“I think you’ve been drugged. My blood is battling with its effects.”
“Drugged?” Her eyes opened into large, blue-green circles. “They forced me to take a drink.”
He pulled Sarah into the room beside them and closed the door so only a crack remained. The footsteps stopped. It was a vampire: Heath smelled the alluring scent the Nosferatu used to tempt mortals. Then he smelled French cologne.
Hades
. He stalked forward to the door, opened it, and dragged a naked Julian inside. Small scratch marks covered Julian’s muscular, bronzed skin. The cuts were slowly vanishing. “You escaped.”
Julian scowled down at his wounds. “I wanted to help. Self-sacrifice wasn’t my plan, though.”
“Goodness.” The bubbly little whisper came from Sarah. She was smiling now and hiccuping, like a lady who’d had too much ratafia. Her gaze raked over Julian from his blond hair to his naked feet.
Julian’s eyes widened. “What did you do to her? She looks … drunk.”
“I didn’t do anything. The damn council did. They drugged her and locked her in a cell. I let her drink some of my blood. Its effects, combined with the drug, have done this to her. Can I trust you to carry her? I need you to stay with me and bring Sarah, but I need to get to Miss Dare.”
Julian nodded. “When the council attacked us at Miss Dare’s house, I overheard two of them talking about some kind of ceremony—they needed Miss Dare for it.”
A black magic ritual, Heath guessed. “I’m afraid whatever they want to do involves a bed,” he said softly.
“Ow!” Sarah cried.
Heath smelled blood and his fangs exploded as he swung around. Sarah had dropped to one knee, cradling her bare right foot. She winced and looked white as a sheet. “I cut it.”
Heath bent to look. She’d stepped on a small stone, a shiny, sharp-edged black one. “Here.” He lifted her foot and gently kissed the wound. The touch of his mouth healed it.
“Take care of her, Julian.” His voice was raw. He remembered kissing his daughter’s fingers when she’d cut them. He would whisper,
Now all the pain is gone, because I’ve taken it away. I’ve made it better
.
Sarah giggled softly as the lad scooped her up. But as soon as Julian settled her against his body, his cock stood up. Heath stalked over and clasped his shoulder. “Don’t even think about a seduction.” But when he looked down at Sarah, who suddenly appeared as seductive and sensual as her mother, Heath realized she was older than he’d thought. At least eighteen.
Julian shook his head. In a low voice, he said, “Blackmoor, every time anything touches my skin—even a breeze—I get erect. I thought it was part of being a vampire.”
Especially one who’d changed at two-and-twenty. “Just … keep her safe.”
Heath led the way down the corridor, with Julian behind him carrying Sarah, searching for the next set of back stairs. The council kept a room for “sacred” rituals, one with a stone altar in the middle of it, where sacrifices took place. A gallery ran around it for spectators to watch the gory ceremonies. It would be his best way in.
He refused to listen to the nagging voice in his head that warned him he was already too late.
To Heath’s surprise, the gallery was empty. It was a mezzanine that encircled the room and overlooked the stone altar.
Below, the council members stood in two lines on either side of the large dais. Dozens of vampires stood and watched.
But it was what he saw on the altar that twisted Heath’s heart.
Vivienne lay on the raised dais, nude. Her arms were bound together at her wrists, her ankles tied to metal rings set on the stone. Limned by the light of dozens of candles, her hair spilled around her head like waves of flame. Heath could feel her fear. And something else that amazed him: her fury.
God, this woman astounded him. His wife’s quiet strength had always humbled him. Vivienne was an entirely different woman, and she possessed as much, if not more, courage and strength.
Which meant he wasn’t worthy of her.
Good thing he knew he couldn’t have her.
Now, he had to get her free—by defeating the six powerful vampires of the council, their minions, and their attack bats.
There was paint on Vivienne’s body. Designs had been drawn on her skin. Painted flowers adorned her breasts. Curling vines traveled down her smooth, curved belly. Numbers were painted on her arms and legs.
One of the members of the vampire council, his face hidden by his hood, stepped forward. “Lord Adder, it is time to give the demonstration you promised us.”
Adder waved a hand with smug arrogance. “Patience. All must be done as described in the great book.” He snapped his fingers and a footman, dressed in gold and black livery, brought a chalice to him. The vampire leader took the silver cup and drank deeply.
The footman retrieved it and scurried away.
Adder ripped off his cloak, revealing a powerful, naked body. The other vampires began chanting.
Damn it to hell. How did he free Vivienne? If his attempt was unsuccessful, he would be destroyed—and Vivienne would be left to Adder’s cruelty.
8
V
ivienne fought in vain against the ropes binding her ankles. The smooth, stone altar was covered in velvet, soft and cushioning beneath her, but she was tied up, like a sacrifice in a horrid novel.
She felt furious at her nakedness, so angry she could almost forget to be afraid.
Candles flickered as the vampire who called himself Adder dropped his cloak, exposing his nakedness. He had exactly the sort of male body she hated. One that spoke of power, dominance, the ability to inflict pain. Thick muscles, an oxlike chest, and big shoulders.
A whimper escaped her. Instinct warned her he did not intend to let her go.
“You are the one,” he said softly. “You were made to be the ultimate weapon against men.” He leered at her, then his eyes gleamed with zeal and horrible arousal. “What I take from you will make me as powerful as a god.”
She wanted to vomit.
She wasn’t a weapon. How could she be? She was strapped to a stone table and powerless.
But that’s what the woman had told her, the woman who had painted all the designs on her while four men had held her down. That she was the most powerful of her kind. That her voluptuous body had been made to tempt men and lure them to their deaths. That she’d been made like this—curvaceous and pretty—to be evil.
Adder grinned as he approached. She couldn’t bear to look down at his thick erection, red-tipped, a true beast. He moved with pride, obviously impressed with the clublike thing between his thighs.
She couldn’t let this monster win.
She could buck and try to fight. Bite him. But she knew in her soul that she wasn’t going to escape.
I’m so sorry, Sarah
. She’d seen what was on the pedestal beside the one that held the cup. A dagger, with shining blade and silver handle. She was going to die tied up and naked, because she was some kind of monster….
Think, Vivienne
. It didn’t matter what she was. She was all Sarah had.
The men in the room began chanting. It was a horrible, mournful sound. Adder grinned evilly, then bent and kissed the toes of her right foot. She tried to jerk away. But she couldn’t, and he moved to her left foot and suckled. His gentle touch was a lie. She could see the gloating anticipation in his silvery eyes. He held his cock within his right fist, slowly working his hand up and down the thick shaft. He murmured words, soft words that flowed in her head and took control of her.
Then she knew the truth of this nightmare. The drink she’d been given. The incantation Adder was speaking. The words fired up the horrible, uncontrollable lust the drink had caused.
“Don’t touch me.” She had to force the words out. “I’ll kill
you just as I’ve killed many, many other men.” It was an empty threat. If she had actually killed men, she had no idea how she’d done it.
Adder held up one of his enormous hands. She’d seen bears in a menagerie, and his hands were bigger than those beasts’ paws. The chanting stopped. His thick lips curved into an ugly smile. “Those were mortal men. You let Lord Blackmoor pound himself into you, and it didn’t touch him at all. It won’t hurt me, for I am undead.”
He knew. Knew she had been Heath’s lover. But how could he know? Had Heath been tortured to tell? Or was it worse—had he betrayed her? Had he not been “captured” after all? Maybe he hadn’t been destroyed. Perhaps he didn’t give a fig for her or Sarah because he still believed she had hurt his brother—
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Adder.” Cool, deep, Heath’s voice cut through the silence in the room.
Standing at the foot of the altar, the naked council leader spun around. Heath stepped out of the shadows, bathed in gold from the torches. Equally naked. But utterly, devastatingly beautiful as he moved.
The rush of relief, of hope, left her dizzy. He wasn’t destroyed. He hadn’t betrayed her. Instead, he’d come back to rescue her. Again, when no other man had ever rescued her.
Her heart stuttered. Soared. Then plunged in fear again. Obviously he carried no weapons. All he had were his body and his strength. But armed men surrounded him, servants of the vampire council. He would be killed. In front of her. For her. And she could do nothing.
Adder turned, obviously aroused by the chance to hurt Heath, for he was even more erect. “Seize him,” he roared. And of course, all the servants pulled out blades. Six rushed toward Heath.
Heath lifted his hands as though preparing to attack. The men flew back as though knocked over by an invisible wave.
She gaped at him … and saw the stunned shock on his face as he stared at his hands. More servants charged, but he lifted his hands again and they flew back, too.
Adder jumped off the stairs, and she knew exactly where the fiend was running.
“Heath!” Her words sounded like a mere whisper to her, but his gaze locked on her. “There’s a knife. On the pedestal.”
Adder leaped through the air to the pedestal. He snatched up the blade, but at the exact instant he started to run toward her, Heath held up his palms again and Adder screamed and flew back. His back slammed into the wall. The knife clattered to the floor. Then, as if controlled by magic, the knife rose, sailed through the air, and landed safely in Heath’s outstretched hands.
In a heartbeat, Heath was at her side. He sliced the ropes that bound her arms. His hands brushed against her bare wrists and set her aflame.
“H—how did you do that?” She could barely hear her voice, but Heath gently lifted her, helping her sit up.
“I have no idea. I’ve never done it before.” He flashed a broad grin. It was filled with wickedness, exactly like the delicious smile he’d worn when he’d watched her come….
“Sarah?” she whispered.
“I’ve already got her out of the cell, Miss Dare. She is safe with Julian. Let’s use this astounding new skill of mine to get us out of here.”
He sliced through the ropes at her ankles in seconds. Blearily she saw the room spin around her as he lifted her into his arms. The vampires were picking themselves up off the floor. But Heath cradled her with one strong arm and used his power to send the vampires tumbling like skittles again. The
tall, terrifying vampires tried to stagger forward, but Heath sent them back with another blast.
Then the room seemed to rush at her at top speed and everything blurred around her. Heath was racing so fast she couldn’t see. And when he stopped, she almost fell out of his arms. He set her on her feet. And Sarah was standing right in front of her.
Tears fell to Vivienne’s cheeks and rolled down. She ran to her daughter and buried her face in Sarah’s tangled curls.
She owed Heath so very, very much. How could she ever repay him? Dear heaven, she didn’t care that he was a vampire. He was the most wonderful man she’d ever known.
Heath had no idea what had happened. Where this power had come from, or how he’d controlled it. The first time he’d put up his hand, he’d willed the servants to go back, and suddenly they’d been flying through the air.
He didn’t have time for speculation. They were in a parlor, one ornately decorated in an Eastern style. He hated to break up the embrace between Vivienne and her daughter, but he had no choice. “We have to hurry, ladies. We’ve got to get out of here.”
Sarah pulled away from her mother. And her blanket, which she’d clutched around her, fell to the ground. Her night rail, torn and dirty, hung on her slim body. She shivered. She stooped. “Mama, you should have the blanket.”
But Vivienne, still naked, swept it up and wrapped it around Sarah. Heath swallowed hard. He could barely tear his gaze from Vivienne as she moved. He’d never seen a more enticing woman. Her large breasts swayed, her belly had a beautiful, lush curve, and her derriere—
He was supposed to be saving them. Not admiring the generous globes of Miss Dare’s rump.
“Hold on to it, Sarah,” she whispered. “You’ve nothing but your nightgown, and that’s torn into shreds. You’ll be cold
when we get out. And you need to cover yourself. I don’t want anyone to see you so exposed.”
“Mama, we were kidnapped by vampires and rescued by men who weren’t wearing any clothing and look just like Grecian statues. I don’t think I need to worry about propriety.”
Vivienne flushed. She looked almost more disconcerted by her daughter’s observation than she had about being tied to an altar. Wearing a motherly frown, she crossed her arms over her bosom. “You are not going out there without covering.”
Heath had rarely seen a mother actually carry out mothering before. His own had ignored him. His wife had been a wonderful mother, but he’d spent all his time traveling, so he had hardly ever seen the beauty of a mother’s love.
Vivienne’s hands had moved with capable firmness as she wrapped Sarah tighter in the rough brown wool. She cuddled her daughter close. It amazed him how Vivienne’s entire focus was on her daughter after such a hellish ordeal. Sarah had also been through hell, but he could see how Vivienne’s love might just help her to survive it. It brought out a stubborn streak in Sarah, but he saw the way Sarah’s face softened in her mother’s embrace.