by Lacy Danes
He turned from her and walked to the table, then returned to find her smoothing her hands down the silk of her bodice. “I had the dress made by a pointed-ear woman named Arias. I gave her your gray wool, and she designed your dresses from that pattern and the energy you possess. She hires these little people she calls Sprys. They have wings and huge hearts. They do the most intricate stitching.”
“The dress is beautiful, and the stitching made me think of a drawing I will do. But how would she know my energy?” She pivoted from the mirror to face him.
“Your essence is on everything you own or touch.” He placed the package on the bed and unwrapped the lace. In a long coil, he pulled out the delicate webbing. “I will need to cut this but…” He held it up. “Turn.”
She pivoted back to the mirror. He placed the lace up to her neck and wrapped her. He would spoil her. She would hate that. He would do it anyway. “Do you approve?” He fiddled with the bow he’d just tied and then stared into the mirror at her expression.
Her brow furrowed, and a smile crossed her lips, then quickly disappeared. “It will have to do.”
Did she not like the lace? “The lace is too masculine?” He laughed. “A jest. Do you prefer something else?” He pulled the lace from her neck.
She grasped the end—“No.”—and rotated to stare up at him. She inhaled deeply, and her breasts brushed against his long silk vest. “I-I…” She lowered her gaze to his neck and trembled.
He understood the desire that shone in her eyes. “You desire my blood?” He closed his eyes, and in his mind, he could feel her lips on his throat. The scrape of her teeth. Gooseflesh washed his arms. He needed her. Needed her desire of him to be a reality, not just a fantasy in his mind.
“I do.”
He opened his eyes. She licked her lips. Her gaze fixed on his neck.
“There is no harm in taking what you desire. Not from me.”
Her lower jaw jittered, and she curled her upper lip back, exposing two small, pointed teeth. Her tongue traced her lips, and she pressed herself up onto her tiptoes.
“Take what you desire.”
Her hands slipped up his chest, and her mouth closed over the pulse on his neck. Her tongue flicked, and fire flashed through his veins. He moaned and wrapped his hands about her waist.
Her pointed teeth sliced through his skin and down into his bloodstream. He flinched and arched his head away from her to give her more. Warmth speared through his flesh, and a drizzle of blood ran down his neck. He moved his hands up to his chest to protect her dress from any blood that might spill down onto her gown.
Her tongue stroked, and she pulled her teeth from his flesh. She tipped her head back. His hands followed her chin catching a few drips of blood that threatened to slide down her chin and onto her new dress, ruining her experience in tasting him.
She staggered back, and her bottom hit the vanity. She steadied herself with her hands and breathed in and out hard. Her eyes glossed over, and her expression was lost in the sensation of her first bite.
He wiped his palms down his vest, smearing his blood on his hip pockets. He reached past her to the vanity and grasped a handkerchief that lay on the wood. Blood coated her lips and slipped down her chin. He raised the cloth and held the cotton below her lips, then tossed it aside. He stared at her plush lips, red with desire for him. Titillating swollen lips, rouged red with his blood. He wanted her. Wanted to taste what she had just sampled. He wet his lips.
She lunged at him, pushing him back on the bed. Her mouth covered his, and her tongue thrust in. Blood rushed to his groin, and his cock hardened. The full skirts of her dress separated them. He would not take her. If she wanted him, she would be the aggressor. After, he would be the one to take what he wished of her body and nourish her soul. They both had so much to learn from each other. Of each other.
Her tongue lessened its assault, and she traced his lips.
Wet, salty tang. He followed her tongue with his own.
With each flick of her wet tongue, tingles shot straight to the head of his sex. His heartbeat raced, and blood pounded through his body. He wanted her mouth on his phallus. He thrust his hips up into her belly and found no relief.
Her hands slipped beneath him, and she rolled, pulling him on top of her. He stilled his hands and stared down into eyes that shifted to white-hot. She bit her lip, and her brow furrowed. She shied her head away from him. She was not ready for him. Even he felt overwhelmed.
He rolled off her and stared at the intricate plaster flowers on the ceiling. Count the flower petals. Don’t think of how much you simply want to bury yourself in her.
She leaned toward him. “What is amiss?”
“It is almost time for dinner. You need to straighten yourself, as do I.”
She pushed away from him and sat up. She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Did I do something wrong?”
His muscles shook, and his peg strained at his pantaloons. The restraint now would result in an act more passionate and surreal later. “You did everything perfectly.”
She looked away from him.
He touched her arm and then sat up. He needed to change the subject. “Tell me more about the black mist.”
She stood and walked to the vanity. She stared into the mirror and her white eyes, then blinked and blinked again. Her eyes slowly changed back to blue. “I saw it first in my hotel. I was talking to Carmen, and the mist slipped in under the door. It frightened me, and I ran.”
He pushed from the bed and shed his long vest. He would have to wear a different one. “Anything else odd about it?”
She snorted. “Besides all of this?”
He chuckled. “Quite so.”
She was quiet for a moment. “How could I not have known Catherine betrayed my pa? I have never loved her, but after my father became ill, she took such good care of him and me.” She smoothed her hands down the pink silk. “Jonathan may know all about what she is doing.” She glanced at him through the mirror. “I fear that. It would mean that the last five years have been nothing but a lie.”
That could very well be. “The dress is stunning. Not one wrinkle or smudge.”
She bit her lip and turned to him, staring at the punctures on his neck. “Madoc, I…” Her teeth slid out again. She rolled her lip back and winced.
He traced a finger along her lips and over her fangs. “No need to say anything.”
She tore her gaze from his neck and met his eyes. “I still have questions. I still wonder if you—”
“Tomorrow I will show you all I know, and you will understand how special your father is. I never stole, Fina. I am simply an inventor, just as your father is.” He walked to the dressing screen where his long vests hung. “Pick one for me to wear tonight.”
She laughed. “Why would you ask? I don’t know what you like.”
“Exactly. If you choose one, you will have to look through them all, and by doing so, you will learn what some of my preferences are. I too will learn what yours are.”
She nodded and then walked to the screen where five different vests hung. “All long.”
“Quite so. I favor what I find comfortable Not all of my preferences are fashionable.”
She ran her fingers along each of the vests. She closed her eyes and retraced her path, then used her senses to decide. His heart skipped. She embraced this quickly.
Her fingers stopped on a plain calfskin vest. Leaning in, she inhaled. “Umm. I like this a lot. But not for a dinner.” She smiled, and her gaze caught his.
He nodded. “One of my favorites.”
She trailed her fingers over the silks again. “This one.” She grasped his black-and-red silk. “To complement your hair and mark.”
The fabric certainly did that. He walked to her and grasped the vest, then shrugged into the silk.
She reached up and straightened his lace collar, then slipped the three buttons on the front through their slits.
He couldn’t stop staring at her small ha
nds as she did so.
The hairs on his neck stood. She cared. Even if she didn’t know it yet, those actions said she cared. She smiled up at him, then pulled away.
“I realize you are uncertain about me. I will never harm you or yours, Fina.” He smoothed his vest and pivoted away from her.
A knock came at the suite door.
“That will be Hudson.”
“Who is Hudson, Madoc?”
“He is a friend who once was the Duke of Hudson. A few years back, he transitioned to a blood drinker.”
“A blood drinker?” Her tongue traced her lips.
“He was conflicted after his wife’s death and wanted never to lose anyone again. In his grief, he investigated many otherworldly creatures, as some are immortal. He found one that used darkness and a bite to change him. He is doing better, but there is still a fight about his soul.” Madoc walked to the door. He trusted his friend. That mattered most. “I trust him. He would never do anything to harm me.”
He pulled the door open to find not only Hudson but Fina’s friend, Jonathan. Jonathan. What was his role in all this? A simple bystander? No. Coincidences did not exist. Madoc frowned but quickly caught himself. “So good to see you, Hudson. And this is?”
“This is Mr. Jonathan Steel. You invited him and Fina Byron to dinner this evening. Jonathan has been unable to locate her.” Hudson pushed into the room.
Madoc pulled back, startled by Hudson’s rudeness. “A pleasure, Jonathan. Fina is already here. Please come in.” Madoc stepped aside but glared at Hudson. What was he about? Something had him wound as tight as an overturned clock.
The candles in the room flickered, and a coldness seeped into Madoc’s bones. Hudson slipped passed him, pulling warmth with him, and went to the table with the brandy.
Jonathan stepped into the room, “I’m delighted to hear Fina is here. I have been worried about her.” He turned toward Madoc.
“She is doing well. The Spectacle overwhelmed her a bit.” Madoc walked to the sideboard next to Hudson. He grasped the decanter filled with absinth. He placed three spoons over three glasses and set a sugar ball on each spoon. The liquid splashed over the snowy sphere until the three glasses stood half full.
He concentrated on the partially dissolved lump of sugar. “Ild,” he whispered, and the cube burst into a warm cherry-colored flame. He dunked the spoons into the liquor and stirred. The liquid changed to a cloudy brown.
He rotated from the sideboard and handed each gentleman a glass. “This is a French liquor. A bit stiff but needed.”
Jonathan sucked in a deep breath. “Fina, where did that dress come from?”
Madoc strode toward the door to his bedchamber.
Fina crossed her arms over her torso. “How are you, Jonathan?” Her tone chided.
Madoc stepped to her side and handed her the third glass. Her fingers brushed his as she took the drink, but she refused to look at him.
“Pardon, Fina.” Jonathan stepped closer. “I did not mean to be rude. You’re beautiful.” Jonathan lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip. Then sputtered and coughed. “What is this?”
He referred to more than the liquor in his glass. Madoc waved his hand toward the table in the parlor. “Please, sit. There is much to talk about. The Spectacle, designs. Time. Peter Byron’s works.”
A flush washed the young man’s cheeks. “Fina told you about my work?”
“No. She has a new view on time and Mr. Byron’s works since experiencing this amazing day.”
Hudson sat down at the table without a smile and shivered. “We would love to hear about your work.”
Madoc stared at his friend. A rosy tint washed Hudson’s cheeks, and a sheen of sweat coated his brow. Something was amiss. Maybe the travel had finally caught up with him.
“Jonathan, do you know about Pa’s drawings over the past few years?” Fina sat in the chair between Madoc and Jonathan. Hudson sat across from her.
Jonathan stared at Fina. “He has not. His hands don’t work well. You know that.”
“Have you been drawing?”
“Of course. I have my own work, my own design. You already know all this as well. What is this about?”
“I overheard Catherine selling a working’s design.”
“When?”
“That does not matter.” An angry fire danced in her eyes.
Madoc slid his hand onto her forearm. She jerked her arm away. “You have all been untruthful.” She stood. “I am the one who gets hurt by your lies.”
Jonathan stood. “What do you wish to know? I will tell you all I can.”
She whirled back. Her eyes shifted a dark blue and flashed with red as her mouth set in a firm line. “Why are you selling my pa’s work and name to the one with the most coin?”
“We all need to survive. Catherine is determined to make the shop work, but when it became known that he was not creating anything new, business evaporated. When we put the word out that Peter Byron was creating new designs again, though he would never build another clock, we had other clockmakers knocking on the door with coin in hand.”
“Is he designing?” Madoc stared at Jonathan.
“Yes and…no.” He pushed to his feet and stepped toward Fina.
A tendril of smoke, too faint for anyone but Madoc to notice, curled out of her nostril. Her control slipped.
Jonathan swallowed hard.
Madoc needed to help her. “Jonathan, that is why I am here. I wish to do all I can for Peter Byron’s lifework and family.”
“What do you mean?” Jonathan looked from Madoc to Fina.
“I wish to help preserve his legacy. When we return to England, I will—”
“Never. Catherine would forbid anyone else’s involvement.” Jonathan’s face paled and twisted, wrinkling up his nose.
“Why do you care so much about Catherine?” Fina’s eyes narrowed, and she pressed her hands to her stomach.
“I-I meant your father.” Jonathan cast his gaze to the table and slid a finger beneath his collar, then tugged the fabric to loosen it.
“No, you meant Catherine. My father would do all he could to save his legacy. You are futtering her.” Fina’s lips pursed, and more smoke curled like a mustache from her mouth.
Jonathan’s cheeks burned bright red. “That is—”
Madoc stood. “That does not really matter. She has many lovers. A fact of which I am sure Jonathan is aware.”
“How do you know?” Fina spat smoke at Madoc.
“Not I, love. I could tell by your description of what you told me and what Jonathan didn’t say.” He wanted to touch her and reassure her, but he would not. She would only pull away.
Jonathan swallowed hard twice, his Adam’s apple bobbing, then set his glass down on the table. “Thank you for the drink, sir. Fina and I need to be going. She is in my charge, and we have appointments.”
“Fina?” Madoc turned to her.
“We have no such thing. I am in charge of myself. You will, however, be staying right here. I will not let you or Catherine ruin any more of our lives. I can’t believe I trusted you. That I trusted her…” Her lip wobbled, and anger won her over.
The need to reassure her overwhelmed Madoc, and he touched her arm again. “Do not fret. Hudson and I will have a long conversation with Jonathan.”
She said nothing.
“Dinner is in an hour. Why don’t you ready yourself, and we will all have a lovely dinner here in the parlor.”
“I-I don’t want to be around him.” She glanced at Jonathan, then back to Madoc. Her gaze dropped to the marks on the side of his neck.
Madoc glanced at the clock. His body heated, and he slowed the ticks down, then stopped time for Jonathan alone. “Hudson and I need to discuss this further with him. I wish you to be here. If you choose not to, that is your choice. Things will go more smoothly if you are here to back up or deny what he says.”
“I will occupy him while you dine.” Hudson looked from Fina to Madoc and p
aused. His left eyebrow arose. “I think she needs to feed.”
“Please. I need to remove myself from Jonathan. I need to calm myself.” Fina licked her lips.
Madoc stared at Hudson. “Are you certain? Like you feed? On a pig?”
“Not a pig, but quite so. I believe you two need some time together. She needs to feed on you. Besides, I have already fed today and have no interest in pretending to be overjoyed in the French fare they offer for dinner.”
“How do you know that’s what I need?” Fina’s face paled and her eyes danced with flickering flames.
“A hunch that comes from experience.” Hudson sipped from his glass.
“We will figure it out.” Madoc released the time hold on Jonathan.
“Fina and I will head to dinner. When we return, Hudson and I will talk about our plans with you, Jonathan.”
“I’m hungry as well. I wish to dine.” Jonathan stared at Madoc and set his jaw.
“Hudson will order some fare for you. Fina needs time to calm down.”
Jonathan’s chin rose. “Then leave her here, and we can talk freely without her.”
A blur of pink silk rustled past Madoc. Fina flung herself on Jonathan. Her body thudded into his torso. The chair tumbled back. A sea of skirts puffed out on the floor. Madoc and Hudson both grasped Fina’s arms and yanked her back. Madoc stared at Jonathan as fire rushed through his veins. He stopped him still once more.
Hudson stared at Madoc. “You can’t keep stopping time this way. Franco and the others will notice, and we need them as allies to create this watch.”
“I have never had an issue with them before. I won’t now.”
“Let go of me.” Fina jerked her arms free and backed away from all three of them. The air in the room grew thick and humid. She struggled to pull in a breath and choked.
Pressure built in her cheeks and threatened to burst forth and smoke them all. She clenched her teeth.
Her chest hitched. How humiliating. She had lost complete control over herself.
Jonathan had betrayed her and her pa, but to attack him like the cats that fought in the alleys at home… Beyond the pale.