by Casey Wyatt
The sumptuous old style clashed with the nightclub’s decor. Assuming we were in the same building. I noted the heavy curtains. Anything could have been behind them. The room’s quiet was disconcerting. Either the club had amazing soundproofing, or I was in a place where no one could hear me scream.
Ignoring the goon for a moment, I searched for Ian. Leaning forward, I caught sight of him. He’d been bound to a wooden banquet table. Only this table had channels running around the edge. They’d strapped him down with thick metal bands and heavy bolts. Based on the condition of the wood and metal, I’d guess we weren’t the first “guests” in this room.
Faint traces of copper smells, the tang of blood lingered. The channels in the wood suddenly made sense. A giant meat carving board, ready to catch the juices.
Nausea rose in my gut. I focused on my husband instead, swallowing away the fear as best I could. If he died here, could I lose him now and in the future? The ripple effect, including what it would mean for Vala, scared the hell out of me.
Ian’s eyes were closed, his face slack. Far as I could tell, he was still unconscious. Or he was playing a very good game of possum.
“Don’t worry. Your lover is unharmed. That was quite a show, watching you two rut. Maybe you’d like to try something more exotic.” He may have been a revenant, but he was also a male. I knew that leer well.
“No thanks. I’ve sworn off pigs.”
The air displaced. His open palm rushed to meet my face.
I braced for the blow.
The goon quivered, hand frozen in midair, eyes riveted to a spot behind me. “My Lord. I only—”
“Lars, we do not hit women,” said another male. A door closed and footsteps registered on the hardwood floor.
I couldn’t see him. I couldn’t even get a whiff of his scent. This had to be the Earl of Third Street. Not exactly how I envisioned the meeting going down.
“Forgive me, my liege.” Lars dropped to one knee and bent his head down. I doubt it was in shame. “I only wanted to quell her defiance. Curb her disrespectful tongue.”
I had to hand it to Lars, even as fear shook his voice, he still spoke his mind to his liege. Only he left out the part where he’d propositioned me first. Swine. I was tempted to make squealing pig noises.
“I do not condone striking a woman. Even to tame her spirit,” the Earl said.
“You are a most kind and generous master,” Lars said.
I couldn’t help the small gagging noise. Lars shot me an evil glare that promised painful retribution if we were alone again.
“Leave us now.”
Before he departed, Lars kissed his forefinger then touched my forehead. “I look forward to our next meeting, my beauty.”
“Run along, little doggie. Your master has commanded you.” I woofed under my breath right before the door clicked shut.
The Earl chuckled at our exchange, but that didn’t mean anything. Time to curb my smart mouth. I didn’t want Ian to pay the price.
“I have learned of your petition. What do you want, vampire?” he said. “I doubt your husband would approve of your fornicating with another man.”
The sudden coldness in his voice ran over my skin. I took heed of the icy threat before responding.
“Do you know me, sir?” Because he’d made a personal and specific comment. One that suggested foreknowledge or an acquaintance with Jonathan.
“After a fashion,” he said. “State your business before I decide to turn you over to your Sire for punishment.”
“I’m told that the Earl of Third Street has the answers.”
“I might be inclined to help you.” His bored tone suggested, he’d heard the line a dozen times a day. “Who’s been singing my praises?’
“A fortune-teller. Bellasandre.” My uber-psycho aunt. But he didn’t need to know that part.
“Oh, that old witch.” Floorboards squeaked as he paced. He stopped shy of my peripheral vision, providing a glimpse of a white shirt and a dark suit coat.
“Is that what she is?” I drummed my fingers on the chair arm while testing the cords. The velvet muffled most of the noise.
“I don’t concern myself with her fate. I have other more pressing matters.”
“Like what? Being a kingpin? I’m guessing psycho drug overlord. Judging by your meat-carving station.” Anger heated my cheeks. Crap. I was letting my mouth get ahead of me again. I clamped my lips shut.
A deep laugh took me by surprise. The Earl tapped the back of my chair with his fingers.
“Drugs, yes. Taking vampire blood, no. I don’t believe in fairy stories. Your blood is worthless to me. I make all the money I need from humans looking to escape their dreary lives. If anything, I’m the reason the streets of London aren’t a bloodbath. Do keep your assumptions and narrow-minded view of revenants in check.”
He’d all but called me a racist. Which couldn’t be further from the truth, but I could hardly blather about Mars and the future. Time was pressing me. I could feel its breath on my neck.
“Apologies. I came to you for information. It was not my intention to insult you or your kind.”
The Earl remained quiet for a solid minute. I kept my gaze fixed on Ian to remind me to be patient. His arm came around the chair, Tarot card in hand, startling the shit out of me.
“What is this about?” he said. “Did Cass give it to you?”
“No.” I was hardly going to admit King Edward gave it to me in 1902. Or how I crossed time and space to 1969 where my aunt told me to come visit him.
Because that didn’t sound ridiculous.
My brain caught up to his last question. “Wait. Did you say Cass?”
“No, of course not.” I noted the shifty stutter in his response. He sounded like my brother when I’d caught him in a lie. “Why do you think—”
“Hold on. Let’s back this train up. I know a lie when I hear one. You seem to know an awful lot about me.” Enough of this, I needed to free myself. The cord binding me was loose enough that I could slide my hand under it, if I were willing to hurt myself a bit. And wreck his chair.
No problem. Edwin and I used to tie each other up as kids and compete to see who could break out the fastest.
What can I say? We were weird.
“What of it? I’m in the information business. Of course, your reputation precedes you. The famous entertainer, Cherry Cordial, also the wife of one of the most powerful vampires in Europe, shows up in my humble club. What else could I do?”
“Last I checked, kidnapping wasn’t considered polite.” I waited for him to pace away, then rammed my fingers into the arm cushion. If it had been leather, what I was about to do would have been a lot harder. Velvet, once it tears, is pretty easy to ruin.
“Well, you can blame your companion. The infamous Rogue.” The Earl spoke with admiration. “I’m shocked he’d be foolish enough to be captured. I have you to thank for my good fortune.”
Fiddlesticks. “I feel like we’ve lost track of our conversation. Why did you say Cass?”
“I said no such thing.” His footsteps told me he’d moved closer to the table. Metal creaked against metal. Ian groaned. Not quite pain, but it wasn’t pleasure either.
Ian’s blood scented the air.
Not wanting to risk his life further, I dug deeper into the armchair, creating a pocket to free my right hand. “I know what I heard.”
And the more I thought about it, the less I liked the possible scenarios where he might know about my Aunt. If I were an evil crime lord, I’d use her as a bargaining chip to control me.
A wineglass appeared under my nose, making me jump in my seat.
“Drink. I can sense your weakness.”
“What? No! It wouldn’t be proper.” To take blood, even my husband’s, unoffered by the donor, was considered rude. But the Earl wouldn’t know that.
My stupid stomach rumbled in protest. Whatever the mist was, it had taken a lot out of me. I know Ian would have wanted me to drink, but I
needed the Earl not to notice my destruction of his armchair.
“Right. You vamps have rules and such.” He withdrew the glass, then reoffered it a moment later. “Are you sure?”
“Yes!” My left hand was almost free. I needed to keep him talking and not paying attention to me. “What is your table for? If not to steal blood.”
The Earl scoffed. “It’s for willing sacrifice.”
Gross and disturbing. I managed to free both hands but remained as still as I could.
“Why would a vampire do that?” I waited until the Earl’s footsteps moved toward the far side of the room. When I heard him set the wineglass down, I shifted, waiting for the right moment to move. They hadn’t tied my ankles. Lucky for me. Stupid of them.
“I’m sure it’s hard for a Blue Blood such as yourself to understand this. But vampires can become addicted to our mist. As well as humans. Even zombies have been known to crave it.”
After the display I’d seen in his club, I didn’t doubt it.
“How is it you get away with it?” I’d never heard of the Earl of Third Street. Would Queen V snuff out his operation in the near future?
“Discretion and luck. Queen Victoria is quite a nuisance. And so is your lover.”
Shit. Ian once told me he’d brought in bounties for Queen V. What if he was the one who stopped the Earl? And I’d probably screwed the future by delivering Ian to his enemy.
“But, not for much longer,” I said.
“Exactly. To show my gratitude, I’m inclined to help you. About that Tarot card—”
“Don’t listen to him,” Ian rasped. “He’s a liar.”
“Ah, your compatriot is awake.” The Earl moved toward the table. “Don’t strain against the bonds. They’ll only hurt you more.”
“That doesn’t sound voluntary to me.” I relaxed into the chair, trying to control the urge to pounce. I’d only get one chance to surprise him, and I needed to make it count.
The wooden table groaned and creaked.
“I’ll kill you!” Ian roared, his fury and confusion thrust into my mind. Then his emotions silenced. I hated when he did that.
Uh-oh. I probed our connection again. It was there but closed tighter than a drum. With horrid clarity, I cursed under my breath. He’d reverted to his original self. Great. Now I’d have to deal with him and the Earl.
Ian thrashed. “I don’t know how you managed to capture me, but you will pay.”
“Sometimes our clients lose control.” The Earl stated it like it was a sad fact of doing business. “We restrain them until they feel like their old selves again. And it avoids embarrassing public displays.”
“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” Unfortunately, I needed him to help me, but I couldn’t let him kill Ian.
“Funny you should say that. You remind me of my sis—”
Glass exploded into the room.
Vampires charged through the curtains.
I launched toward the ceiling. A hand gripped my ankle, yanking me off course.
The Earl bundled me against his chest. He shoved me behind an old-fashioned wooden desk big enough to hide a family.
“Stay down!” He disappeared before I could argue. Drat. I missed a chance to see his face too.
Chaos erupted as revenants stormed inside to fight the vampires. From my limited vantage point, I could see boots passing by—most likely the vampires.
The revenants favored shiny loafers. By my count, three vampires and at least seven revenants battled. The vamps were outnumbered, but they were holding their own. Revenants hit the floor.
I peered around the corner, just in time to see a vase flying toward my location. I jerked back before as shards rained down.
“You’ll pay me for that!” the Earl shouted. “Barbarians.”
“Get Ian!” A familiar baritone voice grabbed my attention. Could it be?
I managed another peek. This time by placing my face on the ground and looking through the narrow space between the desk and the floor. Tall, dark, and pissed off. Philip, Ian’s second-in-command.
Hot damn. The Rogues had arrived.
Ready to make my presence known, I stopped short. I was in an odd position. On the one hand, I should be assisting the vampires, my own people. On the other, I needed the Earl’s help.
Speaking of the Earl, he spoke from around the desk’s corner. “As fascinating as you are, I think your trust in me has been misplaced.”
A dozen more revenants crowded into the room.
“You seem to be winning.” I tried to keep my voice level. Ian was out there.
Heavy thuds came next as bodies hit the floor. “Sadly, we’re not.”
“Find the female,” Ian ordered.
“How did you know to grab me?” I asked as the vampires repelled another group of revenants.
The Earl peered around the corner. “No one ever thinks to look up.”
“Edwin?” Surprise bowled me over. “No. Tell me this is not happening!”
“Hello.” He was smart enough to look sheepish about it.
My baby brother was the Earl of Third Street. “How is this possible?”
Hands clamped onto Edwin’s shoulders. He was flung across the room.
“No, wait!” I tried to reach him. The Tarot card fluttered to the floor. I snatched it before it could be lost in the shuffle.
“Got you, scheming witch.” Ian scooped me up then launched through the broken window, carrying me into the night.
Away from the answers I needed.
Chapter Twelve
Out of the Frying Pan
“Stop! We need to go back!” I punched Ian in the chest. I might as well have fought with the side of a building.
“Silence, woman.” The cold glint in his eyes, the hard set of his jaw, told me that this wasn’t my husband. This was a male who didn’t know me, didn’t trust me, and was a danger to my continued existence.
He motioned to the Rogues as we landed on the rooftop. Ian set me down while three Rogues surrounded me. The one who I’d thought was Philip wasn’t there. It’s possible I hadn’t seen him.
Wishful thinking had taken me far in life.
“Ian, you have to listen. Please.” My hands twitched from the desire to touch him. I knew that would be a huge mistake.
When he remained silent, I took the chance to speak. “I need your help. I know this will sound unbelievable, but I can feel the bond between us. You can too, if you try.”
Ian had warned me that he could only inhabit his past self for a limited amount of time. Even though the connection was slight, our bond beat between us.
“Perhaps you’ve bewitched me.” He folded his arms across his chest.
The wind atop the building blew my hair into my eyes, but I didn’t dare move to fix it. His hand reached forward and tucked my hair behind my ear. Surprise lit his eyes, and he took two steps backward.
“Apologies.”
“Not necessary.” I chewed my bottom lip, choosing what I should say next.
“Leave us.” The other vampires melted into the shadows without hesitation.
Ian stared at me, his gaze penetrating me far beyond simple eyesight. The threads of our shared bond vibrated as if he’d strummed it like a guitar chord. “This could be a trick. The Earl took my blood. You could have lied about drinking it.”
“You were awake? You know I refused to drink.”
“You could be lying,” he insisted.
“We both know that’s not true. You can feel that we belong together.”
“I’ve never set eyes on you before. I’d remember.”
“What about our encounter in the club?” I skirted the truth, hoping to jog his memory. I knew my husband. He had to come to that conclusion on his own. The fact that he’d sent his men away told me that he was listening.
He stepped toward me again, near enough to prevent my escape but distant enough not to appear intimate.
“Why do I feel you in my head?”
>
I closed the space between us. “You know why. Stop being a stubborn man and use that gut of yours. What is it telling you?”
“That I shouldn’t let you out of my sight.” His hands circled my wrists. He took in my scent. “That you belong to me.”
“Will you help me?” I didn’t know what I’d do if he refused me.
Ian freed my wrists. “I must be daft. Yes.”
My relief must have been obvious because it earned me his patented cocky grin. “If you cross me, I’ll rip out that pretty throat of yours.”
“Naturally.” I nodded.
“Now, you’re going to tell me everything.” He pulled me against his hip, arms wound snugly around my waist.
“Where are you taking me?” I clenched his waist in return.
“To my secret lair. Where else?” When he launched upward into the London sky, I didn’t even squeak. That earned me another stare. “We’ve done this before.”
“Yes. I did protest that very first time. I assure you.”
“You look like the type to squeal loudly.” He gave me a wry grin like that was a foregone conclusion.
He wasn’t exactly my Ian, but I’d take whatever allies I could get. I just hoped he’d listen when I told him I needed the Earl’s help.
A demand tugged on my conscience. Ian wasn’t the only male I was tied to. Jonathan was looking for me. Ian glanced at my face. He’d felt it too.
Great. Jonathan was using his power as my Sire to call me home.
“Do you mind if we make a pit stop?”
“Do I have a choice?” Ian slowed.
“You do, but I don’t.” The call grew stronger and harder to ignore. Jonathan almost never used it on me. “It’s my Sire. I have to go to him.”
Ian huffed. “I can sense it too. I am thankful to not be bound in such a way.”
I didn’t have an answer. I already knew his feelings on remaining independent. “I understand if you want to just dump me and go.”
“And miss the fun?” Ian changed direction. “Where to?”
“The East End.” The location of our first theater. One of many locations over the decades. “To The Champagne Club.”