by Колин Глисон
Now inside, listening to the pouring rain, she adjusted her skirts neatly across her knees. They were weighted by their damp hem, which just skimmed the tops of her water-speckled slippers. They’d be ruined, but the state of her shoes was the least of her worries.
How was she going to tell Alexander? What was she going to tell him?
Did he suspect something, and that was why he was indisposed? No, certainly not. How could he suspect anything?
He must simply be unwell, which explained why he wouldn’t have come to call. Poor Alexander, always the gentleman. Likely attempting to keep her from getting his sickness. Perhaps…she hoped he wasn’t ill over worry for her. That would be simply too much for her to bear.
The parlor door opened suddenly, and Maia jumped at the unexpected noise.
“Alexander,” she said, calming her nervous heart and rising promptly to her feet. She scanned him closely, looking for signs that he had been ill or sleepless.
“Maia,” he replied, smiling at her. He didn’t appear to be unwell, his Scottish heritage showing in a handsome face shaven and faintly ruddy as it always was. His gray-blue eyes scanned her with appreciation and his chestnut-colored hair and sideburns were combed and pomaded as if he’d dressed for her. “I am so delighted to see you. I meant to call on you today, but I’m afraid I must keep an appointment this afternoon. Perhaps you would join me, and we could talk in the carriage? I believe we have much to catch up on.”
“Yes,” she replied, feeling a bit off center, as if nothing had happened. Perhaps, in his mind, nothing had.
In his mind. A very cold feeling settled over her. Corvindale. Had he come and persuaded Alexander that nothing was amiss? Had he enthralled her fiancé to force him into marrying her, regardless of what she told him?
Could he even do that?
Maia firmed her lips. She would have to have a word with the earl. Again.
“Very well, then, my dear,” he said, offering her his arm as he opened a large umbrella. “I promise our appointment won’t take long at all.”
He held the covering up and over as they fairly ran through the downpour to his waiting carriage. The rain came down so hard that it splashed up and under the umbrella, soaking the bottom third of her frock.
“There’s something I must tell you,” Maia said, gathering up her bravery as well as her heavy skirts as she settled into the carriage across from him. She was breathing heavily from the short dash. “There’s something we must talk about.”
Even if Corvindale had been here, or somehow talked to Alexander, she would still tell him what she needed to tell him, and deal with the earl later.
“I have things to talk with you about, too,” Alexander said as he latched the door and knocked on the roof of the vehicle. “Things have changed.”
That was when she realized something was wrong. It was the way he said it, the way he was looking at her. There was an odd note in his voice, a strange inflection that sent a prickling along the backs of her arms.
“What do you mean?” she managed to say as the carriage lurched off speedily.
He smiled at her, displaying a gleaming white set of fangs.
Maia barely stifled a shriek. “Are those real?” she asked, trying to keep her voice—and her mind—steady. Impossible. Her mind tried to scatter, but she forced herself to focus. This was not the time to panic.
In response, he settled eyes on her that glowed red. “Why do you not come here and find out?” He leered, patting the seat next to him.
“Alexander! How did this occur? What happened?” Her heart was a runaway in her chest, her palms damp beneath her gloves, but she remembered to keep her gaze averted.
“I had a visitor on the day you forgot about our engagement to take a morning walk. It was all very odd, for she asked me to come for a drive in her carriage, that you wanted to meet clandestinely.”
“Mrs. Throckmullins. Lerina,” Maia said, her heart sinking.
Alexander nodded, a funny smile twitching the corners of his mouth. “Yes, indeed. It didn’t take me long to realize that she wasn’t taking me to meet you, but that she had another plan in mind. She’s quite annoyed with Corvindale, and as it turned out, I wasn’t at all adverse to her suggestion that I join her race. It was either that, or she was to kill me. When confronted with immortality or death, I didn’t find it a difficult choice.”
“But you…you’ve given your soul to the devil,” she said. “You chose the certainty of being damned for eternity.”
“But I shall live forever,” he said. “And in the care of Lucifer. Thus that event will never come.”
Maia shook her head. “Alexander, no, you—”
“Enough of that.” He moved, suddenly shifting to the other side of the carriage next to her. “I see that you’ve already been introduced to the particular pleasures of my new race,” he said, grasping her arm with one hand to keep her next to him. With the other, he lifted the thick choker she wore to hide the nearly healed scars from Corvindale’s bites.
“Release me,” she said, trying to keep her head. The carriage door was on the other side of Alexander, and it was latched. She’d have to get past him, and get it unhooked in order to jump out—and the carriage was going at a very rapid pace. Her insides heaved unpleasantly as a chill blanketed her. “My brother will have your heart on a stake if you harm me. If Corvindale doesn’t get to you first, which I assure you, he—”
“Ah, yes. I’ve heard about your attachment to Corvindale.” His smile had been relatively benign, but now it hardened. “I presume that is how you obtained these marks.”
Before she could react, he turned, his weight shoving her into the corner of the seat as he lunged onto her. Maia drew in a breath to scream, but he clapped a hand over her mouth and plunged his fangs into her shoulder.
She jerked at the pain, arching up, clawing with gloved fingers and fighting at him, trying to twist away from his smothering hand. She felt the release of blood from her veins, the feel of his lips over her skin, the heavy, hard weight of his body pressing her down, down into the dark corner of the carriage as the wheels rumbled beneath them.
He groaned, his chest heaving against her as he gulped the blood from her flesh, his hand tight, pressed roughly into her mouth and cheeks. One of her arms was trapped between them and the back of the seat, but the other one she whipped free, flailing desperately at him, pulling at his hair, scratching ineffectively at his arm.
Alexander pulled away after she managed a particularly loud cuff against the side of his head, over his ear. Eyes blazing red, blood gathering at the corners of his mouth and staining his teeth, he shifted, releasing her mouth and grabbing both of her arms. He captured her wrists with one strong hand, forcing them down between them, where his weight held her arms captive between their torsos.
“Alexander,” she gasped, trying, hoping that she might somehow penetrate whatever frenzy had seized his mind, “Corvindale and Chas will kill you. Let me go.”
“I can’t do that, my dear Maia,” he said, his tongue swiping around the corners of his mouth to get the last bit of blood. “I have my orders. But there isn’t any reason why I cannot sample you. I never expected it to be this pleasurable.” He bent again, and she tensed, expecting him to shove his fangs into her once more, but this time, he covered her mouth roughly with his.
Tainted with blood, he tasted like copper, and something dark and ugly. He was hard and brutal, his fangs scraping against her mouth and cutting her lips as his tongue thrust and stroked. She twisted and fought more, tears of frustration and fear leaking from the corners of her eyes.
Corvindale. Chas. Hurry.
She felt the warmth draining from her body from the wound on her shoulder as he moved to the side of her neck, then the slice of pain as he drove his fangs in once more. They weren’t going to get to her in time. He was going to drain her. Kill her.
Maia closed her eyes, trying to focus, trying to push away the horror blinding her. In the backgrou
nd of her fear, she heard the drumming of rain on the roof and the vibration of the vehicle as it rolled along. She must remove herself from this moment of terror and think. Think. Was there something she could do to stop him? He hadn’t begun to tear her clothes away, but she felt the hard bulge that indicated his arousal, and she suspected with a deep, terrible fear, that he soon would move on to other violations.
But the heat and life flowed from her, along with her consciousness, and she found herself floating somewhere in a plane of fear and pain, hands rough on her, the incessant rumbling of the carriage beneath her.
And then it stopped.
He pulled away and sat back, looking at her. A drop of blood colored the corner of his mouth and his eyes, glazed with desire, burned down at her. “Alas,” he said, “we’ve arrived.”
Maia tried to pull herself up, but the interior spun and she fell back weakly onto the seat. Blood trickled down her shoulder and neck, over her upper chest and seeped into the neckline of her dress.
She heard a click and the carriage door opened. The rush of cool, damp air did a bit to revive her, but when she saw Mrs. Throckmullins standing there, Maia felt a rush of fear.
“Hello there again, my dear Miss Woodmore,” she said, rain drumming frantically on her umbrella. “I see that you’ve taken a bit of a sample of our friend here, darling Alexander. But what a mess you’ve made of it. Fool.” Her voice hardened. “She cannot bleed to death.”
With a sharp movement, Lerina flung the umbrella to someone behind her, and Maia caught a glimpse of a brick wall looming beyond in the low light. Then all other thoughts fled as the woman surged into the small space and pulled the door closed behind her.
“Now let’s see to this,” she said, settling on the seat across from her and Alexander. “Hold her,” she said as Maia began to struggle, trying to slip up and out of the small vehicle.
Alexander grabbed her shoulders and then her wrists, holding Maia still as Lerina moved closer. “She smells delightful,” the other woman said, sniffing delicately. “I thought as much the first time we met.” She traced a finger down into the blood still oozing freely from the bites on her neck, then brought it to her lips. With a vigorous swipe, she tasted the red drop and smiled.
“Now, now, you needn’t fear, Miss Woodmore,” she told her, seeing Maia’s eyes grow wide. She grasped her chin, holding it with strong, sharp fingers. “It won’t hurt a bit, and then I’ll see to stopping the bleeding. We don’t want you to die until Dimitri gets here. Just close your eyes now and enjoy.”
Maia would have screamed, but the woman slapped a flat hand over her mouth. “I don’t need your cries ringing in my ears,” she said angrily. “It ruins the experience.”
Maia couldn’t move, for Alexander’s weight and hands kept her body in place and her arms pinned between them while Lerina held her head immobile. The woman bared her fangs, a dark glint in her eyes, and drove her sharp teeth into the top of Maia’s shoulder.
Maia’s vision fluttered dark and light, her stomach pitched and rolled as she gagged behind the fingers clamped over her mouth. The rhythmic tug and suction from the woman’s lips echoed through her body, dragging up from deep inside. A little flutter of unwanted pleasure uncurled in the pit of her belly, just a quiet tingle within the dark world of fear and pain and Maia felt tears rolling from her eyes again.
After a long moment, it was over. Lerina pulled away, her lips full, her eyes bright red. She made a soft humming sound of pleasure, bloodscent filtering from her heavy breaths. Maia kept her eyes closed, focusing on the fact that they weren’t going to kill her. At least until Corvindale arrived.
A trap for him. Of course it was a trap, but he was smart.
And strong and powerful. Too smart to be tricked, especially again. And he had Mr. Cale and Chas and even Dewhurst and Iliana to help him. Surely he wouldn’t be hurt. Surely—
Lerina leaned forward again, and Maia tensed, feeling the tightening grip of Alexander’s hands on her shoulders. She twisted, but she was powerless, and this time, instead of biting her, Lerina swiped her tongue out. Worse than having the fangs penetrating her flesh was the feel of the woman licking her shoulder, licking and gently sucking away the last bit of blood from the fresh wounds.
Maia trembled low and deep as they held her down, both of them now lapping at the marks on her neck and shoulders, one on each side. Her skin crawled beneath the sleek whorls of tongue and lips and she tried to faint, tried to fall into some black unconsciousness so she didn’t have to feel the sensations on her sensitive skin.
She didn’t have long to wait. Mercifully, weakness overcame her, and darkness flooded her vision. Maia slipped into it gladly.
Dimitri stared down at the note. His body had gone cold and then numb, then his mind shattered into terrified pieces. Now it was working its way into blazing fury.
He couldn’t allow terror into his mind, so he focused on the fury.
I have something you desire.
That was all the missive said, but he needed no other information. Lerina’s scent, along with that of Maia’s blood permeated the paper.
Dimitri stopped his thoughts as soon as he smelled it. No. Going down that avenue would turn him mad. Focus on the facts, on what he knew.
Maia had left early that afternoon, many hours ago, to call on Bradington. She’d taken a hack instead of one of his carriages, a fact which he didn’t learn until supper when Angelica pounded on his study door to inform him that her sister hadn’t returned.
Even then, he hadn’t allowed himself to be too concerned, instead, torturing himself with the image of two lovers reuniting and forgetting the passage of time. But now…
He forced his mind to remain calm and empty. To go through a list of steps with logic and objectivity. Obviously Lerina wanted him to come. Obviously she had something planned.
Obviously Maia wouldn’t be killed, at least until he got there. He hoped. Lerina wasn’t Cezar Moldavi.
He’d need assistance, someone to have his back. He wasn’t that foolish. Giordan. Chas was still in Scotland, blast. Iliana. Even Voss. Eddersley. Gehrington. Perhaps Eustacia, the woman who sometimes practiced fighting with Iliana, if she was back from Rome.
Not that he would wait for any of them to arrive. But at least they’d be coming behind him.
Thus Dimitri kept his thoughts cold and steady as he barked orders to Crewston to send messages to Rubey’s, to the back rooms at White’s and to Dewhurst. He called for Tren and Iliana, giving Hunburgh direction on how to secure the house and whom to contact in the event the worst happened.
He wouldn’t think on that.
Where would they be? She’d given no direction, no indication…they had to be at the same place they’d escaped before. Or, at least, he had to start there and track them if necessary. He wished he had his dogs, but he never brought them to Town.
These thoughts, these cold, steely thoughts, kept him calm as he removed his waistcoat and changed into clothing meant more for a tradesman than an earl. Loose trousers with pockets and a shirt, sturdy shoes. And a coat with more pockets, where he put stakes. He picked up his sabre that masqueraded as a walking stick and walked out of the house as prepared as he could be.
He disdained the carriage that was waiting, for a saddled horse was much faster, and Tren, quick as he was, had prepared both. The carriage would follow once the others arrived.
If they did.
Dimitri galloped through the streets, grateful for the full moon that lit the world nearly as brightly as the sun. It was well into the night, and dawn would be only hours away.
When he got near the abandoned, shrouded house near the fishermen’s wharf where he and Maia had been imprisoned, Dimitri slid from the horse before he even stopped. He landed on the ground and gathered up the reins, looking for somewhere to tie the beast, or some urchin to pay to watch him. The house was several blocks away, and he wanted to approach it as secretly as possible.
Despite the fact that
it was long past midnight, the docks were by no means deserted. Fishermen and sailors walked, talked, fought, loaded and unloaded. The air was filled with noises of altercation and jollity. The smells of fish and sea-water mingled with something burning nearby and the ever-present odor of garbage.
Still calm, icily so, he looked around. And then he saw them.
Lerina stood in the center, in the narrow street. She was flanked by two men—likely vampire makes—and she watched Dimitri as he approached. Her eyes glowed faintly and she stood regally, as if she were a queen and he a subject approaching for obeisance.
“Where is she?” Dimitri demanded, his control slipping when he scented Maia on Lerina…and on the man standing next to her. Bradington. Whose eyes glowed mockingly.
Alarm rising inside him, Dimitri fought it back. So that was how Lerina had managed to get to Maia. He allowed his eyes to glow just a bit, to show the very tip of a fang. They were no match for him in strength or speed, and Lerina must know it. Even she, without the use of rubies, was no threat to him. And he sensed no rubies on her or her companions.
That fact filled him with unease.
“I wasn’t certain you would still want her. Now that we’ve finished with the little chit,” she replied. “Although I can see now why you’ve enjoyed her. She’s a tasty piece.” A lift in the breeze brought a stronger waft of fish accompanied by the smell of flame and burning wood.
“Where is she?”
“I wasn’t certain about your feelings for her the first time,” Lerina was saying conversationally. “After all, you were under duress. But you did feed from her—your control and abstinence are legendary, you know, and it was a shock to find that something had caused you to give it up. And then there was the way you looked at her…well, I had my suspicions. So of course I had to see for myself. It was rather amusing the way she came to your assistance, that night at—”
