Blood Wicked (12 page)

Vivienne swallowed a gasp. Julian’s lips were stained red with blood. And a small rivulet of it dripped from his mouth.

“You fed,” Heath said flatly.

Julian pushed the hand away. He adjusted his clothing. She knew the gesture: his pride was insulted, and he was now posturing against Heath’s obvious dominance. “I’m a vampire. I don’t intend to starve myself like you do.”

She gasped slightly. She had not seen Heath bite anyone. Vampires were supposed to drink blood. But Heath had not bitten her. Or Sarah.

“Who did you feed from?” he snapped at Julian. “Did you leave them living or dead?”

She didn’t understand. If he himself was a vampire, why did he sound so angry?

Suddenly, Heath roared, grabbed Julian by the shoulder, and hauled the younger man across the hallway. As she stared, confused and shocked, the window at the end of her hallway exploded.
Her drapes flew inward, torn off their rod, and shards of glass rained down on the floor.

Somehow Heath had known her window was going to shatter, and he’d pulled Julian to safety. Now he spun toward her. He crossed to her so swiftly, she didn’t see him move. “Get back into your bedroom,” he commanded, “And lock your damn door.”

“Why?” She didn’t just take orders—

Some sort of black liquid was pouring in the window. Then the fluid split apart and she could see what it was. Bats. Hundreds of them. Their wings thundered as they whipped in through the broken window and raced down the hallway toward her and Heath.

What was happening? She had to get Sarah out of the house—

But Heath’s hands clamped down on her shoulders and she couldn’t run. “Go into your room. Sarah will be safe in hers. I can fight them off.”

“Good heavens, how?”

He pushed her back and stepped toward the flapping mass of bats. They circled him. “They want me,” he shouted to her over the buzzing sound of their wings beating. “I’ve been summoned. You will be safe. I have to go. I have to make sure the council doesn’t know what you are—”

Then the small black bodies whirled faster around Heath, until she could no longer see him. The bats suddenly turned and streamed out of the broken window. And Heath was gone, too.

She ran toward the window, but firm hands caught her shoulders and pulled her back. She stared up into the silvery eyes of the blond man called Julian. “Glass, Miss Dare. You would cut your feet.”

She looked down at the shards that could have sliced her
soles to ribbons. But she didn’t care about that. “What happened to Heath? Where did he go?”

“The bats took him. He’s been summoned by the vampire council.”

“Vampire council?” she repeated, her voice squeaking in disbelief. “A council of vampires sent hundreds of bats to … to fetch him?”

Julian nodded. “Of course. That’s how they do it.”

But she could see fear in Julian’s face. “What’s wrong? Is he in danger?”

“He could be. The council wants to destroy him because of his curse.”

Her wits were whirling. Curse? The curse of being a vampire? “Destroy him?” she echoed weakly. “He is … an immortal vampire.”

“We can be destroyed,” Julian said.

She felt sick. What would Sarah do if he didn’t return? She needed more of his blood.

Another fear, one Vivienne did not want to face, burned in her heart. She didn’t want to think of Heath in danger. She didn’t want to think he might be
destroyed
.

She knew this sensation. The way her stomach plummeted. The hard, sharp pain about her heart. She was beginning to care about Heath.

She knew nothing about him. Other than the mad fact that he was a vampire, and she was a demoness. Somehow, amidst all this madness and horror, she was opening her heart, when she had promised she would never be like her mother and ruin Sarah’s life by chasing after a man’s love. She had vowed she would love no one but her daughter.

“We must rescue him.”

Julian shook his head. “Impossible. No one can break out of the vampire council’s mansion. We just have to wait—and see if he survives.”

*  *  *

Propelled by an army of bats, Heath fell into the foyer of the quiet mansion at No. 10 Curzon Street. His knees cracked against the marble floor. His lungs heaved for breath. The bats had forced him to shape shift into his winged form to fly, then had herded him here with bites and scratches.

There was no doubt he was in trouble.

When had he not been in trouble with the blasted council? What frightened him more was that Vivienne and her daughter were now unprotected, unless he could trust Julian to take care of them.

The door closed smoothly behind him, and Hopkins, Lord Adder’s correct butler, stepped forward. Nothing fazed Hopkins. Not even the sudden appearance of a naked earl in the middle of the foyer. The butler held out a robe of black silk. “The council awaits, my lord. If you will be so good as to follow me.”

Heath barked a laugh. “As if I have a choice, Hopkins.” Hopkins had served Adder—and remained mortal—for fifteen years. “Why have you not run screaming years ago, Hopkins?” he asked, more to torment the staid man than for any expectation of an answer.

“My position is very satisfactory, my lord.” The butler’s shoes echoed in the enormous foyer as he began to lead the way. “I am most humbled by your condescension of an inquiry.”

Heath shrugged on the robe and followed. Adder was not a peer of the realm, but had fashioned himself as a “lord” in the vampire world. All six members of the council had taken the title. At a double door decorated with gilt, Hopkins stopped abruptly. “In here, my lord.”

Heath lifted a brow. “Not the usual council chamber?”

“Not tonight, my lord.” The butler retreated into shadow,
but Heath could see fear on the man’s face. He’d never seen any emotion crack the blank surface of Hopkins’s face.

Inside, Heath rolled his eyes at the sight facing him. A star had been drawn in blood upon the floor; a pentagram made up its core. A large gold bowl sat in the middle of the pentagram. It held silvery water, flat as a mirror.

“What do you want? To slap me on my arse for not finding you a villainess yet?”

He never walked in here without insolence on his lips. It wasn’t that he hated these men for the fact they planned to destroy him. That would be one of the mercies of his life. He hated them because they intended to kill his brother.

The vampire council sat in large, thronelike chairs arranged in a semicircle around the pentagram. He sauntered toward them. He might look unimpressed by them, but he was wary inside.

“Lord Blackmoor.”

Adder was the one to address him. He considered himself to be their leader. All six vampires wore black cloaks, with hoods over the heads shrouding their faces. Adder pushed back his hood to reveal his harsh features—the sharp cheekbones, a blade of a nose, large chin. Black eyes that didn’t reflect light like other vampires’ eyes but sucked it in. His coal-black hair reflected the candlelight; it was slicked back with pomade.

Adder’s voice was a cold slice through the stillness of the room. “You have found her. Last night, we convinced Julian to do his duty to us.”

“Convinced?” Heath lifted a brow.

“All right. Tortured. Julian informed us that you have found a courtesan who is also a succubus, who is the woman who drained the souls of the five peers. But you have not brought her to us.”

“I have no evidence yet that she is responsible for those men’s deaths.”

“She had sexual intercourse with them, and she is a succubus.”

“This is England, gents.” Heath tried to control his anger. No matter what, Vivienne
was
innocent. She hadn’t even known what she was. “We don’t condemn people without a trial and evidence. I repeat—slowly, so you won’t miss it this time—I have no proof. Yes, she took the men as lovers. But I know for a fact she was not with Lord Cavendish when he died. Normally when a succubus kills a man, it is because she has completely drained him during sex. My theory is the succubus is innocent and someone else is the killer.”

Adder’s hands tightened on the curved arms of his throne. “You know nothing. It is not your place to make theories. The woman is a tool for a stronger power. Your duty is to bring her to us.”

Stronger power? Hell, could it be Nikolai? “Not to have her killed without a chance to defend herself.”

“We do not intend to kill her. We intend to find out the truth. We must find out what entity controls her.”

“She doesn’t know. She can’t tell you anything.”

Adder surged from his chair. “Of course she knows,” he spat. “But you have not forced her to reveal anything. You were too busy having intimate relations with her yourself.” He lifted a wand from the arm of his chair and waved it.

The water in the gold bowl rippled, like the water in the Dartmoor pool had done. Then scenes of his night of lovemaking with Vivienne flashed upon its surface.

Damn these men. They’d had no right to watch something so intimate.

But Heath couldn’t stop looking at Vivienne. In the silver water, he watched her move beneath him, thrusting up along his throbbing erection, her breasts squashed against his chest. He saw her long, naked legs wrap around his waist. He saw her lift to him and arch in her climax.

God, she was exquisitely beautiful.

And of course he got a ruddy erection in front of the council. Fortunately he had the robe on. He heard the mutterings from the council. He heard chairs creak as the vampires responded to the sight of a nude, beautiful, unfettered Vivienne.

That was it. He was going to dump out their bowl of magic water and stop the voyeurism.

But before he could take a step, she moaned huskily in the image, and her eyes opened wide. She was looking at him, but he was climaxing and his eyes were shut. Her eyes shone for him.

She looked dazzled by him.

Stalking to an unlit candelabra, Heath yanked out one of the candles. He threw it into the pool. The splash and ensuing ripples destroyed the surface, and the erotic image disappeared.

He glowered at Adder, who must have arranged for the spying pool. “You had no right to watch her like that.”

Adder gave a mocking smile. “If you had obeyed, we would not have to.”

Heath could guess what was to follow. The damn council would use someone else to capture her….

Christ. Now he saw exactly why he was here. They had used the bats to get him away from Vivienne and had sent someone else to take her. Possibly Julian.

Which meant he had to get the hell out of here and back to Vivienne.

He closed his eyes and shape shifted. It was like catching fire from the inside out. His body stretched, twisted, and shrank, all in the space of a heartbeat. His scream roared out to the council. Then it was done. He stretched out his wings. Large wings, for he became a flying creature like a big bat.

He beat them fiercely and lifted to the ceiling. The curved panes of glass of the skylight beckoned; he could see stars beyond. He headed straight for the glass at full speed and exploded
through it. Shards ripped into his body. His blood began to flow.

No other vampire should have been able to break through the glass. It was one of the advantages to having as his sire one of the oldest and most powerful of the undead.

Heath heard the cries of fury below him, but he tipped his wings on a current of air blowing off the Thames and swooped toward Vivienne’s home.

“D
rink this.”

The harsh, cold command broke through Vivienne’s grogginess. She forced her eyelids to open. Faint light illuminated a beautiful face. A woman, a stranger with pale blond hair and black eyes, leaned close to her. The woman grasped her chin, shoved her head back with cruel force, and roughly pried her mouth open.

Vivienne struggled, but the woman’s grip was too strong. She tried to lift her hands, to shove the vile drink away, but her arms would only move an inch, and chains rattled, mocking her. Her limbs had been spread out and secured to a narrow cot. A velvet blanket lay over her body, but beneath the cover she was nude.

“No,” she croaked, but the fingers relentlessly held her mouth open and fluid splashed on her tongue. She desperately tried to spit it out. But she couldn’t. It was too thick, and it slithered down.

She shuddered. The taste was horrible, and it made her throat burn.

Where was Sarah? Was Sarah safe?

Desperately, she tried to ask about her daughter. But she could only manage to gasp, “Sar—” before her voice failed. She’d screamed and yelled for so long now she couldn’t even whisper through her dry throat.

How long had she been here, held captive? Hours? Or days? Everything was a jumbled mess in her head.

There had been a man in a hooded black cape. He had been inside her
house
. She’d tried to run from him, but suddenly he had appeared in front of her. And within the flapping circle of his hood he’d had no face. There was just a black void where his face should have been. Then he’d grabbed her arms.

She had screamed in panic. All her noise had finally dragged Sarah from a deep sleep. Julian had been fighting the remaining bats to protect her, but a group of cloaked men had burst into her house. Three had swarmed Julian, hitting him. Julian had collapsed; his body had suddenly stopped moving. His silvery eyes had stared blankly up.

She’d struggled wildly, screamed at Sarah to run. But it had been too late. The faceless men had caught them, brought them here, threw them in a dungeon….

She couldn’t stand this. She should be there for Sarah, to protect her. She wanted to hold her daughter.

And Heath. Heath must be dead, too, just like Julian.

Tears leaked. The thought of Heath gone made her heart clench, made her feel empty inside. But it was wrong.
Sarah
had to be the only person she cared about….

The burning began seconds later. It flared up in her tummy, then raced down to her quim. Vivienne pulled against the metal cuffs but she couldn’t break free. What was happening to her? Sweat prickled her skin beneath the velvet cover. Her skin began to tingle. To feel aware. She took deep breaths. Tension coiled low in her belly. Her cunny began to feel hot and it
throbbed, like a second heartbeat. She writhed on the bed. Her quim seemed to explode, raging into fiery, intense sexual desire.