Oxford Blood (The Cavaliers: Book One)

by Georgiana Derwent

Harriet spent ages getting ready, though she couldn’t decide who she hoped to impress - George, Tom, or simply the crowd of glamorous and exciting people that would inevitably be at the dinner. She hadn’t spoken to George since the night of Halloween. Too nervous to call the number he’d given, she’d simply sent a brief note of acceptance to his college pigeonhole.

  She’d splashed out on having her hair professionally styled – tearing herself away from the temptation to have it completely straightened, she’d gone to the other extreme, and allowed the hairdresser to twist it into a pile of loose curls. She posed in front of the mirror, amazed at how different she looked.

  Caroline had refused to have anything to do with the evening, so she did the best she could with her own make-up. She smudged gold liner and bronze powder over her eyelids, which contrasted dramatically with her dark hair and made the green of her irises stand out. She highlighted her cheekbones and smeared a touch of red on her lips.

  The new, gold dress’s various silken layers skimmed her body and caught the light at different angles, giving her an almost otherworldly appearance. She slipped on delicate gloss stockings, then added silvery strappy shoes, green dangling earrings and a sparkly bracelet. She hesitated before putting on her necklace, telling herself she was only wearing it because it accessorised perfectly with the dress and not because of Tom’s warning.

  The effort of getting ready kept her calm, but her panic went straight back into overdrive as soon as she stood up to leave. Could she really face seeing George again?

  While she hesitated with her hand resting on the door handle, her phone rang and Caroline’s name flashed up. Harriet paused before answering. One more warning from Caroline and she might just lose her nerve entirely.

  “I know this is probably a lost cause, but please, I’m begging you one more time not to go.”

  “I’ll be fine. I overreacted the other night.”

  Caroline gave a harsh laugh. “Overreacted? He attacked you with a knife. I’m already uncomfortable that we didn’t go to the police. Why would you go on a date with him?”

  “He won’t do anything like that again, I’m sure of it. Last time we were on a deserted path. Tonight we’ll be in a hall full of people. I promise that if anything goes wrong again, you can march me straight down to the station to report him.”

  Still giving her dire warnings, Caroline finally hung up, having extracted a promise that Harriet would come straight over the next morning to report back and would call her at the first sign of trouble.

  Harriet wandered up the High Street. She struggled to walk in her heels but the glamour they added made the discomfort worthwhile. Awe at the beauty of the town engulfed her once again. Oxford’s ability to astonish her had faded a little over the course of the term, but she doubted it would ever entirely disappear.

  It took fifteen minutes to walk to Christ Church. Harriet explained to the college’s notoriously strict porters where she was going. They looked at her as though inspecting her very soul, but let her in.

  Whenever she had visited before, she had admired the college’s imposing architecture. Although not as beautiful as her own college, its bigger scale took her breath away. Tonight though, her pounding heart meant she could barely take anything in. If only she’d persuaded Caroline to come along with her. The thought of walking alone into a room full of glamorous people made her twist her necklace so frantically she thought the chain might break. She couldn’t even rely on her date for some moral support - the cocktail of attraction and fear that George provoked in her would make things a hundred times worse.

  Harriet walked through the main quad and into a smaller area at the back, unsure exactly where to go for the pre-dinner drinks. To her relief, she saw two men in white tie lounging against a wall, smoking, and realised she must have come to the right place. At the sight of their arrogant faces and pristine outfits though, her confidence failed her. Her underlying sense of not quite belonging, which she usually managed to suppress, rushed to the forefront, paralysing her to the extent that she physically couldn’t approach the two apparent Cavaliers. In an attempt to steady her nerves, she took a walk around the college, promising herself that she’d speak to them as soon as she got back to the spot.

  In the main quad, her eyes fell on three girls in expensive looking dresses who she could only assume were also heading to the party. Their class would have been evident from their polished look, even if she hadn’t been able to hear their drawling tones. The trio appeared utterly self-assured, and Harriet chided herself for her sudden and uncharacteristic lack of confidence. She caught their eye and rather than look at her in disdain, they smiled welcomingly. Harriet smiled back and decided that she had to just go for it.

  When she reached the small quad again, she walked straight towards the two boys without hesitation. Both of them looked up as she approached. They looked very different to each other - one blond and muscular; the other slim with long dark hair - but they both possessed the unearthly good looks that marked them out as members of the Cavaliers.

  “Hi, where do I need to go for the Cavalier drinks?” Harriet asked, trying and failing to sound calm.

  “Are you invited?” asked the blond, looking her up and down.

  “Yes, of course. I was told to come to this part of the college but not given proper directions,” Harriet snapped. Nerves and irritation made her accent more pronounced than ever. Every muscle in her body tensed. Why had she come?

  “Who invited you then?” asked the darker haired one.

  “I did,” said George, appearing out of the shadows.

  Harriet had been terrified about seeing George again, but in the end, it came as something of a relief. The two smokers’ arrogant expressions disappeared, leaving them looking like naughty children who’d been caught by their teacher.

  George took her arm and glared at them. “Peter. Edward. I’ll see you inside momentarily. But I’d suggest that Cavaliers of little more than a year’s induction act a touch more humbly.”

  Without waiting for them to respond, he led Harriet around the corner, where she noticed a door marked discretely with a horse and sword design.

  George pushed the door open and strode into the room. The only lighting came from a multitude of candles and a huge fireplace that dominated one wall.

  Harriet expected George to attempt to apologise or explain his actions, but he seemingly didn’t think the subject worthy of discussion. She considered bringing his attack up herself, but somehow it didn’t quite seem appropriate.

  The room contained about forty people, half of them female. They looked pretty and glamorous, with the polish that came from generations of breeding. The men, however, had that overly flawless look that marked them out as Cavaliers. Like George, they all wore silver and turquoise waistcoats and bowties to accessorise their expensive looking shirts and tailcoats.

  Several of them turned to nod at George, giving her a very thorough stare in the process, but making no attempt to come over.

  He seems very senior. Despite her nerves and her memory of the way George had acted during their last meeting, she couldn’t help the little thrill that ran through her body at being seen with him. The respect on the faces of the male guests and the hint of jealousy coming from the women made her tingle.

  “Let me get you a drink.” George whispered into her ear as though telling her the most shocking secret, causing further stares. He led her to a long table at the back of the room covered in champagne flutes and handed one to her. Harriet drank it far too fast.

  “Much as I’d enjoy keeping you to myself for the evening, I suppose I ought to introduce you to some of the other members,” George drawled, walking purposefully towards a group of three Cavaliers on the other side of the room. “They’re all desperate to meet you.”

  She wondered about their interest. Yes, she looked good, but no more so than the other universally beautiful guests. They might simply be intrigued to see George’s date for th
e evening, but he must surely have brought a different girl each time.

  “Harriet, this is Rupert. Rupert, Harriet.”

  She shook the hand of the athletic looking dark haired boy.

  “A pleasure,” he replied, before turning to George. “So, this is your little coup, is it? Very impressive.”

  “Ignore Rupert,” George said. “The two of us have a sort of sibling rivalry going on. He gets terribly jealous, don’t you?”

  For a second, Rupert looked utterly murderous, but his expression quickly returned to placid charm. “Well, I wouldn’t count on this ending it,” he said in a light voice.

  “It was marvellous to meet you,” he added, giving Harriet a radiant smile. “Now I’d better find my date. She might not be so socially advantageous, but she does look terribly attractive in a tight fitting cocktail dress.”

  After he had stormed away, George introduced her to the two members that Rupert had been talking to. Hugh stood out by virtue of being the only black person in the room, while Crispin, had blond curls, a delicate build and a permanently furious expression. Hugh made friendly conversation, but Crispin gave monosyllabic answers and appeared to have taken an instant dislike to her.

  “Who’s that?” Harriet asked. She pointed to a member standing aloof from everyone else, with an expression of intense unhappiness on his thin, haughty face.

  “His name’s Archie,” George replied, with a hint of disapproval in his voice. “A recruit from the summer before last, and not exactly one of our success stories. I can introduce you, though I doubt he’ll be overly welcoming.”

  “Please,” said Harriet. Something about the boy intrigued her.

  “Oh do cheer up, Archie old boy,” George said, strolling over to him and dragging Harriet in his wake. “This really can be a great lifestyle if you’d only embrace it.”

  “Can’t you leave me alone, George?” Archie said. “Isn’t it enough that you made me what I am and that you forced me to do what I did? Must I smile and play your little games as well?”

  “My guest for the evening wanted to make your acquaintance. I think you’ll like Harriet, she seems like your type.”

  Archie had been looking into the middle distance, but now he focussed on Harriet for the first time and his sadness turned to anger. “You’re pointlessly cruel George. Fine, thrust her likeness in my face. Do you actually think you can make me hate myself any more than I already do?”

  “You know, they say that regret over killing his true love was the making of Augustine back in the day. Maybe you should think about that and stop feeling so sorry for yourself,” George smirked.

  Archie screwed up his face in pure hatred and walked away.

  “Just make sure you’re at the dinner, Archie,” George shouted after his retreating back. “Or you’ll have to answer to Augustine. I see you’ve refused to bring a date for the evening. Questions are already being asked.”

  “What was that all about?” Harriet asked. Although the evening had been mostly pleasant so far, her nerves lurked just under the surface, and each encounter threatened to unleash them.

  “Nothing much. Some take to membership better than others, that’s all.”

  “But killing his true love?”

  “Oh, it’s all banter really. Don’t worry about his whining.”

  If we can’t just be by ourselves, I wish we could at least avoid the less pleasant members.

  George seemed to pick up on her signals, and led her to the front of the room. They turned to face the door, and she froze. Tom and Katie.

  You’re being irrational. You’re here with George. Tom has every right to bring whoever he wants. Even stuck up bitches like her.

  Harriet tried to flash them a smile, but couldn’t quite make herself. George followed her gaze and frowned. Before any real awkwardness could ensue, a solemn bell rang, and a door by the side of the fire that Harriet hadn’t noticed before swung open. The members gathered their guests, and everyone filed out into a long stone corridor.

  The couples walked along the winding passage for several minutes, most of the guests glancing nervously around, puzzled as to where they were going.

  “I’ve always wanted to go through a secret passage,” Harriet whispered.

  George smiled back, amused.

  A few minutes later, they reached another door marked with the Cavaliers’ crest. Stepping through, Harriet found herself by a long stone staircase that led to the hall.

  The hall reminded her of the one at her college: long tables, dramatic portraits and as on any formal hall night, lots of candles, cutlery and crystalwear. A stand stood by the entrance, supporting a detailed seating plan. George didn’t even bother to look at it, but just led Harriet straight to the high table.

  When everyone had sat down, Rupert, who had also found his way to the top table, stood up and walked to the front of the raised area. “I shall now gather the potential new recruits,” he announced, and then he left the room.

  Whilst everyone waited for his return, waiters poured glasses of wine. They served starters of foie gras terrine, but no one touched them. Harriet’s stomach rumbled and she wished Rupert would hurry up. She took advantage of the wait to scan the room. She recognised some of the faces from various nights out around Oxford. Others, especially on the high table, seemed vaguely familiar from elsewhere. She suspected that some of them might be politicians but couldn’t quite place them.

  George sat to her right, next to the empty central chair. Hugh sat opposite her, no longer accompanied by the odious Crispin. Catherine, his date, possessed stunning curves and huge hair and looked glammed up to the hilt. Harriet had met her a few times around the Union and remembered that she’d just been elected onto the Standing Committee there, the team that helped the officers organise events and did whatever other tasks were required to hopefully rise up the ranks one day. By all accounts, she’d been ruthlessly efficient in her campaign, but she still seemed very sweet. It pleased Harriet that Hugh had made such a good choice. She’d half expected all the guests to be vile.

  Catherine’s excitement at attending the party radiated out of her. She rambled to Harriet about how utterly fantastic her term had been, and how this was just the perfect ending, and about her plans for Christmas, and how she planned to run for Secretary next term, and how she wanted to organise a charity ball.

  “I’m not sure what charity yet, but wouldn’t that just be so much fun? Would you be interested in helping out if I get it off the ground?”

  “You know, introducing the new members is meant to be one of the most important roles of the evening,” George interrupted. “Rupert seems just thrilled to be responsible. But honestly, who in their right mind wouldn’t rather sit here, drink delicious wine, and enjoy glorious company?”

  Harriet couldn’t disagree. Her initial panic wore off and pure enjoyment replaced it. Maybe she’d imagined George’s previous actions or at least blown them out of proportion. After all, she’d been drunk and over-excited. She could have misinterpreted the situation. She touched her neck, but the wound had almost entirely healed and disappeared.

  The door to the hall swung open and Rupert strode in, followed by fifteen guys walking in line. Harriet stared at them, intrigued. She noticed that one was Robert, the irritating rich boy who’d spoken to her in the club the night she’d gone off with George. Another was Harry, the boy who’d organised the Union’s Halloween party. She only gave them a cursory glance though. The final candidate commanded all her attention. She wondered if Caroline knew about Ben’s selection. She caught his eye, and he smiled.

  The boys all wore white tie, though without the accessories in the society colours sported by the real members. They displayed near uniform expressions of arrogance and pleasure at their invitation, albeit it tinged with nerves. It struck her that the Cavaliers didn’t really go in for positive discrimination. The chosen ones were universally male, predominantly white, and as far as she could tell, overwhelmingl
y upper class.

  Rupert led them onto the dais and addressed the crowd. “Ladies, gentlemen, Cavaliers. This year’s committee have attended every party worth going to. We have scoured the sports teams, observed with close interest which freshers were hacking for which elections, kept an eye out for the offspring of the rich, the famous and the worthy. We have read the columns of both student papers and the gossip sheets of each college.”

  Everyone listened, rapt, but George whispered to Harriet, “You know, I do this sort of speech much better.”

  “Once we had some idea of the freshers worth knowing, as well as a few previously overlooked second years who’ve upped their game, we held college drinks parties to sound them out and pick our favourites. Between us, we have decided on fifteen candidates, who I will now introduce to you.”

  “He did no work at all,” George continued. “I swear I picked out almost all the most promising ones.”

  Everyone finally picked up their forks, so Harriet tucked in. The terrine tasted like a countryside walk on a plate.

  Rupert introduced the candidates one by one and gave a potted biography of their background, college, subject and achievements so far. Afterwards, he directed the candidates to a table at the far end of the hall.

  “You have been selected as some of the most interesting and most promising young men that Oxford has to offer. Revel in that fact and enjoy your night. But remember, we are a society for the elite of the elite. You will attend our events over the coming year, and we will reject many of you. At our Midsummer Party, we will induct five of you into the Cavaliers. We will banish the others from any further contact with us.

  “I wish the candidates luck, and I wish everyone else the most marvellous night,” Rupert finished. Then he moved to sit down on the left hand side of the throne.

  With the speeches and introductions over, everyone focused on eating, drinking and talking to their neighbours.

  “Which five do you think they’ll select?” Catherine asked.

  She seemed to know and have strong opinions on all fifteen. At the prospect of something resembling an election, her eyes had lit up. To Harriet’s pleasure, she had lots of positive things to say about Ben.

  The meal continued with a pan-fried breast of duckling, followed by chocolate torte for pudding. A different wine accompanied each course. Harriet didn’t know much about wine, but suspected that they were all top vintages. They certainly tasted great.

  Harriet lounged back in her chair, filled with relief that the meal had been similar to the other formal meals she’d attended at Oxford, albeit with exceptionally good food and wine and alarmingly attractive people. She shouldn’t have worried so much.

  She’d only accepted George’s invitation to prove a point to Tom, but his company enthralled her just as much as at the beginning of their previous meeting before things went wrong. Her memories of the terrible end of the night faded. Instead, thoughts of how wonderful it had been to walk arm in arm with him around the darkened city spun through her mind.

  Waiters cleared everything away, except one glass for water and one for port. The evening seemed to be drawing to a close. Some of the guests wondered aloud about plans for an after party, but the members just smiled.

  The college bells rang in eleven o’clock. Rupert stood up, walked to the new candidates’ table and led them out of the hall. He returned accompanied by Gus.

  Harriet stared in amazement at her stepfather. She wanted to ask George for an explanation but shock rendered her speechless.

  Gus walked up the hall and sat down on the central throne. “My apologies for my lateness tonight. I regret missing the more social part of the evening but have at least arrived to lead the ceremonial aspect.”

  Everyone in the room stared at him, the members with appropriate respect, the female guests with curiosity and a certain amount of awe. He appeared to be at least twenty years older than the other Cavaliers, but that didn’t make him any less attractive.

  Gus caught her eye and smiled. Harriet managed to smile back through her confusion.

  “Gentlemen, stand behind your partners,” he ordered.

  Each Cavalier followed his instructions and placed their hands on their guests’ shoulders.

  “The other guests are all under hypnosis right now,” George whispered to her. “When Augustine raises his cane, each Cavalier will drink from their partner. Now the million pound question is: are you going to let me do the same?”

  Harriet continued to stare straight ahead, watching Hugh play with Catherine’s hair. The other girl’s face was a picture of calm. She didn’t think she could look at George or her stepfather without losing all self-control.

  “Please no. Not you too. Is this vampire thing a big in-joke between you and Tom, or do you honestly all believe it?”

  George massaged her neck and shoulders, sending tremors through her. She knew she should just walk out, but he had an oddly sedating effect on her.

  He didn’t even bother to address her disbelief. His voice had taken on a pleading tone.

  “I promise it won’t hurt. I won’t take enough to harm you. I’ll even give you some of mine afterwards. Then you’ll feel amazing.”

  Suddenly, Gus raised his cane, and all the Cavaliers except George bit into their partner.

  Harriet screamed. She couldn’t believe the scene before her. The guests stood impassively as the members drank from them. Some were very gentle, kissing necks and stroking hair and whispering things to them when they came up for air. Others were more vicious, gripping the girls and sucking hard, or biting again and again in different places. It all seemed unreal. In a horrible flash, she realised that Tom had told her the truth.

  “Harriet, calm down,” George said, gently touching her forehead.

  Her screams turned to hysterical sobs. Some of the vampires turned from their partners to look at her, several of them with disapproving expressions on their faces.

  “It’s okay. The girls aren’t getting hurt. They’re all mesmerised, and no one is going to be stupid enough to take too much. They’ll be basically fine in the morning,” George said.

  Harriet shook. This couldn’t be real, it just couldn’t, but she could only disbelieve the evidence of her own eyes for so long.

  “Harriet, look at me,” George said, turning her around, pulling her towards him and looking into her eyes. “It’s fine. Just relax.”

  Her hysteria only intensified and her sobs became louder.

  “Damn pendant,” George sighed. “You could do with a bit of mesmerising right now.”

  Harriet calmed herself down enough to speak. “You’re really vampires, aren’t you?”

  Between George’s narrowed eyes and tensed body, he didn’t look in the mood for a philosophical discussion. “Yes, yes we are.”

  “And if it wasn’t for my necklace, you could make me totally out of it like all the others.”

  “Well, not quite so easily. You’re oddly resistant on your own. But I’m pretty sure I could have stopped you from screaming the place down.”

  Harriet’s shaking hands fumbled at the pendant’s intricate clasp. “Do it. Put me under. I need to forget this.”

  “And if I bite you whilst you’re out, what then?” George asked, with a mocking look in his eyes.

  “You wouldn’t dare, would you? I understand how Tom managed to scare you off now. It’s him, isn’t it? My stepfather.”

  “Forget the mind-tricks. Just let me taste you, and you’ll soon feel fine anyway. He won’t have a problem if you’re willing.”

  “You’re not that desperate for my blood. You could have brought any girl and drank as much as you wanted whilst she was neatly hypnotised.”

  Harriet spoke quietly so as not to draw any further attention to them, but she clenched her fists tighter with every word. “You just want to impress him, don’t you? Show him how his stepdaughter has fallen for your charms. Well I’m not playing your stupid games.”

 
; “Please, Harriet. You know it’s not like that. I’d be lying if I said that sort of thing wasn’t spurring me on a little. But I was attracted to you that night at the club when I didn’t know who you were.”

  Harriet glared at him. “Yes, to the extent of wanting to use me as a snack and one night stand.”

  “That’s unfair. You’ve been letting Tom give this awful impression of me. Besides, I’ve loved tonight. Since that night on the Steele Walk, I’ve thought endlessly about the taste of your blood and the feel of you. You’re great to talk to, you stand up to me, and you seem more real than most of these pampered princesses.

  “I’m standing here now, and I can smell you and feel your pulse and the softness of your neck. Believe me, the last thing I’m thinking about is politics.”

  Harriet tried to ignore his words, but they slipped through her defences. He must be able to tell how fast my heart is beating. Can he tell how attracted to him I’m feeling right now? I desperately need to calm down and think rationally.

  “Put the necklace back on whilst you decide,” George insisted. “If we’re doing this I want you, me, and everyone else to be absolutely clear that you’re offering yourself to me freely.”

  Harriet’s trembling hands prevented her from fastening the clasp. George took over and put it smoothly around her neck.

  “Well?” he asked, once he’d secured the necklace. “What’s it going to be?”

  At that moment, she spotted Tom drinking from Katie. Thank God, he was one of the gentle ones, but that almost made it harder to watch. A mixture of jealousy and revulsion shot through her, and she turned her head to George.

  “Okay then,” she said, looking him straight in the eye.

  George didn’t wait another second. She’d expected him to go slowly, but with the last few moments clearly having stretched his self-control to the limit, he bit straight into the vein. For a split-second, pain reverberated through her body. Harriet gasped but managed not to scream. She closed her eyes, and the room slipped away.

  The touch of George’s hands on her waist and the pressure of his mouth on her neck drifted through her mind, but a sense of closeness to him dominated her awareness. She alternated between being acutely aware of every muscle and nerve in her body and being unaware of having a body at all.

  Eventually, George lifted his head and the real world rudely interrupted.

  “See,” he said, “I told you it’d be good and that I’d stop before it went too far.” His face looked flushed, and his smile suggested he’d enjoyed a similar experience to her.

  Harriet blushed as she came back to her senses. How could she have let him do that and responded to it in such a way? But a quick glance around the room established that all of the girls looked like they’d been almost as enraptured.

  She took deep breaths in an attempt to regain her composure, but then she noticed movement out of the corner of her eyes. The vampires on the furthest table, including the two she’d spoken to on the way into the party, helped their partners to their feet and led them to the dais. One by one, they approached Gus, bowed and presented their partners. He nodded his head and then bit each girl in turn. He only took a few sips from each before the couples returned to their table.

  “What the fuck?” Harriet hissed to George, who had sat back down beside her. This was too much.

  “They’re making an offering as a sign of respect and obedience. Not that some of those new recruits have the first idea of what respect means.”

  “Wake them up,” she pleaded.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I couldn’t defy Augustine even if I wanted to. Besides, one vampire can’t break another’s mind control. It’s a fundamental rule, up there with not going out in sunlight.”

  “In that case, I want to go. I can’t watch my stepfather drink the blood of fifty or so girls. Get me out of here.”

  The slightly senior vampires from the next table, including Tom with Katie, approached the dais. George leaned across to Augustine, bowing his head.

  “I assume you don’t wish me to...”

  “What kind of monster do you think I am? My own stepdaughter? Take her for some air before my wife accuses me of traumatising her.”

  George nodded respectfully and helped Harriet to her feet. She stumbled, lightheaded from the blood loss, alcohol and horror. She noticed Tom glance at her from his place in the queue, but couldn’t bear to look at anyone.

  The cool air in the college garden roused her, but being able to think clearly only made things worse. Disgusted by the whole evening, she knelt behind a bush and was immediately sick. Forcing herself to stand up again she returned to George and tried not to cry.

  George’s expression looked more serious than Harriet had ever seen before. “I had no idea that you didn’t know about Augustine,” he said. “I’d have given you prior warning otherwise.”

  Harriet doubted it would have done much good. She’d refused to believe Tom’s claims about vampires. Any attempt to tell her that her stepfather was their leader would surely have fallen on deaf ears.

  “Does my mother know?” she asked.

  George raised his eyebrows, and before he could reply, she realised how stupid she’d been. Her beauty and ability to wrap everyone around her little finger. Her unexplained absences. The way, now she thought about it, that she’d never seen her mother during the daytime. Dizziness overwhelmed her. She leaned against the high stone wall and tried to focus on the beauty of the college garden.

  George put his hand on her shoulder. “Come on, calm down.”

  Harriet realised that he had defaulted to his hypnotic voice even though he knew full well it wouldn’t work on her. She almost wanted to take off the necklace again and let him work his magic on her, drag her down into some artificial calmness and probably into his bed. Instead, she stepped closer to him and leaned her head on his shoulders. He put his slim but muscular arms around her and stroked her hair. George gave off no body warmth and didn’t have a heartbeat, but it didn’t bother Harriet. Having just learnt that her own mother was a vampire and her stepfather their leader, it seemed pointless to worry about niceties.

  “Thank you for agreeing to do that,” George said after a moment. “Let me return the favour. You’ll spend all of tomorrow feeling faint if I leave you like this, but have some of my blood and you’ll feel even better than before. It’s considered a sign of respect and real feelings for a vampire to let someone drink from him.”

  Things were already sufficiently far out of control that she reasoned she might as well just go with the flow. She nodded, and George immediately raised his wrist to his mouth, bit down and offered the open vein to her.

  Fascination fought with revulsion. Tentatively, she licked at his blood, trying to focus on the ‘honour’ and not the horror. To her surprise, it tasted marvellous, with almost no resemblance to the taste of her own blood on the occasions when she’d bit her lip. A faint hint of iron combined with a malty, honeyed taste. Overcoming her initial reluctance, she began to suck at the wound as George had. A soothing sensation of warmth spread through her body and the same odd feeling of connection as when he drank from her returned.

  Long before she wanted to stop, George gently lifted her head up and pulled his wrist away. “That’s enough for your first time,” he said. “It can be overwhelming, and I’m not going to risk getting you into difficulties. There’s a lot more of the party to go, and really, I should make my presence felt. But would you prefer it if I just took you home?”

  “I really should have learnt my lesson about being alone with you,” Harriet said with a bitter laugh. “But I certainly can’t go back in there, and I’m not sure I’m up to walking back alone.”

  Suddenly, Tom appeared in front of them. “I’ll take her,” he said, looking with distaste at their embraced position.

  “If you put as much effort into developing the rest of your powers as you did into your sneaking up on people you’d be a Senior Officer by now,” r
eplied George, glaring at Tom.

  “You’ll be much more missed than I will,” said Tom.

  “I’m sure everyone will understand. Especially Augustine when I explain I’m taking his stepdaughter home to recuperate.”

  Tom laughed at this. “If you’d been in there five minutes ago you’d see that he’s fuming that you didn’t give Harriet fair warning about him. He’s worried that Adelaide is going to hit the roof.”

  Despite her fury towards her mother, Harriet tingled with pride at her ability to control everyone around her, including the most powerful vampire in the country.

  “So, as Adelaide’s chosen guide, Augustine has asked me to take her home and explain a few things to her. I’d get back inside asap if I were you.”

  For a few moments, the three of them stood there in silence, no one moving. Harriet didn’t much care who took her back as long as someone did. She got the impression that they were as handsome, charming, and untrustworthy as each other, and she vowed not to let her guard down in a hurry.

  George gave a haughty shrug. “I suppose I’d better do as I’m told. Don’t try anything clever though. Remember, you are just the guide, and if Augustine is scared of Adelaide then you damn well should be.”

  George tilted Harriet’s head back looked into her eyes. “I feel that I’m having to endlessly apologise to you, but once again, I’m sorry. I should have prepared you, but I’d never dreamed that your family hadn’t already explained. Keep in touch over Christmas. It’s been amazing to spend the evening with you.”

  For a second, Harriet thought he was going to kiss her properly, and despite the oddness of the situation would have very much welcomed it. Instead, perhaps mindful of Tom’s presence and the likelihood of him reporting his every move back to Augustine, he kissed her once on each cheek. Harriet couldn’t help but close her eyes and enjoy the sensation of his cold lips. She found herself reliving the feelings she’d had during the bloodletting and wishing for more. Before she could put any of that into words, George disappeared.

  Chapter Eight