The Rest Falls Away (36 page)

She tipped his head to the side gently. He had no choice but to let her.

She stepped closer and now he felt her breasts and the curve of her mound pressing into his spine and his rear. He moved his hand between himself and the wall, touching the
vis bulla,
and breathed.

His neck was open to her. She was tall, tall enough to press her lips, one cold, one hot, to the skin there. He shuddered when she touched him. Closed his eyes. Waited.

She toyed with him. Laughed against his skin, breathed on its moisture, scraped him with one sharp incisor. Her heartbeat became one with his. She melted into him from behind. His shirt was wet everywhere. He could hear nothing but her pulse.

When she ran her long, sharp nails from his shoulder to the base of his back, he felt his shirt give under them. It fell away beneath her hands, and when she pressed up behind him again, touching his bare back, he wanted to let go. Stop fighting.

The smell of his blood from her scoring nails filled his nostrils…she closed her lips over the edge of his shoulder where the cuts had begun, and where they were the deepest, and he felt her tongue slip through the wetness.

She sighed, and her lips curved with pleasure against him. “Maximilian…you taste like no one else.”

He marshaled his strength. “I do not consider that a compliment.”

Laughing in delight, she sucked hard at his shoulder. “Taste.” She pulled his head back at an impossible angle, and covered his mouth with her blooded lips.

He tasted it, the heavy iron flavor, her cold, slick tongue. He took her kiss and wanted more.
Damn it.
He wanted
more.

Her hands slipped around under his arms, over his belly. They curled up over the center of his chest, raising the hair that grew there. He arched back, lifting his chest, tipping his head back at the command of her hands. They slipped apart, to the sides and over his nipples, and she jerked, startled, and removed them. Laughing.

“That is another thing about you, Maximilian…you are the only one to give me pleasure and pain, rolled into one.” And then she pulled away, stepped back. He felt the blessed coolness of her absence on his bare skin.

He breathed deeply, resting his forehead against the wall. When she brushed his
vis bulla,
her pain had given him a needed jolt of strength. It had been like that every time before…she craved that combination of pleasure and the unexpected zaps of pain when she came near the holy silver cross. She liked the power it gave him, too, the added strength that allowed him to fight her when he touched it.

Because she knew she would always win.

Max became aware she was speaking to someone and he turned, focusing, in time to see Lilith's gleaming white smile. “I'm afraid you will have to wait a bit longer, dear Maximilian. My guest has arrived, and they are showing her in.”

Max turned from the wall, the fog and rapture sliding away. Things had gone from worse to unimaginable. The guest could only be Victoria.

+ 26 +

The Marchioness is Received

Victoria shifted the heavy
satchel over one shoulder, holding its bulk against her hip as she followed the two Imperials into a large chamber. She had to blink to allow her eyes to adjust to the dark room after being in the morning sunshine.

The Imperials, swathed in black from head to toe, had led her from the meeting place Lilith specified into the cavernous room of a ruined estate ten miles outside of London. Kritanu and Briyani, who had accompanied her, had been ordered to remain with the carriage—an order, Victoria suspected, they would ignore as soon as the vampires had taken her within.

The windows were painted black and covered with boards to keep the dangerous sun from filtering through. Inside, the cool, damp air and low light made her skin feel clammy, but when they rounded the corner into what appeared to be a receiving room, there were blazing fires in large fireplaces at every corner.

Sunlight burned the undead; fire did not. A vampire could walk through a blaze and be unscathed.

At one end of the chamber was a low dais that made her think of a throne room, or a great hall in a medieval castle. In fact, this room, with tall windows boarded over and a ceiling that stretched into a large black-painted glass dome likely had been the hall at one time. Vampires of all types were in the room, perhaps two dozen of them all told: regular undead, Guardians, and several Imperials. To the side of the dais was a large shallow dish that held a tall, roaring blaze, giving heat and illumination to the woman who sat on a massive chair in the center of the dais.

Lilith, of course.

Victoria looked at the vampire queen, meeting her blue-red eyes for only a brief moment, as Aunt Eustacia had warned, and then letting her attention skitter over the rest of her figure—which was slender, almost emaciated. Her skin was the blue-white hue Victoria had expected…but her hair, long and rippling down either side of her shoulders and over her breasts, was brilliant copper. It burned the eye, it was so bright.

She must have been older than Victoria when she was turned undead; her immortal age appeared near thirty. She was not beautiful, but horribly elegant. The lids of her eyes were so thin and cold they were purple. Her cheekbones jutted out, forming the same colored hollows below.

Her lips curved in a welcome smile, the gray-blue of them plump and sensual. Her hands, gathered in her lap, boasted long, pointed nails. And she had five dark marks that, even from her distance, Victoria could see formed the span of a half-moon from the top of her cheekbone to the side of her chin.

Lilith the Dark was not so much dark as she was burning and frigid at the same time—ethereal, with her fair skin and narrow wrists, sinewy neck, and long, elegantly crossed legs.

“Victoria Gardella. How pleased I am that you have joined us.”

“Where is my husband?” Victoria's voice came out strong and bold.

“Where are your manners, Marchioness?”

“I am here to make an exchange, not to have tea.”

“Well, then let us get on with it. You have interrupted my pleasure.”

Victoria followed Lilith's gesture and stopped breathing. Max.
That was Max.

He stood to one side of the dais, having been in the shadows until Lilith's gesture caused someone from behind to jab him forward. His shirt fell in shreds about his waist, his arms hung at his sides. Blood streaked his shoulders, and his muscular, bare torso was covered with dark hair, slashing scars, and sweat. Her attention focused on the glint of silver that pierced one flat nipple. As she gaped, he raised his face and looked at her. His eyes were flat and chill.

Rattled and suddenly terrified, Victoria turned her attention away and back onto Lilith, who had been watching with interest. “Two Venators as guests at one time. I have never been so fortunate.”

“Where is my husband?”

Then she heard him. “Victoria!”

She spun and saw that he was being brought in the room, chained—as if poor Phillip could do any damage to the creatures in this room!—but alive. And walking on his own.

Victoria turned back to Lilith. “He does not need to be chained. Let him loose and we will discuss our exchange.”

“Discuss? There is nothing to discuss. If you wish to have your husband back, you will provide me with the Book of Antwartha.”

Victoria smiled at her. Wayren had been at Aunt Eustacia's when the message came from Lilith. “I will provide you with the book when you have met my requirements. The protection has changed, and the book must be given to you freely, or it will do you no good. You cannot take it from me or it will crumple into ash.”

Lilith returned the smile, and Victoria did not like the expression in her eyes that accompanied it. “Ah, a formidable negotiator, and one who plans well. I would have expected nothing less from Eustacia's blood.” She whipped her hand, and the Guardian holding Phillip dropped the chains from his wrists. “Of course, that assumes you really have changed the protection and aren't merely bluffing.”

“Is Sebastian Vioget here as well?”

“He is not. I sent for him, but he did not see fit to accept my invitation.” Lilith's eyes narrowed. “I suspected he was the reason you were able to come by the Book of Antwartha so easily.”

Victoria didn't think the events of that evening could be called easy, but she said nothing.

“He told you how to get the book, did he not?”

“Do you think I would be foolish enough to believe a man like Sebastian Vioget?”

Lilith leaned back in her chair, laughing in delight. It was like smoke—delicate, penetrating, and stifling. “Ah, I have missed matching wits with a woman. Your aunt was a formidable opponent during her time as well. As for him” —she glanced at Max— “he is a man, and but nevertheless has certain…weaknesses…that are a pleasure to exploit.” Her attention returned to Victoria, steady and contemplative.

The hair rose along her arms, and Victoria knew she must keep control of the conversation. Now she would have to get both Max and Phillip to safety. “I have the book here, Lilith, but my terms are different from the ones you offered in your message.”

“Indeed. Why does that not surprise me.” Lilith made a slight movement, and Max moved forward as if he had lost his will. She closed her fingers around his wrist, barely able to fit them there, and manipulated him so that he knelt in front of her, on the far side of the fire. “Let me guess. You want to guarantee the Venator's safety as well.”

Victoria nodded.

Then Lilith's eyes changed. Not color…no, they stayed sapphire blue, encircled with a thick red ring…but something else in their depths moved. Victoria could not look away. She was trapped, felt soft and foggy. The floor slogged beneath her. The air billowed, pushing in on her.

“What is it you
really
want, Victoria Gardella?” Lilith's voice came from far away…yet it was in her ears, for her alone. Her mouth didn't move. Her eyes did not blink. “Your husband?”

Phillip moved next to her, a puppet responding to her cue, and Victoria touched his arm. He was cold.

She wanted to pull him to her and keep him safe. They bumped against each other, and somehow through the fog Lilith had wisped around her, Victoria felt a heavy weight in his pocket.

Victoria lifted a hand and pressed her eyelids closed, breaking the connection with Lilith. A tremor passed through her as Lilith struggled to regain control, then surrendered. Momentarily. Victoria must not look at her again…but it was impossible when those eyes seemed to be able to catch her gaze at will.

“Why do you want the book so badly?” Victoria asked, slipping her hand into Phillip's pocket and closing her fingers around the pistol. Foolish of the vampires not to have relieved him of it, even if it was harmless to them. Greatly fortunate for her, however.

“There are many secrets within,” Lilith told her conversationally. She stroked Max's unruly dark hair, clutching a handful and pulling until he rose to his knees. “I'm particularly interested in the spell that will enable me to raise an army of demons on the night of any full moon. And then there is the decoction I can drink and give to my servants so that a Venator cannot detect our presence. That would be most helpful, I am sure you realize.”

Without warning, she yanked Max's head aside and sank her teeth into his skin.

Victoria watched in horror as the vampire queen drank from the distended veins, her needle teeth sliding in like a knife through butter. Max closed his eyes. She could see him struggle to breathe, watched his broad chest rise and fall, the silver
vis bulla
trembling with his efforts. His hands closed in on each other. His throat convulsed.

Next to her Phillip stirred, his breathing deepening, becoming ragged as his eyes fixed on the scene. Victoria tore away to look at him, saw the feral gleam in his gaze and the unconscious gaping of his jaw…and she knew. Horror sank into her even before she saw the gleam of his fangs…the glint of red in his eyes.

“No!” she screamed.

Lilith released Max and he sagged to the floor. She smiled, her white teeth gleaming. She'd fed elegantly; not a drop of red anywhere.

Phillip had fallen to his knees, panting, next to Victoria.

His eyes were wild, tinted red, for he was still newly undead, and need burned off him. Victoria could smell it, and it sickened her. Her stomach heaved and her head spun.

She clutched the satchel and forced her fingers to still from their trembling.

“You do not like my little surprise? I am sorry that I didn't allow him to finish feeding before you arrived. I only allowed him to sample me in order to take the edge off his appetite. He will still enjoy you when I give him the word.” She gestured at Phillip. “Rise! You will have what you need when the time is right.”

Phillip obeyed and stood next to Victoria, and she realized what Lilith intended when he smoothed a hand possessively down her arm. Her stomach pitched.

“Now we will negotiate, my dear. Although I don't know that there is much room for that. As you can see, I hold all the cards.”

“I still have the book.” Although what good it did her, Victoria did not know.
Phillip.

What have I done to him?
By marrying him, by giving in to her selfish needs, she'd brought him here.

Grief numbed her. He was gone, and she could not get him back. He was damned. Evil. Immortal.

“Yes, but the book is worth more to you if you give it to me than if you keep it.”

Victoria struggled to turn her attention from the shock and horror of her husband's condition and focused on Lilith. “What do you mean?”

“With the book I can give you what you want, Victoria.” Lilith's eyelids sank lower, and she pierced Victoria with her intent. Red glowed, beaming from her blue irises. “I can give you back your husband. Whole. Pure. Mortal once again—for he has not yet fed on a mortal being.”