by Sharon Page
Jones took another step toward her. “Vampires possess an allure, like a glamour, that draws mortals to them. They can influence the minds of humans. And their emotions.”
“He told me about his allure. Dante did not use it on me. I married him knowing he is a vampire, and I did it because I love him.”
“You love him because he’s used his magic on you,” the slayer insisted. “Why else would you care for him, Miss Watson? Five years ago, he abandoned you, and since then, he’s lived a life of debauchery and sexual excess. He murdered countless innocent people as he and his sire toured the Continent—he took lives so he could have a meal. He ruined you and left you. Now he returns, seduces you, and tells you that once you’ve married him, he has to go. Where will he go? Back to his orgies. Back to the arms of other women.”
Dante wanted to protest. He had no intention of touching any woman but Mia for the rest of his existence. But he hesitated. He could die now at Jones’s hand, or he could die when he destroyed his sire; if he somehow managed to survive, he would have to leave her. If she didn’t love him, it would be easier for her to let him go.
He turned to the woman who had owned his heart for years, even when he was thousands of miles away from her. “It is the truth, Mia. I was afraid you never would have married me or slept with me unless I used my glamour on you. You may think you wed me willingly, but you didn’t. You do not love me anymore. As Jones says, how could you?”
“I know my heart, Dante. And I know you. I know this is a lie.”
“Mia, you don’t love me because you know the truth. I don’t love you. I can’t love you. All my life, I’ve been selfish and arrogant. Jones is right. I’m a rake who uses and abandons women carelessly. All you were to me was a conquest.”
Her face blanched in shock. She stumbled back from him. Then her cheeks went scarlet with humiliation and rage. He couldn’t read her thoughts—he didn’t need to. He could read every curse word she was calling him in her eyes.
He grimaced at the slayer. “Take her back to the house. Tell the family she is my bride, ensure she is treated well. Tonight I will hunt for my sire. And I’ll destroy him.”
Jones sneered with distaste and distrust. “I doubt you will.”
“I give my word as a gentleman. I know why the vampire queens want him destroyed. And I will be the one to see it through. In return, I ask only one thing of you, Jones. Make sure Mia is safe. Protect her. From the queens, from my family.”
“Make sure I am safe? I thought you did not care,” she said softly. “You cannot hand me over to Mr. Jones as though I am a coat you want to cast off. The choice of what I will do is mine.”
Damnation, she had too much of a good, strong, beautiful heart. She was willing to care for him even after he’d hurt her. But he had to drive her away. He had no choice.
He whirled to face her. He triggered his fangs to shoot out. His face contorted into the fierce, monstrous look it took on just before he sank his teeth into the neck of his prey. Mia’s scream pierced his heart, but the sight of him, with the face of a true beast, drove her back.
Jones grasped her arm to keep her from falling, while pointing the crossbow at him.
“I lied, Mia. I love you. I have to let you go because I love you so much.” It would be the last thing he said to her. Then Dante bowed his head, let his body ripple and twist. He growled like a dog as his muscles shortened; his bones adjusted shape as wings grew out of his back. He gave a powerful flap of his wings and soared into the sky. He did not look at his wife to see how she reacted to his transformation into a large bat. He didn’t trust himself to look back.
She’d been certain Dante’s parents would think Mr. Jones was mad when he explained that Dante was a vampire. Instead, the earl nodded grimly, without any expression of shock, and allowed Jones to clap him on the shoulder in sympathy.
Amelia stared from the earl to the countess. “I don’t understand. You are accepting this story so easily? Without any surprise? Did you know? How could you know?”
The earl sank into a leather chair. They stood in the drawing room, with a fire blazing and dozens of candles lit, and the brilliant light showed the harsh pain on his face. “Jones already explained it to us. In my youth, I worked with the Royal Society for the Investigation of Mysterious Phenomena, searching for artifacts of ancient vampires. It was my ‘grand tour,’ a journey through India and Africa, searching for the roots of vampirism. I became ill with malaria—a mild case—and returned home. I married and set aside my metaphysical pursuits.”
The countess dropped her head in her hands. “We knew vampires existed, but I held out hope that my son had not been turned. He is dead to us. I know that. I know he will have to leave. I will have truly lost him forever.”
The countess was so heartbroken that Amelia hastened to her mother-in-law’s side and impetuously embraced her. Her wits still whirled—who would have dreamed the earl had pursued the history of vampires—but she said softly, “You haven’t lost him. There must be some way he can stay here.” To her surprise, the woman did not pull away.
Mr. Jones explained everything: Dante’s plan to pursue his sire, his plan to leave. Of course, the slayer told them about his marriage, which Amelia had not spoken about.
The countess raised her head. Amelia was certain the woman would demand she be tossed out of the house. Through red eyes, Lady Matlock surveyed her. “He loved you so much,” she finally said. “He was determined to have you at any cost. I was a fool to try to gainsay him.”
“My dear—” the earl began, but his wife whirled on him.
“Quiet, Reginald. Our son is deeply in love, and he is behaving as a gentleman by marrying Miss Watson. Do you not see how wonderful this is? He is trying to retain his humanity. He is trying to fight not to be a beast and a demon. Perhaps it means he can stay with the family . . . and Miss Watson . . . I mean . . . Oh goodness, you are now Lady Darby.”
The earl looked up, his face gray. He looked as though he had lost all his strength. “My son cannot stay.” His lordship glared at Jones. “But you will not stake him. That is the bargain we made. You will spare his life but destroy his sire.”
Jones nodded. “Your son will try to fight his sire, and you know what that could mean.”
The earl went white. “His destruction.”
“I will help him, my lord,” Jones said. “I give you my solemn word on that.”
Lord Matlock stared blankly ahead. “I know the vampire who created him. He was a young king in Egypt, two thousand years ago. He is vicious and brutal. I am surprised he has not caused more destruction here. I assume the reason he restrained himself is that he wanted to lure my son to his side again. He may be doing this for revenge on me. During my travels, I led vampire slayers to his mate and his children. They were as bloodthirsty as he is. They were all destroyed.”
Amelia clapped her hand to her mouth in shock. The countess let out a horrible moan and slumped back. Amelia quickly grasped Lady Matlock’s hand, patted her wrist, and shook her gently to wake her. Her mother-in-law stared helplessly at her. “If he wants revenge, he will want to destroy Dante. This beast will want to take my husband’s family from him. From me.”
Amelia stroked Lady Matlock’s hand and looked to Mr. Jones. “That will not happen. Will it, Mr. Jones?” It could not happen. She’d always imagined Christmas was a magical time—she was not going to lose the man she loved at Christmas! “We will ensure it doesn’t!” she cried.
The slayer hesitated, then firmly nodded. His eyes softened as he looked at her. He loves me. The thought struck her and she reeled back in surprise. She’d guessed at his interest, but not that it was so strong. Her heart was touched, but Dante possessed her, heart and soul. She was in love with Dante. She would always be, whether he was with her or not. She must save him, so she could love him forever.
The Eleventh Day of Christmas
Copper-brown skin. Jet-black hair that brushed broad shoulders. Three tattoos of snake
s: two that encircled large biceps and one that ran from the back of his neck, slithered down his spine, and swooped around hard, naked buttocks.
He had finally lured out his sire.
Dante stared at the body of his maker, King Anun, who had ruled Egypt two thousand years ago. His sire had flown here, to this quiet clearing south of the house, as a large bat, which meant he had no clothing. But the cold would not touch him. Anun paced in the snow in front of Dante. “I heard your summons in my head, Dante. I thought, after I chose to imprison you, you would never want to be at my side again. Yet now you tell me you do. That you will leave your fragile mortal to come and travel with me again.”
“Yes,” he lied. As his maker, Anun could not see into his thoughts. Which was helpful, since he planned to lure the ancient vampire to let down his guard. “You were right. I cannot stay with her. Eventually I would be responsible for her destruction. So I have to leave. I want to return to our life of debauchery, orgies, and pleasure.” He grinned. “I missed the fun we had.”
Anun paced over the snow, wreathed in shadow, though his muscles glimmered as they moved, reflecting the moonlight. Anun shook his head. “No. I cannot see your mind, but I know you are not driven to be with me. If I cannot have your true devotion, then I require another emotion that it is as strong. Only a powerful emotional bond between us will keep me alive. If it cannot be love, then it must be . . . hate.”
Anun held up his hands, and suddenly two trees in front of him caught fire. Flames wrapped around the trunks and flew up into the leafless branches. They licked with golden heat at the black sky. “We cannot pretend to be mortals, Dante. We are powerful beings. That is why humans are prey to us. I could destroy your world in the space of a human’s heartbeat. I could send a raging fire to consume your father’s land, eat through his villages, burn his people alive. I could drink the blood of those who survive, in one orgiastic night. With a wave of my hand, I could raze his house. If I chose, I could destroy this pitiful little country.”
Anun smiled. His features were perfect, without any flaw, like a bronze statue. But he was the most soulless being there was. Dante knew Anun’s bloody past—he had killed his own people, feeding on entire families. It pleased Anun to kill the youngest and most innocent first, to cause unbearable pain and grief in the parents’ hearts, which he then absorbed through their blood.
“But none of those things would make you hate me enough,” Anun mused.
Don’t wager on it. I hate you more than you could guess already.
“Your rage in imprisonment let me survive for the last year. But it would not be enough now. I need more. I need your true hatred. There is, I know, one thing I could do that would make you hate me with so much passion I would have sustenance for eternity.”
“What are you doing?” a woman shouted in indignant fury. God, no. He had no right to appeal to God, but Dante was sick with fear. Damned Llewellyn Jones dragged Amelia out of the shadows. She struggled against the slayer, but Jones seemed surprisingly strong for a mortal.
“Anun, no,” Dante shouted. “I’ll give you the bloody love you need—”
“No, Dante. I used my magic to give the slayer great strength, and in return he is my devoted slave. Something I know you could never be. I have to keep you like a tiger in a cage, trapped but always waiting for the chance to rip me apart.”
Why had he not sensed Amelia was there? Not scented her? It had to be Anun’s magic. Dante lunged for Anun and grabbed him, but his sire lifted his hand and sent a shot of fire that threw Dante onto his back and set his clothes aflame. He shifted shape and soared out of the burning pile of fabric. It turned to ash in an instant.
He swooped for his maker, transformed back to human, and tackled Anun to the ground. They rolled in the snow. Then Anun broke free. He conjured a wall of icicles. With a laugh, he sent them rushing through the air. They slammed into Dante’s chest, drove into his skin, but the wounds healed instantly and the icicles fell.
“I can’t kill you, Dante,” Anun snarled. “But I can drain your strength, batter you until you cannot protect her. Why fight? Why torture her? Does it not hurt her to watch you be brutalized? Let her die now. I will be gentle with her if I kill her now. If I do it later, I will make her death a long, agonizing torment.”
“Damn you.” He leaped again, but two jagged lightning bolts seared him. His chest was black, red, and oozing, and Amelia screamed. Again the skin quickly healed.
Could he use Llewellyn in some way? He looked into the slayer’s thoughts. What he heard stunned him.
I’m not his slave, my lord. I realized he would use Amelia against you and pretended to agree so I could have the chance to defeat him.
Dante quickly spoke inside the slayer’s mind. How did you fight his magic?
Three vampire queens gave me the strength.
What did they ask of you in payment?
Nothing that will hurt you or Amelia. They want Anun destroyed because of his brutality. In return for helping me, I had to give the Royal Society’s word that we would not try to slay any of the queens.
Anun waved his hand and Mia rose into the air, squealing in shock and anger. She flew toward Anun. Dante jumped forward to grasp her, to pull her to safety, but a stream of his sire’s power sent him tumbling back.
Even with Jones’s help, how was he going to save Mia? She was struggling with Anun, who chuckled with glee, then licked his lips. Dante had to act now.
Jones, you are going to have to stake me.
The slayer reeled back, stunned, his gaze fixed on Amelia. What?
Anun pushed Mia’s hair to the side, exposing her neck. Dante sent a desperate message to the queens. I’m going to give my life for this, so Anun will die. I love Mia. For Anun’s death, would you give me life again? Then he shouted, through thought, to Jones, Do it now!
Dante saw the slayer pull out a stake. Saw the long strides through the snow . . . the stake coming at him . . . and he threw his body forward to meet the point of it with his heart.
Anun howled in fury, but it was too late. Sharp pain shot through Dante’s chest . . . blood spurted . . . the slayer had damned good aim. The shaft of wood tore through his heart, pulverizing it. He managed to twist to see Anun as he fell.
His sire screamed in agony and released Mia. She jumped to safety, the clever woman. As Dante slammed into the snow, Anun exploded into ash that rained through the cold winter sky like snowflakes.
Brilliant golden light surrounded Dante. A trio of soft voices filled his head. We heard you. We agree to your terms. You are mortal once more, Dante. Free to love. For a lifetime.
His muscles jerking wildly in the cold snow, his chest was on fire with pain. His heart rebuilt inside him, the agony of it excruciating. Then warmth flowed through him. His skin felt alive, tingling, hurting, stinging, itchy. The rush of mortal sensations overwhelmed him.
Mia’s lovely face leaned over him. Tears dripped from her huge blue eyes, landing on his cheeks.
“Mia,” he managed. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Of course I am. You sacrificed yourself for me. But . . . but . . .”
“I managed to make a deal with the vampire queens, love. They saved me. They made me mortal again.”
“Mortal? You . . . you aren’t a vampire anymore?” She caressed his face.
“No, love. I’m free.”
Dante leaned against her as she helped him up the stairs of their home, a manor house on the earl’s estate. This was to be their home together, but Amelia barely noticed any details as she led him to the second floor. Footmen hovered everywhere. Several leaped forward to help, but she shook her head.
At the top of the stairs, a youthful maid stuttered, “A . . . bath is being drawn, my lady.”
It was so hard to remember she was “my lady.” “Thank you,” Amelia said.
Dante was so weak, but he seemed to draw on his reserves of strength to keep walking. The bathing room proved to be filled with steamy warmth. Pil
es of folded towels ringed the huge tub.
Stumbling dazedly, Dante fumbled with the back of her gown. “No, dear,” she said. “The warm bath is for you. To soothe bruises. To wash out your wounds.”
“Not a vampire anymore,” he said hoarsely. “They won’t heal anymore.”
“Oh, no, they will. I will see to that. It just won’t happen as quickly.” Firmly, she undid his shirt, then tugged it over his head. She undressed him with the efficiency she’d used on his siblings when she’d been their governess. That seemed like a lifetime ago. She supposed it was. It had been the lifetime Dante had spent as a vampire.
He had told her many times he loved her. He had risked his life for her. She knew he was not going to leave now. She began to undo his trousers, but he drew her hands away. “I’m capable of taking off my own trousers, love. If you were being driven by wild lust, I’d let you do it, but I don’t need you to mother me.”
“You are actually . . . pouting. For heaven’s sake, why?”
“I . . .” His expression changed. Horror and pain touched his green eyes. “I was so afraid I wasn’t going to be able to save you, Mia. You must have feared I couldn’t.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “And not allowing me to take off your trousers proves you are strong and able to rescue me?”
“You must have hated me for being weak. Now that I’m mortal, I’m very weak. But still able to take off my own trousers.”
She laughed. She could not help it. After their fight with his sire, her emotions felt as though they were physical things that had been battered against rocks. And he was worried about showing strength in front of her by unfastening his clothing. She pushed his hands away and tugged down the muddy, bloodstained fabric, down past his lean hips, his strong thighs, down to his boots. “You are the strongest man I’ve ever known. You had the strength to risk your life for me. And there is something you will have to learn. With you, I am always mad with lust and eager to take off your trousers.” She kissed him passionately.
