Blood Deep

by Sharon Page

  She moved to go, but Eugenia stepped firmly in front of her. “What was your intention, when you came here to Lord Blackthorne?”

  That seemed irrelevant. And so far in past, even though it had only been a day ago when she had climbed into the carriage with the only plan she could concoct. But her aunt was worried about her, and so deserved the truth. “We had exchanged letters. He had saved Simon on the battlefields, as you know. I—I had fallen in love with him. Two weeks ago, it had been my plan to come to him and convince him we should be married. A way to rescue us all from bankruptcy. Simon has been avoiding the bailiffs for months now, and I knew that we were close to be clapped into Newgate Prison over the unpaid debts.”

  “But to rush up here, to a man you did not—”

  “There’s more, Aunt.” And she told Eugenia about James Ryder, the day in Hyde Park, and the threats he had made. “He caught me once at an inn, after he let a child be crushed by a carriage to draw me out. And he caught me again—” She broke off. Both times, Lukos had rescued her. She owed her life to Lukos. And now she did not even know if he was safe. Had he escaped the burning light of day by transforming?

  “Why did you come here, then?”

  “I didn’t know where else to go. I could not stay at home without putting all of you at risk. I thought to hide, and I wanted to find somewhere I could feel safe….” Somewhere she could believe she belonged. She cleared her throat—it felt annoyingly tight. “I’ve discovered that Blackthorne was not who I thought he was. But where is he? Did he not come back?”

  Eugenia shook her head. “We are not certain what happened—there was no sign of Blackthorne in the castle, and of course the servants knew nothing.”

  That was a reminder of what Lukos and Zayan did to mortals. Controlled them. Used them. Fed from them. A reminder she should not want to protect them. But she did. “Blackthorne had been in the village. He might come back.”

  “We will deal with that when it happens.”

  Aunt Eugenia had always felt so close to her; after her mother’s death when she’d been nine, Eugenia had stepped into that role. Closer, for her mother had never spoken of her power, had never warned her she would eventually have it. Miranda was not even certain her mother knew she was to possess it. But Eugenia had, and had always known the right words to say to ease her fears, and had always protected her.

  But now, Eugenia had crossed her arms over her chest. “You must not try to share your thoughts with Lukos and Zayan, and if they come in pursuit of you, you cannot let them in.”

  Miranda swallowed hard. She and her aunt were now on different sides of the battle. Miranda had always thought her aunt’s battles had been ones of good against evil. Now she saw it was not that simple at all.

  “I must go.” And she left Eugenia, to hurry into the bedchamber in which Lady Brookshire waited with her daughter.

  Althea, Lady Brookshire, was a beautiful woman with long red hair that hung in curls and waves to her waist. Her eyes were green, but they were darkly shadowed, and red firelight glinted across their surfaces, as though they were reflective. Miranda realized it was because her ladyship’s eyes were brimming with unshed tears—she was valiantly trying not to give in to despair. Lady Brookshire was kneeling beside the still, pale body of her baby. She stood. “If you cannot do this, I understand. I want a miracle, but I do not think I believe it is possible.”

  “I want to believe it is,” Miranda said. She knelt by Serry, who was so tiny, her heart lurched in pain. She put her hand on the baby’s chest. Please do not let me hurt her by doing this.

  But this time the heat did not flare up in her body.

  Please, she whispered in her thoughts. I don’t understand. I want to help this wee baby. Please let me help this child.

  But who was she sending the desperate words to? She had no idea whom she could pray to.

  Her arm felt cold, frightfully cold, and she jerked her hand from the child’s chest. If she felt cold rather than warmth, what if she was hurting the child? Killing her?

  Miranda.

  Spoken in a compelling, beckoning masculine voice, her name sounded in her thoughts. She heard the rattle of the paned window and looked there. A large black bat swooped by the window, and the voice that had come to her was Zayan’s.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lady Brookshire leap to her feet.

  Then she heard the low, mournful howl of a wolf. Are you safe, angel? That was Lukos.

  The vampires had risked coming to the slayers to find her. To ensure she was safe.

  “Do not move,” Miranda warned. “Do not attack them or sound any alarm, or I’ll stop. I—I won’t try to help your child.” She hated that, using the baby as blackmail, but how else could she keep Lukos and Zayan safe?

  She thought Lady Brookshire would ignore her, but her ladyship sank back to her chair. “It is like that, then, between you and them. I—I would have thought it impossible. They are evil. The darkest of demons. They have committed the most unspeakable crimes—” She stopped. “All right, I will do nothing. Please, please help my child.”

  Guilt was like a lance to Miranda’s heart. But warmth began to surge through her, chasing away the horrible cold. I am safe, she said, hoping her words went to both men. I am trying to save a baby. Lady Brookshire’s baby, who has died.

  Lady Brookshire? The baby would be…would be Bastien’s. The voice was Zayan’s. And Miranda realized Zayan had a past with Althea and her husbands, just as Lukos must have one with Serena.

  Draw on our strength, Zayan urged.

  We will send magic to you, Lukos added.

  Miranda felt warmer, stronger. She felt energy dancing inside her. Holding her breath, she touched the baby. And felt the sizzle of power. It was stronger, yet somehow more controlled. The magic grew in her, flowed down her arm, and into the baby. She heard the heartbeats of Lukos and Zayan.

  Please, please, let our combined magic do this, she prayed. But nothing was happening. The baby stayed still, the eyes shut.

  Then she felt it. She sensed a tiny, faint heartbeat. Very slow, almost as slow as the pulse of the vampires, but it was there and steady, which it had not been when she had first touched the child.

  Serry’s lids went up, revealing enormous eyes of emerald green. Her fists lifted and waved fiercely. She let out a cry, the lusty squeal of a healthy babe.

  Miranda scooped up the baby, feeling the warm of her skin, and Althea was at her side in an instant. She handed Serry to Lady Brookshire and saw the baby root at her mother’s breast. Althea opened her robe, and the baby took to the breast and began to feed.

  Tears shining in her eyes, her baby cradled to her bosom, Althea grasped Miranda’s hand. “Thank you. It seems too inadequate, but thank you so very much.”

  “I don’t know exactly what I have done,” Miranda said slowly. “I do not know what I have done by saving a living child.”

  “You have given me a miracle.”

  “I didn’t think it was going to work.” She realized the slayers had to understand what had happened. “But Lukos and Zayan connected with my thoughts and they sent me their power. I do not think I could have saved her without them.”

  Althea stared at her. “They helped you save my child?”

  “Yes, they risked destruction to find me and ensure I was safe—because there is a rogue vampire slayer hunting me, wanting to kill me because the Royal Society wants me dead. I told them that I wanted to save your baby, and they sent their power to me. It is only because of them that I could give you a miracle.”

  “I think Miranda Bond has fallen in love with Zayan and Lukos. She used their power, combined it with hers, to save Serry. I don’t understand why, but they were willing to help save my child.”

  “But what happens if they become a ménage? What happens if they discover the power of a love shared between three, when she is so obviously very powerful?”

  Miranda caught her breath. The first woman to speak had been Althea, a
nd the next had been Serena. She shrank back against the stone corridor wall. The door was closed, but she had heard their voices clearly.

  Blushing, she thought of the erotic things the men had done to her in the carriage. That must be what they meant by a love shared between three. Did it mean they knew—or at least had guessed—what she’d done? Did Aunt Eugenia know?

  Her aunt would hate her. Eugenia had said she wanted to understand vampires, but she still obviously believed they were evil and must be destroyed.

  Lukos had told her that one of the slayers was also a vampire. She had asked, How can a slayer be a vampire? She had no answer and she didn’t understand. Why would the Royal Society use vampires as slayers? Or where they rogue killers, like James Ryder?

  But Aunt Eugenia was here, and if Eugenia was with them, she must believe they were safe. Miranda was certain of that.

  Did it mean, then, that vampires could change? They could control their predatory urges?

  “Can we convince Miss Bond to stay with us until our twins are born?”

  The male voice behind Miranda startled her. She whirled around, but there was no one in the corridor. She heard footsteps and low voices from an intersecting one. She had best make sure she wasn’t caught eavesdropping. Quickly, she eased back in a shadowy doorway just as Drake Swift and Lord Sommersby walked into her corridor from another.

  The light of a torch flickered across Lord Sommersby and Drake Swift’s eyes.

  Both men’s eyes reflected the light like mirrors.

  She remembered now, when she had been in Lady Brookshire’s bedchamber, she had seen a glint of light on her ladyship’s eyes. She had thought it was tears. It wasn’t.

  “She saved a vampire child,” Lord Sommersby said quietly. “I have not been able to rationalize how.”

  “With science?” Swift cocked his brow in a wry look that reminded her of Lukos’s. She felt a sudden tightness around her heart. It was dawn now. Were Zayan and Lukos safe? The vampire slayers had taken over Blackthorne castle. So where had they gone to protect themselves from daylight?

  “It’s a miracle,” Swift said. “One we might desperately need.”

  The men passed by and went into the room where the others were.

  A vampire child. That was what Lord Sommersby had said. It had to mean Althea’s child was a vampire, and she had saved it.

  But had she returned its soul?

  There was so much she wanted to understand. How could vampires also be slayers? Who had brought the red fog? Why had Althea called Lukos and Zayan the darkest of demons?

  And most importantly, why did she feel, deep in her heart, that though she wanted to stay here and answer these questions, and help Lady Sommersby’s unborn child, her place was with Lukos and Zayan?

  Even now, she felt the tug to run away from here and go in search of them.

  But she couldn’t. Not until she knew the truth of who—or what—they really were.

  13

  Danger

  They were in the carriage again….

  Miranda was on the seat, staring in astonishment as Zayan and Lukos grappled on the floor. Lukos grabbed Zayan’s broad shoulders and flipped him, smacking against the seat in the narrow confines. “We could fight to destruction to win her.”

  “That’s my plan, wolf.” Snarling, Zayan landed a punch to Lukos’s jaw that sent his head reeling back.

  “Or we could let her choose.”

  At those words, Miranda felt a flare of panic. She had given her virginity to Lukos and had battled the fog with him. When she imagined his eyes, or his sensual smile, she grew hot between her legs and achy in her heart. But Zayan had been with her in her dreams, and when she looked at his darkly reflective eyes, her heart glowed as she thought of the intimacy she’d shared with him there. When she thought of his children’s murders and of how deeply he’d loved them, how capable of love he actually was, her heart ached in anguish for him. And equally, the thought of Lukos’s torture broke her heart.

  How could she choose?

  A love shared between three. What did it mean? Was it even possible? Not just erotic games, but love?

  “Erotic games?” Zayan’s voice rumbled to her. He had read her thoughts.

  “The lady wants carnal games.” Lukos grinned. “As we promised her but haven’t really delivered.”

  “You made love to her, but did you show her all the delicious parts of her body, all the pleasure she must learn, before she can be shared?”

  “Before I can be shared?” She heard the tremble in her voice as she retreated on the seat.

  But Zayan shifted shape to become a bat, and his clothes dropped off him. Lukos stripped naked with a wave of his hand.

  Both men leapt to their feet, then settled on either side of her on the carriage seat. Lukos tugged at her bodice. The tight circlet of her neckline resisted, tore, then dipped below her breasts so they popped above it, served up to his mouth.

  Zayan was behind her. He coaxed her to her knees, pulled up her skirt, and caressed the cheeks of her rump. He bathed the nape of her neck in kisses. The scrape of his fangs sent shivers to her wet quim. “Do you want us both inside you at once?”

  Yes. No. Yes. She was afraid. She was—

  It was too late. Lukos lifted her right leg over his hip at the moment he thrust deeply inside her. Filling her to the brim, to the hilt, to exquisite agony. And Zayan gripped his shaft and began to rub the weeping head to the tight, pucked entrance of her derriere—

  She came. Before he was even inside her, the orgasm hit her. She cried out. Her body writhed in their arms. Stars shot across the darkness of her shut lids.

  Stars. Explosions. Pleasure that made her shout, laugh, and weep…

  Blinking, she opened her eyes. She was alone, alone on a bed that was now plunged into darkness even with the drapes open, and her quim still pulsed in the dying pleasure of her orgasm.

  It had been a dream.

  She was still dressed, in a gown brought by Aunt Eugenia from her home, and she’d fallen asleep on top of the counterpane.

  “How did I get here?” She rubbed her head. Vaguely, she remembered that she had been too cowardly to confront the vampire slayers with her questions. And using her power to save the baby had left her exhausted. She had come to a bedroom to think. She must have fallen asleep here.

  A rap sounded at the door. “Miss Bond?” called a maid.

  Miranda bade the woman entry. The maid curtsied. “Miss Bond, Lady Brookshire has asked if you would come to the library.”

  “I want to know—” Miranda paused as she glanced from Lady Brookshire to Lady Sommersby. “Everything. I want to know how vampires can be vampire slayers. I want to know why you, who are members of the Royal Society, seem to want to protect me, not kill me. And I want to know everything you know of Zayan and Lukos.”

  She saw Lady Sommersby bite her lip. And heard Lady Brookshire’s thoughts. You were right. She is in love.

  The two women were seated by the fireplace, and all around them, books reached to the high, arched ceiling of the room. Two axes were mounted, crossed, above the thick, stone mantel, and a fire crackled merrily in the grate.

  “I can hear the thoughts you send to each other,” Miranda said, “so you might as well speak aloud.”

  Both women flushed guiltily. “Cards on the table then.” Lady Brookshire placed her hands on the occasional table in front of her, faceup. “We fear that you have fallen in love with both Lukos and Zayan, but we believe that you do not know what they really are.”

  Miranda was on her feet, too restless and nervous to sit. “Then tell me,” she implored. “But you must remember that they did come to protect me, and they did choose to protect your child. I want to hear everything that you believe they’ve done. In the past, my aunt has told me that tales about vampires are often exaggerated, because people want to be frightened.”

  She feared Lady Brookshire and Lady Sommersby had accepted whatever the Royal Society had told
them.

  “These stories did come from the Royal Society, and I do recognize that obviously does not mean they are the gospel truth,” Lady Sommersby said. Then she added, “And you must call me Serena.”

  Miranda swallowed hard. Lady Sommersby could see her thoughts. Miranda had not even thought of masking them. It was proof, along with the silvery glimmer of her ladyship’s eyes, that she was a vampire too.

  “I want to hear them, and then I want you to tell me which stories you think are the truth,” Miranda demanded. If she was in love with both Zayan and Lukos, she wanted to face the truth about the men whom her heart was torn over. She couldn’t be certain if what she felt was love or just the need to save them. This was her power—to rescue, to resurrect, to save.

  And she wanted to do it with Lukos and Zayan.

  “That’s very dangerous,” Lady Brookshire advised. “And of course you must call me Althea.”

  Serena looked to Althea. “It is, of course, what we both wanted to do ourselves, isn’t it? Rescue our men.” She leaned back on her chair with one hand at her low back and the other on her rounded belly. Her black, waist-length hair was caught up in one long braid that lay over her shoulder. “I assume you have made love with them. That’s why they have both captured your heart, I suspect. I would like to know what Zayan and Lukos have told you about themselves?”

  Miranda paced along the long table that held stacks of books. She had never had such direct conversation with women about such scandalous matters. But she preferred this. This was much better than the gossip and whispers, allusions and lies that had been part of her life as a normal young lady of society.

  Honesty. She wanted that. “Zayan told me that he was a Roman general named Marius Praetonius in his mortal life. Lukos told me that Zayan had taken the blood of thousands of innocent women and children.” Did vampires feed each night? Zayan had lived for two thousand years…Dear heaven, that must mean he had claimed seventy thousand lives. “But I never saw him feed. And he controlled himself around me.” She forced herself to stop defending him and just speak. “He told me that his children were murdered, and that was why he embraced the chance to be a vampire—to get his revenge.” She paused. “I also saw it. I—I saw the murders. They had their—their throats cut. It was cruel and gruesome.”