Snow White and the Vampire (The Cursed Princes)

by Myles, Marina

  Signs of a misty sunrise streamed through the drawing room windows. Dimitri stood, but the heavy lethargy that always accompanied daylight began to overcome him. I’m a bloody fool. I didn’t make note of the time when I took Alba home.

  His feet felt like thick pieces of cement as he trudged to the door. Alba followed. He swung the door open as she placed a quivering hand on his shoulder. Standing before him wasn’t Jochen or the hansom driver. It was Teddy.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Teddy!” Alba gasped.

  Glowering, Dimitri reached back and shoved her behind him. “Bloody hell, Rollingsworth. What are you doing here?”

  Teddy eyed Dimitri’s bare chest then raised an urgent eyebrow at the sight of Alba’s frayed dress and mussed hair. “Are you all right, my darling? What did you do to her, Grigorescu?”

  “It’s none of your business.” Dimitri gritted his teeth. How does Teddy know my real name?

  “It sure as hell is,” Teddy said. “Alba is my betrothed.”

  Dimitri glanced beyond the door—to the sunlight that bathed the open courtyard. Fatigue pulled at him and he could hardly stand, let alone fight Teddy. “She isn’t engaged to you, Rollingsworth. I see no ring.”

  “Stop arguing!” Alba stepped forward.

  Reaching toward her, Teddy yanked her out of the house.

  “Alba—” Dimitri cried. He made a move to go after her, but the sunlight seared his outstretched hand. Alba looked back to see smoke rising from his charred skin. Her hand flew to her mouth. She gave him a staggering stare while Teddy forced her into his awaiting carriage.

  Dimitri is a vampire. Alba wormed her way to the far side of the hansom against the morbid thought.

  Seeing the sun’s rays burn his skin convinced her that he was a bloodsucking monster—and the realization gripped her with terror. He would have disintegrated into a pile of ashes if he’d gone after me.

  Her gut wrenched. When was Dimitri going to tell her what he had become? What Simona was and what, eventually, she might become? Was he going to tell me after he bit my neck in the throes of passion?

  Shuddering, Alba buried her face against the window.

  “Rotten bastard!” Teddy slammed the carriage door. The sound set the hansom into motion. “No gallantry. He didn’t make an attempt to come after you.”

  Alba tried to hide her tears. “How did you know I was here?”

  “Edith came to me, concerned out of her mind. She knew you’d gone with Dimitri and she begged me to find you.”

  Alba scowled. She would have to have a few words with Edith about her secret-keeping skills.

  Teddy analyzed her disheveled state and shock replaced the anger in his eyes. “Apparently Dimitri attacked you. That’s the story we shall stick with when it comes to the gossipmongers.”

  “You said you wouldn’t speak his real name. What’s more, why do you care about the rumor mill?” she asked sourly, gathering the collar of her torn dress together.

  “We must leave your reputation intact, Alba. To protect you.” His body stiffened. “I am willing to forget this incident ever happened.”

  Goose bumps sprang along Alba’s arm. Never before had she heard Teddy speak with such frigidity. It made her think she didn’t know him at all.

  “You drive me to madness, Alba.” He met her stare. “I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you.”

  I wish I felt the same way about you.

  “Don’t I get a thank-you for being your rescuer?” he asked as his expression softened. He slid closer to her.

  She said nothing.

  When she stiffened, he turned away. “That heinous Grigorescu. I didn’t believe what people are saying about him, until now.”

  “What are people saying?”

  She watched Teddy’s brows dip together as he continued. “That Dimitri has a dark side,” he said. “Apparently, he turns down every social invitation presented to him and keeps completely to himself. People are jabbering on about his nighttime hours. They say he may be a vampire.”

  Alba’s blood chilled. He is.

  “I think he may be responsible for killing that vagabond last month,” Teddy said.

  “There are no such things as vampires,” Alba shot back.

  “Of course not. But maybe he did the Ripper killings.”

  Her blood chilled at the suggestion. Still, she managed to keep her horror hidden. “You and I both know Dimitri isn’t capable of such butchery.”

  Teddy reached for her hand but instead of accepting it, she clutched her torn dress. Tilting her head, she rested it against the seat and closed her eyes. She was humiliated and exhausted and she would have told Teddy to go to hell—if she wasn’t so confused.

  What am I to do now that I know Dimitri’s secret? His thirst for blood was extremely dangerous and she wondered if it led to the killing spree in Whitechapel.

  Would Dimitri harm her?

  As a beam of sunlight streamed through the carriage window and landed over her face, she wondered one more thing. Would the amulet’s curse apply to either of them since Dimitri was immortal?

  The sadistic Jack the Ripper slowly tugged on his black pigskin gloves. As he jammed each finger against the cold material, a sly smile formed on his lips. He was close to Alba now, almost close enough to touch her. He had watched her as she came to Dimitri Grigorescu’s home and he saw her leave it. The woman intrigued him. He’d known her for years, and her transformation into a beautiful, confident woman fascinated him. She was one of the few women he respected. He didn’t want to kill her yet.

  Looming in the shadows, listening to the clip-clop of horses’ hooves—that was what suited him. It was where he did his best thinking.

  All of London remains in an uproar over the murders I’ve committed . It caused pride to shoot through him because he knew the city was terrified under his influence.

  It had taken notice of his unique calling card: leaving his victims’ mutilated bodies in plain sight. What murderer did that? What murderer welcomed the police’s attention so soon after committing a crime worthy of the gallows? He did. He was clever enough to challenge the authorities. But now he had a new strategy.

  I will take a respite. It will lead people to think I’m finished. But I will strike again.

  As he sat in the gray shadows, the Ripper closed his eyes and concentrated on the sound of the hansom rolling down Harley Street.

  Cradling his burnt hand, Dimitri made his way inside the house. He managed to bandage the burn before he stumbled to the basement. He didn’t want to ask for Jochen’s help because he was too tired and too angry to think straight. It was a bizarre combination indeed.

  Blasted Teddy! What had the man been thinking?

  Obviously Teddy didn’t trust Alba—and the thought made Dimitri smile a little despite the throbbing pain in his hand. Teddy must have suspected that Alba still had feelings for me, and tonight she proved just that.

  Wincing, Dimitri dragged himself inside the shipping crate. After he settled over the rough straw, he pulled the lid closed with an unprecedented weariness.

  Did Alba put two and two together when she saw my smoking hand? How could she have not?

  His mortifying identity had been revealed, and it made Dimitri sick with shame. Before Teddy shoved Alba into the carriage, she’d looked back at him with eyes flooded with terror. Christ. I let Teddy steal Alba away as easily as someone yanks a sucker out of a child’s hand.

  Have I lost her forever?

  Dimitri knew he must gain back Alba’s trust, but how?

  Then he knew. He would find Ileana and kill her.

  Folding his arms, Dimitri closed his eyes to the sleep of death. A hand sliding up his leg awakened him. A lithe woman lay close. Groggy, Dimitri moaned with pleasure as the woman’s hand reached his shaft. With just the right touch, she rubbed, teased, and stroked his cock through his trousers.

  Alba. Had she escaped Teddy’s grasp—explaining nothing but wanting ev
erything Dimitri could offer her?

  It was dark inside the crate. He was half-awake and he couldn’t make out the woman’s face. Pressing her cool lips to his, the woman shifted on top of him, her long, silky hair spilling across his chest. The tips of her breasts compressed against him as she inspired his sex to a full arousal with her handiwork.

  Could this be a dream?

  Dimitri flattened his palm and located the tight juncture between his companion’s thighs. The woman moaned softly. Then, with playful, unhurried strokes, he caressed her nether hair through the material of her dress, and when she started to unclasp the buttons of his shirt, he pulled up her skirt.

  She feathered a hand along his leg and he was struck by how strangely cold her skin felt. What’s more, the woman’s thigh was incredibly thin, unlike Alba’s rounded limb.

  Dimitri’s eyes sprang open with alarm and he burst out of the crate. When he looked down at Simona’s smug face, his erection deflated.

  “What the hell?” he thundered.

  “It’s me, my love.”

  “What are you doing here, Simona?”

  She ignored the question. “I could tell that you wanted me just now.”

  “I thought you were Alba.”

  “Did you?” Her eyes formed serpent-like slits. “Fooling you is so much fun!”

  “I’m warning you, I’ll kill you myself if you try and harm Alba again,” said Dimitri.

  Simona watched him stuff his shirttails back inside his trousers. “Alba is fine.”

  “This time,” he raged.

  “I’ve been watching you, Dimitri, from the shadows and from the air. You almost got Alba to trust you, but now she knows you are a vampire, doesn’t she?”

  “It’s likely.” He scowled.

  Simona tsked. She floated out of the crate and made her way to his side. “Poor Dimitri. Whatever will you do now?”

  “I probably chased Alba away forever.” Anger flared in his throat. “But why am I discussing this with you? Get out of here, you snake!”

  She pouted dramatically.

  “Don’t act wounded, Simona. Despite what happens between me and Alba, you and I have no future together.”

  She raised her chin. “I just wanted you to know that Ileana is here in London and she plans to destroy Alba very soon.”

  “Why are you warning me?”

  Simona shrugged her shoulders. “Because I am impartial.” “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means that even if you and Alba evade Ileana’s wrath, you will eventually destroy her because you are a mulo. Don’t you see? I win either way.”

  “Get out!” Dimitri roared.

  He lunged for her but Simona was quicker than he. She morphed into a bat and escaped through the basement window with a loud flapping sound.

  Temper quickened, Dimitri paced the floor of the basement. As much as he loathed Simona, maybe it was time he took her advice. Perhaps he should mesmerize Alba in order to gain control of her. Now that she knew he was a vampire, she might shrink from him and refuse his help. If that was the case, he must use his preternatural powers to persuade her back into his arms. That’s where he secretly wanted her.

  Up to this point, he’d been foolish—completely consumed by his need to impress her. But he was the one who’d doomed her to end his life before she took hers. Ending his bloodlust would be a godsend—there was no doubt about that—but this wasn’t about him. Knowing that Alba would suffer after he was dead was something Dimitri would not stand for.

  As he made his way upstairs to shave and dress, he vowed to find Ileana and hypnotize Alba before her stepmother got to her . . . before the dark prophecy began to see the light of day.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ileana Zpda strolled through the foyer of Atwood Hall with the drama of a queen on parade. She had arrived in London by train during the night and was staying in the house her late husband owned. Years ago, the neglected Kensington home had belonged to Mihail’s first wife, Anastasia Zpda, a pathetically feeble invalid. Although Mihail never mentioned the house to Ileana, she became aware of its existence when she overheard a conversation between him and Alba.

  Now, Ileana thought slyly, it belongs to me.

  The Georgian-style house with its stunning painted-glass windows and its elegant brickwork was nestled inside a respectable district of London. Yet it had stood unoccupied for more than a decade and had fallen into disrepair. Considering that Ileana demanded the best of everything, the run-down interior of Atwood Hall simply wouldn’t do.

  She moved toward the vast drawing room while Otterbourne, her pet rat, sat perched on her left shoulder. Amid the dark shadows, Ileana nearly tripped over a pile of steamer trunks.

  “Giselle!” She screamed for her mute housemaid, the only servant who had accompanied her to London. Ileana had told the elderly woman that she would have to tend to the laundry, the cooking, and all of the cleaning herself for the time being.

  Giselle emerged from the morning room in a panicked shuffle. Duster in hand, she gave Ileana a silent dip of her chin.

  “Didn’t I tell you to unpack these trunks?” Ileana screamed. “How are we supposed to feel settled in this enormous city if we don’t do some of the work ourselves?”

  Nodding in triple time and scissoring her fingers, Giselle hastened away to find something with which to cut the ropes of the trunks.

  Ileana sighed with annoyance, but in reality she shouldn’t be irritated. When she had stripped Giselle of her youthful beauty by way of a cruel spell, Ileana had been left with a gnarled servant woman.

  Ah, but it was worth it. Giselle’s beauty had been too comparable to her own.

  Sounds of people passing in front of the house drew Ileana’s attention. Her lips set in a thin line, she glided to the bay window and pulled aside the lace curtains. On this crisp evening, the patrons that littered Green Park were dressed in their finest clothing. As they rushed to the theater or to a swank restaurant for supper, they reminded Ileana of blind ants. Scurrying to and fro, nearly colliding with one another, they were completely unaware of the secret of life—a secret she knew well. And it involved tapping into the Dark Arts.

  Using black magic led to unprecedented advantages. It also supplied one with the power to alter things whether one’s intentions were malicious or good. And Ileana’s intentions were always malicious. After all, she had been raised by coldhearted, unloving parents. She’d been left alone often as a child, no one caring for her ugly, plump, and slovenly persona. Yet everything changed the night she saw an actress perform at the theater. The actress was a beautiful woman who glided across the stage like a ballerina. After the performance, she was hardly regaled for her talent, but more for her extraordinary beauty. Ileana was astounded at the attention the actress received. Because the lovely woman seemed to mesmerize all those around her, Ileana thought, Beauty is the ultimate power. That’s when she transformed herself by dyeing her hair, losing weight, and studying her appearance from every angle in the mirror.

  As her looks evolved, she began to gain the upper hand in every situation. Once she delved into black magic, it hadn’t meant sacrificing her soul, since she never had a soul to begin with. And over time, jealousy was Ileana’s foremost motivation for continuing the Dark Arts—especially when she met her impertinent stepdaughter. Alba’s astonishing beauty began to upstage her own. Porcelain-skinned and warm of heart, Alba shone like a beacon in every situation . . . eclipsing Ileana . . . pushing her back into the shadows.

  That, like the unkempt state of Atwood Hall, simply wouldn’t do.

  Her gaze swept the expensive furnishings in the drawing room. It pained Ileana to think that impudent Alba had inherited a portion of Mihail’s wealth. That’s why the insolent girl’s disappearance from Stelian Hall had made Ileana so happy. When Alba fled, she cut herself off from every Zpda. Believing that her stepdaughter was dead had been satisfaction enough for Ileana—until her magic mirror informed her that Alba was very much
alive and living in London.

  The vision of Dimitri Grigorescu becoming a vampire had prompted Ileana to move to the smoky city. After all, Simona’s attempt to kill Alba with the snake had failed, and Ileana wasn’t going to let Dimitri consume Alba. Not before she made Alba suffer, anyway.

  Now that Ileana had her stepdaughter in her sights, she didn’t intend to let her slip away again.

  With a twirl of her black dressing gown, she left the window and hurried to an empty room upstairs. Her magic mirror, blackened at the moment, sat draped in a corner. Ileana had practically throttled the incompetent men who’d almost dropped it as they tried to remove it from the train.

  Heart racing, she moved toward the fixture and pulled the sheet aside. The mirror glowed and waved with an unearthly blur, then sparkled with tiny glimmers.

  “Good evening, my lady.”

  “I hope it is, my friend.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I am here to see to Alba’s demise—and I want to know how close I shall come.”

  “I showed you that the serpent did not kill your stepdaughter, my lady.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Do not despair.” The mirror cackled. “The attempt on your stepdaughter’s life was primitive, at best.”

  “You dare criticize me,” Ileana raged.

  “Calm yourself. . . and watch carefully.” The mirror rippled, then burst forth an image of Simona curled against Dimitri. He flung her away as he claimed that he might destroy Alba in the throes of passion as a mulo.

  “Ah!” Ileana let out a chilling laugh. “I wanted to kill my stepdaughter myself, but if Dimitri destroys her while he is trying to show her love, it will cause her much more pain!”

  The mirror waved and cackled. “And the best part is, if Dimitri does not destroy Alba in the throes of passion, both of them will die at the hands of the Egyptian prophecy.”

  “Yes,” Ileana replied greedily. “It’s perfect!”

  “But you must remember one thing, my lady. There is a remedy for the Egyptian curse.”