching her. Her tight anus resisted. Her muscles tensed and she made a sharp squeak of protest into the gag.

  Relax. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.

  She knew that. She had wanted to show trust, but it meant nothing unless she could truly follow through. But a little bit of doubt surged up. She knew men did new things, exotic things when they were growing restless. When they were going to leave.

  No, Angel, Heath insisted. I want to explore with you because it delights me to see you discover new pleasure. It thrills me to see your eyes open so wide, to watch you pant with anticipation.

  She froze. How did you hear what I thought?

  You must have sent it to me. By accident, I assume. Vivi, I’m not doing this because I’m bored or restless. And this is from a man who sailed thousands of miles to find new creatures, new worlds, new sensations. It took me a long time to understand that every moment with someone you care about is the most astonishing adventure of all. Trust me, love. I’m doing this because I want to share pleasure with you.

  His tongue flicked lazily over her clit.

  She moaned desperately at the burst of sensation. She saw herself in the mirror. His prisoner—tied up, gagged, with things hanging from her nipples that should be torture but were thrilling instead.

  No, Vivi. Even with your hands bound, you control me. You have my heart tied up in knots. I’m your prisoner.

  Those words would scare her—could she say them? Say her heart was held captive? To not just feel it, but admit it.

  Pleasure was like a silky wave flowing inside her. But she stared down at Heath as he tasted her and licked her and loved her. Was that why he’d traveled and stayed away from his home? Was he afraid of love? Afraid, like she’d always been, of losing control? Perhaps it hadn’t been grief that had closed his heart; perhaps it had been closed before that. But why?

  His tongue surged into her quim, sliding against a secret place that made her legs melt beneath her. She was sagging now, the rope was taut, and he lowered on his knees so her exposed cunny was pressed right on his face.

  They were both afraid.

  But in this, she could take a step toward being fearless.

  His fingers thrust in and out, plunging deeper with each stroke; his tongue swirled over her clit, twirling faster and faster. He moved, lifting her feet off the floor. She was suspended on his mouth and the pressure made her head swim. Her eyes were shut tight. She opened them wide. This was the very first time she’d been bound and suspended and she was going to witness every stunning, erotic second of it.

  Tension wound up inside her, and she rocked on his mouth, growing closer and closer. The ropes tugged, the metal hook creaked, and she bounced desperately on his face.

  Yes, he urged in her head. Come for me.

  Like a slave to a master
, she did his bidding at once. Her climax broke free. Her scream filled her head, but the gag kept it in. She sobbed his name over and over. She tore so hard at the ropes as she came, plaster dust rained down upon them. The hook stayed in place, at least. And he brought himself to climax.

  Vivienne floated in the wave of luscious pleasure.

  In my thoughts, Vivi, I heard every moan. I heard you cry my name. Heath spoke the words in Vivi’s thoughts, then he tugged the ropes free and released her. The red rings around her wrists made him feel guilty. Gently, he massaged them, but she gave a breathless sigh. “You were right,” she whispered. “It was an adventure. It was thrilling.”

  At once, he turned into a protector. He had to take care of her. Quickly, he wrapped her robe around her. Dimitri had sent sherry to his bedchamber; Heath assumed it had been intended for Vivi. He poured her a glass as she sat on the edge of his bed. She looked delighted but a little shocked, and that gave a tug at his heart.

  Finally, he sighed. “I have to go now, Vivi. Tonight, I have to try to find my brother. And now that it’s dark I can go out safely. You are free … I mean, if you need more …”

  She was watching him with patience as he stumbled over his words. “I understand if you need to bed someone else tonight. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

  She shook her head. “I won’t need to. And I don’t want to.”

  She’d told him that before. This time, deep inside, he hoped it was true. He had no right to want her fidelity, but he couldn’t stop the words before they spilled out. “I meant what I said. I’m your prisoner.”

  “And I can see that scares you.”

  He jerked his head up. No, she could not read his thoughts. He could see that in the pensive look on her lovely face. In her thoughtful frown. She knew what he felt because … because she could understand him.

  Christ, that terrified him. He left the bed.

  “Is it because you still love Ariadne?”

  He had been preparing to pull on his shirt. Surprise made him drop it on the floor. “I don’t still love Ariadne,” he growled. He hated himself for saying it, because he now knew it was true. Had he ever really loved her? Properly, the way a woman should be loved? Immaturity and arrogance had made him an idiot. His position made him look on his wife and daughter as beautiful possessions befitting an earl. Was an arrogant idiot capable of love?