Darkness In The Flames (45 page)

There were plenty of lights shining from behind closed curtains. Some of which he knew came from Isolde’s suite. Vainly he looked for lights in the upper reaches—the servant’s quarters.

But other than the occasional flicker of a candle, all was dark.

As dark as his thoughts.

Where was she? She
had
to be in there somewhere. Servants were bustling back and forth in front of the large French doors that led to the extensive gardens—they were uncurtained and he could see inside quite clearly on one of his circulatory perambulations.

Trays of drinks were being ferried somewhere, but not the formal dining room. That was empty.

Nick sighed. There were so many rooms, so many places she could be hiding. Perhaps that was it—perhaps she’d delayed too long and was now awaiting the silence of the wee hours to make her escape.

Clinging to that hope, Nick settled in the best spot he could find. A small rise not far from the Towers, which offered a good vista of the surrounding landscape. If a rider left the grounds, Nick would see him.
Or her
.

Thoughts of Verity plagued him. Had he done her an ill turn by asking her to stay with him? To travel with him? Selfishly he could not imagine being without her anymore. And he was used to putting his own wants—few though they were—before any reasoned consideration.

Yet what a woman she was! She’d led a life that would have quenched the spirit of many other women. Gently bred, she’d triumphed over adversity, found herself a place to survive and even led a band of highwaymen in an attempt to improve their lot—and her own.

She was fearless yet delicate. Sexually aware and capable of a fiery passion that incredibly matched his own. She liked her lovemaking rough and he’d seen her skill with her whip. She’d not fainted or swooned when he’d told her his tale, but met his ardor with a hunger and desire that had overwhelmed him and sent him riding through their night on a wave of ecstasy.

He grimaced. Byron would be proud of
him
for that highly flowered turn of phrase.

Nick had, many years ago, been a believer in the vagaries of fate. If something happened, it happened for a reason. Not one immediately obvious to the participants, but a reason nonetheless. He’d not found any proof to the contrary.

Until Thérèse.

Her savage act had transformed him into what he now was. Where was the hand of fate in that deed? How had that fit into the mighty plan he’d once believed ruled them all? Was he being punished for some transgression? Taught the hardest of lessons—that life existed on other planes, some good some—
evil
?

He’d abandoned his youthful idealism, forced himself to come to terms with the present circumstances and made his way into the darkness. Now, weary and at the end of his patience—he’d found Verity.

Perhaps there was some greater hand at work after all. She’d made him
feel
again, forced him to accept that he still lived, differently to others, but lived nonetheless. She’d shown him passion, desire and love.

He knew it was building between them. Not the hyperbole of poets or the quiet docility of aristocratic couples. There was nothing tranquil or romantic about their loving. It was fire and flames and naked need, each bringing their own hunger to their fucking, each finding the fuel they needed as they met, parted and clung once more.

This was love, the moaning, clashing heat of two hearts blending as two bodies melded and two souls found each other in a maelstrom of blinding desire. Nick blinked at himself. He was getting altogether far too fanciful. There were other matters to attend to first.

It had been over an hour since he’d begun his vigil and his horse was getting fidgety—something matched by Nick’s own state of mind. Where the
hell
was Verity?

He judged the time to be well past midnight now. Something was very,
very
wrong. Then a sound caught his attention and his gaze homed in on the stables. Doors were opening, dim lights glowed and a closed carriage emerged. Nick noted they were moving quietly, almost surreptitiously, as if the driver did not want to attract any untoward attention.

Well, it was too late for that—they had
his
.

As soon as they were clear of the graveled driveway and onto the soft dirt of the lane leading away from the Towers, the horses were whipped up and the vehicle hurried down into the shadows of the forest.

Instinctively Nick tightened his thighs and turned his mount. Something was afoot within that carriage. He hoped like hell it was Verity making her escape. But the fact that it wasn’t a lone rider concerned him. Deeply concerned him. He could not help but follow it.

Blessing the darkness, he let his ears mark the route they took, soon turning from the main path into smaller lanes that took them deeper into the woods. He heard them slow as their way became rougher, heard the carriage jolt as it bumped over roots and ruts and finally heard the gentle “Whoa” as it stopped altogether.

Silently he crept down to a point where he could see it clearly.

There were two men—one driving and one within. They did not speak, but dismounted, the body of the carriage rocking as they jumped to the ground. Then they turned to the interior and pulled out something—something large.

A bundle, loosely tied with cord, swaths of fabric wrapping and obscuring whatever was inside.

“This’ll do.” One spoke softly. “Wolves’ll take care of the rest of the chore.”

“Good idea. I don’t feel up to digging tonight.”

Grabbing one end, each man swung the load a couple of times, picking up momentum until they had enough to toss the thing into the undergrowth a little way into the forest.

Their chore completed, they were back in the carriage and on their way home moments later.

His throat almost closed with fear, Nick let them leave then moved down to where they’d disposed of whatever it was they’d wrapped and tied up. He was so afraid of what he might find.

The night was still, the presence of the men having silenced any natural sounds as creatures froze until any danger had passed. Nick’s worst fears came to pass as he leapt from the saddle and rushed to the bushes only to hear a faint moan.

The bundle had landed beneath a clump of dying ferns, their brownish bracken crackling as he pushed it aside. The cloth was stained, dark damp patches marking its surface.

He tore frantically at the cords, finally loosening them and pulling away the material.

His horror choked him.

It was Verity.

Barely recognizable, she was covered in a skimpy and torn chemise, stained with blood and stiffening beneath his hands. Her face was battered, one eye completely closed and swollen, the other streaked with blood from a cut on her forehead.

“
Verity
…” It was a whisper that could have been a howl from his heart. Nick crumpled beside her and gathered her in his arms, heedless of her injuries or her gaping wounds.

Incredibly, she moved a little. “Nick?”

The word cost her and she coughed, a racking loose sound that sent bloody bubbles of air oozing from her lips.

“Don’t speak, love. I shall fetch help.”

Wearily she managed to shake her head. “Too late, I fear.” A drop of clear liquid formed in the corner of her open eye and tumbled across the matted hair as she wept. Her hand clutched at his jacket. “They found me. P-punished me.”

“I know love. Sshhh. Don’t think of it now. You’re here. You’re safe with me now.”

“Nick…”

“What my darling?” Nick didn’t realize he was crying too until a drop of pink tinged moisture fell on her breasts. The creamy skin was marred with weals and scars from a whip administered by a savage hand.

“I love you, Nick.”

Nick gulped back his pain. “I love you too. It was fate that we met when we did.”

She attempted a smile past lips that were swollen and torn. “Yes.” She winced as he held her even closer.

Oh God
. This was a torture he could not bear.

He stared down at her once more and a blinding thought crashed into his brain. He did not have to bear this agony.

Neither did she
.

Trembling, he caressed her poor damaged face. “Verity—listen to me. I can—I can save you.”

She slumped limply. “Too late. Can’t feel…can’t feel legs. Breathing…hard.” More bloody bubbles foamed around her lips and Nick knew she was right. Air from her lungs was mixing with blood. It was a significant and life-threatening injury.

“Darling, I can save you. But to do so I must—I will have to make you…
like me
.”

She managed a pale grin. “Yes, I like you.”

“No sweetheart, listen to me. Verity. Stay with me.” He focused his whole mind and heart on the woman dying in his arms. “I can make you like me. You will heal. You will be whole. But you will be a
vampire
. Like me.”

“Yes.” She stared at him.

Did she understand? “Verity, tell me it’s what you want. That it’s your choice to live with me in the shadows. I don’t want to lose you, but I don’t want to condemn you to a living hell either.”

“Be with you. Yes. Be like you. Yes.” She dredged up enough strength to clutch his arm. “You will never leave me?”

“Never.” It was an oath he knew would be simple to keep. Forever.

“Do it. Do it Nick. I would stay with you. Don’t want to…to…
die
…” Verity’s voice tapered off as a wave of pain swept her, shaking her body uncontrollably. Nick saw her one good eye glaze over and knew the time was close.

“I will do it, Verity. For your life and my sanity. ‘Twill not be pleasant, but you will survive. I cannot lose you now.”

Could she hear him? He had no idea. He just needed to voice some of the emotions roiling within his heart. Tenderly he held her close and pushed the bloody hair away from her neck.

Her pulse was weak and thready but still there—for how much longer, he had no idea but he wasn’t going to wait. His fangs were already emerging as he drew near to the tiny flutter. At least with her injuries she would feel no pain from his bite.

Steeling himself, Nick took a last look at Verity. She was a pale shadow of her former vibrant self, beaten savagely to the point of death. It was a fate none should ever suffer, but she had through no fault of her own. He had a pretty good idea who was responsible, but that was for later.

Right now, she was all that mattered.

Carefully, trying not to disturb her broken body more than he had to, Nick lowered his head to her neck—
and bit her
.

Pain.

Agonizing pain.

Verity felt her body give way and surrender to the inevitable. She was going to die. She didn’t sense the fangs that slid into her neck, nor the strength that trembled around her as he held her. She knew Nick was there with her, that was all that mattered.

If she had to die, best to do it in the arms of the man she loved.

Her spirit shivered and drifted for a strange moment, hovering above the shattered wreck of her body. For an infinite time she watched herself, puzzled as she saw Nick hold his wrist to her lips. How strange. This nothingness, this instant of disembodied floating.

Then a new sensation began, a pulling—a tugging on her fragile existence. It drew her back—back down into the shell that was Verity Chandler.

And the pain began anew.

This time it was different. This time it was a horrendously unimaginable wrenching of her soul, as if a thousand rats were gnawing at her guts, devouring her from the inside out.

She could not know that Nick had carried her to the safety of their lair. Nor did she know how he tended her, holding her while she vomited the last of her humanity into the dirt.

She did not know he cleansed her, bathed her tenderly and then later carried her to a nearby stream to wash the last of the wounds away into the flowing waters. She only knew she hurt. Her bones were red-hot iron, burning the muscles wrapped around them. Her brain throbbed inside a skull that seemed too small to hold it and every fiber of her being screamed with the sheer agony of it.

She wanted to howl but had no voice with which to do so.

She wanted to rip the scalding flesh from her body but had no strength to lift a finger.

She wanted to die and end the torture but even then she struggled to live. To survive.

Her ordeal was lightened by brief moments of something soothing, something cool and sweet that passed between her lips, bringing her periods of blackness and forgetfulness.

Then she would wake and the process would start all over again. Lost in her misery, Verity was only vaguely aware of the man beside her. A presence that offered comfort with a touch but could not stop the writhing roiling burn that engulfed her.

She had no idea that her body was healing itself, or that the injuries she’d sustained were all but gone.

She was lost, sunk in a deep abyss where pain was reality and reality an unattainable goal.

Finally, she sipped the precious nectar and slid into her darkest shadows, wondering—as she always did—if she had come to the inevitable end.

And
this
time, when she awoke, the pain was gone.

She lay still, exploring the sensation of awareness without agony. Perhaps she had died and this was the afterlife. But no, something was digging into her spine. She was still on Earth, still breathing.

Or
—oddly, there was a silence where there should have been a heartbeat. Cautiously, Verity opened her eyes.

She could
see
.

Immediately she recognized their cave-like burrow, although there was no light at all. To her surprise, she could see every nook and cranny as clear as if a lamp was lit. She blinked, then moved, turning her head and finding a face near hers, watching her.

It was Nick. He smiled. “Hello.”

Verity opened her mouth to speak, then to her horror she burst into tears and tumbled into his arms.

Nick caught her tightly to him, his heart overflowing with joy. He’d done it—Verity was still with him. Still—
Verity
.