by Ranae Rose
“I’m sorry.” Jenny dropped the dusting rag she’d been clutching and took a tentative step forward.
“Sorry? For what?” Elsie was still suffering from a guilty conscience over the secret rage she’d harbored so recently toward Jenny, convinced that she’d lied to her about Damon having a fiancé. What on earth could Jenny have to be sorry for?
Jenny cast a longing look at the dust rag on the floor, as if she wished she still held it. Clutching fistfuls of her apron, she wrung it instead. “I mean I’m sorry for trying to keep you from Damon. You’re married now, and I see how stupid I’ve been.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Jenny might have nagged, but she hadn’t lied. Elsie was more than willing to forgive her sanctimonious lectures. After all, it wasn’t as if they’d dissuaded her, even for half a moment, from wanting Damon. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”
Jenny frowned. “I told you about Véronique Renard.”
Elsie fought down the stab of irritation that accompanied any thought of Véronique. “Would a true friend have kept it from me?”
“I knew you didn’t know and that the news would hurt you, yet I pretended that it was a bit of innocent gossip. I meant for you to be angry with Damon.”
Elsie willed the tension to go out of her jaw. “It doesn’t matter now.”
Jenny began to explain, as if heartened by Elsie’s forgiveness. “I was only trying to protect you. I didn’t mean to be cruel.”
“Of course you didn’t.” Jenny might be judgmental, but cruel? No. At least, not intentionally.
“I promise not to begrudge you whatever happiness you find with your new husband.”
Elsie couldn’t help but smile, but doing so banished only a little of the nervousness from Jenny’s face. “And I promise not to bring any of this up again if you don’t.”
Finally, Jenny returned Elsie’s smile. “Excellent.”
“Then we’re still friends,” Elsie said. It was a statement, not a question.
Jenny breathed a sigh of relief. “What an odd pair of friends we make.”
Elsie shrugged. “Damon and I are quite the strange couple as well. If I were to rid myself of the people I make odd matches with, I’d have no one left to love.”
Jenny beamed. “How I’ve missed you!” Rushing forward, she threw her arms around Elsie’s neck.
Elsie enthusiastically returned the embrace, reveling in the sense of comfortable familiarity that swept over her as the soft fabric of Jenny’s cap brushed her cheek. “You smell lovely. Are you wearing perfume?” She pulled away from Jenny, shooting her a shy smile as she lowered her voice. “And if you are, who gave it to you?” Her heart swelled as she asked the question. It would be wonderful if Jenny was courting someone, about to find the same sort of happiness she herself had found with Damon.
Jenny shook her head. “I’m not wearing any. I washed my hair yesterday. Perhaps that explains the smell.”
“Perhaps,” Elsie agreed, just as her stomach rumbled alarmingly. Her smile wavered for a moment before she could hitch it back into place, desperate to conceal her sudden horror. Her rebellious stomach growled again, and she couldn’t manage to keep her pleasant expression intact. How could she possibly put a brave face on when the scent of her best friend had just made her hungry?
Jenny’s expression changed too, though she didn’t break their embrace off entirely. “You needn’t worry,” she whispered. “I know.”
Elsie slipped out of her friend’s arms and hurried to the door, pulling it shut and then double-checking to see that it had latched before she dared to speak. “Tell me plainly, Jenny. What do you mean?” If Elsie’s heart hadn’t been still, it surely would have skipped a beat as she waited for her friend’s answer.
“I know that you are changed, like the rest of the family. Truly a Remington in every respect.” Jenny’s voice softened, becoming almost mournful. “Vampire is the proper name, isn’t it?”
For the first time since her transformation, Elsie’s knees wobbled. “You knew about the Remingtons… About Damon?”
Jenny nodded. Yes, her face really was whiter than usual. “That’s why I tried to dissuade you from your pursuit of Damon – because I knew his true nature.”
The fact that Jenny had hidden such a huge secret cast her in a new light. Elsie had never so much as suspected. Was that why Jenny had never seen fit to trust her with the information – because she’d been too dense to discover it for herself?
“It was an accident that I found out.” Jenny swallowed and managed to sound her usual matter-of-fact self afterward. “I caught sight of Lucinda drinking blood out of a teacup.” Her face went even paler still. “After that, I started noticing all sorts of little things that made the truth more and more obvious, such as the fact that mysterious quantities of toast seem to fly out of the bedroom windows every morning.”
The absurdity of the conversation combined with this unexpected tidbit struck Elsie in the form of hilarity. Unable to stifle the laughter that rose up suddenly in her chest, she giggled. “You know about that?”
Jenny appeared unsure of whether to be glad or worried that Elsie was taking her confession so well. “Yes.”
When the laughter was gone, the burning question remained: “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to,” Jenny said, her pale eyes pleading for belief. “I wanted to, but I couldn’t. Mrs. Remington is aware of my knowledge and has sworn me to utter secrecy. I dared not tell you, for fear of how both of us would be punished if I did. I was miserable after you left for Hertfordshire. I nearly went mad with guilt, thinking that I should have told you one minute, then deciding I’d done the right thing the next.”
Elsie nodded. “I understand, but… Why were you so terrified of the idea of Damon and I together? Were you afraid he’d drain the life out of me?”
She shook her head. “No, not really. I was afraid he’d take advantage of you as Lord Wilkes had and break your heart, or worse…” She faltered a moment before continuing. “Or worse, make you like him.”
Elsie let the revelation sink in for a moment as Jenny shot her an apologetic glance. “Is it really that terrible that he changed me? Would you have preferred I died of my illness instead?”
“No, of course not.” One of Jenny’s perfectly-placed curls came loose and popped out from beneath her cap, a coppery red corkscrew. “But I hadn’t thought of that at the time. I never realized that he could cure you. I don’t know much about your kind, really. Then, of course, I heard that you were no longer ill when you returned to London…”
“I see. Of course you wouldn’t have preferred for me to die. It was stupid of me to ask – I’m sorry.”
Jenny smiled. “I think we’ve both done enough apologizing for one day, don’t you?”
Elsie breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. “Quite. We never used to behave like this. It’s silly. If you’re not too bothered by my new nature, I say we should go back to the way things were between us – or at least, as close to it as we can manage.”
“Of course I’m not bothered. I see now that you haven’t changed as much as I’d feared. You’re still the friend I’ve always been able to count on ever since I first came to this house.”
Elsie beamed. “Wonderful. There’s something I need to discuss with you. I’m sure you’ve heard about the murders…” Elsie proceeded to lay Damon’s suspicions and her discoveries about Ms. White bare. Sharing her troubles with Jenny was something she’d missed more than she’d realized. She couldn’t possibly be angry with her for keeping the Remingtons’ secret – not when she was so grateful that she had someone outside of her new family to share it with.
****
“Hello, love.” Damon slipped into the bedroom, flashing Elsie a smile that was at odds with the tired look in his eyes.
Elsie returned his smile from where she’d been standing by the window, watching the sky slowly fade to purple as evening descended on the city. “Did today go that badly?” She s
earched his eyes as she hurried to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. The heavy odors of tobacco and food he surely hadn’t indulged in clung to his jacket, nearly obscuring his musky, spicy scent.
“Not any more so than usual,” he said, a little of the tension fading from his face as he buried a hand in her chestnut hair. “Attending to business affairs with my father is always draining.” He caressed the curve of her skull, pressing his fingers deeper among her locks, causing the knot she’d twisted them into to come undone.
A shiver of delight raced down her spine as her long hair tumbled down her back. “And why is that? This morning you seemed so eager to take over the business.”
“I am, but sometimes I wonder how I’ll endure watching it suffer under my father’s control until my time finally comes.”
“Suffer? The manufactories are doing very well.”
Damon shook his head, flipping a dark lock of hair out of his eyes. “I know they’re profiting immensely, but they’re doing so at the cost of human decency, of human lives. I’ve been inside the facilities. I’ve seen the workers and the squalor they live in because they can’t afford anything better, despite the fact that they’re sending children who are little more than infants to work.”
“You’re pulling my hair.”
“Forgive me.” Damon quickly unraveled his hand from her locks, settling it against the small of her back instead. “You know better than I do what the factory workers suffer through to provide my family’s wealth.” He took one of her hands in his and gently massaged her callouses. “What I’m trying to say is that you need never worry that I will enable those circumstances. When I take over the Remington empire, I intend to change things. There will be standards. Rules. The factories will be places of fair labor, not dens of torture. The workers will be paid more than the pittances they’re receiving now.”
Elsie smiled up at him. “And to think people call you a demon. You’re the kindest man I’ve ever met.”
He brushed off her compliment. “Noticing the laborers’ plight is hardly a special kindness. Only a blind man could miss the injustice.”
“But of course,” she said, her voice tinged with amusement. “Now tell me – do you intend to take off your coat?”
He frowned and shot a glance toward the window and the darkening cityscape beyond, as if he were actually considering going out again. “I suppose, but I can’t stay long. It’s nearly dark.” He removed it slowly, pulling an oddly-shaped object from an inside pocket before draping it over the nearby bedside table.
“What is that?” Elsie asked.
“Blood.” Damon surprised her with a smile. “I have a very surreptitious deal with a local butcher. Don’t worry – it came from a bull.” He held the object aloft, revealing it to be a wine skin. “You are thirsty, aren’t you?”
Elsie nodded, allowing her thoughts to turn to the dull burn in her throat she’d been fighting ever since she’d inhaled Jenny’s sweet human scent.
“I thought you would be. Even I can only endure a few days without drinking before the bloodlust sets in.”
She watched in a combination of bemusement and amazement as he opened the wardrobe and pulled, of all things, a china cup from a compartment concealed beneath a false bottom. “Asking for empty cups all the time tends to arouse the servants’ curiosity.”
“I should think so,” Elsie replied, trying to imagine what she would have thought of such behavior when she’d been one of the housemaids. It was almost unnerving to realize what a thorough job the Remingtons made of hiding their conditions.
Unnerving or no, she couldn’t possibly resist when he offered her the first cup of scarlet liquid. The second tasted just as good as the first. He bid her to down the wineskin’s entire contents, giving the window a dark look as he assured her that he would assuage his own thirst soon enough.
Elsie arched a brow, wondering if she’d gained a proclivity for the mannerism through her long association with the Remingtons. “You have business in the city again so soon?”
He nodded, and the determined look in his eyes told her that whatever he had planned, it was not business with his father.
She sighed. Of course it wasn’t. After last night’s murders, he was surely chomping at the bit to take to the streets in search of the killer. “I suppose you intend to see that there’s not a repeat of last night’s horrors?”
“Yes.”
A now-familiar hint of fear caused her chest to feel tight, but she tried not to sound afraid. “I should have known.” Outside, the sky had turned a deeper shade of violet. Night was closing in. “What do you mean to do if you find the murderer?”
“Kill him, of course.”
“What if you’re right – what if the killer really isn’t human?” She and Jenny had discussed the matter thoroughly in an attempt to determine whether the clues pointed more toward a mortal or immortal killer. By the time they’d finished, which had been scarcely less than an hour ago, they still hadn’t reached a definite conclusion. There were just too few clues to go on.
Damon shrugged. “Either way, he can be killed.”
That was true enough. But so was the fact that Damon’s life could be ended in the same way as any other vampire’s, and it was painfully obvious that this killer wasn’t afraid to remove a heart. If the murderer was immortal, Damon’s advanced speed, strength and night vision would fail to give him an edge over his opponent. “It seems a dangerous gamble.”
He pulled her close against him. “You needn’t worry about my safety. I’ve been ridding this city of criminals for years. I know what I’m doing.”
“Can I come with you, then?”
He seemed almost shocked that she’d suggested it. “Certainly not. If I’m willing to face the killer for the sake of strangers, what makes you think I’d put my own wife in danger’s path?”
Though unsurprised by his answer, she had to bite down to restrain a pouting lip. “Ah, so you admit that you’ll be in danger if you pursue the murderer?”
“I never said I wouldn’t be. I said you needn’t worry.”
“How can I help but worry? I love you. I wish you’d let me come with you.”
“The streets are too dangerous, but you’re welcome to accompany me to bed.”
“You mean you’ll stay?”
“For a while.” He lifted her into his arms and lowered her onto the bed in one smooth motion.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, causing him to growl as he settled between her thighs, bracing himself on his elbows as he flexed his hips against hers. At least she could be sure of his safety as long as he was in her arms. Wrapping them tightly around his neck, she pulled him into a kiss.
He returned it with passion, full of the energy that nighttime brought. All traces of the tiredness he’d shown when he’d walked through the bedroom door were gone, and his cock was rigid. She arched against him, writhing until his erection ground against her sex, teasing it through the too-many layers of clothing she wore.
“This isn’t one of your new dresses, is it?” he asked half a moment after breaking their kiss.
She shook her head, her nipples stiffening in anticipation as he tucked his fingers into the neckline of her gown.
“Good. If it’s one of Lucy’s, tell her I’m sorry I ruined it.” He took handfuls of fabric and began to tear, neatly splitting her dress, short stays and shift as easily as if they’d been made of paper. “If I’m going to do anything slowly, it will be after I’m inside you.” Her breasts tumbled free of their muslin cover. He sucked in a breath as he split her skirts in one easy movement and spread the material across the mattress, leaving her naked save for the short sleeves that capped her shoulders.
“You’re beautiful,” he said simply, keeping his gaze on her body as he slipped out of her hold and quickly undressed, tossing his clothing aside.
The evening light flattered his already flawless body, casting his fair skin in cool tones that complimented the midnight sheen of
his hair. The contrast between the dark curls at his loins and the hard length of flesh that stretched from them was mouth-watering. She meant to pull her arms out of the useless sleeves, but he laid his body on top of hers before she could move, wrapping her in a tight embrace.
She moaned as his flesh met hers, firm and smooth. Her entire body tingled and warmed, molding to his. She buried her fingers in his hair, relishing his scent as he bit her neck teasingly, causing her skin to pebble and her nipples to prick against his chest. When the blunt tip of his cock touched her damp folds, her core clenched in anticipation. She gripped his hips snugly between her thighs and hooked her legs behind his back, urging him to enter her.
He buried his cock inside her without hesitation, growling as he stretched her hot, wet flesh to its limit in one bold stroke. Her core tightened in response, holding his cock as tightly as he was holding her, cradling her between his arms as he pulled back, groaning, and pushed into her again, somehow managing to sink even deeper into her than before. As he continued to thrust, her body managed to accommodate his increasing intensity, if barely, as she grew used to the size of him again. Her channel grew tighter and more sensitive as an exquisite pressure mounted inside it. He bit her neck again, letting his teeth scrape across her flesh in a way that would have made her pulse race, if she’d had one. She gasped and writhed beneath him, but he wrapped a strong arm all the way around her and held her tight against his chest.
Despite their first wild night in the rose garden and the times they’d made love since, his intensity took her by surprise. Was this what he was like when he knew he was going out to hunt, to make a kill? A voice called out from somewhere in the back of her mind, telling her she should be concerned for him. It was drowned out by her own wordless cry as Damon continued to drive their tangled bodies closer and closer, until the only part of him that felt distinctly separate from her own body was his cock. Firm and unyielding, it couldn’t have been more different from her own sex, which stretched and conformed to the stiff length of his. Her last coherent thought before she tipped over the brink of ecstasy and began to come was that if he showed the killer half the intensity he was showing her, the murderer didn’t stand a chance.