Love Bites UK (Mammoth Book Of Vampire Romance2)

by Telep, Trisha

  Father roared a profanity and sent the far wiser dogs on with the horsemen. Then a single, isolated set of hoof beats told of his departure and Sarah allowed herself to breathe once again, just a little.

  “Beloved.” Edmund peeled her cloak back, sending another jolt of night-dark agony deeper into her gut. She bit down hard on her lip to stop the answering scream, not caring what she looked like.

  “’Fore God, sweeting, how much blood did you lose?” As ever, when he was truly disturbed, Edmund’s language escaped to his youth of three centuries ago.

  “Too much,” she answered honestly. Besides, she’d learned over the past seven years of working with him – first on the Underground Railway, then conveying spies into Virginia – that lies didn’t work with somebody who could read her mind.

  “I must take you to a chirurgeon. A doctor,” he corrected himself.

  Up ahead, the hoof beats had stopped and blended into a single massive drumbeat. Sarah stroked Edmund’s cheek, high up on his cheekbones near his steel-blue eyes, but not too close to the serpentine scar carving his face. The sky’s darkness was starting to claw at her vision, its edges tinted in crimson.

  “Not without endangering them,” she reminded her lover, gathering her words carefully to aid her ridiculously weak chest. “Remember how the authorities slaughtered all those who helped John Wilkes Booth last year.”

  His features turned to stone under her fingertips before he caught her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm. “Will you trust me to heal you, my heart? With my blood?”

  “Always.” Her heart melted into the longing in his eyes and she gave him the simplest answer in the world.

  He peeled back his glove and folded the empty leather, his breathing as ragged as her own. “Don’t watch, sweetheart. This might offend you.”

  Her eyelids had been drooping, letting her drift into a warm darkness surrounded by his wonderful sandalwood scent. But such specious nonsense made her blink in astonishment.

  “Are you worried I’ll be offended by your fangs?” she demanded, almost too astonished to keep her voice down.

  He shrugged and his chin jutted stubbornly.

  “When you’ve drunk from me so many times before, however lightly? Do you think I haven’t looked at least once?” She vehemently shook her head. “I love you, you dolt, no matter how long your teeth are or how bad your scars are – on your face, back, or elsewhere.”

  “Sarah, my angel.” His harsh features softened and took on that glinting smile she loved – until he frowned again. “But are you certain?”

  Her senses were swimming in a sea of grey mist. She truly shouldn’t have restarted an old argument, not here, not now.

  “But if it will help you, I won’t watch,” she conceded as graciously as possible. If nothing else, closing her eyes might allow her enough concentration to feel better. She laid her head back against his shoulder and tried that strategy.

  “God’s blood, Sarah, don’t you dare die now!”

  A sharp whoosh and the sweet, metallic scent of blood sprang into the salt air. He pressed his wrist to her lips – strong and vibrant with life, framed by woollen cloth and leather, and pouring blood like a rich, tangy fountain.

  She stared involuntarily, ice spilling into her stomach. There was so much more blood than he’d ever given her before, even during the most decadent love play.

  “Drink, my love,” he crooned, his voice more alluring than the finest silk velvet. “I’m a vampiro mayor with three centuries under my belt. You need drink very little of my blood to live.”

  Her head spun for an instant between a coal-grey abyss and red-spangled clouds. Edmund would never hurt her. In fact, he’d saved her life more than once during the late War between the States. She could trust him. More importantly, no matter what happened, she’d rather drink deep and remain with him to face the future.

  She kissed his wrist, shaping her mouth to his gaping wound. It was healing fast, the way his injuries always did, and was now barely an inch across.

  A mouthful of the scarlet liquor spilled down her throat. It was hot and tangy, sweet and pungent, something to savour and something to gulp all at the same time. Its scent sang through her nose and warmed her bones. It seemed as if flowers somehow dwelt in it and the promise of sunshine.

  “Edmund,” she murmured. Her fingers tightened around him with all the strength that a lifetime around Maryland’s finest horses had given her. The darkness fled and heat sprang into life deep within her core. “Edmund, darling.”

  She gulped greedily once again and he stroked her hair, his big hand shaking a little. “There now, my darling, there. All will be well. I’ll tell you when to stop so you won’t become a vampire, like me.”

  She muttered something, more concerned with the sound of his words than their meaning, and took another swallow. Giving him blood had been more pleasurable – ah yes, the joys of being his lover! – but drinking from him carried its own delights.

  The hounds bayed their hunting cry to the moon, long and loud. An instant later, the hoof beats seemed to stretch out into a vicious spike and pinpoint their exact hiding place with terrifying precision.

  Sarah broke free from Edmund’s life-giving wrist. Her lungs powered her again and she could now balance herself against him, if she still couldn’t lean her weight fully on her injured side. But her heart was beating so hard it could have rattled her ribs.

  “Damn their stubborn hides to hell!” Edmund half-raised himself in his saddle, then sat back down, making Firedrake sidle. “They should have followed Daisy halfway to Baltimore by now.”

  “Cassius and the pack wouldn’t want to leave me.” That dog loved to find her, no matter how well she hid herself. It had always been a game before but the friendly hound couldn’t know that this time she truly wanted to be left alone. He’d bring her father and troops from the capital with him. There’d be the devil to pay.

  A snow bank lurked inside Sarah’s bones, colder and heavier than after she was shot. But she could travel, albeit not far, thanks to drinking Edmund’s blood. Even so, where would they go? A hundred options lay before them but each one seemed guarded by a massive sword.

  “We’ll circle around.” Edmund gathered up the reins.

  She embraced the option that brought him the most safety. “You have to leave me behind.”

  “Never.” Below his carved cheekbones, his lips were a slashing line in the shimmering light.

  “Firedrake will travel faster if he only carries one.” She gave him the simplest excuse first, hoping he wouldn’t press her.

  “We will do well enough.” His words were as hard-edged as his jaw.

  “I cannot yet travel far,” she whispered, giving him the last of the truth. Wonderful as his blood had been for her, it hadn’t been enough. The musket ball was still lodged in her right shoulder and blood still seeped out.

  “I cannot leave you here!” His words tore through the night and ripped at her heart. “I never hoped to find anyone like you to love and cherish. I will not permit you to depart my life.”

  The hounds howled again. The horses carrying the troopers were near enough to be counted and their accoutrements named. Sarah shuddered from more than the night air but kept her eyes fixed on Edmund, willing him to be reasonable for once.

  “If you leave now, the hounds will stay with me. Father will only be concerned to guard me, not hunt you. You and I can be reunited later.”

  “How?” Edmund asked suspiciously, his eyes more shadowed than his hat brim could take credit for.

  “Father has spoken of sending me to my aunt’s, a thousand miles away. I will agree to go, then wait for you to come for me.”

  Edmund was silent, the skin on his face pulled taut.

  The tack of the pursuing horses resolved itself into a cacophony of stirrups and bridles and bits. Father must be riding Lookout, the only horse with enough stamina to last the rest of the night. Firedrake’s ears flicked forwards, seeking his compet
ition.

  Sarah’s hand involuntarily tightened on Edmund’s sleeve. He covered it quickly with his own.

  “Very well. You need a doctor and rest, which I cannot provide.” He kissed her fingers. “Tell me where to join you and I will be there.”

  “Texas.”

  “Texas?” His face suddenly seemed very white but surely that was impossible. His skin never changed colour, not even to darken or turn red under the sun.

  “Austin, to be precise.”

  He made a strangled sound, deep in his throat.

  Terror flashed through her, carving into the sullen, roaring pain in her shoulder like a butcher breaking apart an ox. What other option did they have?

  She watched him, hanging on every indrawn breath, every averted gaze.

  When he didn’t voice anything more, she went on quickly, one ear tuned to the sounds coming from the road. “My aunt gives a grand ball every New Year’s Eve for all her neighbours. If you come to that. . .”

  “I will be sure to find you.” He rubbed their linked fingers across his lips, his expression very grave. “I will come for you at midnight on New Year’s Eve, Sarah.”

  Fear, as sharp as ice, lifted her skin from her bones.

  “I will watch for you,” she assured him fiercely. “I will wait for you for ever.”

  A very small smile touched his mouth then he kissed her, sweetly and all too gently, barely brushing his lips over hers. She whimpered deep in her throat, begging for more of him. Instead he lifted his head and nuzzled their intertwined fingers. “Dear, dear Sarah.”

  Words of love and passion, of a desperate, futile plan to escape with him to London or Paris jumbled together on her tongue. The hoof beats of the hunters filled the marsh air, guided by the eager barking of the hounds. They must have almost reached the place where Firedrake had turned off the narrow road.

  Edmund flung up his head to listen, his hat brim’s shadow snatching away his face from her eyes. But he dismounted with a courtier’s grace and seated her on a fallen log, wrapping her up in his coat as if she were a queen.

  Sarah fought to hold memories of his warmth, his scent, his beautiful speed and grace. But she didn’t dare reach for him. He needed to leave. Even vampiros could be shot and killed.

  Back up on Firedrake, he paused the great stallion at the clearing’s edge in a patch of moonlight. The dogs were very, very loud now, while the horses of their enemies were splashing through the inlet’s heavy waters to reach them.

  “I’ll come for you at midnight,” Edmund said very clearly, “even if the devil himself should stand in the way.” He bowed, flourished his hat over his heart, and Firedrake reared, pawing at the moonlight as if marking the road back to her.

  Sarah half rose, torn between whether to go with them despite the blood crawling still faster down her back or yell at him to ride on quickly. He vanished into the forest before her wounded lungs could catch air from the mist.

  She sank back and buried her face in her hands, just as Cassius and her father erupted into the clearing.

  Austin, Texas, 31 December 1866

  “Governor Throckmorton.” Sarah sank into a deep curtsey and tried not to glance at the clock. For a moment, the spinning dancers and the candle flames from the overhead chandeliers blurred into a single, throbbing, fiery haze. Her stomach knotted but she desperately fought it back, promising it salvation later. Escape would come with Edmund but not for another hour.

  “My dear Miss Calvert, how lovely you look. My wife and I are very glad you’re strong enough to join us.” He bowed gallantly over her left hand, his narrow dark eyes assessing her face.

  “Oh, I would never miss my aunt’s grand ball,” she assured him, turning aside the former doctor’s unspoken enquiry. Arriving at her first Texas party with one arm in a sling made her conspicuous enough; publicly acknowledging weakness would make her even more noticeable. Above all else, she could not admit her true reasons for being here. It was best to blame her attendance on loyalty and a feminine longing to experience this truly remarkable gathering.

  Considering that the site of the party was a new hotel in a muddy town more frequented by drunken soldiers than reliable bankers, the atmosphere was remarkably urbane. Crystal chandeliers sparkled above burgundy velvet drapes and golden walls, an excellent orchestra played for the many guests, while fine wines enhanced the consumption of delicious foods. She’d ensconced herself in a quiet corner between the band and one of the great windows overlooking the side street below, from which to watch the whirling dancers and her Aunt Mary’s triumphal progress among the throng. She also hoped to escape her relative’s more determined efforts to keep her close at hand, no matter where or what she was doing.

  “May I introduce you to Don Rafael Perez, a long-time resident, and his lawyer Jean-Marie St Just?” The governor, who normally treated Texas’ military commanders with more brusque efficiency than courtesy, all but grovelled to the larger of the two men behind them. “We’re very lucky he – they – could join us tonight.”

  “Gentlemen.” Sarah curtsied again. Both men were tall and wore superbly tailored eveningwear, probably from London. But any resemblance ended there. Mr St Just was slim and handsome, of the sort foolish maidens sighed over. Don Rafael was big enough to lift an enormous cannon, while his remote eyes beneath a brutal scar made him appear judge, jury and executioner all in one.

  A thought brushed past her mind too quickly to be caught and vanished before she could examine it, but it was as if he’d heard her opinion of him.

  “Señorita Calvert.” Don Rafael raised a single dark eyebrow then bowed with an overly ornate flourish. “We are very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  She flushed, convinced he was mocking her, and flashed her fan before her eyes for a moment’s grace. How much would the governor – or her aunt, the social climber – care if she ruffled this rooster’s plumage?

  Thankfully, a ripple in the crowd provided a different distraction for her companions.

  A man appeared at his elbow, clearly an Indian brave despite his formal white-man’s clothing. He seemed caught between reliability and wildness, like a well-trained war horse waiting for the bugle to sound.

  Mr St Just stiffened, alarm flickering through his eyes although his features never changed. Don Rafael’s mouth tightened into a near snarl. For an instant, she thought she glimpsed pointed white teeth against his lips – like fangs. Impossible.

  “And now, if you will excuse us, señorita? Governor? I fear we have urgent business elsewhere.” Don Rafael inclined his head to them and departed, paying little heed to Throckmorton’s veiled pleas for a rendezvous.

  Heat pressed against her temples, heavy as a weighted cloth. A single bead of sweat gathered on the nape of her neck and sauntered down her spine.

  Dizziness kicked Sarah again, vile as any jolt she’d experienced on the stagecoach trip from Maryland. Her wound had reopened along the way, leaving her ridiculously weak. She’d had to countermand her doctor’s orders in order to come here tonight.

  “Are you sure you’re feeling well, Miss Calvert?” the governor enquired, his gaze passing quickly over her then sweeping the room beyond. She could almost hear him adding up how many important men he could speak to in his next few steps, now that he’d paid his duty to his hostess’s niece.

  “Entirely so, thank you, especially after I catch a breath of fresh air.” She tilted her chin up, denying any longing to sit down. If Edmund were here, even that narrow chaise would be an ocean of comfort with him beside her.

  “In that case, I’ll give you a doctor’s prescription and order you to step outside for a moment.”

  “In that case – I shall certainly obey, doctor.” She smiled back at him and dropped a very small curtsey in mock humility. If she’d dipped any lower, she might have swayed and fallen.

  She slipped between the curtains and onto the narrow balcony, a legacy of Texas’ Spanish ancestry. Its ornate stone railing was draped in heavy
blankets for colour, making it into a cosy nest from the waist down. The night was dark, with the waning crescent moon lurking behind scudding storm clouds. The narrow side street lay below her, full of heavy shadows except for a few stray beams of light creeping out of the hotel. Drunken revelry roared out of the saloons a few blocks away as men and their companions celebrated the coming year. The heavy curtains and thick walls confined the ball’s cascading music to the interior of the building. Here and now, all was quiet.

  One hour until midnight. Would Edmund come for her inside the party or outside? Would he be early or late?

  Men burst out of the hotel and into the side street. Their scuffle was accented by the sound of fists slamming into flesh.

  Could it be her lover? Sarah lunged for the railing of the balcony, her heart banging against her ribs.

  A man cursed, only to be cut off by a gasp. Not Edmund, thank God. Sarah’s pulse recovered enough that she could study the quartet facing her from the alleyway.

  “Damn you, let me go, you greaser.” A pig-faced man – his throat encircled by the Indian’s forearm, and a big knife at his throat – glared at the immaculate Don Rafael. The brute tried to spit but failed miserably.

  Mr St Just surveyed him coldly, then took up watch by the main street.

  Sarah shrank back below the balcony railing, her heart in her throat, but she could still hear them.

  “Not until you understand Texas law.” Razors would have been gentler than Don Rafael’s voice. “The only vampiros permitted in this town are mine.”

  Vampiros? He was a vampiro? Like Edmund? If she’d been feverish before, now she was colder than a glacier.

  “Greedy bastard! There’s plenty of food here for you and many other vampiros besides. Why won’t you share it with visitors, like other patrones? Or are you afraid I’ll kill you and take it all?”

  Somebody growled down below but not Don Rafael.

  Sarah glanced back at the window but stayed still, trusting in the merciful God which had kept her hidden so far.

  “You should have asked my permission before you came here and started breaking the peace, Michaels.” Don Rafael was unimpressed.