Wicked Lord: Part One (10 page)

He wondered if Cull was missing another
whore. He would have to ask him.

"Why play with Beth?" he muttered. The
nature of that taunting hunt was as intimate as it was confusing.
"It's nearly as if you knew her, beast. You could have killed her
at any moment before I arrived."

Trinity stood, stretching his tall body. He
circled the site with his sharp gaze magnifying each torn leaf and
broken twig. He easily found the direction the murderer left and he
searched to see if any small amount of his blood could be found.
Perhaps the woman had scratched him or a branch had gouged him. One
small drop of the vile monster's blood left that he could taste and
he would know him the next time they met, by instinct alone. There
was none, so he followed the trail, noticing how well the murderer
ran through the forest without colliding with large branches or
falling over limbs. Night vision?

"It has to be," Trinity muttered, stopping
his search in one spot, where he could tell the murderer paused.
"Humans do not have night vision," he affirmed, looking around the
area. "Here, the monster turned back."

Trinity looked back toward the direction of
the mansion where he knew Beth came from, while attending a ball.
"Bloody hell," he snapped. "He
turned
back for her." Trinity
looked around the area again. "He was leaving, but he turned back
for Beth."

The first edges of dawn filtered through the
leaves overhead and he knew he had to go and leave further
investigation until the next night. Nevertheless, he felt wildness
pushing at him, making him edgy and straining his control. The foul
beast that murdered women, ripping them apart for no other reason
than some distorted and malignant passion, was connected to Beth
somehow.

Moments later, he left the forest atop his
stallion at a strong gallop. He was going to find his brother
Baptiste, the scientist. He had questions his brother might help
answer. Hence, when he arrived at Blacknall mansion, he went around
back, specifically to avoid Church. He wasn't ready for a question
and answer parry with his older brother.

He left his stallion with the grooms. All
servants at Blacknall estates were well-paid to not worry about any
strange events they might witness. Over the years, it was proven
money worked better than force to keep the staffs’ tongues silent
about the affairs of the Lords of Blacknall.

Trinity didn't turn toward the main
entrance. He walked in the direction of the tower on the west side,
and then he opened the heavy plank door to the dungeon beneath.
Baptiste had taken over the dungeon for his private work when he
wasn't working at the Royal Society with an august group of
scientists.

The curving, stonewalled stairs leading
downward were dark with no light from oil or wick. Vampires didn't
need such trivial human confections. He could easily see his way as
though it were an overcast day. The steps were many, and they
curved in a circular fashion into the bowels below the mansion.
Trinity noticed, as he neared the entrance to the main chamber,
that it was glowing with light. That meant Baptiste had humans
confined in the dungeon.

His brother forever leant his scientific
studies to the many unique traits of vampires. Baptiste had proved
many of the characteristics such as the process to create new
vampires. All the brothers adhered to strict rules against it. As
Baptiste learned about their growing traits such as night vision or
how much blood they needed to survive, he increasingly returned to
the plight of the feeders.

Feeders were hopeless human beings that some
vampires used only to feed upon. They were enslaved but never
turned. These poor people were mere shells of themselves, often
emaciated of body and soul. Baptiste worked tirelessly trying to
find a way to return them to their former health and wellbeing of
mind. Trinity knew Baptiste had found the bodies of the lost souls
easier to treat than their minds.

When he entered the chamber, he could sense
two humans were about. His sharp gaze picked out a man crouched in
the shadows on the far side of the chamber, past the tables and
equipment of his brother's laboratory. What halted his steps,
though, was the woman perched on a high stool in the center of the
workspace.

She was sideways to him in a thin rail of a
dress with bare feet balanced on the bottom rung of a tall stool.
Her hair was a glorious tumble of red hair, which was wild and
long. It was so long it fell down her slender back to the top of
the stool. She was overly thin and pale, making her easy to place
as a feeder, and it gave her a fairy-like appearance.

Baptiste's back was to the entrance as he
worked over some resourceful laboratory equipment, and Trinity
approached slowly, unwilling to alarm the woman sitting so
trustingly out in the open. She finally sensed his approach, and
when she turned her gaze to him briefly, he saw vivid green eyes
before her gaze darted away. She was off the chair and down on her
knees with her thin wrists raised upward to him as he stopped
before her. Instinct told her he was a vampire and previous forced
servitude propelled her to supplicate before him.

"Damnation, Miss Irene," Baptiste cussed,
turning slowly.

Trinity knew Baptiste knew of his arrival
and the young woman's actions. It dawned on Trinity that it was
some sort of test Baptiste was trying. The woman named Irene
whimpered and began to shake so badly that her raised arms wavered.
"Miss Irene, you do not have to kneel or offer yourself like this
anymore." Baptiste's voice softened.

"I'd not take your blood," Trinity offered.
"Rise," he added, thinking to help Baptiste's cause. This only
brought a wail from Irene as she rose high enough to scamper out of
the laboratory and out into the shadows at the edges of the
chamber.

"Ah, bloody hell," Baptiste expelled as both
their gazes turned to watch her. "She thinks you are rejecting her
blood like it's demeaning," he said, and then he added louder out
into the shadows. "Not like you are giving her freedom."

Trinity shrugged, and pulled off the jacket
he'd borrowed from Christian. "Do you have an extra shirt?"

Baptiste raised an eyebrow, propping his hip
against the table he'd been working on as he crossed his arms over
his chest. "You came here for a shirt?"

Trinity threw the jacket onto the table
beside where he stood and he lifted his arms to stretch his tall
body to the left, "For that, and some blood would be nice," he said
leisurely, stretching his limbs to the right. He added aloud for
the benefit of Irene, "But not fresh blood."

A little while later after he'd gotten a
shirt and some of the stored blood they regularly received from
doctors leeching patients, he and Baptiste sat on either side of a
table.

"Dr. Latham said you've been giving them
your blood." Trinity inclined his head toward the two humans hiding
in the shadows.

"So you left us so quickly to fetch Doctor
Latham to attend to that innocent, Lady Winslow?" Trinity shrugged,
holding his brother's gaze. His brother's returning half-smile was
indulgent. "All right then," Baptiste said slowly, "I've been
administering vampire blood to several feeders."

"And?" Trinity asked.

"And," Baptiste emphasized. "I've notated a
dozen effects."

"A dozen," Trinity muttered, scraping his
jaw with his hand, and then he uttered, "I
gave
my blood to
her."

"Lady Winslow?"

Trinity returned a temperate look. "It took
her pain away, but …"

"She wanted more," Baptiste finished.

"What have I done?" Trinity's fist hit the
tabletop rattling even the sturdy legs. He stood and paced away
several steps, flinging his tangled blond hair back from his face
before he paced back. "What is it about this one woman?"

He stopped before the table and watched
Baptiste lean back in his chair with his gaze drifting toward
Irene. "Some feeders I've given my blood to have had a different
reaction. It's as if they've become addicted to it, while all
others only mildly crave it, but enough that's easy for them to
break the desire."

"Some?" Trinity questioned with a harsh
voice.

Baptiste turned his gaze too glare up at
him, as he uttered, "One." He grimaced, saying, "Just one."

Trinity's gaze jumped to Irene and she
wailed, and then she ran out of sight into one of the cells. "Why?"
Trinity asked with a crack in his voice.

"Even vampires need to find a mate. Perhaps,
to someday procreate." Baptiste's handsome features looked like a
battalion wall ready to defend his amazing conclusions.

"What?" Trinity shouted, on the edges of
some beliefs he could barely believe or hope were true.

"No!" Baptiste exclaimed, standing, "I've
not proven anything yet, just tossed out silly theories. It's
bringing Miss Irene's mind back and I will break her of the
addiction later."

"Is she a virgin?" Trinity asked roughly,
but in a calmer voice.

"Nay," Baptiste answered, grasping the back
of the chair to sit once again.

"But Lady Winslow tempted you. She tempted
all of us." Trinity returned to sit, slowly.

"Aye," Baptiste nodded, "But while it was
exquisitely tempting, it didn't look to me to be even half as much
as it affected you."

"It was staggering." Trinity's lips settled
into a grim line as he placed his elbows to the table. "It drove me
to near insanity wanting to fuck her while at the same time suck
her luscious hot blood. Blood so pure it brought me to my knees
denying it."

"We've all had the driving need to bite as
we ejaculate, I dare say." Baptiste's gaze trailed toward the cell
that hid Irene.

"Yes, but only at the last, bursting
instant. It's always gone in seconds and not a constant driving
demand when just close to the woman." Trinity sighed, adding,
"She's not the least bit affected by me."

Trinity heard Baptiste's surprised breath.
"No entrancement?" Baptiste's voice sounded harsh as he reached to
the left for a piece of parchment and a quill. He began writing on
the parchment in a flurry. "She showed no signs of arousal, even
though you were aroused —"

"I'm
not
your test subject," Trinity
interrupted irritably. He added, "But my shaft was hard." He left
the obvious unsaid,
therefore my arousal should have affected
her.

Baptiste paused with his quill raised above
the parchment as the fingers on his other hand rubbed his temple.
"Nothing I discover about vampirism is ever really constant, is
it?" he muttered. He laid the quill down and both his hands came
together on the tabletop as he sighed. "All right, brother to
brother, the virgin temptation could easily point to the nature of
the wickedness inside us instead of some predestined mate. You've
sensed her above all others, and I might add it seemed as if it is
the same way you sense us at times. This anomaly with Lady Winslow
happened when she was in danger. Further, there's the point she's
not affected by your aroused allure, when every other woman you
tempt is. Times are changing, definitely changing."

"I'll
never
see her again," Trinity
uttered, jerking his chin forward. "Then none of these troubling
questions will matter," he finished flatly.

"But she'll continue to tempt you." Baptiste
pinned him with a serious gaze.

"We live with and fight with constant
temptation as it is." Trinity stood, breaking their locked gazes.
"Just add another to the heap."

"But, what if she were your destined —"
Baptiste started.

"Don't!" Trinity charged, "Dare go
there."

Trinity moved the chair away, and then he
asked in a quieter voice, "Can she survive the addiction to my
blood, do you think?"

However, he knew the answer to that had not
yet been tested.

Chapter Eleven

Beth dreamt about Trinity. When she woke,
nearly all she could think about was him, his blood, then him again
… until she wanted to pound the bed covers in teary
frustration.

"Beth?"

She turned her head against the pillow and
saw Adam quietly entering the room. "Say that he is here!" she
exclaimed. "Come to see me."

"Who, Beth?" Adam asked, walking to the side
of her bed.

"Lord Trinity," she explained in a strident
whisper.

"Oh no, Beth, of course that Trinity
Blacknall, whose title I learned is Marquis Montrose, is not here."
Adam raised his hand to her temple. "You look feverish."

She tried to rise and Adam's bandaged hand
moved quickly to her shoulder to press her back. "I
must
see
him." She continued to press upward.

"I know you're in pain, sweetheart," Adam
began.

"No, no," she said. "No pain at all." She
tried to rise again.

"You must stay still." Adam's tone was firm
as he pressed back against her wish to rise. "Doctor Latham spoke
of no fever," he muttered.

"When was the doctor here?" Beth asked,
wondering where Lord Trinity might be. Surely, he would return to
see her. Wouldn't he? He
had
to.

"Within the hour, Beth. Don't you remember?"
Adam asked with concern. "He bandaged my finger and came right in
to see you for a good twenty strokes."

Beth's eyes filled with tears as she looked
up at Adam. "He did?" she barely whispered. How could she not
remember it?

"It's all right," Adam soothed. "You've been
through so much, too much. It's no wonder some things seem
vague."

"I need to see him," she whimpered, and her
gaze rose to Adam's eyes, pleading with him.

Adam's returning gaze looked furrowed with
worry as he hushed her, saying, "You need sleep, sweetheart. Just
get some more sleep."

Beth trusted her brother above anyone and
for him she struggled against the intense fascination she felt to
see Trinity again. "All right, Adam." She gave in and she felt him
lean forward to hear her as she closed her eyes with tears drying
on her cheeks.