The Vampire Dimitri rd-2

by Колин Глисон

  He shifted on the chair, suddenly releasing his fangs from her arm and then slipping his warm tongue over the wounds in sensual little circles. She sighed and arched, a painful little tingle of pleasure starting deep inside her belly and moving down.

  His hand slid up behind her neck and grasped her skull as he pulled her down onto his lap. She closed her eyes, her hands planted on the solid planes of his bare shoulders and then she jolted when he bit into the soft part of her shoulder.

  Maia cried out in surprise and pain, then arched toward him as hot blood surged from that delicate skin into his mouth. His tongue slid, flat and sleek, over her shoulder, then retreated as he drew rhythmically from her. Strong hands held her immobile, close, and she felt his body tight and hard against hers, lurching a little with the effort.

  His big hands cupped her, his mouth took, the heat from his body burned into her hands and through her clothing.

  Maia’s world spiraled into a red blaze that was nothing like her dreams, but just as sensual and compelling. Blood coursed through her veins and she felt it swelling and surging, pouring forth. She couldn’t catch her breath. Everything became him.

  She wanted him.

  Then all at once, he froze. Some guttural curse erupted from his throat as he whipped his face from her shoulder, his fingers tight as he shoved her back, his movements violent and sharp, his breathing loud and labored in the room.

  “You blasted fool,” he snapped, pushing her from his lap as if she were an unwanted cat. His eyes blazed like coals and his lips were full and slick, the very tip of a fang caught against one.

  Maia, startled from the lull, stumbled as she tried to catch her balance. A hand whipped out and grabbed her arm just in time, but with the force of it, she knocked into the table and tipped it over. Her knees buckled and she sagged in his grip, weak and confused, her eyes rolling back into her head.

  “Maia,” he said, urgent now, furious. “Look at me, blast it.”

  She opened her eyes with great effort and tried to focus on the dark figure looming over her.

  “Damned bones of Satan, I told you to use the damned rubies.” He was fairly shouting, yet his hands were gentle as he eased her into the chair he had just vacated. “Why didn’t you use the rubies?”

  She noted vaguely that he seemed to have fully recovered, although when he bumped gracelessly against her chair and nearly fell on top of her, she was forced to revise that conclusion.

  Other than that, she could hardly capture her whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The fluttering heat still swirled in her belly and she felt the slow ooze of blood from her shoulder. Warm. The wound on her wrist seemed to have stopped; all that was left were four dainty red marks.

  She forced herself to focus now, and she let her head tilt against the back of the chair, looking up at him. He leaned over her, bracing himself with a hand on each side, his muscular arms bracketing her in.

  “Maia,” he said, a bit more gently now—which was to say, at a lower volume, though no less tense—and there was an odd note in his tone. “You…” His voice trailed off and their eyes locked.

  Everything stopped. Maia could hardly draw a breath.

  Inside, everything exploded into hot fluttering. “Are you going to kiss me now?” she whispered.

  His lips formed a silent “Can’t. No.”

  But then he did.

  She met his mouth as it crashed down on hers, hungry and warm with the residual of her own rich blood. His lips were hard and demanding, forcing her mouth open as he thrust his tongue deep. A powerful thigh wedged into the seat next to her and Maia found that she couldn’t move; she was pinned down into the chair by his hands and mouth, his dark, powerful body rising over her.

  Grasping at the tails of his shirt, she pulled, tugging him closer, her hands sliding over the planes of his chest. His muscles shifted and trembled beneath her palms, the hair soft and prickly, skin hot and smooth.

  At last, at last…was all she could think.

  He had her face cupped in his big hands, fingers curling behind, thumbs pressing into her jaw as he drank from her mouth now, then pulled away with a soft, deep groan to cover the wound on her shoulder again.

  This time, he didn’t penetrate, but instead, slicked his tongue over the curve of her shoulder, down into the little soft hollow of skin. Maia shivered and tried to shrug him away, for the sensation was intense, but he delved deeper, his tongue dipping and sliding, sipping from the last bit of her blood, his lashes tickling her neck. She felt her pulse coursing against his mouth, pounding against his lips, her heartbeat matching his as her hands found it through his chest.

  “Please,” she whispered, not quite certain what she needed, rolling her head against the back of the chair as she tried to find it, shifting her hips. She was hot and damp every where, tight and tingling and she wanted his hands and mouth in places they had no business going.

  All at once, he went still and then pulled away. Before she could even gasp in surprise or disappointment, he clapped a hand over her mouth. His chest moved rapidly as he cocked his head and sniffed the air.

  “Satan’s bones,” he muttered and vaulted off the chair, half stumbling yet silent. He yanked her up with him, his hand still over her mouth, his eyes suddenly blazing darkly into hers. “Don’t make a sound. Don’t say a word. Don’t argue,” he hissed into her face.

  Maia managed a brief nod of acknowledgment, her brain still foggy from the sudden change of sensual assault to this frightening intensity.

  And then she heard them: voices. The sounds of people below.

  Corvindale said something vile under his breath, looking around the room. The rubies had fallen to the floor when she knocked over the table, still contributing to his sluggish movements. Their proximity was likely the only reason she was able to pull out of his grip, but she did, darting toward the pile of bloodred stones glittering amid gold.

  Without a word or even a glance at him, she scooped them up and dashed to the window, then flung a thousand pounds of jewelry out into the night. When she turned, she saw a flash of approval on his face, and then he gestured sharply toward the door.

  But Maia knew that there were more gems just beyond, a larger cache, and if they met up with whoever was downstairs when he was in the proximity, they could be in trouble.

  “Stay here,” she hissed in the same way he’d done. “Don’t argue. Don’t say a word. Trust me.” Despite her weak knees, she made it to the door before he did and slipped out as he lunged for her.

  In the dark corridor, she heard voices below and recognized that of Mrs. Throckmullins and two masculine ones. They were moving through what Maia had realized was an abandoned or closed-up house, and one would assume that they would soon be coming to check on their prisoners.

  The rubies that she’d dumped there earlier still rested in a little pile, and Maia picked them up, started back toward the room she’d just vacated and saw Corvindale coming out after her, his face ablaze with fury. So much for listening.

  She hesitated, then spun and went light-footed down the hall to the room in which she’d been imprisoned, the rubies dangling from her hand. She couldn’t stomach throwing them out the window, as well, but at least she could hide them far from the earl.

  By the time she found a place deep in a drawer, far from the door, after stubbing her toe in the dim light, the voices were rising in volume. Corvindale had whipped the chamber door open silently. His face was black with fury, but Maia ignored it and dashed over to him. “Out of here,” she mouthed, pointing toward the chest where she’d put the jewels.

  They went out into the hall just as the tops of several heads appeared, coming up the shadowy stairs. Corvindale shoved her behind him and backed her roughly into a different chamber from the one in which he’d been imprisoned. But by that time, Mrs. Throckmullins had appeared at the top of the stairs and her furious shrieks filled the air.

  Inside this new chamber, Corvindale grabbed Maia and pushed her behind him
, then reached for a chair. It splintered on the floor just as the door slammed open to show a red-eyed, fanged Mrs. Throckmullins.

  Oh. Maia realized she should already have figured out the woman was a vampire, but then, there’d been other things on her mind. Then all of her thoughts evaporated as she realized Corvindale had a broken chair leg in his hand and he was facing their abductor.

  “Back so soon, Lerina?” Corvindale said. His voice was calm and cold, but Maia, who was held in place behind him, felt the tension rippling through his muscles.

  The broken chair next to their feet reminded her of the stake that she’d dropped when she found Corvindale, along with the metal poker, which, of course, would be of little use now. She needed a weapon of her own, but knew better than to dodge down and snatch one up, distracting the man in front of her.

  Mrs. Throckmullins—or Lerina, for, apparently, they knew each other—was speechless with fury. But Maia noticed that she wore several ruby rings, and that more hairpins glinted like blood in her dark hair. She felt the shimmering in Corvindale’s body as their effect slowed him. And she was not certain how much feeding from her had restored him.

  And then behind Lerina emerged another figure with burning red eyes and fangs, pushing past her into the room.

  “I don’t think I’m quite ready for you to leave yet, Dimitri darling,” Lerina said. “Especially until you properly introduce me to your companion.”

  The tone in her voice, the way her eyes settled on Corvindale with a mixture of heat and fury, told Maia all she needed to know about their relationship. And who had put the marks on the earl’s shoulders and arm.

  Maia eased away from Corvindale, despite his blind attempt to keep her in place while watching the two at the door. She kept a hand on his back so that he knew where she was, and, using him as a shield to block her movements from sight, crouched slowly to the floor.

  “I believe you two have already met,” he replied to Lerina.

  As Maia picked up a piece of wood, the second vampire edged into the room and started to move along the perimeter. Corvindale tensed and shifted his body so that he could watch both Lerina and the man as they separated. Maia stood, and he immediately curved his hand around to hold her behind him, giving her a hard, angry squeeze that clearly said, “Don’t move.”

  A noise behind them had Maia spinning to see a third vampire, climbing through the window.

  He was holding a glittering red necklace.

  Maia felt Corvindale’s involuntary shudder and she thought if there was ever a time for a lady to curse, this would be it.

  In lieu of that, she realized whatever she did now would have to be careful and smart. The earl didn’t think she was capable of thinking for herself, obviously, but she hadn’t escaped from her chains and saved him by being a dunderhead.

  Any further thoughts were interrupted by Lerina, as she made a sudden, furious sound that was almost like a shout.

  She was staring at Maia, her eyes narrowed.

  “You,” she said, and at first Maia thought she’d suddenly and unaccountably recognized her. But that was ridiculous—of course she’d recognized her—and that thought was dismissed as Lerina continued, now speaking to Corvindale in a voice that sounded both happy and taunting at the same time. “I see that you’ve been busy, Dimitri.”

  Her eyes turned back to focus on Maia, and they were evil. Their very weight seemed to make the blood course in her veins, and her bites throb as if responding to some siren’s call. Maia gripped the wooden stick, trying to keep it hidden within the folds of her skirt, trying to keep her mind clear in the face of such animosity, and realized that the vampire was attempting to enthrall her. And if the shimmer in her vision was any indication, Lerina was succeeding.

  As if realizing this, Corvindale moved abruptly, shifting so that he blocked their connection and severed the thrall. Maia touched him briefly in gratitude and realized she mustn’t make eye contact with any of the Dracule. At least, the ones who meant her harm.

  The third vampire with the rubies had moved some distance from the window while the second one had continued to edge farther from Lerina. It was clear Lerina meant to distract her opponent while setting up her mode of attack.

  Now, the three vampires were spread out at the edge of the room, leaving Maia and Corvindale in the middle.

  The earl continued to scan back and forth between the three, and Maia felt him easing her back as if trying to get to the wall where at least one side would be protected. He made no bones about hiding his stake, and despite the presence of the rubies, his muscles bunched and his breathing seemed relatively steady.

  “You left me no choice, Lerina,” he replied coolly.

  “Whatever do you mean?” she asked, but her hands fluttered, belying her innocence. “Unless I’m mistaken, the last time you deigned to feed on a mortal, it was me. I hate to think that I’d ruined you for a century, darling.”

  Corvindale gave a disgusted snort. “As you wish. But, I confess, in a hundred years, I’ve met no one like you.”

  The other woman seemed oblivious to the sarcasm in his voice; or perhaps she was just used to it. “We could share, Dimitri, and then we wouldn’t have to go through all of this mess. She does seem rather lovely. She’s light and I’m dark…wouldn’t we make a pretty picture? Together? We don’t have to send her on to Cezar. I’ll just tell him she…didn’t make it and he can find another way to get to Chas Woodmore.”

  Lerina smiled and her fangs showed, long and wicked. She looked over at the vampire with the necklace. He’d moved farther from the window.

  “What do you suggest?” Corvindale replied, his stake arm relaxing. He sounded almost inviting.

  Suddenly the vampire who’d been at the window raised his arm and slung the necklace through the air toward Lerina. Corvindale reacted instantly, and, with a groan of exertion in a great moment of pain, raised his stake to intercept the jewels midair. They caught on the wooden spike and in a sharp movement, he whipped them to the ground.

  Maia didn’t hesitate. She dropped to the floor and snatched them up, staggering a bit with the unexpected activity. Better that they were in her hands than their enemies’. But then, before anyone could react, she ran a few steps toward the window and winged the necklace toward the opening.

  The vampire near it leaped but missed, and the lethal gems sparkled as they tumbled into the moonlit night.

  Lerina gave a muffled shriek of anger just as the nearest vampire lunged for Maia. She tried to spin away, still gripping her stake, but he was fast as a breath and he caught her by the arm. His yank was hard enough that she fairly flew through the air, slamming up against him. She flailed out with her stake, stabbing as Iliana had taught her to do; but she was no match for the vampire and couldn’t get him in the right place.

  He laughed and shifted, twisting her around roughly, grabbing up a handful of her hair and baring her neck. He spoke for the first time. “Did you say something about sharing, mistress?”

  Maia swallowed and risked a glance at Corvindale, expecting to see him apprehensive—or at least furious—but he wasn’t even looking at her. He was watching Lerina, whose eyes had turned red and whose fangs were showing once again.

  “Lovely thought,” Lerina said.

  Maia’s heart was pounding and she couldn’t get a good angle with her stake, which had been immobilized by the vampire holding her anyway. Then, everything happened at once…but it was as if the world slowed, underwater, and the events unfolded like a bolt of cloth.

  As Corvindale turned, he made a sharp movement. Something spun madly through the air and slammed into the torso of Maia’s captor. A stake. The vampire cried out and released her, tumbling to the floor, but by that time, Corvindale was there, slinging Maia up around the waist. She lost her breath and before she caught it again, he’d lunged toward the window. He caught the edge with his hand and pivoted them through the opening.

  She heard someone scream as they went out, weightless,
into the night, nothing but air around them.

  15

  An Interminable Carriage Ride And A Preemptive Apology

  “Do stop screaming,” Dimitri said, his ears ringing, his feet flat on the ground. He hadn’t even staggered when he landed. He adjusted his hold on the squirming woman in his arms, for now that they were on the ground safely, she was bound and determined to get free.

  “You’re mad,” she was gasping. “Mad!”

  This was no time to talk; Lerina and her make would be out and after them in a moment—either through the window or down the stairs. And though Dimitri had man aged a perfectly executed escape, he was still more than a bit wobbly in the knees and trembly in the muscles. Yet, the rush of energy from real, fresh, human blood had restored him more quickly than he’d thought possible.

  But he wasn’t going to think about the consequences of that now.

  Definitely not now. Much, much later.

  Perhaps even never.

  Ignoring Maia’s contortions, Dimitri ducked into shadows and dodged around the close-knit warehouses. They were, as he’d surmised, near the wharf, and even at this time of night, sailors were unloading and loading cargo, drinking, gaming and whoring. An easy environment in which to get lost.

  If someone would keep her mouth closed.

  “Hush, blasted woman,” he ordered. “They’ll hear you.” The last thing he wanted was to attract attention from anyone at the wharf and have to deal with that delay, as well.

  It wasn’t until he flagged down a hack and she disappeared within, disdaining his assistance, that Dimitri was able to take a deep breath. And suddenly everything halted.

  The driver waited for him to climb in, his hand on the door, an impatient look on his face. Certainly Dimitri knew he looked beyond disreputable, with blood streaking him every where, and what had been left of his shirt lost somewhere along the way.

  But he was Corvindale, and he wasn’t about to be rushed into anything, particularly by the likes of a hackney driver. He glanced into the shadows of the carriage, easily able to make out Maia’s figure even in the dark. The prickling over the back of his shoulders and the upheaval in his gut bordered on unpleasant.