Another piece of his soul was gone after he’d turned Hazel into a lust-breather. He wouldn’t have done it if it hadn’t been for the desperate look in Tyon’s eyes. It was the look of a man who was about to lose everything. That feeling was familiar to his heart. To save Chloe, he would’ve done the same. Hell, he’d damned his soul to save Kaela. At least Tyon could have what Aleximanus couldn’t. Although only time would tell if Tyon was damning himself for mating with a sin-breather. Hazel’s and Tyon’s situation was probably the first case in history.
Sighing as Hazel let out a scream of pleasure, Aleximanus arranged the letters in a semicircle. Twelve letters. Number thirteen was missing. What happened to you?
He pulled out his quartz crystal tied with a thin silver chain. The silver came from the tiara of a czarina, or so the legend said, and the quartz had been dug from a Persian king’s tomb. He swung the quartz back and forth over the twelve letters. The chain burned, a soft hiss coming from the links. The stone glowed and shaded a pink glow on the table.
Having his army of sin-breathers under his command gave him an extra strength that sparkled within his chest. It was an angry, restless strength though that simmered in his veins like a disease. Still, it was effective.
The quartz oscillated faster. A swishing sound came at every lash of the chain. Aleximanus place a map of London underneath it.
The oscillation became wilder. The pink glow pulsated, and the quartz swung one last time. Its tip dropped on South Kensington, right in the middle of Victoria Road. He circled the area with a red pencil and stared at it, chewing his bottom lip. Victoria Road was a bloody long street with dozens of buildings. It wouldn’t be like searching the entire city, but it won’t be easy unless Tyon and Hazel had a clue on who lived there.
Another feminine scream of pleasure rocked the house. He rolled his eyes. If only he could ask them.
~ * ~
TYON BUTTONED UP his shirt and tucked it in his trousers while Hazel freshened up in the bathroom. His power purred softly, sated. His cock throbbed, asking for more, for being sheathed into Hazel’s velvet channel again. But he had to push down the urge.
The house was still in one piece, and he’d been able to control his energy. He touched his thigh where the cilice had been. The flesh had healed, and only a few red spots remained, the throb dulling. He picked up the cilice, its sharp, pointed spikes still caked with his blood, and dropped it on the nightstand. He wouldn’t need it anymore. Hazel was his anchor. He had to find a way to be hers.
She emerged from the bathroom in a froth of blue skirts. Loose tendrils of hair framed her lovely face. She’d always been beautiful, but the lust power gave her an extra lure that in better circumstances would’ve tempted him to shove her against the wall and starting making love to her all over again. Her smile brightened her eyes and brought a flush to her cheeks.
A lust-breather flushing in embarrassment. He chuckled at the idea.
“How do you feel?” He clasped his cufflinks, drinking her in.
“Sore.” She stared at her hands. “And powerful.”
“You’ll get used to it.” He meant to give her only a quick peck on the forehead, but the moment he was close to her, he couldn’t pull away and aimed for her luscious mouth.
She opened up for him, her mouth moving against his own.
The scent of her arousal dampened the air, and his shaft twitched painfully in the confined space of his trousers.
Her hands caressed his chest, but she inched back. Her lilac eyes were smouldering with worry. “Is this real? This attraction between us? Or is it just the lust?”
“Oh, Hazel.” He took her face in his hands and stroked the corners of her lips with his thumbs. “I wanted you before.” He was about to say before you became a sin-breather, but somehow the word sounded wrong applied to her. Like an insult. “Before your transformation, and I’ve met many lust-breathers. I’ve always been able to resist their temptation, and it has always been easy.” He left out the part about how he’d actually killed two lust-breathers without much thought. A stab to their evil hearts, a twitch, and they were gone. “With you, nothing is easy. I want to take you again.”
Her lashes fluttered down. “I didn’t want to kiss Aleximanus.”
He grimaced and worked his jaw, not sure he wanted to hear about Hazel and Aleximanus’s bond. But she was troubled, and he’d swallow his pride for her. “I know.”
“But it was like there were two people inside me, the normal me, Hazel, and the lust, and I couldn’t stop it. Yet, it wasn’t as pleasurable as kissing you.” Her soft hand traced his unshaven chin. “When I kiss you, it’s the whole of me kissing you.” She paused, biting her bottom lip.
“What?”
“What if the lust overrules me, and I end up having sex with a man I don’t want as Aleximanus said?”
Yes, that was a strong possibility. “We have to trust Aleximanus. As long as he controls the bond, you won’t be able to fall prey of your lust, and with time, you’ll control it.”
“I’m scared,” she whispered. “You might hate and resent me if something happens.”
“No.” He hugged her, squashing her against his chest. “Never.” But if she lost control, he’d kill whoever dared touch her. Starting with Aleximanus. If he took advantage of his power over Hazel, Tyon wouldn’t hesitate.
They remained in each other’s arms, rocking gently. She was alive. It was all that mattered, and he’d protect her to the last drop of his blood.
He kissed the top of her head. “We’d better go to Aleximanus and see what he’s up to.”
Hand in hand, he led her downstairs. Aleximanus was sprawled in an armchair in front of a log fire. Pieces of paper lay scattered on the low table.
He didn’t turn when they entered. “Have you finished? Scratched all itches?”
Tyon growled. “Watch your tone.” Although a hint of shame slithered through him. The hallow would work for only another day, and he couldn’t stop thinking about taking Hazel.
Aleximanus stood up, the coattails of his jacket flapping. “Do you know this address?” He showed him a paper.
Hazel rose on her tiptoes to read. “Victoria Road. Who lives there?”
“The person who has the thirteenth letter.” He gestured towards Rachel’s letters on the table. “The address is the result of my search. I hope it’ll ring a bell.”
It didn’t. “Harrisons gave me a copy of the police report for the case.” Tyon opened a cabinet, took out the folder fat with documents, and spread them out. “These are details about every person the police interrogated on Rachel’s case. Search for someone who lives in Victoria Road.”
Aleximanus and Hazel picked up a few papers. The way she flourished her wrist while flipping the pages distracted Tyon for a moment. Every gesture she made, even the most casual, was now a pot of sensuality that whispered of secrets exchanged under the bedsheets. He’d spend days discovering each secret that—
“Focus, Captain.” Aleximanus waved a page in front of him.
Hazel flashed a sexy smile that sent a shot of pleasure right to Tyon’s cock. Shaking his head, he skimmed the reports. Details about Rachel’s mother, her father, relatives, even servants filled the neatly arranged forms.
“There’s nothing here,” Aleximanus said, tossing a document.
Tyon lowered the paper he was reading. “Nothing here as well. Hazel?”
She shook her head, her curls bouncing around. “But I’m sure I read it somewhere.”
“Let’s double check.” Aleximanus gathered the documents and skimmed them again.
“Wait.” She glanced around, a fingertip on her chin. “Where’s Rachel’s book? The Sepulchre?”
“Here.” Tyon lifted Aleximanus’s coat from the armchair and picked up the book covered in dead sin-breathers’ dust. He handed it to her.
She flipped the pages, her gaze darting around. “There.” She showed a page, the beginning of a new chapter where a caption took up a
corner: My house in 221B Victoria Street, apartment eighteenth, this afternoon. Verna.
Aleximanus clicked his tongue and dropped the pile of documents he was reading on the table. “This might mean two things. Either Rachel used her best friend’s apartment to meet with her secret lover.” He paused, smirking. “Or Verna is Rachel’s secret lover.”
Tyon tapped his knuckles on the table, chiding himself. The second option fit. Two star-crossed lovers, Rachel’s worry that her father would learn about her lover, her disinterest for both Morris and Reginald. “Why didn’t I see this before?”
“You don’t want to hear the answer.” Aleximanus snorted.
Tyon shot him a glare.
“So Verna killed Rachel?” Hazel asked, closing the book, her brow creased.
Tyon shrugged. “I checked her aura. It didn’t show any serious sin at least not the first time I met Verna. I don’t understand.”
“Masking,” Aleximanus said. “Something only the Hierophant can do. He can temporarily shield someone’s aura from scrutiny, only for a few days. Has Verna ever be seen in Leon’s company?”
“Well, Leon could be the man the maid at The Sepulchre saw Verna with.” Even Hazel’s voice had an erotic quality. She stiffened. “The power went out!”
“Excuse me?” Aleximanus said.
Hazel waved a hand. “The night Rachel died, Verna and Leon were at The Sepulchre. The electric lights went off. It took half an hour before the manager decided to light the old chandelier.”
Tyon ignored the way her excited breathing sounded like the soft noises she made in bed. “Half an hour. During that time, they could’ve left the hall, gone to Rachel’s house, and killed her,” he said.
“Of course.” Aleximanus shoved the papers away, revealing London’s map. “The Sepulchre is a few minutes from Rachel’s house. They could’ve gone there and come back to The Sepulchre in half an hour.”
“What about the hand?” Hazel asked.
“The exhibition chamber in Lord McCormack-Brighton’s mansion has a window that opens to the garden.” Tyon paced, recalling the details of the night. “I bet that while Sir Morris made his little scene to distract us and the butler, Leon sneaked into the chamber and placed Rachel’s hand in the vase.”
“Hellfire,” she muttered.
Tyon snatched his coat. “I need to call Harrisons, and we’ll search Verna’s apartment.”
~ * ~
STANDING ON THE busy pavement of Victoria Street, Hazel put a hand on her plaited hat and glanced up at Verna’s apartment. With only two windows and emerald ivy crawling up the wall, it was concealed from prying eyes—the perfect place for secret meetings.
She didn’t need to see to know that Tyon was right next to her. Her lust sent her a quick, hot pulse between her legs every time he stepped closer. Even Aleximanus’s presence vibrated inside her, and her lust urged her to wrap her legs around him as well, but she didn’t listen to it. Still, the ball of sensual emotions pressing against her abdomen was hard to ignore.
Every passing man or woman sent a shot shuddering through her. Heated gazes raked over her. The lust wanted to enslave all these people, to bend them to its will and push them to embrace their dark side. The thought soured her mouth and burned the back of her throat like creosote. She didn’t want to hurt anyone, or have random sex.
Tyon’s hand slipped into hers and gave it a squeeze. His reassuring, steady presence silenced the lust. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps you should’ve stayed home.”
“No. I don’t want to leave you.”
A white glow exploded from a woman’s head brushing past, and Hazel rubbed her eyes. She had to get used to people’s auras, but the sudden flash of light blinded her, and her lust urging to taint the woman’s aura, to turn it dark and rotting almost made her scream.
Tyon’s fingers closed around her tightly. “I can take you home.”
“No, really.” Besides, without him around, she’d go mad with need and probably end up enticing an innocent into having sex with her. She shuddered at the thought.
Aleximanus stepped next to her. “It’s better if she stays close to us for a while. Until her power is fully under control.”
He probably understood what she was going through, and she was glad he was helping her.
“Let’s go then.” Tyon strode inside the building with his usual confidence.
The front gate was ajar, and a couple of young men were swiping the foyer.
“Do we have a key?” she asked, climbing the steps of a wide marble staircase.
The men peered up from their work, eyes widening at her passage. She averted her gaze.
“It’s not needed when we have Aleximanus.” Tyon winked.
“So my sinful skills are useful now?” Aleximanus arched a brow.
“We’re into this together, whether we like it or not.”
A gentleman trotted downstairs and tipped his hat up when he walked next to her. He paused, a daft smile stretching over his face and twitching his moustache. “Afternoon, madam.”
The lust flickered like candlelight suddenly fuelled by kerosene. His aura sparkled a solid white with a few dark wisps. It’d be easy to corrupt it, make it fester, and turn it into a fetid mass of sins. Her power surged, but she shuffled forwards. Aleximanus’s bond pushed the lust down, and Tyon’s hand tightened around hers almost painfully.
“Move along.” Aleximanus waved a dismissive hand, and the gentleman resumed walking down, his gaze following Hazel.
Her stomach churned. It’d be like that from now on. People would only see the glamour around her—a pretty face and an enticing body. They wouldn’t have a clue of the darkness inside her.
Pots of red geranium stood next to the door of apartment number eighteen like a spray of blood.
Tyon leaned against the wall, his keen stare scanning the hallway. “Do your trick, sin-breather.”
Aleximanus closed his eyes, his body trembled and became translucid. Hazel searched around in case someone witnessed a man disappearing into thin air, but the floor was empty.
He walked like smoke, his silhouette shivering as if she were watching him from behind a smoky glass. His blurred frame went through the wood of the door, leaving a few pearly tendrils behind.
“It’s amazing.” She touched the solid, impenetrable door. “Am I able to do this?”
Tyon shook his head. “Probably, in time.”
“And why can’t you do it? As head of the sin-eaters, you’re more powerful than the others.”
“This type of power is considered cheating. The knights hold only powers that are fair and can’t be used to sneak around people.”
She chuckled. “That sounds boring.”
A corner of his mouth shot up. “Your power is pretty entertaining.” His voice lowered, all rough edges and raw desire.
Her lust sprang up in an instant, and this time she didn’t fight it. It floated out of her body in jasmine-scented waves. His eyes darkened in response, lips parting. He bent over when Verna’s door opened, and Aleximanus swept into view.
He pressed his lips into a grim line. “I’ve opened the door, in case you two love birds didn’t notice.”
Hazel called back the lust. It whipped the air, trying to reach Tyon with claws and nails, but the bond snapped it back, and the lust coiled inside her chest. “Sorry.”
Aleximanus held the door open. “Welcome.”
The air of the foyer was thick with the scent of beeswax, and the polished floor gleamed with it. Hazel stepped into the sitting room, furnished with only a couch, a couple of chairs, and a table. No personal items were around. No books, vases with flowers, clothes. A few blank canvas and a set of paintbrushes crammed the table.
Aleximanus glanced around and paced with measured steps. “It doesn’t seem Verna spends much time here.”
“Or she got rid of her personal things recently. The floor is scrubbed and polished.” Tyon crouched in
a corner and pointed at a few, faint scratches on the floor the beeswax had partially covered. “There was furniture here. I guess after Rachel died, Verna cleaned up the place.”
“But the letter should still be here according to Aleximanus’s power.” Hazel tiptoed to the bedroom.
The wardrobe and dresser took up a corner. She searched the nightstand while Tyon and Aleximanus went through the dresser and wardrobe.
A painting of Rachel lay in the drawer of the nightstand. She was smiling, Verna standing next to her. They both held their hat in place as if a gust threatened to steal them. All those portraits in Verna’s house, they were about Rachel, a happy, carefree Rachel like in this painting.
The hat Verna was wearing in the image sat on the top of the dresser among other hats and shawls. A large pink ribbon was wrapped around it, and velvet roses adorned the side. Hazel picked it up and twirled it. The cotton fabric in the inside was loose as if it had been removed and stitched up together in a messy job. She touched it all round until the soft fabric gave way to a crisp paper underneath.
“I think it’s here.” She ripped the fabric, tearing it from the plush material of the hat, and a folded paper came out and dropped on the floor.
Tyon picked it up and unfolded it. His forehead wrinkled as he read. “Rachel’s missing letter.”
“What does it say?” she asked, curiosity spiking inside her. But it was mainly her lust that wanted to know all the juicy details.
“Rachel mentions Verna’s name more than once and declares her undying love for her. She says she’ll never get married and when she turns one and twenty, she’d leave her father’s house and move with Verna.”
“That’s what Verna wants to remember.” Aleximanus skimmed the letter. “Do you need one of Verna’s personal item for the hallow?”
“The hat will suffice.” Tyon put the letter in the nightstand drawer. “Harrisons should be here any moment now. We’d better wait for him outside.”
A thrill jolted through Hazel, but she didn’t know what it was. The lust lingering in the bedroom or the thought to finally use the hallow again? Or maybe it was just Tyon’s presence. Casting another glance at Rachel’s picture, she sauntered out of the room.
The Pact of the White Blade Knights Page 24