Authors: Alexandra Ivy
My Lord Vampire (6 page)
“That you were less than honest, with hidden motives in seeking me out. He also implied you were a fortune hunter.”
His smile held a grim determination. “I am, indeed, a hunter, but not of fortune.”
She eyed him warily, for the moment forgetting the reason she had allowed herself to be lured to the garden.
“Then what do you hunt?”
His gaze briefly lifted to sweep through the darkness that surrounded them, almost as if he were searching for someone, or something.
“Those who would seek to destroy my home,” he at last retorted in fierce tones.
Simone frowned at the mysterious words. Did he speak of a traitor to his country? Or a personal enemy that sought to harm his family?
“This Mr. Soltern is one you hunt?”
“Yes.”
She considered him for a long moment, wishing he were not so terribly clever at hiding his emotions. The pale, perfect features gave nothing away.
“What does this have to do with me?”
The dark gaze abruptly returned to her face, the uneasy tension fading as he allowed that mocking smile that so annoyed her to return to his lips.
“The time is not yet right to reveal such information.”
Feeling as if she had neatly been put into her place, Simone eyed him with a jaundiced frown. She wondered if he was deliberately offensive to keep her at a distance or if it was simply his nature.
“Fah.” She snapped open her fan. “You wrap yourself in mystery in the hopes of beguiling me.”
The dark brows rose in a taunting fashion. “I need no mystery to beguile you, my love. There are far more pleasurable means of doing so, if I chose.”
Her teeth clenched. “Is that so?”
“Shall I demonstrate?”
He stepped closer and Simone momentarily battled the urge to flee to the safety of the ballroom. Those earlier shivers of dark excitement returned as she felt the heat of him caress her bare skin.
Hoping she appeared far more assured than she felt, she gave a lift of one shoulder.
“If you wish.”
“Actually I am confident it is your wish,” he audaciously retorted, lifting a slender finger to trail it down the low cut of her neckline. “I would not desire to disappoint you.”
Her eyes widened, as much as from the shocking heat that flared through her body at his touch as by the arrogance of his claim.
“Why, you ...”
She had not quite decided upon the proper insult for his outlandish behavior, but in the end it did not matter as he abruptly lowered his head and claimed her lips in a branding kiss.
All thoughts faded as she was struck by a bolt of lightning that singed her from her lips to the tips of her curled toes.
Shimmering heat cloaked about her and the faint scent of... what was it? Cinnamon? A musky spice that clouded her thoughts and filled her senses. She leaned heavily against his hard, chiseled form as her knees became weak. His mouth moved with a practiced skill and Simone gave a low moan of pleasure.
She shivered as a potent desire flooded her body. His hands molded her ever closer, making her vibrantly aware of every hard curve and plane of his muscular form. She opened her lips, allowing him ready access to the moist warmth of her mouth.
This was what she had sensed between them from the beginning, she acknowledged dizzily.
This fierce, blazing hunger that threatened to consume them both.
She knew she should be terrified. This was not what she had planned at all. He was the one who was supposed to be lost in a haze of need.
Still, it was not until those clever fingers slid upward to lightly cup the fullness of her aching breast that she came to her fogged senses.
A pleasure that she had never before dreamed existed exploded deep within her, making her sharply pull away in shock.
Dangerous waters, indeed.
Licking her tingling lips she regarded him with wide, startled eyes. His own expression was much more difficult to read, although there was no missing the thick tension that smoldered in the air.
“You tremble in my arms,” he at last murmured in smoky tones.
“I ...” Determined to deny his arrogant charge, the words stuck in her throat.
“Yes, my temptress?” he prodded.
The lie would not come and she sucked in an unsteady breath. Surely it was not cowardly to realize when it was best to retreat? There would be other nights to teach this gentleman a lesson he so richly deserved, she attempted to ease her damaged pride. And on the next occasion she would be prepared to battle those dizzying sensations that threatened to overwhelm her.
“We should return to the ballroom,” she managed to say in a husky voice.
His lips twitched as if he were fully aware of the heat that still tormented her.
“But I have not yet fully beguiled you.” His accent was more noticeably pronounced as he reached out to gently stroke his hand down the curve of her neck. The dark eyes smoldered with an unreadable fire as she shivered beneath his caress.
“We will be missed,” she breathed.
“I thought you shunned society’s rules?”
Those fingers brushed the frantic pulse at the base of her neck, the moonlight adding dangerous shadows to his lean countenance. He suddenly appeared different.
Harder.
Perilous.
Inflexible.
A predator that could destroy her with ease.
“Gideon?”
“Do you still prefer to be among the wolves?” he demanded, his dark velvet voice sending a shudder through her. “There is danger here in the dark.”
Simone readily believed him.
She could feel the danger.
It pulsed in the still air and cloaked about her slender body. She suddenly felt vulnerable in a manner she had never before experienced.
“This is madness,” she whispered more to herself than to the gentleman watching her with those glittering eyes.
“Then remain with the sheep where you are safe, my dear.”
The challenge was unmistakable, but for once Simone was not so swift to rise up and meet it.
She had her pride, but she was not a complete fool.
“I ...”
The sudden sound of approaching footsteps was almost a welcome intrusion and ignoring the taunting smile that curved his mouth, Simone readily turned to watch the uniformed servant who hurried in their direction.
“Pardon me for intruding, Mr. Ravel,” the young footman apologized with a low bow.
Gideon waved a pale hand. “What is it?”
“A message arrived for you. The servant claimed that it was urgent you speak with him.”
“Thank you.” Waiting for the footman to turn and make his way back toward the house, Gideon shifted so that he could stab her with a piercing gaze. “It seems our interlude must come to an untimely end. You can find your way back to the ballroom on your own, I trust?”
Simone lifted her brows in surprise, forgetting that just a moment before she was anxious to end her time alone with Gideon. She was not accustomed to being dismissed with such obvious ease.
“You are leaving?”
He gave a shrug. “Duty calls.”
“Duty? What duty?” she demanded, regarding him with suspicion. “Where are you going?”
He reached out to tap her nose as if she were a precocious child rather than the “Wicked Temptress” who had bewitched London with her seductive powers.
“Out among the wolves, my love,” he murmured, leaning down to tenderly brush her lips before he was disappearing into the shadows with a fluid motion.
Feeling baffled and more than a bit dazed by her latest encounter with Mr. Ravel, Simone planted her hands upon her hips and glared into the darkness.
Nothing had gone as it was supposed to.
Gideon was no closer to being wrapped in her silken threads of power while she ... well, there was no denying that she had eagerly fallen into his arms like an overripe peach.
What had Mary said earlier? Something about being burned when playing with fire?
Her eyes narrowed with self-recrimination. She had failed on this occasion. Failed spectacularly.
Next time,
she silently assured herself.
she silently assured herself.
And there would be a next time.
Gideon glided through the shadows with a frown marring his wide brow.
He was not at all happy to discover that it had been more than a little difficult to leave Simone behind in the garden.
It had, indeed, been a decided wrench.
For the love of great Nefri, she was a mortal, he reminded himself sternly.
A mere woman who was only important because she briefly held a part of the Medallion.
But when he had pulled her into his arms and touched his lips to hers, he had forgotten the reason he was determined to keep her close. He had forgotten that he intended to use her passions to weave a trap she could not escape. He had forgotten all but the sweet temptation that had flooded through him.
His frown deepened as he angled toward his waiting carriage.
He was well acquainted with passions of the flesh.
He had lost himself in the pleasures of mortal women on countless occasions before retreating behind the Veil.
But this was nothing at all like he remembered.
Oh, there was the same burning hunger that raced through his blood, and the same ache that hardened his body with need. But threaded through the desire was a strange, unexpected tenderness that made him long to sweep her off her feet and hide her far away from the danger that threatened.
Tenderness.
He gave a shake of his head.
There was no place for such weakness among vampires.
Only humans found pleasure in such frailty.
Ignoring the urge to turn about and ensure that Simone made it safely back to the ballroom, Gideon continued on to his carriage. Within moments the groomsman stepped forward to open the door so that he could climb within and discover the slender, ragged youth that was nearly hidden in a distant corner.
He thrust aside his bothersome thoughts to concentrate upon the lad he had hired to keep his ears open for rumors of a Mr. Soltern. Older than most of the other ragamuffins he had put into his service, the boy possessed a calm intelligence that had impressed Gideon from their first meeting.
“I presume this has something to do with Mr. Soltern?” he demanded as he slid into a seat across from his unexpected guest.
“No, sir,” the lad surprised him by admitting in a near whisper. “But you did ask to be informed of any ... unusual deaths in the city.”
Gideon felt a stir of premonition ripple through the closed confines of the carriage. His muscles tightened with sudden anticipation although no human eye could have detected his tension as he leaned negligently against the leather cushions.
“There has been a murder?”
“Aye, a harlot from the Rookery.”
Gideon gave a lift of his brow. “Hardly an unusual occurrence.”
“The girl was found floating in the river with her throat ripped out.”
With a smooth movement Gideon lifted the hatch set in the roof of the carriage.
“To St. Giles,” he commanded in cold tones.
“Yes, sir,” the coachman retorted with a crack of his whip.
With a lurch the carriage was in motion, traveling through the pleasant peace of Mayfair toward Great Russell Street where thieves and whores plied their trade.
Gideon returned his attention to the boy across from him. “Tell me what you know.”
“T’ain’t much.” He rubbed the tip of his pointed nose. “I was lingering outside Mrs. Finch’s establishment, seeing as how most of the fancy gents enjoy spending a few hours with her girls, hoping to catch a hint of this Mr. Soltern when I overheard two blokes talking of a whore they had pulled out of the river. It seems the Watch was right upset when they discovered her throat was missing.”
Gideon drummed impatient fingers upon his knee. Tristan had always been brutal, and with the powers of his bloodlust he could easily shift to an animal capable of such destruction. Certainly he would not put it past the renegade to enjoy such a kill.
“What do the authorities believe occurred?”
“The runners are saying it is a madman.”
“Certainly a madman,” Gideon agreed with a chilled smile.
The usually unshakable youth shifted nervously against the smooth leather of his seat.
“Were you wanting to see the body?”
He considered a long moment before giving a shake of his head. At the moment it was more important that he discover who had witnessed this murder. There had to be someone who had taken note of the whore. And who had been her last customer.
“There is no need. I wish to be taken to where she was last seen.”
“It is bound to be dangerous,” the boy warned. “Gentleman such as yerself will be seen as an easy mark in such a neighborhood.”
The dark eyes glittered with a lethal glow. “There will be none foolish enough to trouble me,” he retorted in silky tones.
Something in the harsh set of his features seemed to assure the boy that he was more than a match for even the most hardened criminal.
“Aye, sir.”
A heavy silence descended as they rumbled down the cobbled streets, leaving behind the tidy squares and gardens to enter the narrow, dark lanes that were crowded with gin shops, slaughterhouses and common lodging hovels. It was a maze of alleys, cul-de-sacs and closed courts that made it near impossible to travel without becoming hopelessly lost. And in the shadows lurked the desperate prostitutes, pickpockets and drunkards that clung to a meager existence.
Gideon’s nose twitched as the pervasive smell of raw sewage, rotting fish and sour sweat filled the air. It was the stench of poverty and despair that was in sharp contrast to the luxury they had just left behind.
It was also the stench of danger, he reminded himself.
Having given in to his savage desires, Tristan may not be able to walk the streets during the brightness of daylight, but during the night his powers would be formidable. Far too formidable.
With a covert motion Gideon reached beneath his coat to touch the cold steel of the dagger he had hidden in a secret pocket.
“That be the street she worked,” the urchin abruptly announced, pointing out the window toward a narrow alley that looked precisely the same as every other dingy and dirty alley in the district.
Gideon gave a rap on the carriage roof and awaited the coachman to slow to a halt. The door was pulled open by a footman, but on the point of climbing out Gideon paused to give the boy across from him a stern glance.
“You are to remain here.”
“But, sir ...”
“Have no fear, I shall return momentarily,” he retorted in firm tones.
Confident that he would be obeyed, he slipped out of the carriage and made his way toward the alley. Ignoring the sudden hush that settled through the neighborhood he readily stepped between the overhanging buildings, his form flowing with the skilled grace of a hunter and his vision as sharply clear during the night as during the day. Such eerily fluid movements should have warned all that he was not a foolish dandy out on a lark, but as he had expected he had only to take a few steps before there was a sudden scrap on the cobblestones behind him.
“Right then, turn about nice and slow,” a harsh voice ordered.
Gideon readily complied, his narrowed gaze taking in the thin countenance and mismatched clothing. Although a small, wiry man, there was no mistaking the hard edge to his features nor the gleam of a large knife he held in his hand.
In no mood to tangle with the experienced thief, Gideon softly spoke the words of power that would briefly compel the man to his will.
“I need information and you will provide it, is that understood?” he demanded in tones too low to carry.
There was a brief silence as the thief struggled to battle the spell that clouded his mind before he was giving a grudging nod of his head.
“Yes.”
Gideon stepped closer, his senses fully aware to every sound and scent that filled the alley. He would not be caught unaware by Tristan. Nor any of his slaves.
“There was a prostitute pulled from the river this evening. Did you know her?”
“Called herself Clorinda, she did, but more than likely it were a name she made up to make herself sound more an actress than a tart.”
Gideon waved a dismissive hand. He possessed no interest in the woman’s name, only the reason she had been so flagrantly disposed of.
“Did you see her leave yesterday evening?”
There was a reluctant nod. “Yes.”
“Did she leave with a gentleman?”
“She left with any number of gentlemen.”
Gideon reined in his impatience. “Tell me of the last gentleman who hired her services.”
Even though in Gideon’s power the thief gave a visible shudder. “A fancy bloke with a cape.”
“Did he have a carriage?”
“Yes, black with no crest on it. They took off toward the docks.”
It was too much to hope that Tristan would have been foolish enough to leave a clue to his current lair. He would have to know that Gideon would far prefer to face him when his powers were at their weakest.
“Did you hear him say anything?” he demanded with an edge of annoyance.
“He told her to take down her hair.”
Caught off guard Gideon felt those prickles of warning once again flare through him.
“Why?”
“Said he was wanting a woman with long blond hair. Seemed very particular about that.”
Gideon clenched his teeth as a wave of fury threatened to destroy his cool logic.
He suddenly understood the reason for the savage, highly visible attack.
Tristan was taunting him.
The renegade desired him to realize that Simone would suffer a similar fate if he failed.
His hands clenched as the image of her slender body battered and ravaged seared through his mind. Tristan would be merciless given the opportunity to punish the maiden for standing in his way.
Far more merciless than he had been to the golden-haired harlot.
For the first time in his eternal existence Gideon experienced a sharp flare of fear.
Simone screamed as the whip cut into the soft skin of her back. She wanted to be strong. To pretend that she was impervious to the punishment her sister so readily offered. But the leather thong continued to fall, tearing open her tender flesh and sending blood flooding down to the stone floor. She struggled against the ropes that bound her hands, unable to halt herself from pleading for mercy. From behind she heard her sister laughing....
Without warning Simone discovered she was no longer in the darkened wine cellar but riding in an elegant carriage. She was attired in a dark wool gown that scratched at her skin and effectively disguised her slender curves. They were traveling through the peaceful countryside but Simone felt a tingle of alarm flare through her. She knew that somewhere in the distance was a band of highwaymen that were awaiting their approach. Desperate thugs who would kill without warning. She tried to open her mouth and warn the coachman, but she could not speak....
Blackness surrounded her. A thick, smothering darkness that stole her breath and made it impossible to move. Suddenly a faint, silvery image of a man could be detected in the distance. He seemed somehow familiar as he lifted a hand to beckon her closer. A cold chill struck her heart at the sight of the stranger, but she could not prevent herself from struggling to move toward him. A seductive voice whispered in her ear, promising delights beyond imagining if she would only surrender to him. If only she would offer the amulet that glowed in the darkness.
Her hand lifted toward the amulet, clutching the warm gold in tight fingers. But even as she considered lifting the necklace from her neck the image of the old gypsy woman was standing before her, the wrinkled countenance harsh with warning.
“No, child. You must protect the Medallion,” she said in tones that defied argument. “All depend upon you. You must be strong. Do not be deceived by those who would destroy you. Do not be deceived... .”
With a cry Simone abruptly sat up in bed, her fingers tender from where the amulet had cut into her skin.
A dream.
She shuddered with relief as she sank back upon her pillows.
It was not the first occasion she had been plagued by nightmares. Heaven above knew that her past was enough to give anyone lurid dreams.
But never before had she dreamed of the shadowy form that had seemed so real. She could still feel those odd prickles that had raced over her when those seductive words had been whispered in her ear, and the desire to do whatever was commanded of her. If not for the appearance of the old gypsy who knew ...
With a shake of her head at her foolishness Simone forced herself from her bed and rang for a bath.
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