His fingers eased their grip on her shoulders, but his expression remained hard with warning in the wash of moonlight.
“Bloody hell. You risked your life for a deformed gargoyle who is not even worthy of being a part of his Guild?”
She stiffened. “There happen to be many of us who are unworthy to belong to a Guild or a clan or a coven, my lord. That does not mean we cannot possess friends who care for us.”
“Juliet—”
Victor’s words were brought to a sharp halt as a distinct sizzle flared through the air and then, without warning, Juliet felt herself being hauled to the ground. Victor covered her with his body just as a strike of lightning hit a building on the other side of the quay.
She heard the sound of distant shouts of alarm as humans rushed away from the unexpected shower of brick and glass, but with fluid speed, Victor was on his feet and scooping Juliet in his arms as he headed into the nearest warehouse.
There was the overwhelming stench of damp wool and smoke from the oil lanterns as Victor flowed past the stacked crates to the back of the long room, his movements silent and swift. Halting next to the heavy wooden doors, Victor set her gently on her feet and scanned their surroundings for potential threats.
“Is it pixies?” Juliet demanded, tugging down her loose shirt. Thank God she had possessed the sense to trade her corset and skirts for more suitable garments.
Victor tossed aside his cloak and removed his elegant jacket and waistcoat, carelessly dropping the expensive, but restrictive, clothing on the filthy floor.
“Why would you suspect pixies?” he demanded.
“Levet claimed that they attract lightning.”
“It is true a nest might occasionally draw upon the energy of a storm to enhance their magic, but they are not capable of creating lightning from a clear sky.”
Juliet grimaced. Of course, it could not be a nest of harmless pixies.
“Then what creature is capable?”
“A mage.” He sent a questioning glance in her direction. “Or witch.”
She paused, then gave a decisive shake of her head. “No. There have been no spells cast. At least none in this neighborhood.”
“No magical objects?”
“Nothing with the power to—”
Again they were interrupted by that peculiar prickling in the air followed by a violent shake of the warehouse, as if the lightning had struck the slate roof.
Yanking her against his hard body, Victor wrapped his arms around her, his frigid energy pulsing through the warehouse.
“Damn. We must get out of here.”
“I’m not leaving until I have found Levet.”
He pulled back to glare at her in disbelief. “Do not be a fool. Whatever is creating such a violent disturbance in nature is beyond our ability to defeat.”
“I am not asking for your assistance.” She ignored the daunting implication that whatever was creating the lightning was more powerful than a vampire clan chief. “Indeed, I prefer to continue my search without your interference.”
“Juliet, you can come with me willingly or I will take you by force. In either case, you will not be allowed to endanger yourself.”
Jerking out of his arms, she glared at him with an unmistakable threat.
“Marquis DeRosa, if you attempt to force me to leave, I will never forgive you.”
His brows snapped together at her mulish determination, and for a moment Juliet sensed he was poised to ignore her warning. Victor was a vampire accustomed to being in command. He gave an order and it was obeyed, without question and with a nauseating amount of groveling. His instinct would be to toss her over his shoulder and to hell with her own wishes.
But, even as Juliet was preparing for a futile battle to keep from being hauled away from the docks, Victor muttered a curse in a language that was long dead and, closing his eyes, tilted back his head.
“What are you doing?” she demanded suspiciously.
“Attempting to sense the gargoyle.”
“Is he near?”
“Impossible to say.”
“Impossible or inconvenient?”
“Both.” Lifting his ridiculously lush fringe of lashes, the vampire stabbed her with an admonishing glare. “And before you condemn me to the netherworld, you are sensible enough to realize that there are hundreds of scents, most of them excessively unpleasant, that mask any particular trail.” He paused, an unmistakable tension etched on his beautiful face. “Besides, there is a strange energy that is interfering with my senses.”
Juliet studied the empty warehouse. “It cannot be a spell.”
“No, it is the natural magic of a demon, but I cannot tell you the species. I only know that it is strong and very aggressive.”
Perfect. Juliet unconsciously wrapped her arms around her waist.
“How can you know it is aggressive?”
“The hostility fills the air.” The cold fingers lightly touched her cheek as Victor regarded her with a brooding frustration. “Juliet, this is no game. We have to leave.”
With exquisite timing, another explosion rocked the warehouse, unexpectedly buckling the stone floor to reveal a gaping chasm.
A scream was wrenched from Juliet’s throat as the earth crumbled beneath her feet, and with a sickening sense of helplessness she plunged into the darkness below.
Victor cursed as he grabbed for Juliet, only to have her snatched from his grasp as the floor collapsed.
He didn’t hesitate.
For perhaps the first time in his very long existence, Victor leapt without considering the consequences, without seeking the potential dangers, his savage need to protect the vulnerable female simply overcoming his instinctive sense of selfpreservation.
Astonishing.
Landing lightly on the balls of his feet, Victor moved silently to where Juliet sprawled on the packed-earth floor, her hand lifting to rub the back of her head.
“Ow.” She struggled to sit upright. “Where are we?”
He crouched next to her, his hunter senses capable of determining that she had a small cut on the back of her head and a few bruises, but that she was essentially unharmed.
His fangs lengthened, aching with hunger at the intoxicating scent of warm peaches and blood that abruptly swirled around him. Damn. With an effort, he thrust aside his potent reaction, instead concentrating on their surroundings.
The small cavern appeared to be connected to a series of tunnels that ran beneath the docks, the smooth walls and carved ceiling proving they were not natural, nor the work of mere humans.
“I assume we have intruded into the lair of some demon.”
“Lovely.” With an effort, Juliet rose to her feet, glancing up at the opening far above them. “How are we—”
Her words ended in a small squeak as he shifted with blinding speed to stand directly behind her, one hand clamped across her mouth and his arm wrapping around her waist to tug her against his chest. Bending his head, he placed his mouth next to her ear.
“Ssh.”
He felt her stiffen as she became aware of the ominous foreboding that drenched the air above them.
“What is it?”
Her words were muffled and so low that only a vampire’s heightened hearing could have heard them.
“Death,” he whispered.
“I am desperately hoping that is a metaphor.”
“Only if we are fortunate enough to avoid being caught.”
Keeping his arm wrapped around her tiny waist, he lifted her off the ground and began backing toward the nearby tunnel, calling upon his powers to cloak them in shadows. It would not entirely disguise their scents, but it would hopefully mute them enough to avoid attracting unwanted attention.
Silently he moved away from the cavern, edging deeper into darkness until he at last halted where the tunnel split in two directions. He gently set Juliet back on her feet, but he kept his arm firmly around her, absurdly needing the tangible comfort of knowing she was unharmed.<
br />
Glancing over her shoulder, Juliet tilted her chin, refusing to reveal the fear he could feel trembling through her body. His lips twisted as he ruefully admitted that he admired her courage, even as it threatened to drive him insane. After all, if she were a bit more timid they might even now be at his lair, spending the evening in a far more satisfying manner.
Wickedly, intimately satisfying.
“What are we doing?” she demanded.
“Waiting and hoping the creature passes on without noticing our trail.”
She nodded her head, then her brows tugged together as she noticed the thick scents that wafted from the far tunnel.
“Good lord, it smells of . . .”
“Humans.”
“Terror,” she softly corrected him.
His hand cupped her chin as he studied her delicate face. “And what would you know of such a thing, little one?”
“When I was young my parents and I were traveling through Africa. One night we entered a town where a slaver’s ship was berthed.” She shivered. “I will never forget the stench of desperation. It spread through the streets and tainted everything in its path.”
“Your parents permitted you to be near such evil?”
“Actually, my mother used me to sneak aboard the ship and release the shackles that held the humans captive while she cast a spell that made the slavers believe they were being chased by hungry lions.” A small smile of remembered satisfaction curved her lips. “The last we heard, they ran straight into a tribal village that happened to take a very dim view of their townsfolk being sold like cattle.”
A cold fury clenched his stomach at the mere thought of what might have happened to her.
“Your mother sent you alone to release brutalized slaves?”
“She trusted that I was capable of performing an important task as well as teaching me to care for others,” she snapped, the raw wound of her parents’ death suddenly visible in her eyes. “Something I have forgotten far too often since . . .”
His fingers softened their grip to trail over her cheek, oddly feeling her pain as if it were his own.
“How did you become Hawthorne’s apprentice?”
“After my parents were murdered, I was determined to remain on my own.” A tremor shook her body. “It did not take long before I learned that humans are not the only creatures capable of great evil.”
“You were hurt?”
Her eyes clouded before she hastily lowered her lashes, as if she could hide her emotions from him.
“I was captured by trolls and sold to the highest bidder.”
Victor made no effort to contain the eruption of frigid power that filled the tunnels.
“Their names.”
She regarded him warily. “I beg your pardon?”
“Give me the names of the trolls.”
“They did not bother to share their private information and it no longer matters.” She gave a restless shrug. “I was fortunate that Lord Hawthorne was at the auction and purchased me.”
“Hardly fortunate,” he bit out. “The bastard has taken advantage of you and your talents for decades.”
“We both know how much worse it could have been.”
His jaw clenched. He wanted to deny the truth of her words. He detested the overly conceited bastard, and not just because he was a mage.
The man stood as a protector to this woman.
A position that belonged solely to Victor.
“Very well. I will concede there are worse fates than to be apprenticed to Hawthorne, but why do you continue to remain with him?” he growled. “The debt must be paid by now.”
“I have nowhere else to go.”
A dangerous emotion jolted through his heart at her soft words, his arm tightening in an unconsciously possessive motion.
“You are mistaken, little one. Your place is with me.”
A bleak smile curved her lips. “And once you weary of me in your bed, my lord? Would I become a tasty meal for your clan?”
Unthinkable.
He growled low in his throat, knowing he would readily kill any of his brothers who tried to touch her.
“Perhaps I will never weary of you.”
“I am no gullible mortal. A vampire’s hunger is as varied as it is insatiable until he has mated.”
His lips twisted in a humorless smile. “That is the common assumption.”
“Ah, no doubt you are about to convince me that you are different from every other vampire?”
“But of course I am. I expected that went without mentioning.”
“Arrogant—”
Victor swooped down to claim her lips in a kiss of naked, unrelenting need.
“My hunger remains insatiable, but it is no longer varied,” he confessed. “I desire no woman but you.”
“For the moment.”
He pulled back to capture her wary gaze. “Since I first caught sight of you.”
“Are you implying . . . ?” She sharply shook her head. “No, it is impossible.”
“I can be deceitful when the occasion demands, but I will never lie to you, little one,” he swore. “That you can depend on.”
Chapter Four
Juliet’s heart forgot to beat as she gazed into the silver eyes, mesmerized by the promise that shimmered in the beautiful depths.
Was it possible?
Could he truly have forsaken women since meeting her?
And if he had, why would he?
He had to have a potent reason to deny himself. It was, after all, unheard of for a vampire to go even a few nights without sating his sexual appetite.
So why . . .
It was the yearning ache deep inside her that abruptly shocked her out of her inane thoughts.
Good Lord, she had known for two years that she lusted after Victor. Hardly a shocking realization. What female in London did not desire the handsome beast?
But to long for something he could never, ever offer her was utter madness.
“This is hardly the time or place for such a discussion,” she forced herself to say, spinning out of his hold and heading toward the far tunnel before he could guess her intent.
“Juliet. Damn.” There was a stir of cold air before Victor was grasping her arm to bring her to an abrupt halt. “Where do you think you are going?”
“To see if we can help the humans.” She squared her shoulders. “And then to find Levet.”
“Do not be a fool.”
“Fine. You remain here. I will go.”
“Absolutely not.”
She steadily met his smoldering silver gaze. “We have already been through this, my lord. You are not my keeper. In truth, you have no right to tell me what I can or cannot do.”
His jaw tightened with frustration. “You have always possessed an independent spirit, but you have never willfully courted danger. Why are you being so stubborn?”
Her gaze dropped to where his slender fingers wrapped around her wrist, genuinely considering his question.
“Because I am weary of allowing my fears to isolate me from the world,” she at last confessed.
“You are hardly isolated.”
“Perhaps not physically, but I have avoided becoming emotionally involved.” Her voice was soft, edged with regret. “I told myself that it would be illogical to become attached to others when I would eventually be forced to leave them behind. Spending time with Levet has made me realize I was simply being a coward.”
He gave a short, humorless laugh. “You have readily defied the most dangerous demon in the entire British Empire. You consider that the behavior of a coward?”
“More like the behavior of a lunatic,” she muttered, lifting her head to meet his glare. “But I was referring to my habit of avoiding relationships out of a fainthearted fear of experiencing the same pain I endured when I lost my parents. It has kept me in a prison of my own making.”
“I would be the first to applaud your desire to share your life, so long as it is with me, b
ut what does this newfound need have to do with recklessly endangering yourself?”
She shrugged, ignoring his frigid displeasure. Stupid, of course. Only a fool would willingly cross swords with a vampire.
But over the past months she had been plagued with a growing restless need to break free of the fear that had held her captive for far too long.
“Truly being a part of the world means taking risks, as my mother taught me. Whether it is with your heart or with your life.” She sent him a challenging frown. “Do not try to convince me that you would not do whatever was necessary to rescue a vampire who had been kidnapped.”
“It is my duty as clan chief.”
“Well, this is my duty as a . . .”
“Yes?”
She yanked her arm from his grasp. “As a mongrel, I suppose.”
His brows snapped together at her brittle tone, but before he could continue his lecture, she was moving down the tunnel, refusing to halt until she reached the heavy metal door that blocked the passage.
She pressed a hand to the wall of the tunnel, knowing better than to actually touch the door until she was certain there were no nasty surprises. Her brow pleated with concentration. Unlike full-blooded demons, she did not possess finely tuned senses that allowed her to easily determine every nuance of her surroundings.
Which only meant she had to work harder, she grimly told herself.
Ignoring the annoyed vampire hovering protectively at her shoulder, Juliet pushed out with her senses, nearly going to her knees at the staggering odor of unwashed bodies and barely leashed panic.
Her every instinct urged her to turn around and flee, just as it had all those years ago when she had been in the bowels of the slave ship. Hardly unexpected. No creature with the least amount of sense would be eager to confront whatever was behind the door.
But now, as then, she called on the thought of her parents. Her fierce, fearless mother who defied her own coven to be with the imp she loved. Her impulsive, charming father with his ready laugh and open delight in his only child.
They believed in her, never allowing her to accept she was less because she was a mere mongrel.
Tonight she would make them proud.
“There are more than just humans,” she muttered.
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