She knew what would quench the need. A man’s thick erection, sliding in and out of her. Thrusting deep and hard and slow, just the way Heath made love …
God, what was she thinking? She had to get free. But she couldn’t reach the shackles on her wrists and ankles. She could barely move. And now she couldn’t think….
Of anything except making love to Heath. She closed her eyes, moaning breathlessly. He looked so gorgeous when he was on top of her. When he was driving in hard, kissing her womb with his cock, then pulling back.
She’d loved the way he’d panted when he thrust inside her. Loved everything about his fucking. The thickness of his cock. The rough, raw sound of his grunts. The droplets of his sweat falling to her breasts …
“Interesting. That potion should not have taken effect for half an hour. Yet, on you, it has done so already.”
Blearily, Vivienne tried to focus on the voice. She tried to stop thinking of Heath on top of her, Heath
coming
in her. But it was so hard to think of anything else….
Dear heaven, there was a man standing over her, and all she could think of was sex—sex with beautiful Heath. But this man … she could smell the evil in him. He was danger.
She twisted around on the cot, trying to find him….
There
. He paced around her slowly, his hand on his chin. Then he smiled down at her. His black hair was slick against his head, gleaming in the faint candlelight. He possessed a large, beaklike nose. Dark pools for eyes. His lips curled up again, into a hard, cruel leer.
The uncontrollable desire in her cooled at once. Fear took its place.
“Now, Miss Dare, we must release you and take you to the
altar room. You are very beautiful. I anticipate this will be the most arousing sexual experience of my existence.”
His evil, gloating gaze felt like a thousand crawling, slithering things on her skin. “No!” Pain shot through her throat as she yelled, but her fear and loathing gave her strength. She would
not
let him do this. She would not let him touch her.
Not after Heath had touched her so beautifully. Not after he’d shown her what it was like to be caressed by a true gentleman: a man who could care, who had compassion, who had saved both her and Sarah.
She would fight. Kick, scream, bite, scratch. She would never let this man defile her.
Even if she died.
Was he too late?
Heath soared over the outskirts of Mayfair, above the houses, the crush of carriages on the streets, the glittering lights of the demimonde’s parties.
He wasn’t strong enough to face the worst. To find Vivienne … dead. And Sarah … Hell, he could not face being too late to save an innocent child. Not again. He could barely remember his daughter’s face.
Meredith
.
He’d forced himself to forget her at first. It was his punishment. He’d been so angry at what he’d done. He told himself he had no right to console himself with memories of her smiles and laughter.
He couldn’t face failing a young girl and a beautiful, courageous woman again.
Somehow, just by making love to him once, Vivienne had made his heart ache again. Her allure had thrown him right back into the terror of love.
Heath swooped to her house and soared through the broken window. The pain of his shape shift screamed through him,
then he stood naked in the moonlight, in her hallway. “Vivienne?” he shouted. His voice echoed through still darkness.
He didn’t sense anyone here. He sensed the slow breathing of her servants; the council must have taken control of their minds, throwing them into a deep sleep. And he didn’t sense Julian anywhere.
He reached Vivienne’s bedroom before his next heartbeat. Her sheets straggled across the floor. Her wardrobe had fallen. Her counterpane was in shreds and feathers from her mattress fluttered everywhere. The bats had ripped everything apart.
Sarah.
He rushed to the girl’s room, threw open the door. The bedroom was in shambles, too. Lace-edged bedcovers were pulled from the bed, the furniture tossed on its sides.
All Heath could hear was the loud, anguished thunder of his heart.
And he could smell blood in the air. Now his heart slammed in his chest. He spied small splatters of blood on the floor. It had to be Sarah’s. It meant she’d been cut, but not badly.
Bending close to the spots, he breathed in the unique scent of them. Giving his blood to Sarah had bonded him, like a parent to a child. Already he could begin to feel Sarah’s presence in his thoughts. He could see her. She was balled up on a cold floor. Her fear became a weight on his heart, an acrid burn on his tongue. She was surrounded by darkness, but he could see into it. He knew where she was: in one of the cells beneath the vampire council’s mansion.
If Sarah was there, Vivienne must be. He had to rescue them both before they were hurt. Or worse.
Torches flickered outside the grand steps to the council’s building. Stone gargoyles snarled along the roof edge. The dozens of paned windows above looked dark, soulless, empty, but Heath suspected the six vampires were within, along with a
hundred servants. Breaking in to get to Vivienne would prove interesting.
Vivienne’s natural perfume was erotically spicy—cinnamon, jasmine, the mysterious scents of the East. Sarah smelled like daisies. He could detect both scents in the house.
Flapping his large wings, he hovered over the council’s mansion. Vampire servants would be guarding the windows on the inside. The doors were locked, barricaded. The skylight he’d broken had already been repaired, and the council had reinforced it on the inside with metal bands.
He needed to find a weakness. He retreated, then circled again. His wings rippled as he soared around the large, Georgian house. He stayed far away so he wouldn’t awaken the instincts of the vampires inside, making them recognize a threat.
What in blazes are you planning to do, Heath? She’s inside there, but they’ll detect you before you get close.
Julian’s voice sliced into his thoughts. Heath spun on a current of air and saw the younger vampire in his winged form. He swooped at Julian, his fangs bared, forcing the younger vampire into a dangerous descent to evade him.
Fly away, Julian, before I rip you apart. You led them to Vivienne. You let them take her and Sarah
.
Julian retreated.
I didn’t. They almost destroyed me trying to get to the women. I barely survived.
You work for the council. I saw the spots of Sarah’s blood on her floor, which means she was hurt—
I’m going to help you, Blackmoor, whether you want it or not.
Julian suddenly wheeled in the air and flew toward the house. His, lithe, black shape passed the windows, turned, then swooped again. A window flew up and shrieking bats raced out. They dove after Julian, who spun in the air to evade them. Julian had lured the guard bats away. Heath swooped to the roof and flew straight down the chimney.
Streams of smoke flowed up, choking him, and soot fell on him. He carved out of the hearth at full speed, shooting over a fire. Flames licked at his belly, but he made it out unscathed. He landed and transformed in the hot, deserted kitchen.
He knew Julian could fly faster than the bats and escape them. Julian must want to make amends for betraying Vivienne and Sarah.
He smelled daisies. A faint trace wafted through the basement. He could breathe it through the stone walls, and he took off in a preternatural sprint.
He tore through narrow hallways. Down a winding set of stairs. He ran so swiftly past the mortal servants who toiled down here that they couldn’t see him. He had to knock out two beefy men at the mouth of a pitch-black hallway, the corridor to the cells. Both muscle-bound vampires dropped with a thud. Cautiously Heath stepped into the entrance. The corridor was the width of his shoulders and arched, formed of brick. At its end, he found a wall of inch-thick iron bars.
Those only slowed him down for a couple of minutes. After tearing them apart, he stepped through the twisted wreckage. He now stood in a large, empty circular space. And paused.
Then he ducked.
An ax blade slammed into the brick above his head, sending dust raining down on him. With lightning speed, Heath grasped the handle of the ax and tore it out of the hands of the vampire who had tried to behead him.
A kick sent his attacker sprawling on the ground and gave Heath a second to look over his foe. The vampire was seven feet tall, with a body the size of an ox. He wore a monk’s brown robe and his fallen legs looked like felled trees.
Heath somersaulted in the air, gripping the ax handle tightly, and he flew over the vampire. His bare feet slammed onto sharp flagstones just as the guard launched to his feet. Any beast with sense should run, once he’d lost his weapon. But this vampire
had to know the price of failing the council. Boiling in oil. Burning at the stake. Being drawn and quartered by the bats. Nothing merciful for the council.
The vampire roared, fangs bared. Heath held up the ax. “Unwise,” he pointed out. “Don’t move.”
But the beast did. And Heath didn’t have time to waste in a fight….
The vampire pulled out a silver dagger and plunged it toward Heath’s heart. Heath blocked the blow with the hand of the ax. He couldn’t bring himself to slice off the vampire’s head.
The vampire pulled weapon after weapon from his robes. Two more daggers. A throwing star. Heath disarmed him with blows from the wooden handle. But he was tiring. And the other vampire was strong.
The vampire launched forward with two small knives. Heath lifted the ax; the vampire slammed directly into it, burying the blade into his chest. A wound like that should only slow such a huge vampire, but Heath watched as the guard slithered to his knees and fell face down. The prone body suddenly shuddered, jerked, then exploded into dust.
So it was an enchanted ax.
All that remained of the guard was his robe. Heath fished the ring of cell keys out of a pocket.
Seven hallways lead from the circular entry, but he could smell daisies from the middle one.
Sarah was huddled in the far corner, a dark blanket wrapped around her. One blond curl stuck above the gray wool and one toe peeked out at the bottom. He could see the torn hem of her now filthy nightgown.
Damn the council. He would rip Adder apart when he found him.
“Sarah?” He inserted three keys before finding the right one. The iron door swung open without a sound. With a squeak of terror, the poor girl huddled the blanket closer.
“It’s all right, love. I’m here to take you home.”
The blanket shifted. In the dark, he could see Sarah’s face pressed against a small opening, one large blue-green eye blinking. “M-my lord?” she whispered.
It speared him. She sounded so much like Meredith.… He shook his head. This wasn’t his daughter—and he was about to save Sarah, not helplessly watch her die. “Yes, it’s Blackmoor,” he answered softly. “Can you stand up?”
A sniffle came. “I can’t. My legs won’t move. They—they’re numb.”
He couldn’t scent blood but he asked, “Are you injured? Did they hurt you?”
“N—no.”
“Did they hurt your mother?”
“No, but cloaked men took her away. For a ceremony, they said.”
A ceremony. He got on his knees in front of Sarah and pushed the blanket back from her. Too late, he remembered he’d left his clothes behind when he changed shape.
Sarah’s eyes went wide at the sight of his bare chest. She gave a horrified squeak and scuttled backward. Loathing rushed through Heath’s heart. Sarah was afraid of him. Which must mean some of Vivi’s protectors had given the girl reason to be afraid. Had Vivienne quit her life as a courtesan to protect Sarah, only to be forced to seduce men for that damn medicine?
“I won’t hurt you. I had to shed my clothes to come and get you. Watch.” His muscles jerked and twisted, his bones expanded, his wings grew out on his back. He changed form, lightly moving his wings to hover. Then he changed back.
Sarah’s eyes were wide with fascination now, not fear. “He said you could do that.”
“Who, Angel?”
She gave a wavering smile. “Julian. He showed me that, too. When I was afraid. He told me he would make sure no one hurt
me. But then these men appeared and they began to hit him. I tried to stop them, but then they hit me. I must have … passed out, for I don’t remember anything else until I woke up in a cart. Mama and I were being brought here.”
She tried to lift her hand to him, but it dropped listlessly.
He needed to give her his blood. He sliced his wrist with one fang. Sarah immediately shuffled toward him, drawn by the scent of his blood. He gathered her into his arms. She weighed so little, and she flopped against him. He pressed his wrist to her lips. “Drink this while we fetch your mother.”
Sarah drank a little, then pulled away from his wrist. “Do you think the cloaked men … hurt her?” she whispered.
Where would she be? The council chambers or a bedroom?
Heath crept up the servants’ stairs, clutching Sarah against his chest. After she’d taken his blood, she’d grown stronger. Her arms were firmly wrapped around his neck. Her heart raced fearfully.
“The men looked like monsters. They had black cloaks and … and no faces. They told her they would hurt me if she didn’t obey them.”
The men of the council. What did they want from Vivienne? And of course the bastards would use her innocent daughter as leverage.
Heath knew Vivienne’s smell. But they hadn’t become bonded by blood so he could not connect to her thoughts. He had to stumble around as blind as a mortal man.
Torches flickered along the walls of the council room, but it was empty. The whole blasted building appeared to be empty. All one hundred rooms. He should have encountered someone—a servant at least. Either a mortal one or a vampire. So what in blazes was going on? He prayed it didn’t mean they were all watching Adder do dastardly things to Vivienne.
Footsteps sounded in the corridor. Someone running. Heath put Sarah on the ground. Her legs swayed, and he caught her.
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” she whimpered. “Why does my body feel so weak again?”