The Vampire Voss rd-1

by Колин Глисон

  When she pulled away, her fangs thrusting, needy, from her mouth, she moved into his arms. His skin was warm and salty, smelled and tasted of wool damp from rain and the smoke of the fireplace below. Her tongue swiped his neck and she slid the outside of her incisors along his skin as she nibbled, not penetrating, not yet.

  He shivered, trembling against her and she reached between them for the raging cock. It was hot and heavy in her palm, and he groaned when she pulled it free, stroking the head with its own little drop of pleasure.

  The tendons in his neck tightened beneath her lips and she felt the rush of blood in his veins against her tongue. Her gums had swollen, and they hurt, thrusting her teeth so hard, but she didn’t sink her fangs into that hot brown skin.

  “Narcise,” he groaned, pulling her face up to meet his. Their mouths met again, fierce and hungry as he pulled at the flap of her breeches, yanking the square of buttons loose.

  Her sharp tooth sliced his lip and warm blood slicked her mouth and his. Rich and lush, just enough to tease and to send desire raging through her, and she kissed him deeper.

  He smiled against her mouth and pulled away long enough to murmur, “Tease.”

  She smiled back and sucked hard on his full, lower lip just as he managed to pull her trousers away, yanking them down past her knees. “That’s all I need,” she said as they tipped onto the bed.

  He gave a soft, pained laugh as she straddled him, her breeches clinging to only one leg. Her hands settled onto his shirt, for he was still fully clothed. Narcise looked down into his hot, focused eyes and slicked her tongue over her lips and the jut of her fangs as she curled her fingers around his erection. Chas tensed and his eyes narrowed in pleasure.

  Then she shifted and rose and slipped him inside—the hot, hard length of him. She sighed as he filled her, touching her deep inside in that place…and the tremors of pleasure shook inside her, bursting into heat that flushed through her body. Ah.

  Chas groaned, tipping his head back, the tendons in his neck and throat taut and inviting. She shifted, moving her hips slowly, purposely out of rhythm, teasing him just as he was teasing her. One of his hands reached up to pull at her loose shirt, closing over one of her breasts, and his thumb found the jut of her nipple. Pleasure panged in her belly and down as he gently twisted and stroked.

  Narcise shifted again, moving up and down and around and he opened his eyes. “Damn you,” he gasped, looking up with glittering eyes. “Do it.”

  She smiled and planted her hands on his heaving chest, feeling the slide of muscle there and the power of his lethal hands on her hips as he helped her in the rise and fall, the sleek slide. Long and easy, as if they were out for an evening ride.

  She bent forward, her face near his, the blood on his lower lip glistening. His breath puffed into her cheek, his hands solid at her hips, his own hips moving up to meet hers.

  “Do it,” he whispered, turning his face away.

  She shifted, scraping her incisors against the smooth heat of his skin, felt his breathing change as he waited for her to sink in. She licked the salt of his flesh, nibbled at the rise of the taut muscle in his throat, felt him tense everywhere…the shift of his breath as he waited.

  “No,” she whispered, deep in his ear, and thrust her tongue inside as an apology.

  “Narcise,” he begged.

  “You don’t want me to,” she told him, tasting his lip again, knowing it was the truth. Knowing how he always hated himself after.

  Please. His mouth formed the word against her cheek, but she pulled up and away and yanked off her shirt.

  Her breasts were free and high, and his hands closed on them. She bent forward for one more swipe over his bloodied lip and then let herself go…increasing the rhythm, lifting her hands above her head as they shifted and slammed together.

  She cried out first, the taste of his blood mingled with her own as she bit her lip, his mouth suddenly fastened onto one of her nipples. Her body tightened around his, and he arched beneath her in a final exertion and heartfelt groan.

  “Mmm,” he said as she shifted to the side, collapsing next to his warm, still-clothed body. A lean hand stroked along her hip and he turned toward her. “What a fool am I,” he murmured in a voice not quite low enough to hide the wryness. “Taking up with a vampire.”

  She closed her eyes, but stretched like a waking cat beneath his hand. Being touched with gentleness was something she craved more than he could understand. “I’m not certain who is more the fool, Chas. The hunter or the hunted.” She heard rather than saw him smile, and sensed the cynicism there.

  He shifted next to her and sat up. “There is something I must tell you.”

  Narcise’s heart skipped but she kept her eyes closed, kept her body languid. It had been a matter of self-preservation to learn that skill. “You’re going to confess how many Dracule you’ve killed?”

  “I’ve lost count,” he replied, an answering hint of humor there. “But you needn’t fear I’ll turn on you. I’ve no energy left after this last bout.” His hand had stopped stroking her hip and now he moved it away from where it had rested on her waist. “I’m meeting someone below.”

  Narcise’s eyes flew open. “What?” He’d promised he’d keep their whereabouts secret. Completely secret. That he’d tell no one they were in England, let alone where they were. “Chas, what have you done?”

  He sat up fully and looked down at her. “I have three sisters. I have to—”

  “But Dimitri is seeing to them—and isn’t one in a convent school? Cezar will never get past either Dimitri or the holy walls.”

  Chas was nodding. “Yes, but I must at least let them know I’m alive. And I need to know that they’ve been taken care of. I assure you, no one will be the wiser to our presence here. Only one person knows of the meeting, and I trust Cale with my life.”

  Giordan? Narcise’s heart stopped. No.

  “Perhaps you don’t remember Giordan Cale, but he’s a confidant of Dimitri. Not titled, but rich as Croesus and—” he gave a gentle laugh “—more than a match for me. I met him when I sneaked in to stake him. Obviously, we both lived.”

  Narcise found her voice. “Obviously.” And just as obviously, one thing Chas didn’t know was the history between Cezar and Giordan. And her.

  “I can meet him below, but it wouldn’t be as private if I asked him up here,” Chas was saying. “Less chance of us being seen.”

  She couldn’t swallow. That was the very last thing she wanted or needed: her former lover meeting with her current lover. In this very room, where the smell of their relations permeated the chamber, the sheets, the air.

  “No,” was all she said.

  He measured her with his look. “Very well, Narcise.”

  And she wondered, then, if after all, he did know.

  10

  Corvindale’s Chambers Invaded

  The Earl of Corvindale swept into the chamber like a violent storm.

  Angelica leaped up from her seat on the chair—not the chair on which Voss had…oh, God, on which he’d attacked her, but the other one.

  Corvindale scanned the room quickly, then looked at her with dark, piercing eyes. “You’re unhurt?”

  Angelica nodded, catching herself before reaching toward the soreness at her neck. Despite the fact that it was his, she’d pulled the cloak Voss had left up and around her shoulders, hiding the bite marks and dried blood.

  Without another word, Corvindale gestured to the door through which he’d come and she walked toward it. Her heart felt heavy and her head pounded, and she wished for nothing more than to quit this place.

  She was relieved that Voss was nowhere to be found as she stepped into the corridor; not that she’d expected him to be, considering what she knew about his interactions with Corvindale. The back of her throat burned and tears threatened her eyes. How could he?

  “Angelica!” cried a voice, and the next thing she knew, Maia had enveloped her in a crushing hug.

&n
bsp; “Blast it, Miss Woodmore,” Corvindale snapped. “I told you to remain in the bloody carriage.” Pausing to glare at two dishonorable-looking men who’d appeared from around a corner, he urged them down the narrow, dirty hall and gestured even more sharply than he had in the chamber a moment before. “Can you not listen to reason for one moment?”

  “It’s my sister we’ve come to retrieve,” Maia shot back. Her arm curved tight around Angelica’s waist as she propelled her down the corridor ahead of the furious earl. Uncharacteristically, Maia’s chestnut-auburn hair was in disarray and she was not only dressed in an old daydress, but she was also gloveless. “And leaving that aside, what harm could come to me when you are here, my lord?”

  Even through the mix of emotions that whirled in her mind, Angelica heard the dip of sarcasm in Maia’s voice.

  “This is no place for a lady.” Corvindale reached past them to fling the external door open. Only a bit more illumination filtered into the hall, for it was well past twilight now. “Devil take it, Miss Woodmore. Do you have a complete lack of sense?”

  Maia sniffed and pushed past him out into the darkness, pulling Angelica with her. In her haste, she narrowly avoided a puddle of something disgusting and climbed into the carriage with her sister’s help. Maia settled in the seat next to her.

  Corvindale spoke to the groom then joined them inside, taking up nearly the entire seat across from them with his wide shoulders and arms stretched across the back. His long legs were tucked into the space between Maia’s skirts and the side of the vehicle. The door closed and with barely a jolt, they started off.

  “You’re not hurt?” Maia was asking as Angelica tried to bury herself in the corner of the seat, huddling beneath the cloak that smelled of Voss. The scent was both nauseating and familiar. “What happened? Where have you been?”

  But Angelica didn’t wish to talk. Now that she was safe, all she wanted to do was curl up in a corner and cry.

  “Angelica,” Maia said, tugging at the cloak as if to draw her attention.

  Angelica clutched it tighter, partly because she was chilled and partly because she sensed that it would not bode well if Maia or the earl saw the marks on her neck. There would be more questions, more demands and remonstrations, along with pity and sympathy. None of which she wanted to contend with. “Miss Woodmore,” Corvindale broke in icily, “perhaps you might leave your sister to her own thoughts. It’s clear, at least to me, that she is in no humor to speak at this time.”

  Angelica felt Maia’s outrage and eyed her sister with interest. It wasn’t often that she received a set-down, and even more rare that she would decline to respond in her own bitingly proper way. But to her surprise, she merely turned away from the earl and redoubled her efforts to get Angelica to answer her questions.

  The drive to Blackmont Hall took much too long, in Angelica’s estimation, but she managed to appease her elder sister’s demands by giving brief, vague answers to some of her questions. The night was dark, for clouds filtered across the portion of the moon that was showing, and even the streetlamps gave off weak illumination. She could hardly wait to climb out of the carriage and find the sanctuary of her own chamber—or at least, the one that had been allotted to her during their stay with Corvindale.

  The thought brought her brother to mind, and Angelica once again felt confusion and surprise at what Voss had told her about Chas.

  But the peace she sought was not to be, for no sooner had they stepped into the foyer of the grand but sober house than the earl turned to her. “Angelica,” he said. “A word if I may.”

  Angelica didn’t like the expression on his face. It wasn’t frightening so much as fearsome: tight and dark, as if he were about to explode with some great fury. She knew that it wasn’t directed at her, but regardless, his countenance gave her pause, made her more than a bit apprehensive. “Of course, my lord,” she said, and started down the corridor in the direction he gestured.

  “If you’ll excuse us, Miss Woodmore,” he said behind her.

  “But—” Maia’s voice, strained and just as furious as his expression, was cut off by the earl.

  “I will speak to your sister, my ward, in private, Miss Woodmore. Perhaps just this one time, you will accede to my orders.”

  “I wish to be present. I will be present,” she replied. “She may be your ward temporarily, but she is my sister. Once Mr. Bradington and I are wed—”

  “Maia,” said Angelica, strangely relieved that her sister wouldn’t be there during the interrogation that was sure to come, “I will come directly to your chamber when Lord Corvindale and I are finished.”

  “Angelica,” Maia said in a heartfelt whisper, “I want to be there with you.”

  Angelica turned to look at her elder sister, who stood as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown on her. “I’m sorry, but it will be easier if you are not. I promise I will come to you straight away.”

  Maia met her eyes, and Angelica nearly gave in. Her sister seemed not only shocked and saddened but hurt, as well. And she realized at that moment that somehow, Maia felt as if she’d failed her. Somehow, she felt responsible for what had happened.

  “As you like,” Maia said at last, and then turned away.

  The earl gave Angelica a brief nod of gratitude and opened the door she knew led to his study. Once inside, he closed the door, but not all the way.

  This brought a bit of a dark smile to her lips. “I appreciate the attention to propriety, my lord, but it’s a bit late to be worried about that now.”

  His face darkened. “Take off that damned cloak and let me see what he’s done.”

  Angelica shouldn’t have been surprised that he knew, but she was. The cloak fell away and the earl leaned closer so that he could see her neck.

  “Anywhere else?” he asked, shifting back.

  She shook her head.

  “Anywhere else?” he asked again, looking both distinctly uncomfortable and darkly furious at the same time.

  “No.” Then she realized what he was asking. “I am… intact.” Her cheeks heated but she ignored it.

  “By Fate, I’ll kill him if your brother doesn’t first,” Corvindale said, stalking over to the massive desk. A vase holding a collection of roses and lilies sat there, and he paused, staring at it as if it were some foul object. “But I’ll make it quick instead of painful.”

  “Now that you have introduced the topic…” Angelica said, gathering her courage. Corvindale was intimidating in his demeanor, and there was no reason he wouldn’t turn his anger on her if she annoyed him, but she would try.

  After all, he hadn’t yet beheaded Maia.

  “Is it true that Chas has gone off with a vampire woman?”

  Corvindale cursed, and didn’t even attempt to hide the fact that he said something terribly improper. “What else did he tell you?”

  “He told me that Cezar Mol…davi, I believe it is, wants to kill Chas and that’s why Maia and I are in danger. He wants to use us as ransom. Cezar is one of those horrid monsters, too.”

  The earl had picked up the slender vase with the flowers in it and now he stalked over to the other end of the study. With a quiet, forceful clunk, he set the vase on a table near the window. “What he told you is true, surprisingly enough. Dewhurst isn’t known for his candor. What else did he tell you?”

  “Little else. Is my brother truly in danger?” Despite the fact that she’d foreseen Chas’s death many years in the future, after all of the upheaval in the last days, Angelica needed reassurance. It was possible that things could change, wasn’t it?

  “Your brother is more than capable of taking care of him self,” Corvindale replied in the most gentle voice she’d heard him use. Which was to say, it was neither loud, sharp, nor harsh…but it wasn’t particularly kind by normal standards. “Did Dewhurst not tell you about him?”

  “What do you mean?”

  The earl shook his head. “It’s best that I keep his confidence. But when next we see him—and I a
m confident we will—I’ll insist he tell you and Miss Woodmore the truth.”

  “Dewhurst said that he might have eloped with Cezar’s sister. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—marry one of those monsters, would he?”

  Corvindale’s face was a study in stonework. “I cannot say what your brother’s intention would be, but I sincerely doubt marriage is a possibility. The thought is absurd.” He’d walked back toward the desk, then turned and looked at her once again. “Is there anything else you wish to tell me?”

  She took that as an invitation to tell him the details of what happened at Rubey’s, and his face grew darker. But he said nothing else, other than, “Anything else?”

  As if his demeanor invited confidences. Angelica closed her eyes, suddenly weary and heartsick again. “No. May I be excused now, my lord? I would like nothing better than to lie down.”

  His expression eased slightly, making him look almost handsome. “Yes, go. Tell Mrs. Hunburgh you are to have a bath sent to your chamber.”

  Angelica left the study and closed the door behind her. She didn’t pause to ring for the housekeeper, nor did she go to her chamber. Instead she found her way to Maia’s room and opened the ajar door to find her sister pacing the floor.

  “At last,” she said, rushing to embrace Angelica again. “My darling, I’ve been so worried for you.”

  Taking care to keep her marked neck covered by her hair, Angelica hugged her sister back and then allowed the tears to explode.

  The peremptory knocking jolted Dimitri from an uneasy sleep, strewn with images and memories he’d much prefer to forget.

  He opened his eyes, wondering where in hell his valet was, and rolled over onto his swollen shoulder, twisting in the already amassed sheets. He was as used to the incessant burning as one could become to white-hot pain, but the added pressure sent a sharp, jagged jolt down his hips and legs and he muttered a curse.

  Now he was fully awake. And Lucifer’s blade, a line of bright light peeked through the shutters of the far window. It was bloody midday. Who in the name of blind Fate was banging on his door and where in the burning hell was Greevely to stop them?