Blood Secret (4 page)
The duke was still speaking about her staying for fourteen days. Frustration and a sense of failure choked her.
“But first ...” he murmured huskily.
He suddenly moved down her body, kissing a trail down her stomach. His lips brushed across her dark nether curls. Then his tongue delved in between her curls to touch her nether lips, to touch her most private place, wet and sticky with her juices and his.
She squirmed on the bed. He was a rake and he knew the most scandalous things. But his tongue ... the plunges of his hot tongue were different from the thrusts of his shaft and teased her in a different way. She moaned helplessly. The tension built again, swirling inside her... .
She came again, her fingers stretching wide on the sheets, her legs weak. She sobbed with it. Then a fire seemed to explode inside her and wrap around her heart. Her skin tingled and felt as though it was moving. Changing.
Goodness, Lucy knew what was happening. She felt this way when she was going to shift into dragon form. When her bones moved and her muscles changed and her skin transformed to iridescent scales.
It couldn’t happen now. The duke had no idea what she really was. No one in London did. Her family had kept their secret for generations.
But how did she stop the shift? When that kiss, that one she’d been given years ago, had made her shift, she had run away. She hadn’t been able to stop the change. At least she had found refuge deep in the massive gardens of their hosts’ estate. Her change had happened in a wooded area, where no one could see.
Heavens, what was she going to do here and now?
Hades, she was shifting. Sinjin knew it—he had seen people shift from their human shape to dragon form before. Her body was rippling beneath him and her skin felt hot enough to burst into flame.
“You must let me go,” Lady Lucy cried softly. “I—I don’t feel well. I need to—to use the necessary.” She tried to push out from under him.
She was trying to hide what she was. She thought he didn’t know she was a dragon.
It suited him to let her think she had succeeded. He swiftly moved off the bed, then whisked her to her feet. “Behind the screen,” he said.
“Oh.” Perspiration beaded on her forehead. She had gone white. “I need privacy, Your Grace.”
“Of course.” He bowed, despite being naked. “Summon the maid when you are ready to dress. This will be enough for tonight. After you are ready, you will return home in an unmarked carriage, then gather your things to return for two weeks.”
“I—” Her muscles jerked. Sitting up, she hugged her bare chest tightly, as though she was trying to keep her body from flying apart. He read the strain in the face, in the way her muscles shuddered and jerked beneath her hands. Valiantly, she was trying to fight the shift, but it was obvious she couldn’t.
Sinjin’s nostrils flared as he scented the change in her smell. His entire body tensed, and his brain was hammering one message at him:
Do your duty and destroy her when she becomes a dragon. You cannot suffer a dragon to live
.
Do your duty and destroy her when she becomes a dragon. You cannot suffer a dragon to live
.
His hands clenched against his will, yearning to be wrapped around the hilt of a sword. He had vowed to slay dragons—it was not a vow he could walk away from... .
But he couldn’t hurt Lady Lucy Drake tonight. He had to let her go and wait for her to come back. Once she returned, and had agreed to spend a fortnight under his control, then he would start questioning her about his nephew.
“I will give you some privacy,” he said casually. He turned his back on her deliberately, for he saw how she was perspiring, and how her jaw was twitching and her muscles were popping under her smooth, satiny skin. He put his back to her as much for himself as for her.
He left and closed the secret door in the wall paneling. Using his preternatural hearing, he detected a smothered scream. It signaled that her body had changed—when the body transformed from mortal shape into the larger form of a dragon, it caused a great deal of physical pain.
Right now, he had a dragon in his house. By the code of his clan, he was obligated to slay her. But that would condemn his nephew to death.
Sinjin walked away feeling the crushing sensation at his throat. It felt as though his windpipe could collapse. It was the punishment for not doing his duty—but only a warning. It would ease.
What if Lady Lucy did not return to his house?
Sinjin stalked over to the dressing table in his bedchamber. A decanter stood on it, beside a large tumbler. Other men drank brandy—he had his servants bring him blood. He poured a glass and the aroma sent his fangs launching forward. He drained all the blood from the glass in an instant while he wondered what Lady Lucy would do.
She had made love with him when she was frightened of men and intimacy. She was a remarkably strong woman, and determined to protect her family. He knew what lengths a person would go to when their family was at risk.
Sinjin licked his lips, gathering up the last, tangy droplets of blood with his tongue. It was entertaining to think of the carnal games he would play with her. For he was certain Lady Lucy would come back.
Changing her shape was agonizing.
Lucy had sunk to the floor beside the bed and she clutched the bedpost as spasms of pain rocked her body. Why couldn’t she stop it from happening?
Others could. Her father had been able to, and he had tried to teach her how to do it. Most of the time, she was able to keep her body from transforming, but there had been times, like this instant, where she lost control of her body.
She closed her eyes, bit her lips to contain any screams or sobs. And just tried to endure the hateful process.
She didn’t want to be a dragon. She yearned to be normal. To be just a mortal. To have worries like the other human, ordinary young ladies she knew: such as snaring a husband, becoming mistress of a house, and being a grand hostess within the
ton.
ton.
She had just given up her virginity and she could even end up pregnant.
All in all, her life was a disastrous mess.
Her arms and legs twitched and grew. Her skin rippled, changing by some mystical, awful process into scales. Heat swamped her, and Lucy fell dizzily back against the bed.
She couldn’t stop it. She couldn’t help but scream with the pain as her muscles popped, tore, heated, and re-formed.
Within minutes, she was no longer human, she was a dragon, and she was curled up on the floor beside the bed, with her tail tucked in around her. Firelight glinted off her scales. She took up the entire room.
If the duke were to come back, how would she explain this?
Lucy turned her sleek, dragon’s head toward the secret panel in the wall and gazed at it with her large eyes. A small lick of flame came from her mouth.
She prayed the panel did not open.
4
Lies and Vows
“W
hat are you doing, Lucy? Why are you packing?”
hat are you doing, Lucy? Why are you packing?”
Lucy whirled to find Helena standing in the doorway of her bedroom. Her sister was tearing at a piece of embroidery, nervously shredding it. With her pale gold hair and enormous blue eyes, Helena was a beauty, and at nineteen, she was also old enough to understand what their brother’s stupid gambling had done to the family. In fact, Helena understood all too well—Lucy knew her lovely sister was noble enough to agree to a wretched marriage to save them all.
Lucy let the blue silk gown in her arms fall into her open trunk. She was still shaking. It had been draining to face her fear and painful memories and go to bed with the duke. It had stunned her to actually like it. She’d been wild with terror when she’d started to shift into dragon form.
It had been a miracle she hadn’t been caught. At least she had been alone in his bedroom when she had shifted shape, but as a dragon, her head had brushed the high ceiling and her tail had been curled and pressing against the wall. Then she’d managed to regain control of her body and change back. Trembling, exhausted, disheveled, and itchy with dried perspiration, she had summoned his maid, dressed, and come home.
In her carriage, she had concocted a story. Now she faced the elder of her two sisters and used it. “I have an invitation to a house party.”
Helena frowned. “Lucy, it is the beginning to the Season. Who on earth would be having a house party? Everyone is in London.”
“Not all the Drakes,” she said, amazed at how smoothly she was able to lie. “Since we can’t shop for our prospective husbands on the marriage mart, many of the dragon clans do not bother to attend Society events. There will be eligible men in this house party, Helena. Drago men. Men who are dragons, like we are. If I can snare one and marry well, then I can rescue us.”
Helena crossed her arms, sighed heavily. Lucy flinched as her sister’s perceptive gaze searched her face. She tried to give no hint that all this was a complete fabrication.
“Lucy,” Helena said. “You said you would never think of marrying—”
“I am ready to marry now,” Lucy broke in. “I’ve recovered from Allan Ferrars.” She went to her wardrobe so Helena could not see her face. The more impassive and natural she tried to make her expression appear, the more Lucy was certain she wore an enormous sign on her head that read LIAR.
“Are you certain?” Helena came over to her, and touched her arm. Doubt furrowed her sister’s smooth, pretty forehead. Helena knew her far too well.
Bother. Lucy had never lied to any member of her family before... .
Well, that was not true. Neither of her two sisters knew exactly what Ferrars had done or what she had seen when she had yanked open the bedroom door. They did not know he had battled with Jack and that their brother had been forced to kill him. Not telling them why had not been a direct falsehood. It had more been a lie by omission.
She didn’t want Helena to know what she was doing. And anyway, she had no choice now: She had already done it. She had given up her virginity, and she certainly couldn’t retrieve it. The problem—losing her virginity made her feel different. She felt more world-wise and experienced, older, and more ... more aware of everything around her. The lavender sprinkled on her underclothes smelled more sweet and intense, like a field of wildflowers. She was aware of the touch of things—the caress of her muslin petticoats as they brushed her thighs. The tug of her garters on the sensitive skin of her legs. The way her bodice bound her breasts. And since she felt so ... different, she was afraid someone who knew her well would guess what she had done.
“It’s not just to save us,” she said firmly. “I
want
to marry. I know Father would have wanted it, and I can’t live with myself for disappointing him.”
want
to marry. I know Father would have wanted it, and I can’t live with myself for disappointing him.”
She hated herself in that moment. Using their father’s wishes to convince her sister.
As she expected, Helena’s eyes teared. But to Lucy’s surprise, Helena vehemently shook her head. “Father would not have forced you to do something you didn’t want. He truly thought Mr. Ferrars was a gentleman and a noble dragon. Father would not want you to marry if you didn’t wish to.”
“I know. I’m going to open my heart and fall in love, Helly. I promise. I know wonderful gentlemen will be at this party and one will sweep me off my feet.” The lie was so very much the opposite of what was going to happen that her throat felt thick.
“How long will you be gone?”
“A fortnight.”
Helena’s eyes widened. “With Jack missing?”
“Creadmore will look after both you and Beatrix.” Creadmore was loyal—he had been Father’s butler for twenty years. He would ensure the family was safe. But Helena’s ingenuous question reminded Lucy that she could not look for Jack for the two wretched weeks she had to spend with the duke. “I will write every day, Helena,” she promised impulsively. “I’ll send letters by footman or by the express.” Which would save her from having to explain a London postmark.
She was weaving a tangled mess.
But in two weeks, the debt would be paid. They would be safe. Then she could find Jack, and she would give him a kick in the breeches for all the trouble he’d caused.
As for her ruination and possible pregnancy ... she wouldn’t think of that now. She would give Jack an extra kick in his behind if she was expecting a child.
At least, she was certain Jack was alive and safe. He always ran away when he got into trouble. It had driven Father mad. Now it was going to do the same to her.
Late in the night, but before dawn began to touch the sky, he walked to his sister’s grave.
Sinjin flicked up the collar of his greatcoat and stalked through the cemetery, toward the massive crypt that held his sister’s coffin. He carried a bouquet of roses.
He had lost all his family except Emma when he had been nine years of age. The dragon slayers had found him, had taken him in and raised him. With his father dead, he had become the Duke of Greystone. But the only title that had mattered to him had been that of dragon slayer. Wreaking vengeance on dragons had helped him survive the pain of losing his parents, his younger brother, and his other two sisters.
Emma had never been able to heal. She’d always been lost in a sort of make-believe world. She had believed she had fairies for friends, and she would not even speak to anyone but him.
Emma had been made into a vampire by the dragon slayers, just as he had been. When she was as old as he was, when he had been turned, he had insisted she be given immortal life.
All members of the dragon slayers clan were given immortality. Their souls were taken and their bodies were made stronger by the transformation. As vampires, they were almost invincible. Emma should have lived for eternity. But Emma had fallen in love with a forbidden man—a dragon. She had run away with him. Other dragon slayers had hunted the man down and destroyed him. After she had lost her husband, Emma had gone mad. She had destroyed herself. She had walked out into the sunlight, had screamed with agony as the light burned her to ashes and dust.
With her death, he had lost everyone in his family—except Emma had a child. And when she had killed herself, she had left her son alone, without parents.
Sinjin pulled open the door to the crypt, ducked his head, and stepped into the dark. It was pitch dark, but as a vampire, he could see easily. Emma’s cool marble sarcophagus stood in the middle. Her likeness was carved into the top. On it, with her marble eyes closed and her sculpted hands resting on her chest, he could imagine she was still alive and she looked this way, as though she was merely sleeping. But all that was inside the coffin was a small pile of dust.
His heart cold, he laid the roses on top of the marble hands. “I know James is safe, Emma,” he said aloud, into the quiet of the tomb. “I will have him home soon. I promise.”
And he would. James was the only family he had left.
He had to ensure he acquired Lady Lucy Drake’s trust. After that, he could question her, and try to find clues to where James was being held by her family. If he could coax her to trust him, he would be able to slowly break through the defenses she carried as a shape-shifter and see into her thoughts.
But before dawn, he would try one more time with her brother, Jack.
One of his servants had brought him word this evening: they had discovered where her damned brother was hiding.
Maybe the Earl of Wrenshire would be more forthcoming with his information when he found out what his sister was willing to do to save him.
Her trunk was packed. Lucy swiftly tied her bonnet ribbons beneath her chin, her gloves tucked beneath her arm.
She was ready to go—to run for the carriage before she lost her nerve—when the front door opened, the scent of smoke whirled in, and one of her investigators bowed, gave her a crooked smile, and said softly, “I have findings to report, my lady.”
She led him into the study, which would have been her brother’s room if Jack had not disappeared, and sat at the desk. Arching her brow, she waited for her investigator to begin. He doffed his beaver hat and gave her another grin, looking relaxed and devilish. A former Bow Street Runner, Mr. Armstrong did not look like the sort of man who respected the law, but he reputedly took cases without payment or hope of reward when he felt justice should be served.
He had agreed to find her missing brother and accept his payment later. Lucy suspected it was because the handsome, dark-haired man admired Helena.
“I believe I’ve traced the last movements the earl made before he disappeared, my lady.” Armstrong drew a notebook from a deep pocket and flicked the pages with his black-gloved hands. “At eight of the night, the earl left his club and proceeded to—” He stopped abruptly, then ran his fingers around his collar. “Beg your pardon, my lady, but the rest might not be suitable for a lady’s ears.”
Lucy sighed. “You cannot shock me, Mr. Armstrong. I assume it was either a seedy gaming establishment or a brothel.”
“Indeed it was a combination of both, my lady. At midnight, he took his leave and visited several gaming halls.”
She arched a brow. “Several? Could he not lose enough money at one?”
She didn’t expect an answer but to her surprise he gave her one. “It appears he was not engaged in deep play but in the pursuit of a duke,” he said.
“A duke? And this was on the night he disappeared?” Normally her brother stayed out all night, but returned in mid-morning, where he would collapse in a drunken stupor on his bed. But on that particular day, he had not appeared. He had gone out the night before and he had not come back. “Which duke?” Though, really, what other duke would it be?
“The Duke of Greystone,” Armstrong confirmed. “They encountered each other in a tavern near the London Docks. According to several witnesses, they left together.”
“They did?” And the wretched duke had said nothing about it. Did he know what had happened to Jack?
“I take it, my lady, you wish to know what they spoke about? They were overheard.”
“Yes, of course I do!”
“They spoke of the duke’s nephew. The duke accused the earl’s father of kidnapping his young nephew.”
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