Silken Rapture: Princes of the Underground, Book 2 (17 page)

He strode toward the door, Aubrey following behind him. He dreaded having to contact Saint about this, but he did so, nonetheless, reaching out telepathically to his Sevliss brother in order to break the alarming news.

Isabel lay on the couch and watched Blaise as he studied the maps lining the wall. He’d been restless when she entered his study that afternoon. He would try to converse with her, but then his gaze would wander back to the maps on the wall. Isabel had finally given up trying to speak to him and curled up on the couch before the fire.

“I’m sorry,” he told her gruffly, glancing back at her after several minutes of silence.

“It’s all right. I know you’re thinking about that man Morshiel kidnapped—Isi. Nothing has been discovered since the attack three days ago? Nothing at all?”

Blaise shook his head, his back to her as he faced the maps again. She sensed the level of tension in his body. Ever since she’d asked him if he did not feel the urge to take her blood, he’d seemed more uncomfortable around her. Or maybe it was just his worry about Isi’s disappearance that had him so tense? They’d reached a comfort level, spending time together here in his study during these cozy afternoons. She regretted losing that closeness in their friendship.

She wished it to be more than friendship. Wished it with all her being. Everything about him fascinated her—his gruff exterior that contrasted so poignantly with his quiet patience with her, her sure knowledge of his grief, and her admiration of his courage for persevering despite his suffering.

She regretted that he would not act on the strong sexual charge that connected them like a live wire. She had the most overwhelming urge to touch him, to make love to him. The fact that he wasn’t entirely human didn’t seem to be dampening her desire in the least. She experienced none of the awkwardness she might with any other man from her past before the ice had been broken following sex. She felt closer to Blaise at times than any of her previous lovers, even though they’d never been intimate. Of course, it was ridiculous to consider Blaise in the same manner she would mortal men.

Still…he wanted her. She could see the desire in his eyes as clearly as she saw the nose on his face.

She stood from the couch and approached him from behind. He turned with preternatural speed when she reached out to touch him on the shoulder. He faded back, avoiding her hand.

“Do you think I have the plague or something?” she asked, insulted.

“Of course not.”

“I know you are worried about Isi,” she said feelingly. “But are you also withdrawing from me because of what I said the other day? About whether or not you ever wanted to take my blood?”

“I am not withdrawing from you. You are here with me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“Do you have any idea how guilty I feel about Isi? Saint is like a brother to me. Isi became my responsibility once he entered the territory of the United Kingdom. I have failed both of them,” he muttered under his breath, staring at the complex depiction of underground tunnels.

Isabel had already understood from their discussions that the maps contained not only the generally known tunnels, but secret ones as well. She glanced at Blaise’s rigid profile, sensing his frustration, feeling the weight of his worry. If only there was something she could do to help him…

“Lester Dee mentioned something to me once about a psychic who could locate objects just by using a map,” she said.

Blaise turned to her slowly, his gaze turning sharp as a razor. “Are you saying you could possibly locate Isi on these maps by using your power?”

“I don’t know for sure. I’ve never tried it before,” she admitted, hoping she wasn’t building up his expectations too far.

“Will you have to touch the maps?”

“Yes.”

“Won’t it hurt you?”

“It won’t be anything I can’t handle. I have to touch things for Lester’s research, after all.”

“I would deeply appreciate it if you would try,” he said after a moment. “If it pains you too much, I will know it. I’ll stop it.”

She smiled. “I have never told you that it can cause distress to touch objects. Why are you so worried?”

He glanced away. “I have heard from Michael Lord, who researched your history and your power, that it can be painful for you. Besides…you wear the gloves, so it must be unpleasant.”

“It’ll be all right,” she murmured, touched by his concern.

He stepped back, looking hesitant. She worked her glove off her right hand. She paused with her fingertips a few inches above one of the well-worn maps.

“Is there anything you can tell me that might guide me?” she asked Blaise.

“Maybe. Morshiel tends to form hideouts in tunnels he and the revenants have managed to burrow over the centuries that are above or below the Tube. Sometimes they encounter natural caverns where they hide out for years without our knowledge. Other times they camp out in manmade structures, like the old brick-lined sewers or openings around the ancient structures left by the Romans. Morshiel forces his revenants to relocate his headquarters and belongings frequently. They live like outlaw gypsies, with the bizarre additional fact that Morshiel is bloody rich. His power is limited in the surface world, but it’s still significant. He can influence humans to lavish him with money and expensive items. He spends outrageously on luxurious furniture and priceless treasure. In his delusional mind, he makes the sewers a kingdom. He believes himself to be a sort of unfairly banished monarch. You’ve never seen anything like it. Infiltrating one of his abandoned hidey-holes is like discovering the Rat Prince’s palace,” he said dryly.

He waved at the maps. “We have discovered many of his old hideouts, and added them to the maps, but there are many more we know nothing about. The only thing I can say for certain is that he doesn’t ever stay for any extended period of time in the Tube tunnels. He hunts there for human prey, but he doesn’t stay there for long.”

“Above or below the Tube,” Isabel clarified under her breath. “I will have to concentrate on Morshiel. I have an image of him in my mind. I have never seen Isi, and I need a point of focus.”

Blaise didn’t seem pleased about that, but he nodded.

She touched the map.

It happened quicker than she’d expected—quicker than when she touched most objects for Lester’s research. Perhaps it was because the maps had become a distilled form of knowledge, given Blaise’s long history and regular focus on them.

A train roared through her mind followed immediately by a swarm of human consciousness, tramping feet, people rushing to make their train, worrying about being late—a veritable sea of surging thoughts and feelings.

“No, no, leave it…please,” she said shakily when she felt Blaise’s hand on her forearm, trying to pull away her hand. Had she cried out? The effort it took her to move her consciousness a layer lower than the Tube line caused a sweat to break out on her brow.

She inhaled raggedly, catching her breath. There was peace in these lower strata of the earth. Peace and the sound of music. It was unlike anything she’d ever heard.

“I hear…I hear singing,” she whispered. “It’s so beautiful.”

“You hear the sound of the earth’s soul,” Blaise said. The sound of his voice steadied her. She shifted her fingers on the map and her consciousness moved too, as though she stood in Blaise’s study and flew at preternatural speed beneath the earth at once. Blaise shifted his hand slightly on her arm and fear leapt in her breast.

“Don’t let go of me. Please. You’re keeping me anchored,” she said in a strangled voice. His grasp on her tightened. She inhaled with effort. “It helps.”

“I’ve got you,” he reassured, his low, gruff voice near her ear.

And she did feel him there with her as her mind zipped through soil and rock as though it were a dense sort of air. She moved her fingers more rapidly on the map, starting to feel claustrophobic in the absolute darkness, reaching and reaching, but never finding anything on which to fasten her awareness.

“Help me,” she whispered to Blaise. “Think of Morshiel.”

She gasped. He was giving her his thoughts, helping her find her target. Impressions bombarded her consciousness. His thoughts of Morshiel were startlingly sharp and precise. Before she had time to wonder at the difference in Blaise’s consciousness from that of a human’s, it was as if they dove headlong into an open space. Everything came to a jerking halt, rattling her.

Morshiel stood naked, wearing only a leather harness around his hips and thighs, a sheathed blade at his right outer thigh, his long legs spread slightly, his buttocks exposed. She had the vague impression of two people kneeling before him, giving him oral sex. She had no time to take in much of anything else because suddenly Morshiel turned and looked directly at her with a viper-like stare.

Blaise lifted her hand from the map and she flew from the underground chamber.

She stood there for several seconds next to the map, dazed and panting. It took her a moment to orient herself again, the experience of flying beneath the earth and Morshiel’s sharp stare had been so real.

“He’s below the Jubilee line. I know the approximate area,” Blaise said.

She looked up at him. He stared at the spot below where her fingers had just been resting. It surprised her to see that sweat had gathered on his brow, as well. He really
had
been side by side with her, sharing in the experience. A feeling of closeness to him—of a deep connection—swelled in her breast.

“He saw me,” she said.

He glanced at her anxiously. “I know. I have to go. Perhaps he’ll understand his location has been discovered. If he does, he’ll pull out before we get there.”

“Let me go with you,” she said when he started to leave. “I’ll be able to guide you with my touch once you get in the general area…help you find the entrance to his location.”

“No.”

“But—”

He surprised her by abruptly turning, reaching out and touching her face in a caress.

“I would never allow it. Never. You are far, far too valuable, Isabel. Far too precious.”

He blinked, as if he’d been surprised by his gruff outburst, before he turned and hurried out of the room. She stood motionless, staring after him for a full minute, still feeling the heat and imprint from his fingers on her cheek.

Aubrey had quickly learned that the sweetest treat of playing the role of traitor was Morshiel’s cock. It was an uncommonly beautiful cock, and the things Morshiel could do with it were sufficient alone to commit a lifetime of betrayal.

Presently, he was being given the privilege of sucking that cock—and it
was
a privilege, for Morshiel was selective about whom he chose for the pleasure. He shared this delightful duty with an uncommonly pretty mortal woman.

When Morshiel and the several Scourge had attacked Aubrey and Isi last night just a few feet away from Aubrey’s parked livery service, Aubrey had put up the show of a fight for Isi’s sake. Once Morshiel had knocked Isi unconscious, his mood had become almost boyishly ebullient.

They’d been in the process of stuffing Isi’s bleeding body into the back of the car when an unsuspecting woman had stepped around a stone column and seen them.

“Take her,” Morshiel commanded one of his revenants in a careless tone as he opened the passenger door of the car.

He’d noticed Aubrey’s uncomprehending glance. “She looks a tasty treat.”

Aubrey doubted the brown-haired female, whose name was Chesa, had long to live, but at least Morshiel had used his ascendancy to calm and arouse her. She appeared to be completely happy as she pistoned her mouth up and down Morshiel’s large, glistening member. Aubrey enjoyed watching the lusty display, and just when his longing overwhelmed him, Morshiel would chuckle and transfer his cock to him.

He did so now. Aubrey moaned in satisfaction at the feeling of Morshiel grabbing a handful of his hair before he thrust into his mouth. He was rougher with Aubrey than he was Chesa, bucking his hips and forcing his cockhead into Aubrey’s straining throat.

“That’s right. Show Chesa how a man gives head,” Morshiel ordered in a tone of dark satisfaction. “Show her how you like to get it.”

Aubrey knew how he liked it, so he gave it that way in return, making a meal out of prime cock, using his teeth occasionally in a subtle scrape that sent Morshiel to growl in a mixture of warning and bliss. He sucked until his jaws ached for it, enjoying being used to give Morshiel pleasure. He was triumphant when he felt his member swell even larger in his mouth, thirsty for come. Not because Morshiel’s semen was vitessence-rich, but because it was the tangible symbol of his satisfaction…of his power.

Suddenly, however, Morshiel held his head fast with his grip on his hair. His cock slid from Aubrey’s vacuuming mouth, but before it did, he felt a shock go through Morshiel’s body.

“What is it?” Aubrey asked sharply when he saw Morshiel turn his head.

“Someone was here.”

“What?” Aubrey asked, confused.

“I just saw…the woman.”

“Isabel?” Aubrey asked. He wasn’t sure how he knew to whom Morshiel referred. Perhaps it was the tinge of pure awe in Morshiel’s tone. Aubrey started to stand, alarmed and curious, but Morshiel turned quickly and pushed him back to his knees. His cock hung at an angle from his body, the swollen shaft and heavy head pulling it downward. Morshiel slid his hand along the back of it. When the woman moaned and opened red, puffy lips, he slid his cock between them.

“Morshiel? What are you doing? What did you mean you saw Isabel?” Aubrey asked, his mind spinning. Morshiel seemed too intent on his pleasure to answer, though. He glanced around Morshiel’s flexing hip and saw only the empty chamber. Had Morshiel been hallucinating his fantasies into reality? Surely he had been, for how could Isabel be here, in this secret chamber?

His attention fractured as a shudder went through Morshiel’s body. The woman gave a little stifled shriek, her eyes going wide, as Morshiel began to erupt. He held her long hair at her nape in a restraint and partially withdrew the convulsing member.