Blood Bond

by Alicia Ryan

  As the haze lessened, he made a mental note to go lighter on Andrew from now on. He’d done a rather prime job of the spell after all.

  Eyes open, though his brain still reeled, he took in the woman he’d been referring to in his private thoughts as his dream girl. And the reality of her didn’t disappoint. She stood under a beam of light from an overhead gas lamp that made her honey colored hair look lighter at the crown and created enticing shadows around her bodice. Not that her gown left much to the imagination. It was simple, Grecian in style, with a high waist, as was the current fashion, but made of layers of filmy, translucent material that would have been called white if it hadn’t been so nearly transparent. The dress draped scandalously low in front, and appeared, when she moved, to be slit on one side up to the level of her undeniably naked thigh.

  Knowing this wasn’t a dream—that she stood just feet away created in Darren a sensation he hadn’t thought to ever feel again—that of blood pounding in his veins. As he watched and the ringing in his ears subsided, the magic of her voice washed over him. How she sang, what she sang.... It was as if she opened her mouth and a world he could only imagine came out—a world full of emotion and passion, a world without rules.

  And even now, the scent of blood clung to her. It whet his appetite, as he had yet to feed, but he had the disturbing thought that her blood would whet his appetite at any time.

  She moved in time to the music, seemingly unaware of the eyes on her. Unaware of how the light caressed her—of how it made him long to do the same. She wasn’t as pale as was fashionable, but the gold tint of her skin made her seem radiant to him. She looked so blissfully...alive. For a moment, an image of the two of them flashed in front of his eyes—gold against white. Sun-kissed against pale. Heat against cold. Life against death.

  Fear assaulted him unexpectedly. Would he hold the same sway over her as she held over him? He’d never considered the possibility she might want nothing to do with him.

  He shook it off; fear wasn’t a feeling he was used to. She would want him. Their fates were intertwined. They had to be.

  “Dear God,” Branham whispered, jarring Darren from his reverie.

  “Not what you expected?”

  “Certainly not. I can’t have anything to do with this.”

  Darren raised his brows. How could anyone not want to get closer to that woman on the stage? His woman. He suddenly didn’t feel so charitable toward Branham.

  “I do know what you did back there, by the way,” Branham said. “I don’t like charity, Lord Highmore. No matter how well-intentioned.”

  Darren’s stance softened. “Think nothing of it. I’ve lost to worse men for worse reasons.”

  He wanted to laugh at Phillip’s innocent confusion.

  “Winning a single hand of cards,” he explained, “is only important if you’re not playing the long game.” He gave a wry smile. “I play a very long game.”

  Branham still looked puzzled, but Darren had more important things on his mind. “I want to get a closer look at our new songbird, Branham.” He nodded toward the front of the room. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  “Of course.”

  Two viscounts, both of whom owed him money were drinking at a table up front, and Darren made haste to join them. “Gabriel, Daniel, do you mind?” He indicated the empty chair facing the stage.

  “Not unless you’ve come to collect. Have a seat.” Gabriel reached over and pulled the chair out for him.

  He sat and let his attention drift from his two companions to the girl on the stage. After a while, Gabriel gave up trying to engage him in conversation, and he and Daniel went back into the other room to get in a game of cards.

  She sang until the wee hours of the morning, and Darren sat gazing at her the entire time. He wondered if he’d even blinked. But she hadn’t noticed him. She’d barely looked in his direction. Sometimes she seemed to pick out one or two men in the crowd to flirt with or tease as she sang. Other times her eyes closed, and she was simply the music.

  Several men moved toward her when she would have stepped down from the little stage at the end of the night, but Darren pushed his way to the forefront. Before he could get a word out, the gaming overseer stepped between them.

  “I’m sorry, Lord Highmore, Mr. Padworth is most insistent that Roxanna not fraternize with the members. You’ll have to be content with watching her perform, I’m afraid.” His gaze encompassed the rest of the assembling crowd as well.

  Roxanna, Darren thought. At least now he knew her name.

  But he wasn’t like the others—in more ways than one.

  “Perhaps the lady will speak to me,” he said, “if I am able to reveal some details about her...arrival here.”

  He saw Roxanna’s brows shoot up.

  Jack turned to her. “Do you recognize this man?”

  She shook her head.

  “Nevertheless,” Darren continued, “I have information I believe would be of interest to the lady.”

  Roxanna stepped down and put a hand on Jack’s forearm. “Perhaps I should hear what he has to say.” She nodded toward an isolated corner table. “We’ll just be over there. I need to hear what he has to say if I’m to have any hope of...regaining my memory.”

  So that was the story she’d concocted, Darren mused. Quick thinking on her part, not to mention being able to land a job. And he’d worried she’d be dead. She seemed the picture of health—clothed, protected, and employed. That annoyed him a bit. He wondered if all females in the future were so independent.

  He took her hand, under Jack’s watchful eye, and led her to the table she’d indicated.

  “I enjoyed your performance.”

  “Thank you. Do you think the men here tonight will return? It’s pretty much a condition of my employment that I bring in customers.”

  Darren chuckled. “I don’t think your attraction for the gentlemen who frequent this club will fade for quite some time. None of us have ever seen anything like the performance you gave tonight.”

  “You don’t approve?”

  “I didn’t say that. I think I’m still getting over the shock.”

  “Exactly what kind of lord are you?”

  “I’m an Earl. Darren Andrew Highmore, Earl of Richmond.”

  The look on her face indicated she wasn’t impressed. “Well?” she asked.

  “Please, call me Darren.”

  “Well, Darren,” she said. “Start explaining.”

  “I brought you here, I’m afraid.” He gave a slight shrug. “I didn’t know quite where –” he looked up at her—“or when I’d be bringing you from, but I saw you and had to have you. I’m the reason you’re here.”

  Silence reigned for the space of a full minute.

  “Are you waiting for me to thank you?” she snapped.

  Darren sat back but then leaned forward once more, deciding to ignore her completely justifiable anger. “Why is it you smell of blood?” he whispered. “And not in the usual way of women.”

  Her eyes went wide. “What do you mean?”

  “I have an uncanny sense of smell, and right now your scent is sweat, passion, pride—and blood. I want to know why you smell of blood.”

  “And I want to know how you think you brought me here.”

  “Will you not answer my question?”

  Her eyes flared. “The only one at this table who has anything to answer for is you, mister.”

  “Your Lordship,” he corrected.

  “Oh, please. You’re lecturing me on courtesy when you’re either a lunatic or...well, a complete figment of my imagination?”

  He found himself smiling. “You’re quite amusing.”

  She glared at him. “If there’s any chance I’ve actually been jerked back in time almost two hundred years and you’re responsible, I’m not going to have anything to say to you that’s remotely amusing.”

  Two hundred years. Darren turned that phrase over in his mind for several long moments. What wonders she must
have seen. What kind of world did she come from? What kind of world produced such passionate, fearless females?

  Some rash impulse made him decide to test her.

  “Very well,” he said, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I’m a vampire. I dreamt of you; I saw and smelled you in my dreams, and I asked my familiar to find a way to bring you here.”

  “Vampire,” she repeated.

  Darren nodded.

  “Magical vampire.”

  He nodded again. “Essentially.”

  One corner of her mouth rose. “I suppose that beats a cross-eyed fireman.”

  “Excuse me?”

  She tilted her head back and examined the gold-emblazoned fleur-de-lis pattern on the ceiling—for some reason, seeming to find it entertaining. Finally, she lowered her gaze again.

  “Never mind that,” she said, shaking her head. “Let’s just say I’ve decided magical vampire might not be so bad.” She smiled that one-sided smile again. “It’s not crazier than some of the things I’ve been imagining.”

  He didn’t know if he was pleased or disappointed at her lack of fright. “Pray tell, what did you think had happened?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Warlock, wicked witch, that I was dreaming and really in a coma in some hospital, that this crazy old fortune teller had drugged me and was probably busy rummaging through my pockets all the while I thought I was in Merry Ole’ England. Frankly, I think my money’s still on the coma. I must have had an aneurysm or something. I’m probably lying in bed in need of medical attention right now.” She pursed her lips. “I hope Carrie or Tessa will check on me when I don’t show up for work.”

  “I assure you this is no dream.”

  “Right. I have to give my brain credit, though, for coming up with something as cool as a magical English vampire.”

  “How can I convince you this is real?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You can’t. It can’t be real.”

  Darren frowned. “I guess I could send you back.”

  Her eyes widened, but she was quick to reply. “Okay. Why don’t we try that?”

  “I’ve no intention of returning you just yet,” he admitted on a frown.

  “Which leaves us nowhere.” She studied him rather pointedly. “Okay, let’s say—just for a minute—that I believe you. Why would you bring me here?”

  “I’ve told you what I know. I dreamt of you for nights on end, and in my dream, I could see your face as clearly as I can now, and I could smell the lovely scent of your blood, just as I can now. Most humans don’t wear their blood on the outside. I want to know why you seem to.”

  “One secret deserves another?” she asked.

  “If you want to look at it that way.”

  She shrugged, turned in her chair, and pulled up the side of her dress without the high slit. The raised scars there took his breath away in the manner of a stunning work of art. He ground his teeth as she let the hem of her gown slip back to the floor.

  “You do it to yourself,” he said. It wasn’t a question. Her life was there for him, written in blood. And her need spoke deeply to his.

  She simply nodded.

  “You must see we’re a perfect pair.”

  Her brows shot up, and she gave him a look he could only categorize as skeptical. “The cutter and the vampire?” One side of her mouth went up in a wry smile, and the first hint of warmth came to her eyes. “I wouldn’t call that a match made in heaven.”

  He looked seriously at her. “I won’t lie and tell you I think heaven has anything to do with it.” He leaned forward. “But we are a matched set. We can give each other things no one else can.”

  He knew she’d understood him when he saw her swallow and take a deep breath. And she was the one to break their gaze, her eyes falling to her hands.

  He smiled. “Do tell me your full name.”

  She was so still for a moment he could have sworn she hadn’t heard him.

  “I’m Roxanna Collins. Not any kind of royalty or aristocracy or anything. Just plain old Roxanna Collins.”

  “Now that’s where you’re wrong.” He dropped his voice to a whisper once more. “Your blood is the sweetest thing I’ve ever smelled. It called to me across centuries, Roxanna, and I can give you the pain you need. I can give you oblivion.”

  She looked up at that. “I don’t think I’m ready for oblivion yet. I plan on dying a natural death a very long time from now.”

  “I meant the oblivion of pain, Roxanna...and the oblivion of pleasure. You needn’t worry about dying at my hands.”

  “Says the lunatic who claims to be a vampire.”

  Darren felt his shoulders slump. “Come home with me,” he said. “I’ll show you.”

  She shook her head. “Oh, no.”

  This conversation wasn’t going at all as he’d imagined. “You can’t mean to stay here, not after what I’ve told you.”

  She nodded. “That is exactly what I mean to do. Did you think I’d just run off with you?”

  He looked at her and shrugged.

  And she laughed out loud. He was glad to see it, even though he was sure it was at his expense.

  “Ego much?” she asked. This time, her eyes held a teasing glint when she looked at him. He much preferred it to the angry one.

  “That’s probably the least of my sins,” he said, regretting the words as soon as they’d passed his lips. They cast a distinct cloud over her features.

  “A discussion of your sins isn’t likely to win me over, I wouldn’t imagine.”

  Darren brought a hand up and rubbed the side of his temple. “No. No, it wouldn’t.”

  Giving him an odd look, she asked what he considered an even odder question. “Have you ever done anything good with your life, Darren Highmore?”

  He cocked his head and stared at her. “Yes,” he said finally. “Yes, I have. I performed a great service for this country once, though it was long ago.” He paused to consider something he never had before. “Yes, I think it’s a safe bet that I saved more lives than I’ve taken.”

  She looked inexplicably sad and sat staring at her hands again.

  “At the very least,” she said finally, “I need a day or two to think it over.”

  “My sins?”

  “Your offer.”

  His breath hitched in his chest. “It’s not out of the question, then? You aren’t frightened by me? Repulsed?”

  She smiled at him, but he thought it was the saddest smile he’d ever seen. “I’ve never done anything worthwhile with my life. I’ve never done anyone any good. I can barely keep a roof over my head. How can I judge a man who has done good?” Her smile lightened a bit. “Any kind of man.”

  “But you still want to think it over.”

  “Well, it’s not every day I get propositioned by a vampire—even in my dreams.” Her smile turned into a frown. “And I’m still not clear on what you’re propositioning me for. What precisely does a vampire’s proposition involve?”

  Darren frowned. “Tell me, why is it you seem so comfortable with the idea of me being a vampire?”

  Roxanna laughed again. “Trust me, in my time, you’re nothing special. That’s probably why you’re in my head.”

  “So vampires are...what...public...in your time?”

  She shook her head. “No, nothing like that. It’s not like I’ve ever met one before or anything, but you’re all over the place—books, movies, tv—for an imaginary species, you’re extremely popular.”

  “What are movies and...tv?”

  “Oh. Ah...just forms of entertainment. Sort of like plays. And I guess you could add plays to the list.”

  “You have plays about vampires?”

  “Scads.”

  “But the real vampires remain still in secret?”

  She nodded. “Yep. You’ve taken over the minds of women everywhere without ever proving your existence.”

  “Well, that’s...interesting.”

  “Can we get back to the more important question o
f whether you intend to kill me?” she asked, leaning in a bit and lowering her voice, though they were completely alone.

  “I intend to feed on you,” he replied, wanting to be perfectly clear, “but I won’t kill you.”

  “And make me your mistress or something?”

  He smiled. “Or something.”

  “You can’t brainwash me, can you?”

  It was Darren’s turn to laugh. “I can make you forget my presence, but why would I ever do that to you? I want you to remember every time we come together.”

  “You make it sound very...” She raised her brows a bit and gave him a knowing smile.

  “Wait until you’ve tried it. Sharing blood is like nothing else.”

  “And if I say no, will you scurry off from here to find someone else to feed from?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I don’t scurry, but yes, I do need to feed at least every other day.”

  She paused, turning this over. “Then go do what you need to do,” she said. “I need time to think.”

  “Roxanna, you belong with me,” he implored. “Why else would you have called to me so? I need you, and you need me.”

  “Even assuming I believe all this, I still don’t intend to go offering my blood up to the first vampire who asks. I don’t even know you. Do you always have casual sex—or biting or whatever—with people you barely know?”

  Darren wanted to growl but was afraid he might frighten her, though he was beginning to suspect nothing frightened this peculiar girl. “There will be nothing casual about it, but no, it is not necessary for me to know you beforehand. Once I taste your blood, I will know you, and if you taste mine, you will know me.”

  “That’s a little spooky.”

  “It can be intense.” He cocked a brow at her. “Do you make a habit of accepting propositions from men you barely know?”

  To his horror, she winced. “Um...I wouldn’t call it a habit, exactly. But no, my virtue—or whatever—hasn’t needed guarding for quite some time.”

  “I guess you’d call me a hypocrite if I admitted how much I didn’t want to hear that.”

  Her smile changed to teasing again. “Do you think I wanted to hear that the gorgeous guy checking me out from the front row is a vampire?”