In the darkness, he grasped her wrist and she thought for a moment that he was going to silently demand to go with her. Or to tell her to be careful, or to try to kiss his way into changing her mind. None of which would be effective. He drew a breath, his chest expanding under her hand, and squeezed his fingers around her skin in a quick little caress. Then he reluctantly released her.
Good. At least the man had learned something.
Victoria cracked the door from the dressing room to the bedchamber. The back of her neck was frigid, and unless James had company in his chamber, she knew she had found her daytime vampire.
Silent as a spirit, sticking to the shadows, she moved across the floor. The thin soles of her black slippers slid across polished wood, and then found the cushier texture of a fringed rug. When she stood at the side of James’s bed and heard his even breathing, she had a moment of doubt.
What vampire would be sleeping soundly during the night?
She’d at least expected to find him awake, watching her with those red eyes.
But he was actually snoring.
Victoria looked down at him, adjusting the stake in her grip. She could shove it into his chest with a quick thrust, and it would be all over. If she wasn’t mistaken.
But why should she be? The last time she’d tried to stake someone who wasn’t a vampire-not counting the time Sebastian had inserted himself between her and Beauregard-had been more than two years ago, when she’d mistaken Max for an undead. It had been her first time, and she’d been misled by the stereotypical description of a vampire that came from Polidori’s novel.
Victoria raised the stake.
Then she pulled it back. If she was wrong, the stab would kill a mortal James.
She sighed. There was no help for it. She’d have to awaken the man.
Fumbling in the deep pocket of the tunic she wore over her trousers, she pulled out a small vial of holy water. This was as good a way to awaken him as any.
The splash on his forehead sent up a soft sizzle and a curl of steam, and his eyes flew open-wide and red.
“Good evening, James,” Victoria said calmly. She had placed her hand around the front of his throat, using her weight to hold him down. She held the stake fisted directly over his chest. “I do hope I didn’t wake you.”
“You.” He growled in a voice that sounded deeper and more guttural than the one she was accustomed to. His fangs shot out, pale in the darkness.
“Before I drill this into your heart and send you to your fate, I do hope you’ll answer one question for me.” He didn’t respond, and she tightened her hand around his throat. He coughed, but an undead couldn’t be strangled, so it was merely a discomfort, not a threat. “Are you really James Lacy, Kentuckian?”
He smiled and shifted suddenly. She allowed him to throw off her hold, to let him think he might have a chance to escape. He’d probably tell her more if he did. They eyed each other; he had risen onto his knees on the bed, and she’d stepped back as if cowed. “What do you think?” he replied.
“I think not. You were much too gullible.” She glanced at his nightshirt and her lip curled. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting an undead dressed for bed.”
His smile widened, and those fangs poked into his lower lip. “If I had known you were coming, I wouldn’t have bothered. Perhaps you’d like to join me?”
He lunged, and yanked her onto the bed next to him. She sprawled for a moment, then rolled onto her back, keeping the stake behind her hip. “No thank you. What did you do to the real James Lacy?”
The undead reached for her tunic, grabbing a good handful of the material, and jerked her up as if she were a doll. Victoria sagged, yet she was ready beneath her feigned weakness. It was a game, now. How much information could she get before he became suspicious or bored?
“It was our plan from the beginning-caught him when he got off the ship from America. Insisted that he take a ride, and relieved him of his papers and clothing. Then we fed on him.” He laughed. “In fact, I’m feeling a bit hungry at the moment, Victoria Gardella. Did you think you could sneak in here and get away without me knowing?”
She rolled her eyes. “You were snoring. I could have turned you to ash before you even awoke.”
“Is that so?” His eyes burned bloodred, and his fangs gleamed sharply.
She pulled her arm from beneath and met him as he lunged, shoving the stake into the center of his chest. “Yes, indeed,” she told him as he froze, and then poofed into dust.
There was movement behind her, and she whirled to find Sebastian standing there. His stake was at the ready.
Victoria frowned. “I told you to stay back.”
“I did. Mostly.” He smiled, and her anger could do nothing but sap away. This was Sebastian, and either he wasn’t as confident in her abilities as Max was… or he cared more.
She thought she knew which one it was.
“Should we clean up the ash?” he asked. “It stinks.”
Victoria nodded. “Let’s. And then there will be another strange disappearance of the Marquess of Rockley.”
They brushed the dust onto a pillowcase. Then he poured it into the cold fireplace.
Victoria was waiting when he finished. The back of her neck was normal; there were no other vampires in the vicinity. The daytime vampire-at least, one of them- was dead. And so was the real Marquess of Rockley.
The hackney was parked at the prearranged location, and they made their way back to the vehicle without incident. No sooner had Victoria clambered in and settled in her seat, the door closing firmly behind Sebastian, than Barth started them off with a great leap.
Whether it was by accident or design, she’d never know, but the lurch sent Sebastian onto her side of the vehicle instead of the bench politely across from her. Once gracefully settling into his seat, he turned to face her. His knees bumped gently against her right leg and his arm sidled along the back of the cushion behind her. His gloveless fingers jutted into the long, simple braid she’d tucked into the back of her tunic, his thumb smoothing over the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck.
The carriage was very dark, and there was only the ambiguous illumination from the lantern that swayed at the front of the vehicle. She didn’t have the chance to speak, or even to think-for, all at once, Sebastian was there, kissing her.
His kiss was hungry, one that surprised her with its intensity. One moment they were climbing politely into the carriage, and the next, it was a tangle of lips and tongue, and hands that seemed to be everywhere.
Hot and sleek, his mouth covered hers as he held her face steady so he could delve and taste. Warm fingers settled at the base of her jaw, and Victoria raised her chin to gasp for a quick breath before slipping back into the kiss, fighting to keep back the red-edged memories threatening the corner of her mind… the lull of pleasure snapped by the sharp thrust of fangs… the pull of her blood as it coursed through her veins… the bizarre sensation of cold and warm lips against her skin.
She moaned softly, half in horror at the remembering, at the inability to stop it… half with melting pleasure, for this man knew where to touch her.
Battling back the horrific images, she forced herself to explore Sebastian, to remind herself that it was he, and not Beauregard… She wove her fingers desperately through his thick curls, arching up against his hard belly and insistent erection as he straddled her thigh, the edge of the bench slicing into her skin from beneath. His weight pressed gently against her hips, and she moved her hands so they eased up over the smooth muscles of his chest to curl at the top of his shoulders. Wide, strong shoulders beneath the coat, and under the dark linen… smooth, golden skin. Sebastian.
A light brush of hair stroked her cheek when his lips lifted, then fell to trace the curve of her jaw, nibbling and licking. His breath puffed hot and hard against her neck, and Victoria was aware of her own breath rising to meet his as she focused on the moment… the man. The sensations. Not the memories.