Blood Curse b-7

by Sharon Page

  She sipped, but shook her head. “I like your taste.”

  “I like yours.” He grinned.

  “I love you,” she whispered. “Everything about you. I can’t let you go.”

  But she realized she wanted a lifetime with him. How was that possible? He had a thousand lifetimes ahead of him. An infinite number. She would grow old and he never would. It was one thing to become gray-haired, wrinkled, and stooped together. How could they have a future if she aged and he did not?

  Heavens, it was impossible.

  Or was it?

  * * *

  Raven had just climaxed so hard he’d thought his head was going to explode. Yet her words, the amazing thing she’d just done for him, and the sight of her with her hair tousled from his hands in his ecstasy made him hard again.

  But this time, his fangs shot out at the same instant his cock shot up. It was happening again. Uncontrollable lust for her blood. It shouldn’t be happening.

  She swallowed wine, then stared at him. His vampiric hearing detected the soft sound like a shout. The way her throat moved mesmerized him.

  Her blood thrummed beneath her soft peach and ivory skin.

  His hunger was driving him wild.

  And she could tell. She watched him like a rabbit faced with a fox.

  He had to send her away before he hurt her. Had to hold on to his control. He jerked out of his seat. “You must go. Now.”

  “What’s wrong?” she gasped.

  “You know what’s wrong. I can’t do this—can’t control it.” He couldn’t speak. It took all his energy to hold on to his restraint. Her lovely feminine, tempting smells wafted up to him.

  She smelled of his seed, dewy perspiration, and sweet, pretty skin. And of blood. So much blood.

  He turned from her, and called, in his head, for Lady Brookshire. She must have left. You must come for Ophelia, Lady Brookshire, he commanded. You have to rescue her from me. I am going to leave, but you bring your carriage and you take her away at once. Never allow her to return.

  Now he had to run.

  Something wrapped around his wrist, something soft but with a strong grip. He looked back.

  Her hand clasped his wrist.

  “Felie, love, you have to let me go. I can’t control it. I crave your blood too much.”

  “Can you turn me? Can you make me like you? I want to be with you forever. You cannot bite me if I am a vampire, too.”

  “I can’t ask you to give up being mortal. Human. I won’t ask it of you.”

  “I am offering it.”

  “And I refuse. For your own good. There can be no future for us.”

  19

  Home

  The carriage lurched away from Raven’s house, the four black horses cantering over cobbles. Ophelia refused to cry. Her days of thinking she was helpless and her situation hopeless were gone. She would fight for what she wanted.

  “It did not go well?” Althea asked gently. The lamps burned in the interior of the carriage, bathing the countess’s face in warm gold light, revealing the concern in her friend’s silvery green eyes.

  Ophelia sighed. “It went very well . . . up to the point when I told him I was not going to accept that this is the end. I asked him to transform me. He refused. He said he could not ask me to give up my mortality. I wanted to do it. Yet that made no difference. It is like when he took me captive. He was in charge, and I had no say in the matter.”

  A smile played on Althea’s lips. “The men we love are often like that. It makes it a little more difficult for women, but we can find a way to change Ravenhunt’s mind.” Althea’s expression grew serious. “Are you certain you do want to be changed?”

  “Of course.”

  “Listen first, Ophelia. Let me tell you what you will lose as a vampire—and what you will gain.”

  She did listen as Althea explained to her that she would have to learn to drink blood, that she would experience the day sleep but could go out in daylight if she protected herself from the sun. She could have to struggle at the beginning to fight the natural urge to hunt for human prey. Her brother Harry and her sister, Lydia, might reject her out of fear—though Althea believed Harry would learn to accept. But they might be hurt that she chose that world over their world. She would have to keep her secret from the mortal world, for there was always the risk of frightened mobs armed with torches and weapons.

  “You fought very hard to be normal and be part of the world that was denied to you for so long. Are you certain you want to turn your back on that before you have even experienced it? Ophelia, you have not yet even been to a ball—”

  “I don’t care about those things. They will be empty and meaningless without Raven. I want you to change me into a vampire. Please—this is the only way I can be with him.”

  But Althea shook her head. “Being turned is an intimate process, and it should be done with someone you wish to spend eternity with. I believe we will be friends for eternity, but I think it must be Ravenhunt who turns you.”

  “But he won’t!” she protested. “If I were a vampire, he would have no guilt over turning me. I know how much guilt hurts him. I fear, if I were to convince him to change me, that eventually he would feel guilty about it. Then he would run away.”

  “I do not think he would run away from you.”

  “I fear he would. He cannot face guilt.” She looked at Althea. “Did your husband change you so you could be with him?”

  Althea blushed lightly. “I did it to save him. My story is rather complicated—”

  “Please tell it to me. I would love to know . . . unless it is private.”

  “Not private from a dear friend, and I believe you will be a very dear friend of mine. Though I do have to admit something to you, and I am not sure if you will be too shocked to like me after you know.”

  Ophelia swallowed hard—her new friend was a vampire, and she suspected the confession must be something to do with that. “I used to kill people by touching them. I would not judge you.”

  “Not even if I revealed I actually have two husbands?”

  She gasped. Then realized she’d misunderstood. “You mean you had a husband before Lord Brookshire—”

  “No, I mean that I live in a ménage a trois with Lord Brookshire and his brother, Mr. de Wynter,” Althea said, utterly naturally. “I feel in love with both of them, and they were both cursed to die. It was the power of a love shared between three that saved them. I cannot believe love will not prevail between Ravenhunt and you. We must make him see sense.”

  Her wits still reeled from Althea’s explanation. “How?”

  “The best method is seduction.”

  “I think I could seduce him for eternity and never change his mind,” Ophelia sighed.

  “Nonsense. We just have to find the one delicious fantasy for you to offer him that is so tempting he can’t resist it. That will put him in the right frame of mind to understand he has no reason to feel guilty to turn you when it is your choice.”

  “Do I ask him about his fantasies?”

  “No, we must be more subtle. At my house, we will find the solution.”

  Ophelia hoped so. Raven was stubborn, and he had spent his life, after his fiancée had died, living in guilt. It was his prison, and it would be much harder than she’d thought to break him free.

  “First, though, you should go to Harry,” Althea said. “He hasn’t seen you for years, and I know he wishes to be with you.”

  Ophelia found her brother in the portrait gallery of the Brookshire home, wandering back and forth, his fingers pressed against his forehead.

  “What is wrong?” Her heart plummeted, and she forced out the question, “Has something happened to Ravenhunt?”

  “Ravenhunt?” Harry jerked his head up, making his blond waves tumble over his brow. “Haven’t seen him. Got to talk to you, Ophelia. I don’t know how to do this.”

  There was something terribly wrong. Was it about her? Did he not believe she was now
normal? If he couldn’t accept that, he would never accept her as a vampire.

  Was it to be a choice between Raven and her family?

  She approached Harry. Her hand hovered near his shoulder. She could touch him. It was all right.

  But she was afraid to. It had been years since she’d seen him. Her disappearance had wounded him. They had raced to save Frederica and Raven, and she had touched him then, without even thinking about it. But now, in the aftermath, would he want her touch?

  “What do you think is wrong?” Harry moaned like a petulant boy. He clasped her hand. Now she had her answer. Now she knew hesitation was foolish. She had to simply do things. Stop holding back and hiding.

  She squeezed his hand with reassurance. “What is it you have to do?”

  “Propose marriage,” Harry muttered. Then he winced. “How to do it? I know I go down on one knee. I have a ring. I fetched it from home. What do I say to her? Women want something beautiful.”

  She smiled. Relief and happiness burst in her heart. “Tell her the truth,” she urged, her voice filled with delight. “Tell her that you love her. What could be more beautiful?”

  But Harry didn’t look reassured. Deep lines crossed his brow. “I’ve known men who have proposed. Was never as simple as that. Half of them were turned down.” His face blanched. “What if she says no?”

  “She will not say no.”

  He grinned, and he didn’t look quite so ashen. “Sisterly prejudice.”

  Those words deeply touched her heart. She wanted Raven to have this much happiness.

  She looked squarely into her brother’s eyes. “I would say yes, if a gentleman I loved told me he felt the same way.”

  “Does she love me? How does a bloke know?”

  “She must love you,” Ophelia declared.

  “I have to impress her. Should I bring roses? Orchids? What about an orchestra? I should have an orchestra play a waltz. Or I should have a trio of violinists. I should write poetry.” He smacked his forehead. “I write execrable poetry.”

  “She doesn’t want any of those things, I assure you.”

  “Ladies do.”

  “Not all ladies. Any woman who is not satisfied by a gentleman’s honest and humble proposal is not worthy of him.” She hugged him. “I promise you she will not say no. How could any lady?”

  “All right, but what if she does?”

  “If she does, then I will eat my bonnet.”

  Suddenly, his expression was wary. And worried. “You don’t. Do you?”

  “What?”

  “Eat bonnets.”

  “Of course not.” But her earlier buoyant feeling receded like a swift moving tide. “Ask her,” she said softly. “Please. I want you to be happy.”

  He embraced her. “Would you have a word with her first?”

  “I would, but you do not need it. You came to her rescue, you saved her. Honestly Harry, you don’t need more than that. Any woman loves the man who came to her rescue.”

  She watched her brother run down the corridor to propose marriage, and her heart soared for him and ached for Raven with her every breath.

  “He looks like a very happy man,” a deep voice spoke behind her.

  She whirled. Mr. de Wynter stood behind her. Apparently he had just come from his bath. He wore breeches and boots, but a loose shirt open at the neck, and his hair was damp, and hung past his shoulders. He gave her a playful bow. “Forgive me for listening in, but I was deeply touched by how you lifted his confidence. Very sage advice, Lady Ophelia.”

  She blushed. She kept thinking this man was Althea’s lover, along with her husband.

  He looked stricken. “My most sincere apologies. I’ve embarrassed you, when I am the one completely in the wrong.”

  She shook her head. “You are not in the wrong at all. I was just—” She felt the heat leave her cheeks. Strangely, it didn’t seem that shocking anymore that Althea should have two husbands. This world of vampires was beginning to feel more natural to her. “You did not embarrass me.”

  “Actually I came in search of you, Lady Ophelia. Before he left us, Ravenhunt warned us to protect you from rogue members of the Royal Society. I think he did not entirely trust Brookshire and me, because we are long-standing members of the Society, but he does trust your brother. He told us there was rot in our organization, and that members of it want to hurt you. I believe his plan is to hunt them down, make them pay for taking your prisoner.”

  She could not believe it. In everything that had happened, she’d forgotten that threat. “Hunt them down? Isn’t that dangerous?”

  “Extremely.”

  She credited de Wynter with being blunt. “They wanted my power and that was why they kidnapped me. But I don’t have any power now. It is over, isn’t it?” She could understand he wanted revenge, but he must just forget about it. It was done with.

  “They should pay for what they did to you—and what they attempted to do.”

  “Why? It’s done with! Why should he risk his life for that?”

  “He should not be tackling them alone,” de Wynter said. “If there are such men in the Royal Society, we have to deal with them. Do you feel well enough to tell Brookshire and myself about these rebels? Describe them, tell us what happened. Then we can hunt them. Althea will be there. I know speaking of such things can be emotional and horrific, especially after the ordeal you experienced.”

  “No, I want this done. I want it to all end,” she declared.

  De Wynter elegantly offered his arm. With his fair hair, darkly lashed silver-blue eyes, tall and well-built form, he was a most handsome man. But his looks did not affect her. All she could think of was a dark-haired man who had walked away from her. Who believed he could not have her, when all she wanted to do was give herself to him.

  A wild holler of joy sounded down the corridor. Harry! He sounded as he had when he’d been a young boy. Footsteps raced, and he charged around the corner.

  She knew what answer he’d received even before he yelled, “She said yes!”

  “Congratulations,” de Wynter said warmly.

  Harry was so happy, and she was so happy for him. But her heart felt empty without Raven. Her brother had been afraid, but he had faced his fears and captured love.

  She had to make Raven see that was possible.

  Or was he going to try to throw his life away again?

  In a drawing room decorated with turquoise watered silk walls, soaring marble columns, and dainty plasterwork of white, Althea and Brookshire waited. Althea patted the settee at her side, and the earl bowed and handed Ophelia a restorative sherry. De Wynter sprawled elegantly in a wing chair. She told them everything about the attack by the men in the street the night Raven rescued her and the laboratory, the doctor, and the men. She described everything she could remember, and did it quickly, filled with worry about Raven.

  The earl seemed aware of her anxiousness. “Sebastian, you and I will convene a meeting of the men we know we can trust.” He stood, bowed again. “Do not worry, Lady Ophelia. We will deal with these men.”

  She stood. “You do not think Ravenhunt would go after these men alone, do you?”

  Brookshire exchanged a glance with his brother. “I am afraid he might, Lady Ophelia.”

  “He would,” she said, seeing the answer for herself. “He was a soldier, then he became an assassin. He used fighting and violence to keep his mind occupied so he couldn’t think. Now he has vowed not to be an assassin anymore. He’s refused to turn me. I see now—he doesn’t intend to live alone, existing as a vampire in the world as you do. He needs escape, and he wanted that escape to be destruction. He still wants it.”

  “Very astute,” de Wynter said. “But we will ensure it doesn’t happen.”

  “But he will just try it again.” Love for her wasn’t enough to stop him. That realization struck like a blow and she sank back on the chair.

  Brookshire and de Wynter bowed and left.

  She turned to Althea. �
��What am I going to do?” She quickly told her friend what she had guessed about Raven. “He’s hell-bent on destroying himself.”

  “First, you should go home and see your sister. Then we will decide what to do with Ravenhunt,” Althea said firmly.

  This was her home. A large mansion marched along part of Brook Street. Dozens of paned windows reflected the pink promise of morning.

  Ophelia tilted her head back to drink in the stone front with the beautiful carved window details she’d always admired. She had to close her eyes.

  Home—when she’d been a prisoner of Mrs. Darkwell, it was all she’d dreamed of. This should be the most wonderful moment of her life. Her dream sat right in front of her. Her dream of returning home. But she felt empty inside.

  The door opened and a footman in livery stepped out. He squawked in surprise as a dervish exploded from the shadowy doorway and shot past him. Her sister rushed down the steps. “Ophelia! We thought you were gone, too! I can’t believe you’re here!”

  Tears gathered and fell before she met Lydia halfway across the drive. Lydia had been just a child the last time Ophelia had seen her. Now she was tall, willowy, with her blond hair pinned up. “Lydia, you are so grown-up!” She had no idea what to say—she wanted to be light and happy about this reunion, and not have to tell Lydia about her power or vampires.

  Harry had told her he’d kept his vampire slaying a secret from Lydia.

  “I’m so sorry you thought I was dead.”

  Lydia’s eyes, a remarkable blue-green, searched hers, glittering with tears. “Harry said you were very ill, and you were taken away so you could not make us sick. He said we were told you’d died because we could never see you again.”

  She hugged her baby sister tighter. “I’m cured now. I won’t hurt you.”

  “Of course you won’t!”

  How much loss her family had suffered: their parents and the oldest son. Before that, she had lost Harry and Lydia and they had lost her. Yet despite all the horror and grief, Lydia could hug her tightly and shed tears of happiness. Harry had done an amazing job of ensuring Lydia grew into a normal young woman.