Born to Bite Bundle

by Hannah Howell

  “I thought you were in Venice.” She tilted her chin, her expression defiant. “What are you doing here?”

  “At the moment I am enjoying the very fine view,” he husked, his gaze never wavering from her wide eyes.

  “I mean, what are you doing in London?”

  “I should think it obvious. ’Tis hunting season.”

  Her brows pulled together. “You are mistaken, my lord, hunting season ended weeks ago.”

  His fingers lifted to trace the tender curve of her neck, his mouth watering.

  “That all depends on the prey.”

  She shivered, pressing against the railing in a futile attempt to escape his lingering touch.

  “So you are here for the Marriage Mart?”

  “I am.”

  “You have developed a taste for tender young debutantes?” she mocked. “I thought you preferred a more well-seasoned meal.”

  His lips twitched at the bite in her tone. “There is no need for you to be jealous of my . . .”

  “Harem?”

  “Companions.” His fingers lingered at the pulse fluttering at the base of her throat, his senses drowning in the scent of peaches. “You need only say the word and there would be no others.”

  “How many times must I tell you that I will never be a vampire’s blood-whore?” she rasped, her eyes flashing with fury.

  Victor laughed. “Such crude language from such beautiful lips. Does it help you to deny your body’s hunger for my touch to pretend I am a monster?”

  “There is no pretense. You are a monster.”

  His lips twisted. He could hardly deny her claim.

  He was a ruthless predator who killed without mercy and was willing to use whatever violence necessary to maintain control of his clan.

  That did not mean, however, that he was incapable of appreciating a woman who stirred his most primitive needs. His gaze lowered to the soft thrust of her breasts, a shudder shaking through his body as the heat of her wrapped around him.

  No. It was more than mere appreciation.

  Having her in his bed, tasting the potent power of her blood . . . it was rapidly becoming a necessity.

  He groaned, his fingers following the enticing line of her bodice, his body hard with need.

  “And yet your heart thunders and your knees tremble when I am near,” he husked. “You cannot hide your reaction to me.”

  She trembled. “Disgust.”

  “Desire.” He lowered his head, his lips brushing over her bare shoulder. “It perfumes the very air.”

  “My lord, stop this at once,” she demanded, even as her hands lifted to clutch at his shoulders.

  It had been like this from the beginning.

  Two years ago Juliet had walked into a London ballroom on the arm of Lord Hawthorne and every other woman had faded to meaningless shadows. Victor had known in that moment he had to have her. And it had not taken his heightened senses to know she was equally aroused.

  Not that she was willing to admit as much.

  No, for her own inexplicable reason, she was determined to keep him at a distance.

  He growled as his arms wrapped around her tiny waist, hauling her hard against his body.

  “Come into the gardens with me.”

  “If it is time for your dinner then I suggest you find one of your concubines to slake your hunger.”

  “I do not hunger for my dinner.” His lips traced a path down her collarbone before skimming up the curve of her throat. “Such exquisite skin.”

  He felt her tremble in need, her hands pressed against his shoulders. “And I do not share my body any more readily than my blood.”

  Pulling back, Victor regarded her with a brooding gaze. “I traveled to Venice to put you from my mind, but it was an impossible task. You haunt me, little one, and that is unacceptable.”

  “What is unacceptable? The fact that I am the one woman capable of resisting your seduction, or the knowledge that you could make a fortune if only I would cooperate?”

  It was a familiar accusation.

  Juliet’s ability to sense the magical properties of objects, as well as people, was a rare talent that would be priceless to any vampire, and Victor had never hidden his desire for such a power. Why should he? Never again would he have to fear an enemy attempting to plot his early demise with a hidden spell. Or even accidentally stumbling into a trap. Juliet would always be able to warn him of the looming danger.

  And, of course, there was the indisputable knowledge that her talent was worth a fortune.

  The black-market trade for magical artifacts was a profitable, cutthroat business that kept any number of demons and humans living in luxury. Including the mage, Lord Hawthorne.

  Bastard.

  He caught and held her accusing gaze. “My wealth is more than sufficient, although I have never made it a secret that I covet your talent. A vampire’s one weakness has always been magic. With you at my side I would be all but invincible.”

  Her chin tilted. “Which is only one of many reasons that I will never allow myself to be bound to you.”

  He narrowed his gaze in sudden annoyance. “And yet you willingly offer yourself to Hawthorne. An arrogant ass—”

  “You should recognize an arrogant ass easily enough. You need only look in a mirror,” she rudely interrupted, her chin stuck at a stubborn angle. “Ah, but wait. You have no reflection, do you, vampire?”

  “And a mage,” Victor hissed, ignoring her insult.

  “My mother was a witch.”

  “An unfortunate circumstance I am willing to overlook.”

  The emerald eyes flashed with fury as Juliet thrust her way past him, headed across the terrace.

  “How vastly considerate of you, my lord.”

  With blinding speed he was behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and jerking her back against his chest. Growling deep in his throat, Victor buried his face in the curve of her neck.

  “I can be much more than merely considerate, sweet Juliet. I will give you whatever you desire . . .” His body stiffened in shock. “Bloody hell, why do you smell of gargoyle?”

  Juliet resisted the urge to struggle against Victor’s restraining arms.

  Despite the fact that she appeared to be a mere debutante among humans, she was in fact over a century old, and she had learned long ago that battling against a predator only inflamed his instincts.

  And the Marquis DeRosa was very much a predator.

  A beautiful, exotic, sensually lethal predator.

  Holding herself rigid, she pretended indifference to the thrilling pleasure of his unyielding arms wrapped around her and the brush of his lips against her skin. Not that she was foolish enough to believe Victor was unaware of her thundering heart and the searing excitement that coiled through the pit of her stomach. The aggravating demon was always swift to pounce on her uncontrollable reaction to his potent masculinity.

  “For God’s sake, stop sniffing me,” she gritted. “It is rude.”

  He nipped at her neck, his fangs scraping her sensitive skin.

  “Tell me where you came into contact with a gargoyle.”

  She closed her eyes, fiercely attempting to ignore the jolt of need searing through her.

  She had desired Victor from the moment she had caught sight of him across a crowded ballroom. Utterly and desperately. But she was not a fool.

  Women who were stupid enough to fall victim to a vampire’s seduction were doomed to become mere ruins of their former selves.

  “I am not your property, Marquis DeRosa, and I do not have to tell you anything,” she hissed.

  “Property? No. But you are mine and if you refuse to tell me, then I will simply ask the Guild—”

  With a sudden gasp, Juliet was turning in his arms, her expression one of horror.

  “No.”

  His brows lowered, the silver eyes studying her with an unnerving intensity.

  “You have not allowed that foolishly soft heart of yours to put you i
n danger, have you?”

  “Of course not.”

  He cupped her chin in a slender hand, his handsome features tightening with a dangerous impatience.

  “Juliet.”

  She blew out a resigned sigh. The clan chief rarely exposed his formidable power in her presence, but when he did, she was wise enough to avoid trouble.

  “A few months ago I discovered a gargoyle in Justin’s attics.”

  “Did you?” The silver eyes narrowed. “Hawthorne must have an object of great worth to go to the expense and bother of negotiating with the Guild to provide protection for his mansion.”

  “This particular gargoyle does not happen to belong to the Guild.”

  “Impossible. He would not be allowed to hire out his services unless he was a member.”

  Juliet grimaced. When she had first stumbled across the gargoyle, she hadn’t known what to think of the odd little creature.

  Like most other gargoyles, Levet possessed grotesque features and a thick gray hide that turned to stone during the day. He also had a long tail he kept faithfully polished and a thick French accent.

  Unlike most of his terrifying brethren, however, Levet was barely knee high, with delicate fairy wings that shimmered with brilliant blues and crimsons and were veined with gold. Even worse, his magic was unpredictable at best and inclined to cause more trouble than it was worth.

  As a result the poor thing had been banished from his Guild and treated as little more than a leper among the demon world.

  Juliet better than most understood the pain of never truly belonging.

  Which no doubt explained why Levet had so swiftly earned a place in her wary heart. She would do whatever was necessary to protect him.

  “Levet did not hire out his services. If you must know, he was refused entry into the Guild because he is . . .”

  A raven brow arched as she hesitated. “Yes?”

  “He is unusually tiny and considered deformed by his brethren,” she snapped. “Are you satisfied?”

  “A deformed gargoyle?”

  “Do not mock him.”

  The silver eyes shimmered with a wicked amusement. “I am not so clumsy as to insult your friend. My enjoyment is at the thought of Hawthorne’s reaction to a miniature gargoyle cowering in his attics.”

  “My household is none of your concern, DeRosa.” A deep male voice echoed through the darkness as Lord Hawthorne climbed the steps from the garden. “Neither is my apprentice.”

  Juliet rolled her eyes as Victor’s arm tightened around her waist and an icy smile curved his lips.

  The two men had been adversaries since Justin, Lord Hawthorne, and Juliet had arrived in London. Thus far the hostilities had not broken into open bloodshed, but Juliet sensed that it was only a matter of time.

  Until then they took ridiculous delight in goading each other.

  “Do you think to frighten me, mage?” Victor mocked.

  Justin slowly crossed the terrace, his hand smoothing down the charcoal-gray jacket that he had matched with a black waistcoat and white knee breeches.

  He was a large gentleman with a thick mane of hair that had turned silver centuries before. His face was square with strong features and black eyes that hinted at his ruthless will. Most women considered him handsome, although he would never claim the breathtaking splendor of Victor.

  Halting near the stone railing, Justin folded his arms over his chest, his expression smug. Which could mean only one thing.

  Gingerly Juliet opened her senses, not surprised by the unmistakable wall of magic that surrounded the mage. Justin might be an arrogant ass, as Victor claimed, but he was not stupid. He would never approach any vampire, let alone the powerful clan chief, without a spell of protection.

  Not that it would keep a determined vampire from ripping out his throat.

  “There will be no doubt if and when I desire to frighten you, devil spawn,” Justin taunted.

  A wave of icy power raced through the air, prickling painfully over Juliet’s skin.

  “Do not allow your ability to intimidate a few lesser demons to swell your head, Hawthorne,” Victor drawled. “It would be a lethal mistake.”

  Taking advantage of Victor’s brief distraction, Juliet slipped from his grasp and moved to the center of the terrace.

  “Since my presence is obviously superfluous, I will leave you two to entertain each other,” she muttered.

  Justin stepped smoothly toward her, stretching out his hand. “Forgive me, Juliet—”

  The words had barely left his mouth when he was abruptly slammed against the brick wall of the mansion, Victor’s hand wrapped around his throat and a pair of vicious fangs a mere breath away from his jugular.

  Shocked by the swift violence, not to mention Victor’s ease in breaching Justin’s considerable defensive spell, Juliet hurried to the vampire’s side, laying a cautious hand on his shoulder.

  “My lord, no,” she said, her voice a mere whisper. The air was thick with danger. It did not seem particularly wise to startle the lethal vampire. “I will not tolerate you creating a scene.”

  There was a tense moment when Justin’s life hung in the balance; then, with a low snarl, Victor tossed the larger man aside and turned to grab Juliet, his silver eyes flashing with a stark hunger.

  “Take heed, little one. I have attempted to cultivate patience—you are very young, after all—but my desire for you is swiftly consuming me,” he rasped. “I will not wait much longer.”

  Her heart slammed against her chest, but not in fear, despite the slender fingers digging into her shoulders and the savage glitter in the silver eyes. No. It was pure exhilaration racing through her blood.

  “Are you threatening me?” she breathed.

  He framed her face in his hands, staring deep into her eyes before lowering his head to cover her mouth with a harsh, shockingly possessive kiss.

  “A promise, nothing more,” he whispered against her lips; then, with a muttered curse, he abruptly released her and disappeared from the terrace with a terrifying speed.

  Unconsciously Juliet pressed her fingers to her lips, feeling . . . shattered.

  She had sensed the volatile emotions that lurked just below the surface when Victor was near. It was like standing in the middle of an alchemist’s lab, acutely aware that the brewing concoctions might suddenly explode.

  But she had never realized that his kiss, any kiss, could snatch the earth from beneath her feet.

  Hearing a faint noise, she smoothed the shock from her face. The last thing she desired was for anyone to guess her unwelcome vulnerability to Victor.

  She was prepared as Justin moved to her side, a scowl marring his handsome features and his dark eyes smoldering with hatred.

  The man was accustomed to being the master of any situation. He was not only a powerful mage, but with Juliet’s assistance, he had acquired a massive collection of magical weapons that would make anyone hesitate to challenge him.

  Now Victor had effectively proven that he was capable of ripping out Justin’s throat and leaving him another corpse in London’s gutters. It was little wonder his hand was not quite steady as he patted the precise folds of his cravat.

  “Damn the bastard,” he bit out. “How did he slip back to London without my knowledge?”

  Her lips twisted, her gaze skimming over the dark, seemingly empty garden.

  “A demon does not survive a thousand years without acquiring the skills necessary to travel unnoticed,” she pointed out dryly.

  Justin was far from appeased. “Skills or not, I intend to have a word with my servants. They clearly have grown lax in their duties.”

  “Lax? Highly doubtful,” she said. “They are terrified of you.”

  With a shake of his head, Justin made an effort to pretend that he had not just been tossed across the terrace by an infuriated vampire.

  “And you, Juliet?” he demanded, his fingers trailing a suggestive path over her flushed cheek. “Are you terrified of me?”


  She took an abrupt step backward. Justin was handsome and, when he made the effort, a charming companion, but she had no interest in becoming his mistress. As far as she was concerned, their relationship was strictly business.

  “Not particularly.”

  “Hmm.” He studied her with a rueful smile. “I wish I believed you, my dear.”

  With a restless shrug, Juliet turned to pace toward the edge of the terrace.

  “Perhaps we should leave London.”

  “You have a sudden desire to travel?” There was a hint of surprise in his voice.

  Perfectly understandable.

  Juliet had never made a secret of her aversion to their constant touring from place to place. It was not that she didn’t understand the need to avoid settling in one area for too long. Humans were not particularly perceptive, but eventually they did notice if their neighbors did not age. But it did not make the constant upheavals in her life any easier.

  Now, however, she could not deny a cowardly urge to flee from Victor and the dangerous sensations he inspired.

  “Why not?”

  “For one thing, there is a pesky war being waged throughout Europe, if you will recall, my love,” he drawled, “and while the winter months always put a damper on the generals’ enthusiasm for battle, if my sources are not mistaken, the foolish Archduke Charles is planning a futile uprising in Austria, which of course will spark all sorts of nasty retaliations. We can only hope that Vienna is not damaged by his stupidity.”

  She shrugged. “The Continent is not the only place beyond England. We could visit India or the Americas or—”

  “Juliet, you are well aware that I dislike the colonies,” Justin interrupted, a hint of impatience entering his voice. “The society is tedious, the entertainments are rustic, and the natives little better than savages. Besides, my negotiations with the fey are not going as well as I would desire.”

  Her heart sank.

  For all of Justin’s magic, he was still human, and it was only with a potent mixture of rare herbs that he managed to hold back his mortality.

  Herbs that could only be grown with fey magic.

  Which meant that Justin would not dare to leave London until he was certain he had enough of the potion to last him for several weeks, if not months.