created to destroy our God’s creation, man. Lukos will find her after a thousand years of imprisonment. That is to be me, of course. But how can I be the descendent of a god?”
She took a long, shaky breath, put the book on the chaise, and strode to the window. Street flares glowed beyond the stone walls surrounding the mansion. The sky was a deep blue-black now. Was Lukos denying himself blood or would he rise tonight and hunt?
She turned back to Althea. “Lukos will not give up, will he? He will come for me again.” She managed a wry smile. “Perhaps I should show him the book.”
“Do you believe that is your destiny? I don’t. And Lukos, too, would refuse to believe that he could not outwit the writing in a book.”
“I want him to come for me. That way I can destroy him.”
“No. You need to be kept away from him. Let the men hunt. Trust me—”
Serena took a deep breath. “I cannot, my lady. I know that you only befriended me to lure me here for the Royal Society. You don’t need to pretend anymore. I know exactly what I am—”
Althea pushed up from the chaise and rushed over to embrace her. “I have pretended nothing.
You are my friend. There is something else you need to know about me. Come here.”
You are my friend.
Following the only woman who had ever shown her kindness, Serena struggled to believe. So many people had lied to her.
Althea stopped in the farthest corner of the drawing room, near doors that lead to a terrace. “I am a vampire.”
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Whatever Serena might have expected, it wasn’t that. A hysterical giggle slipped from her lips.
“No—you can’t mean that.”
Althea nodded, her elegantly styled red curls bouncing. “Yannick and Bastien are also vampires.” Wearing a suddenly mischievous smile, she glanced back to the men. The four drank brandy and gesticulated together, oblivious. Althea parted her lips wide, revealing white fangs that lapped over her lower lip.
Serena gaped in astonishment.
Laughing, Althea drew her into a hug. “We share a kinship, you and I. It may be your destiny to be a vampire, but it is not your destiny to be a killer, or a vicious demon. I have never hurt anyone when I’ve fed. If you are good at heart, you can be a good vampire.”
“A good vampire?” Serena couldn’t believe it, but that was what Drake had told her. He hadn’t hurt anyone. “You were certainly correct that I would love two men,” she admitted.
“I had dreams about Yannick and Bastien,” Althea explained. “Erotic dreams that opened my eyes to the pleasures and strength of that kind of love. They proved to be premonitions. Both Yannick and Bastien possess special powers. We were destined to be together, the three of us, because our combined love makes us stronger.”
She felt Althea clasp her cool, shaky hands. “Let me explain to you of the power of a love shared by three.”
Drake woke to a parched mouth, shaking limbs, and stale darkness. Sweat drenched his body.
His shoulders were jammed against the satin lining of a coffin. Where was he? How had he got here? He couldn’t even force a groan through his swollen throat.
Thick, bloody, his tongue yearned for a familiar taste.
Not blood.
Solange.
Flames. He remembered flames engulfing his rooms. Using the greatcoat from a dead vampire to shield his body, he’d charged through the fire, rushed through the back kitchen, and run out into dawn.
Not knowing where to go, he’d shifted shape and flown above London as the first rays of the sun began to sear him. Close to death, he’d found a cemetery and, to his luck, a casket unearthed and discarded by resurrectionists. Drawing on the last of his strength, he’d pushed the coffin back in the grave, dropped in it, and closed the lid.
It had been a goddamned nightmare. He’d feared he would be buried alive. But it was that or burn with the rising sun—
Solange.
God, how he wanted it. But now that he was a vampire, to take solange again would destroy him.
He sent a message to Serena in his mind. I’m alive, little lark.
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Revulsion washed through Serena as she stood at the door of Jonathon’s laboratory and thought of what her fate was supposed to be in this horrific place. Candlelight reflected along the rows of glass jars, and the discarded white fangs gleamed.
As though he knew her thoughts, Jonathon wrapped his arms around her and drew her against his chest. He cradled her close and stroked her hair. Serena’s heart pounded so hard she knew he could feel it. She took a deep breath, letting her eyes close, letting her whole world become his wonderful smell of sandalwood and witch hazel and male skin.
As Jonathon splayed his hand over her back and held her tight, she remembered the worry in his dark eyes at dinner. How he’d leaned close, his breath warm by her ear. “I need to take you away from here. I can’t leave you here tonight.”
She’d been astonished. “You don’t trust Althea?”
“Althea I trust. And Brookshire and his brother.” His voice dropped until it was a mere murmur—a husky, compelling murmur. “But not the rest of the Society.”
“What do you plan to do?” she’d whispered in return. She’d pushed her food about on her plate, glancing down the table to Ashcroft, who appeared jovial yet watchful.
“Take you home with me.”
And being Jonathon, he’d said not a word on the carriage ride home. He’d stared out into the dark. Rocking with the carriage, she had asked, “Have you learned anything at all about how vampires are made?”
He’d only grunted in response and she knew the answer was “no.”
And then she’d heard Drake’s voice, weakly in her head.
I’m alive, little lark.
She had touched Jonathon’s arm, to tell him, and stopped as he turned. For Drake’s safety, she couldn’t tell Jonathon—she still was not certain he would not kill Drake.
They’d arrived at his elegant mansion and, for the first time, she walked in through the front door. There seemed to be no servants. Jonathon had taken off her pelisse, lost in a different world.
Now, she thought of Althea’s words as she gazed into Jonathon’s dark, beautiful eyes.
Make
love to them both and the three of you will gain strength and power. And something even more
precious.
Was any of it truly possible? Were her dreams really erotic premonitions?
“I would never let any harm come to you,” Jonathon promised. He cupped her chin to tip her face up, the touch of his fingers magical.
Drake was safe. And her cunny throbbed in time with her heart as Jonathon’s fingers traced the line of her jaw. So delicately, as though he knew that the light touch ignited a flame of passion in its wake.
“You tempt me so much,” he groaned. “You are so exquisite. So perfect.”
She smiled shakily. “Hardly that.”
“You are.” His palm gently cradled her cheek. “You are unique.”
“The first child of a vampire and mortal?” she asked ruefully.
“Yes, but also courageous, strong, intelligent…compassionate.”
“But a demon.”
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“No, sweeting. You could never be a demon.”
Hot, firm, sensual, his lips stroked against hers. Not a kiss, just a soft brush—a brush that sent desire arcing through her. Heat raced over her skin. Her lips parted on a gasp and his mouth captured hers, tasting of brandy and smoke and erotic heat. He shifted over her, pressing her gently back against the wall of the corridor, and she drowned in the sensation of such a large, warm, beautiful man holding her. Kissing her. Teasing her tongue with his.
Jonathon braced his hands on the wall on either side of her head. Serena felt pinned, yet she took a deep breath, savoring the sensation of surrendering control. She trusted him.
He was so tall, he had to bend over to kiss her, and his mouth was so luscious—wet and hot and demanding. He urged her lips to open more until they were locked together, devouring each other.
He slid his right arm down to cup her waist, surrounding her slim body with his huge, powerful arm.
Yes.
She locked her arms around his neck to hold him close. Beneath her hands, Jonathon’s powerful muscles flexed. Did she feel the thrum of his blood?
She wouldn’t think of
that
.
Think of his big chest pressing against you. Think of his hard, beautiful leg sliding between
yours to spread them. Think of his cock, his hard, big cock pressing against your belly.
How she knew what he meant about temptation. His broad shoulders beckoned, and she skimmed her hands down from his neck to touch them. So straight and wide and delectable. She loved the pronounced vee-shape of his back, the alluring taper to his narrow waist.
While he kissed her senseless, she explored his broad back, stroking the planes of hard muscle.
He moaned into her mouth as she slid her hands lower, tracing the line of his spine, down, down, to the firm indent at the small of his back. His trousers followed the taut curve of his buttocks in an almost indecent way. Filled with daring, she trailed her fingers along the shape of his gorgeous arse, and her cunny clenched at the intimacy. Cupping a cheek with each hand, she squeezed.
She thought of holding his rear as he pumped into her, and her legs almost gave out.
He eased back from the kiss, his breathing harsh. “I will always protect you, love.”
“I’m going to change,” she whispered, her throat tight from her quick breaths. Her lips still sizzled from the caress of his hot, demanding mouth. “We have to face the truth. Four days in your laboratory will not unlock the secrets of vampires. You won’t find a way to stop my transformation.”
Like black curtains, his lashes swept down. He touched his mouth to her cheek, the gesture so intimate that her heart stuttered. “I don’t know what else to do. I don’t want to lose you.”
“To Lukos, do you mean?”
“No, sweeting. I will destroy Lukos before he hurts you. I mean to the vampire world—to its dark, erotic allure. To Drake Swift.”
She frowned. “He is safe. Did you know that?”
He shook his head. “Not for certain, but Swift can survive anything. How do you know he is safe? Did he communicate with you telepathically?”
She nodded and saw pain in his eyes. How could she convince a vampire hunter and a vampire it was their destiny to both make love to her? How could she even accept such a scandalous thing?
“I want to take you to bed,” Serena whispered.
Jonathon chuckled. At those words on Serena’s lush, lovely lips, his cock reared against his linens, weeping into the fabric. “Are you commanding me to your bed, sweeting?”
She pressed close, breasts plumped against his chest. “I want to make love to you,” she murmured, a black-haired vixen with dazzling eyes that made him think of moonlight, the way it would sparkle if it could be caught in a bottle.
Her voice was rich with need, firm in its demand. “I want you now. Before you go out to hunt.”
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On a raw groan, he promised, “I’m not going out. I won’t leave you alone.”
With Serena, his size was an advantage. He scooped her into his arms, laughing at her startled look. He left his laboratory behind and carried her down the hallway.
“You do want me in your bed, even knowing what I am?”
“I don’t intend to wait until we get to bed, sweeting.”
Approval and astonishment warred in her eyes. “I want you now,” she gasped. “I’m on fire.”
“If that’s so, draw up your skirts, angel.” He stopped and balanced her with one hand while undoing the buttons of his falls. Was he mad? They were in the corridor. But his few servants rarely came here, and lovely Serena was tugging up her skirts. Revealing shapely calves clad in gossamer-thin stockings, pretty knees, and the ivory skin of her thighs.
He tore open the placket and wrenched out his rock-hard cock. Her skirts were bunched up and spilling over her hips. She looked down.
“Good heavens. You’re enormous.”
Any other man would feel a burst of pride, but apprehension washed over Jonathon. What did she see? Some women thought he looked too much like a beast—too big, too intimidating—with the pelt of dark hair on his chest, his large muscles, and the club of a cock between his legs.
“I had no idea a man could be thus endowed. It’s…amazing. Will it fit inside?”
His laugh rippled up from his tight throat. A jolt of pleasurable agony hit as he took his cock in hand, as he stroked the full head against her slick, welcoming lips.
No drawers. Just heat and wetness and texture—velvet lips, springy curls, creamy juices.
“It will, but it’s too big to go in unless you are very, very wet.”
“And I am,” Serena breathed, and her sultry voice wrapped around him, as beautiful and tempting as her embrace.
“Not enough.” He shared her smile. He stroked his cockhead to her vulva, searching for her clit. At her sharp cry, he knew he’d made contact. His leaking juice coated them both as he teased her clit, stroking, stroking. He loved to start this way, to bring her to orgasm once or twice, until she was drenched, until she was boneless in his arms, until she was so sensitive she would feel his every thrust in her soul.
“Yes, like that,” she urged.
Devilishly, he stroked slowly, building her pleasure with torturous care. His hand was under her arse, and he supported her against the wall. Her head dropped back, her hair tumbling free. She ground against him, rubbing her clit to his cock. Her mouth opened on a soundless scream, and she came against him.
She rocked with it, bucked with it, her head back, her eyes shut. He waited until that moment when a blissful smile curved her lips. Teased her clit again.
“No…I’m much too sensitive…”
“Have courage, sweeting. I know you do…you have the courage to soar where you never have before.”