With a tiny cry of pleasure, the blonde rushed forward, sinking into a deep curtsy that called attention to pearly mounds of breasts that overflowed the velvet gown.
“Francine.”
“My lord?” she breathed.
“Hawthorne will be returning to his home within the next few hours. I want you to be waiting for him.”
“Do you have any specific instructions?”
“Ensure that he remains unaware that Miss Lawrence is not in her bed. The more hours you can keep him distracted, the better.”
She daringly lifted her gaze, regarding him with a stark sexual hunger.
“A foolish waste of my talents. Send one of your other females to Hawthorne and I will make you forget the dowdy Miss Lawrence.”
Victor’s expression hardened with unmistakable warning. “Do not speak her name.”
“What is so bloody special about her?” the woman demanded with a petulant jealousy.
“She is mine.”
Chapter Three
Juliet was well aware of the dangers of traveling through London in the middle of the night.
Oh, not the usual dangers.
Any criminal or drunken lout who thought she was easy prey would soon discover the error of their ways, but there were predators that hunted the streets far more lethal than the human variety.
Mages, fey, demons . . .
All of whom could destroy her with embarrassing ease.
Which was why she had brought along her mother’s amulet, which allowed her to focus the small amount of magic she possessed. In addition, she had grabbed a well-worn crystal that glowed with a soft power. It was the only possession she had from her father and it stirred her imp blood.
The objects would not save her from a full-blooded demon who wanted her dead, but they offered some protection.
Leaving behind the elegant neighborhoods, Juliet silently moved through the shadows, headed toward the cramped, narrow Rosemary Lane and onto Pennington Street, which eventually spilled onto the docks.
Once among the warren of warehouses and quays, Juliet halted, not at all certain where to begin her search.
Levet had said the docks, but they sprawled along the Thames from the medieval London docks to the East and West Indies docks that were still under construction. They were also crowded with sailors and dockhands even at this hour.
How the devil was she supposed to find a tiny gargoyle among the confusion?
Rubbing her nose at the potent stench that clogged the air, Juliet was considering the nearest warehouse when her skin abruptly prickled with warning, a chill wrapping around her.
A dark premonition crawled up her spine and with a gasp she whirled. Her heart lodged in her throat at the sight of the Marquis DeRosa, his raven hair pulled back to reveal the stark beauty of his face and his eyes shimmering pure silver in the moonlight.
“Now what, I wonder, would entice a young and innocent maiden to the docks at this hour?” he mocked softly.
She pressed a hand to her churning stomach, her brows drawing together in annoyance.
“My lord.”
“Victor.”
“I wish you would not sneak up on me.”
The cape swirled around his powerful body as he stepped toward her, reaching out to cup her chin in his slender hand.
“You should be thanking whatever god you pray to that I am the one sneaking up on you. It is beyond foolish to be wandering the streets alone.”
With a shiver, she jerked from his touch.
How could a touch so cold send streaks of fire through her body?
“I am more likely to curse the evil spirit that crossed our paths. What are you doing here?”
“Attempting to keep you from an early grave.”
Her eyes widened. “Did you follow me?”
His aquiline nose wrinkled in delicate distaste. “I can imagine no other reason to bring me to such a repugnant neighborhood.”
Her hands clenched at her sides at his blatant confession. “Why, you . . .”
A raven brow flicked upward. “Yes?”
“You have no right to spy on me. I am not one of your concubines.”
The silver eyes flashed with a ruthless intent as he framed her face in his hands, his intoxicating scent filling her senses.
“No, never my concubine,” he agreed, lowering his head to stroke his lips down the curve of her cheek, halting to nuzzle the corner of her mouth.
“Halt that,” she breathed, desperately attempting to fight the acute pleasure of his touch.
God Almighty, she craved this vampire. She logically comprehended that the beautiful demon would be a lethal addiction for any female stupid enough to fall victim to his seduction. Still, her body ached to be in his arms, the feel of his fangs feeding greedily at her neck as he plunged deep inside her.
Which was far more terrifying than any hidden dangers that lurked among the docks.
Closing her eyes, she poured her thoughts into the amulet hung about her neck, feeling its heat prickle over her skin until Victor abruptly jerked his hands away.
He narrowed his eyes, astonishingly appearing more aroused than offended by her little parlor trick.
“Ah, you enjoy playing rough, little one?”
“I simply want you to go away.”
“Juliet, be assured that hell will freeze over before I allow you to remain here alone,” he said, the cold power of his voice sending the rats scurrying in fear and making the humans glance over their shoulders in unease. They would have no notion of why they were suddenly fidgety, only that they wished they were at a nearby pub. “Tell me why you are roaming these docks.”
Her jaw tightened, but she was not entirely stupid. Beneath Victor’s polished charm was a dangerous edge that warned he would not leave until he was satisfied.
“I am searching for a friend.”
“Friend? Or lover?” he silkily demanded.
She blinked in shock at the abrupt question. “That is none of your concern.”
“Do not pretend ignorance. You have known from our first encounter that I would not tolerate another man in your bed.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs, her mouth dry. “You truly are an arrogant ass.”
“Tell me.” He grasped her shoulders, his eyes glittering with a fierce emotion. “Are you here to meet a lover?”
“No.” Grimly she forced herself to meet his stark, possessive gaze, her chin tilting. “If you must know, I am searching for Levet.”
“Levet?”
“The gargoyle. He is in trouble.”
His fingers eased their grip on her shoulders, but his expression remained hard with warning in the wash of moonlight.
“Bloody hell. You risked your life for a deformed gargoyle who is not even worthy of being a part of his Guild?”
She stiffened. “There happen to be many of us who are unworthy to belong to a Guild or a clan or a coven, my lord. That does not mean we cannot possess friends who care for us.”
“Juliet—”
Victor’s words were brought to a sharp halt as a distinct sizzle flared through the air and then, without warning, Juliet felt herself being hauled to the ground. Victor covered her with his body just as a strike of lightning hit a building on the other side of the quay.
She heard the sound of distant shouts of alarm as humans rushed away from the unexpected shower of brick and glass, but with fluid speed, Victor was on his feet and scooping Juliet in his arms as he headed into the nearest warehouse.
There was the overwhelming stench of damp wool and smoke from the oil lanterns as Victor flowed past the stacked crates to the back of the long room, his movements silent and swift. Halting next to the heavy wooden doors, Victor set her gently on her feet and scanned their surroundings for potential threats.
“Is it pixies?” Juliet demanded, tugging down her loose shirt. Thank God she had possessed the sense to trade her corset and skirts for more suitable garments.
Victor tossed
aside his cloak and removed his elegant jacket and waistcoat, carelessly dropping the expensive, but restrictive, clothing on the filthy floor.
“Why would you suspect pixies?” he demanded.
“Levet claimed that they attract lightning.”
“It is true a nest might occasionally draw upon the energy of a storm to enhance their magic, but they are not capable of creating lightning from a clear sky.”
Juliet grimaced. Of course, it could not be a nest of harmless pixies.
“Then what creature is capable?”
“A mage.” He sent a questioning glance in her direction. “Or witch.”
She paused, then gave a decisive shake of her head. “No. There have been no spells cast. At least none in this neighborhood.”
“No magical objects?”
“Nothing with the power to—”
Again they were interrupted by that peculiar prickling in the air followed by a violent shake of the warehouse, as if the lightning had struck the slate roof.
Yanking her against his hard body, Victor wrapped his arms around her, his frigid energy pulsing through the warehouse.
“Damn. We must get out of here.”
“I’m not leaving until I have found Levet.”
He pulled back to glare at her in disbelief. “Do not be a fool. Whatever is creating such a violent disturbance in nature is beyond our ability to defeat.”
“I am not asking for your assistance.” She ignored the daunting implication that whatever was creating the lightning was more powerful than a vampire clan chief. “Indeed, I prefer to continue my search without your interference.”
“Juliet, you can come with me willingly or I will take you by force. In either case, you will not be allowed to endanger yourself.”
Jerking out of his arms, she glared at him with an unmistakable threat.
“Marquis DeRosa, if you attempt to force me to leave, I will never forgive you.”
His brows snapped together at her mulish determination, and for a moment Juliet sensed he was poised to ignore her warning. Victor was a vampire accustomed to being in command. He gave an order and it was obeyed, without question and with a nauseating amount of groveling. His instinct would be to toss her over his shoulder and to hell with her own wishes.
But, even as Juliet was preparing for a futile battle to keep from being hauled away from the docks, Victor muttered a curse in a language that was long dead and, closing his eyes, tilted back his head.
“What are you doing?” she demanded suspiciously.
“Attempting to sense the gargoyle.”
“Is he near?”
“Impossible to say.”
“Impossible or inconvenient?”
“Both.” Lifting his ridiculously lush fringe of lashes, the vampire stabbed her with an admonishing glare. “And before you condemn me to the netherworld, you are sensible enough to realize that there are hundreds of scents, most of them excessively unpleasant, that mask any particular trail.” He paused, an unmistakable tension etched on his beautiful face. “Besides, there is a strange energy that is interfering with my senses.”
Juliet studied the empty warehouse. “It cannot be a spell.”
“No, it is the natural magic of a demon, but I cannot tell you the species. I only know that it is strong and very aggressive.”
Perfect. Juliet unconsciously wrapped her arms around her waist.
“How can you know it is aggressive?”
“The hostility fills the air.” The cold fingers lightly touched her cheek as Victor regarded her with a brooding frustration. “Juliet, this is no game. We have to leave.”
With exquisite timing, another explosion rocked the warehouse, unexpectedly buckling the stone floor to reveal a gaping chasm.
A scream was wrenched from Juliet’s throat as the earth crumbled beneath her feet, and with a sickening sense of helplessness she plunged into the darkness below.
* * *
Victor cursed as he grabbed for Juliet, only to have her snatched from his grasp as the floor collapsed.
He didn’t hesitate.
For perhaps the first time in his very long existence, Victor leapt without considering the consequences, without seeking the potential dangers, his savage need to protect the vulnerable female simply overcoming his instinctive sense of self-preservation.
Astonishing.
Landing lightly on the balls of his feet, Victor moved silently to where Juliet sprawled on the packed-earth floor, her hand lifting to rub the back of her head.
“Ow.” She struggled to sit upright. “Where are we?”
He crouched next to her, his hunter senses capable of determining that she had a small cut on the back of her head and a few bruises, but that she was essentially unharmed.
His fangs lengthened, aching with hunger at the intoxicating scent of warm peaches and blood that abruptly swirled around him. Damn. With an effort, he thrust aside his potent reaction, instead concentrating on their surroundings.
The small cavern appeared to be connected to a series of tunnels that ran beneath the docks, the smooth walls and carved ceiling proving they were not natural, nor the work of mere humans.
“I assume we have intruded into the lair of some demon.”
“Lovely.” With an effort, Juliet rose to her feet, glancing up at the opening far above them. “How are we—”
Her words ended in a small squeak as he shifted with blinding speed to stand directly behind her, one hand clamped across her mouth and his arm wrapping around her waist to tug her against his chest. Bending his head, he placed his mouth next to her ear.
“Ssh.”
He felt her stiffen as she became aware of the ominous foreboding that drenched the air above them.
“What is it?”
Her words were muffled and so low that only a vampire’s heightened hearing could have heard them.
“Death,” he whispered.
“I am desperately hoping that is a metaphor.”
“Only if we are fortunate enough to avoid being caught.”
Keeping his arm wrapped around her tiny waist, he lifted her off the ground and began backing toward the nearby tunnel, calling upon his powers to cloak them in shadows. It would not entirely disguise their scents, but it would hopefully mute them enough to avoid attracting unwanted attention.
Silently he moved away from the cavern, edging deeper into darkness until he at last halted where the tunnel split in two directions. He gently set Juliet back on her feet, but he kept his arm firmly around her, absurdly needing the tangible comfort of knowing she was unharmed.
Glancing over her shoulder, Juliet tilted her chin, refusing to reveal the fear he could feel trembling through her body. His lips twisted as he ruefully admitted that he admired her courage, even as it threatened to drive him insane. After all, if she were a bit more timid they might even now be at his lair, spending the evening in a far more satisfying manner.
Wickedly, intimately satisfying.
“What are we doing?” she demanded.
“Waiting and hoping the creature passes on without noticing our trail.”
She nodded her head, then her brows tugged together as she noticed the thick scents that wafted from the far tunnel.
“Good lord, it smells of . . .”
“Humans.”
“Terror,” she softly corrected him.
His hand cupped her chin as he studied her delicate face. “And what would you know of such a thing, little one?”
“When I was young my parents and I were traveling through Africa. One night we entered a town where a slaver’s ship was berthed.” She shivered. “I will never forget the stench of desperation. It spread through the streets and tainted everything in its path.”
“Your parents permitted you to be near such evil?”
“Actually, my mother used me to sneak aboard the ship and release the shackles that held the humans captive while she cast a spell that made the slavers believe they were being chased
by hungry lions.” A small smile of remembered satisfaction curved her lips. “The last we heard, they ran straight into a tribal village that happened to take a very dim view of their townsfolk being sold like cattle.”
A cold fury clenched his stomach at the mere thought of what might have happened to her.
“Your mother sent you alone to release brutalized slaves?”
“She trusted that I was capable of performing an important task as well as teaching me to care for others,” she snapped, the raw wound of her parents’ death suddenly visible in her eyes. “Something I have forgotten far too often since . . .”
His fingers softened their grip to trail over her cheek, oddly feeling her pain as if it were his own.
“How did you become Hawthorne’s apprentice?”
“After my parents were murdered, I was determined to remain on my own.” A tremor shook her body. “It did not take long before I learned that humans are not the only creatures capable of great evil.”
“You were hurt?”
Her eyes clouded before she hastily lowered her lashes, as if she could hide her emotions from him.
“I was captured by trolls and sold to the highest bidder.”
Victor made no effort to contain the eruption of frigid power that filled the tunnels.
“Their names.”
She regarded him warily. “I beg your pardon?”
“Give me the names of the trolls.”
“They did not bother to share their private information and it no longer matters.” She gave a restless shrug. “I was fortunate that Lord Hawthorne was at the auction and purchased me.”
“Hardly fortunate,” he bit out. “The bastard has taken advantage of you and your talents for decades.”
“We both know how much worse it could have been.”
His jaw clenched. He wanted to deny the truth of her words. He detested the overly conceited bastard, and not just because he was a mage.
The man stood as a protector to this woman.
A position that belonged solely to Victor.
“Very well. I will concede there are worse fates than to be apprenticed to Hawthorne, but why do you continue to remain with him?” he growled. “The debt must be paid by now.”
Taken by Darkness Page 4