Diana's Hound: Bloodhounds, Book 4

by Moira Rogers

  “Fortuitous.” He couldn’t help but let his knuckles brush her spine as he worked his way up her back. She wasn’t his to caress, but it would be so easy to tell himself she was for the night. That their masquerade would only be strengthened by proprietary glances and possessive touches.

  Excuses. Weak excuses for a weak man.

  “Nate?”

  He lifted his gaze to hers in the mirror. “Yes?”

  For a moment, she stared at him, troubled. Then she flashed him a reassuring smile. “It will turn out all right. You’ll see.”

  Her thoughts no longer echoed in his mind, though he had the oddest sensation that they were there, just out of reach, a low murmur on the other side of a closed door. He even thought he might know how to open that door, but doing so when he had the choice—

  No. That would be a violation, an unnecessary one. “I’m sure you’re right.”

  She turned her attention back to her reflection, arranging her sleeves as he buttoned her dress. “What manner of things should I expect to see tonight?”

  He couldn’t stare at her beautiful, young face in the mirror and answer that question honestly, even knowing she could hardly be a blushing innocent. He lowered his attention to the buttons again and frowned. “Any sort of debauchery you can envision, is my best guess. Sharing of blood and sharing of blood-slaves, both as food and in a more carnal fashion. I cannot imagine the lengths to which they will take such things here in the heart of Eternity.”

  “And if we’re expected to take part?”

  “We won’t.” He put steel behind the words. “If a demonstration of the non-toxic nature of your blood is necessary, I will provide it. But I will not be goaded into letting a single vampire lay a finger on you.”

  The troubled look had returned. “Even if it exposes you to scrutiny and suspicion?”

  That unfamiliar rage was back. Nate wanted to snarl like Wilder at his worst and announce he’d break their fingers if they so much as breathed in Diana’s direction. No wonder the bloodhounds were such an intolerable lot; judging by the temper stirring in his gut, they could hardly help it.

  But he could. He would, no matter how high the cost, but he wondered now if Diana suffered under the same crushing press of instinct. “Will you have a hostile reaction to vampires straying too close to me?”

  “If they try to hurt you—” A growl choked the words, and she closed her eyes with a sigh.

  A smile tugged at his lips. “I’m dealing with similar inclinations.”

  “Then we should tread carefully tonight,” she murmured.

  “We will.” He fastened the final button and smoothed the fabric. “This fits you perfectly. Either the dancer was your twin, or you’re cleverer with a needle than I am with a pen.”

  “She was a bit shorter, I believe.” Diana tugged at the bodice, but her nipples still peeked over its scandalously low edge.

  He’d thought that had been the entire point, which made him a confirmed lecher. “There’s something else we should discuss, but I don’t know if we should do it now or later.”

  She gave up on the embroidered fabric barely covering her breasts and turned to him. “About what happened earlier?”

  “Not precisely.” He tilted her chin up with a soft sigh. “I’m worried about the new moon, Diana. If I’m already loath to let anyone else touch you, I won’t be able to tolerate you passing those days with a stranger.”

  “The…” Her gaze dropped to his mouth as her fingers ghosted over the pale line of her throat—exactly where he’d bitten her. “Nate, I thought you understood. I don’t want a stranger.”

  He’d hoped. He’d dreaded, doubted. He’d done a dozen things, a hundred, every damn thing but understand how a creature this beautiful could look at him in desire. Tonight was the first time he’d felt whole enough to be worthy of her regard. “I only need it to be clear between us. We’re on such dangerous ground now that misunderstandings and reckless assumptions could mean a flaw in our story. It could get one or both of us killed.”

  She cupped his face and nodded, then brushed a soft kiss over his lips. “If it’s something you can do, something you want…I’d rather have you with me during the new moon.”

  The invitation warmed him from head to toe, as did her kiss. Somehow he had to bring her downstairs and play master to her blood-bound servant and pretend he could part with her.

  In actuality, he’d have to part with her sooner or later. But he was too selfish to deny himself this. “Yes.”

  “I’m glad,” she murmured, her gaze on his mouth. “We can easily excuse ourselves for those days. One last new moon before you’re to sell your pet?”

  “No one would begrudge me that indulgence.” How easy it was to rationalize. How dangerous. The first step on a slope so slippery he’d likely never find the bottom, only a glorious free fall.

  “Gambling debts,” she said firmly. “Dice and cards have been the ruin of many a man.”

  He gave in to temptation and stroked his finger along her jaw. “A truth that has always baffled me. But then, when I calculate the odds of losing, they’re usually too high.”

  “Plenty are willing to take the chance, over and over.”

  “Plenty of fools.” And now he’d pretend to be one of them. Not so much of a stretch, after all. The only difference was in the vice of choice.

  No, that was an unfitting thought. Whatever Diana was, she shouldn’t be considered a vice, as if she was a sinful temptation. He was a sinner for wanting her.

  Turning away from such thoughts, he stepped back and offered his arm. “Are you ready?”

  “If you are.” She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “We can do this, Nate.”

  “Of course we can.” He put just a bit of his youthful arrogance into the words. “I’m passably intelligent, and you’re clever and wickedly strong.”

  “I’ll remember to guard my thoughts.”

  He lifted her chin. “No one can hope to stand against us.”

  “Not a soul.” She lowered her gaze, her eyelashes sweeping her cheeks. “Do I look appropriately deferential and submissive?”

  No. She looked powerful, even with obedience wrapped around her. Something in the set of her shoulders, the stiffness in her spine, maybe even the very air that trembled just shy of her skin. “You look as submissive as anyone will expect a bloodhound to be.”

  Diana smiled and opened the door to their suite. “Then I’ll play my part well.”

  He could only pray that they both did.

  He swept them both from the room and toward the grand staircase. Laughter drifted up already, tickling his sharpened senses. A different sort of sound buzzed just beyond easy range, whispers that skittered across his mind, brushing inside him.

  Thoughts. He could read the unguarded thoughts of the guests, if he tried. Lord, how he wished he’d spent the last few months learning how to control this gift instead of choking it out of existence by starving himself of fresh blood.

  Jonah met them at the bottom of the staircase. “Word has traveled fast,” he murmured.

  “In a good way, I hope?”

  “The room is abuzz with gossip and conjecture.” Jonah studied Nate and nodded decisively. “A grand improvement. I take it you won’t require a blood companion?”

  “I think not.” He practiced his indulgent smile and imagined the look he gave Diana was probably more enamored. Ah, well. Close enough for now. “None could compare.”

  “I see.” He turned to study Diana. “I’ve never been adept at sensing others’ thoughts. Even earlier, I could discern very little from you, and now… Nothing.”

  Perhaps Nate’s loss of control would have an unforeseen but welcome side effect. “A blood bond?” he asked.

  Jonah tilted his head. “Perhaps. A bond with her master would shield her utterly.”

  “Good.” Diana whispered, closing her hand tightly around Nate’s.

  Jonah cleared his throat. “I took the liberty o
f insinuating that your decision to bring April to auction was one of desperation. Money troubles?”

  April. Not Diana. He must remember it, somehow. “A gambling problem,” he confirmed, ignoring Jonah’s knowing gaze. “I’m afraid I can’t resist a game of cards…and can’t manage to win, either.”

  “Better if you don’t say so. Better still if you deny it.” He gestured toward the large mahogany doors tucked into the wall almost behind the stairs. “Come.”

  “April, my dear?” A glance to Nate’s right showed Diana’s dress barely clinging to her full breasts. Every breath brought a glimpse of areolae, enough to have him holding his own possibly unnecessary breath. How little he’d have to tease at the fabric to spill her nipples free, and how wrong it was to be distracted by such a possibility.

  “Yes, sir.” She opened the door and lowered her gaze, waiting for him to escort her inside.

  Nate squared his shoulders and entered with the confidence of a brilliant Guild inventor who believed every person he met was beneath him but knew they would never agree. That mix of entitled belligerence would be perfect for a young vampire who’d done the impossible by capturing a bloodhound.

  Three steps into the ballroom, Nate knew his acting attempts would go unappreciated. Every gaze in the room snapped to Diana as if she was magnetic north. And as much as she tried not to meet all those curious eyes, her chin lifted in defiance. Insolence.

  She slipped her hand into the crook of Nate’s arm once more. “Shall we sit, sir?”

  “Find us a good spot, pet.” April made her feel small, and he couldn’t heap that further torment on her. Not under so many ravenous, greedy eyes.

  The crowd melted away a bit at their approach, and a small smile curved Diana’s lips. “I do believe they look frightened,” she murmured, not quite low enough not to be heard.

  Wicked, wicked girl. Nate smiled wide enough to bare his fangs. “Now, now. Promise not to bite anyone.”

  “On the contrary, I believe I may be the only person here not uniquely suited to biting.”

  “It doesn’t stop you from trying.” Nate nodded a greeting to a pale man and guided Diana to a straight-backed chair with cushions strewn at its feet. “Sit, pet.”

  She dropped to a cushion, still looking dangerous despite the submissive posture. She managed to walk the narrow line between predator and prey, and every vampire in the room stared at her, entranced. Their companions stared at her too, though their expressions bypassed hunger, lingering instead on anger, jealousy, even pity.

  A blonde vampire with two chained men trailing behind her approached, a charming smile on her red lips. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” she murmured to Nate, holding out one gloved hand. “Aurora Bannister.”

  “Oliver Powell.” Her floral perfume couldn’t hide the scent of vampire as he brushed his lips over the back of her hand. Not death—not quite—but something cold. Ice and the iron of blood and the dirt of the grave she’d escaped. “It’s a pleasure.”

  “The pleasure’s mine.” Her gaze lit on Diana. “She’s breathtaking.”

  Nate couldn’t say the same of the men shadowing Aurora. One wore the chains heavily, his face a numb mask of hopelessness. The other tracked his vampire mistress’s movements with the unbroken adulation of one bound by magic. Not a ghoul—ghouls were empty shells, their human souls destroyed—but enchanted nonetheless.

  Nate did his best to hide his disgust. “She is, indeed. And fiery enough to require my undivided attention.” He let a hint of worry crease his brow with those words. It wouldn’t take long for the assembled vampires to taste the weakness of his power and assume he could barely control Diana.

  The vampire made no comment. Instead, she eased closer to Diana. “Surely you’re not the one of whom Jonah spoke. The auction?”

  “Perhaps.” It was a struggle not to rise and place his body between the vampire and the hound. Instead he dropped one hand to Diana’s head, stroking his fingers through her hair. “It’s true that I intend to part ways with her after the new moon.”

  “After—yes, of course. May I?” Without waiting for an answer, Aurora tipped Diana’s chin up with one finger, then turned her head to and fro, studying her rather like an animal.

  Diana’s eyes burned, and she smiled slowly, baring her teeth.

  Leaning forward, Nate caught the vampire’s wrist in a grip strong enough to bruise. “I wouldn’t. She’s a bloodhound, and would be happy to relieve you of several of your fingers.”

  If anything, the warning sparked a matching fire in Aurora’s eyes. “Delicious.”

  He agreed, but not for the reasons she did, he’d wager. “I have little time left with her, and what I have I’ll guard jealously. You can look, but you cannot touch.”

  She drew back her hand with a nod. “My apologies. I forget myself sometimes.”

  Nate’s jaw hurt as he forced a smile. “Should I take your forgetfulness as a compliment to her allure?”

  “Impossible!” The booming voice reverberated through the room, preceding a short, balding man in a straining waistcoat. Power rolled off him in waves, and Nate felt Diana stiffen beside him as the man stomped across the parquet floor.

  Aurora paled. “Linton Kelley, this is—”

  “A damned liar, that’s who it is.” The vampire stroked his mustache and stared down at Diana. “She’s no more a hound than I am.”

  Nate raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t make such a preposterous claim if it were not true.”

  “Desperate men do desperate things.”

  “And how would you like for me to provide proof?” Nerves settled in Nate’s belly as he leaned back in the chair, marring his attempt at casual, but that would only work to his benefit. A young vampire facing down so many stronger ones should be nervous underneath his bluster. “I could grant her permission to slay one of you.”

  He snorted. “As if she—”

  Diana shot up from her spot on the floor and slammed into Kelley, knocking the vampire back—and off balance. He crashed into a small parlor table, shattering the sleek marble top and polished legs. A moment later, he bolted upright, eyes red and fangs bared.

  Too late. She moved easily in spite of her attire as she snatched up one of the table legs, a wickedly splintered fragment of walnut, and drove it deep into the vampire’s chest. Kelley’s scream of rage turned to one of pain, then melted into an echo as he dissolved into dust.

  Pure silence reigned in the room as Diana rose and dropped the makeshift stake into the fine gray remains of Linton Kelley.

  They were doomed. For one frozen moment, no other thought would come to Nate. A dozen vampires stood between them and the door, and hundreds more between the door and anything approaching safety. Here, in the heart of Eternity, protection was little more than a dream.

  And yet, silence reigned. Still.

  Nate cleared his throat. “That’s quite enough, April.”

  “Hubris.” Jonah walked slowly across the parlor and smilingly offered Diana a small goblet of wine. “Even the best are crushed by its weight.” He glanced around. “Does anyone else have any questions?”

  If anything, the covetous glances cast Diana’s way grew more intense. The silence erupted into the rustle of skirts and whispers barely given breath, but the buzz in the back of Nate’s head swelled into audible snatches of conversation, each fading in and out and twisting around the next.

  —obviously can’t handle her, but with a strong hand—

  —share her with the others—

  —delicious bit of impertinence—

  —too much fire for a—

  —need to watch your back and pet that one right, Aurora’s voice whispered, as if directly in Nate’s ear. The other woman still stood several paces away, her bright-eyed gaze fixed on Diana. But so very worth it.

  Fixing a blank expression on his face, Nate held out an imperious hand. “Return to me, pet.”

  Diana accepted the wine from Jonah with a careful bow and walke
d back to sink at Nate’s feet. She held the glass aloft, her eyes downcast. “Sir?”

  He took the offering, his hand clenching around the goblet as he struggled against the instinct to lift her face. He wanted to see her eyes and judge the emotion there, to comfort her or give her leave to kill every last vampire in the room.

  He wanted to see her on her feet, proud and strong, instead of brought low. He swallowed and forced his gaze from her downturned head before he revealed too much. “Thank you.”

  A bearded man on a settee across the room stroked his chin. “Do you drink from her?”

  Nate rested his fingers on the back of her head again, because he had to touch her in some small way, if only to remind her she wasn’t alone. Answering the question posed to him proved more difficult. Their plan had always rested on assuring the vampires that Diana’s blood wasn’t toxic. Once the words left his lips, there would be no containing them. Vampires would know of a female hound with safe blood, and they would hunt her to the ends of the earth.

  It was the plan. She’d agreed to it, suggested it. She’d demanded his trust and his faith in her strength, and he wouldn’t betray that promise. “Naturally. It seems bloodhounds created in the wild lack the protections of their cousins made by the Guild.”

  “Thaddeus Lowe had one,” another woman, a tiny redhead, piped up. “A wild hound. I heard his court would climb all over itself for a single taste.”

  Hunter. Nate couldn’t keep himself from tensing. He’d been in Thaddeus Lowe’s court, too, a captive bound by blood to Lowe. When bribes and threats had failed to coerce Nate into bending his skills to the vampire’s will, Lowe had had him turned. Death had beckoned then. Old and worn down, Nate’s body hadn’t been able to tolerate the change.

  So they fed him Hunter’s blood, and an alchemical transformation had overtaken Nate, one beyond the imaginings of any Guild inventor. Not youth prolonged, but youth restored. The elixir of life, the philosopher’s stone given human form.

  If they knew what Hunter’s blood could do—what Diana’s blood could do—the ends of the earth wouldn’t be far enough. They’d pursue her through this world and into the next.