The Vampire Voss

11 Of Sneaking Into Bedchambers And Unexpected Reunions

There were many ways to sneak into a woman’s bedchamber, and Voss had tried a good variety of them in the last century, with great success and few disappointments.

Since, after all, there was little danger to him physically should he be found with his hand down (or up) a frilly night rail—being shot, tossed from a window or otherwise attacked were not real threats—Voss had no qualms about taking advantage of the lowered defenses of a slumbering woman. There was something even more attractive and sensual than usual when a woman was tousled with sleep, her face slack and without artifice, her slender arms and delicate shoulders exposed from beneath rumpled sheets, her lashes fanning over pale cheeks.

But most of all, he appreciated the way she would come to consciousness under his touch. Most often, like a cat—stretching and sighing, with a languorous roll. Warm skin and creased cheeks, and, most of all, the soft, hot valley between her breasts…easily accessible when bare of a corset. His gentle strokes and nuzzling lips brought her slowly awake to delicious pleasure, and once she opened her eyes, his own would be there…glowing, coaxing and easing any hesitation.

Sneaking into a woman’s chamber in the home of a Dracule, however, was a different challenge. Especially if the Dracule was Dimitri.

Nevertheless, Voss had managed it.

Dimitri would be prepared for Belial and his cohorts to attack by climbing over walls or rushing the doors, using brute force. Or perhaps by hijacking a returning maidservant, groom or carriage, or tricking them into coming out—all after the sun was setting, of course…but Voss had a simpler way. It required more patience and planning than Belial or his ilk would have, but he didn’t mind.

The earl’s household ran like most other gentrified households in London, despite Dimitri’s necessary proclivity for sleeping during the day and moving about during the night. As it was, such a lifestyle was not so different than that of most of the ton, particularly the gentlemen—which, as a rule, socialized well past midnight most nights. Thus they slept late in the day, often past noon. Since normal business was conducted during the daylight hours as well, it was simpler for most Dracule to have a household that ran thus.

Voss gained admittance, therefore, when he assisted in delivering the large haunch of pig and various other packages from a butcher shop, just after the servants ate supper. In the confusion in the kitchen as he and the butcher’s son carried the wrapped pieces in, Voss slipped away to the servants’ quarters.

After that, it was a simple matter to remain hidden until the time was right to find Angelica. Being among the servants would also help him determine who was going out for the evening and who would need to be avoided. The staff was busy throughout the rest of the evening, only coming into their living quarters briefly. When they did, Voss heard and smelled them in plenty of time to hide. He moved more quickly than any mortal and made no noise.

Thus, his plan was simple, but it also required foreplanning and patience.

He must stay out of sight for hours in the same house that Angelica lived in, and far enough away that Dimitri wouldn’t scent him. Angelica had left the house shortly after his arrival; he knew this, for her maid was discussing her mistress’s choice of gown for the night’s engagement. Yet, despite her absence, Angelica’s scent somehow rose above every other smell—and there were many of them, not all pleasant—in Blackmont Hall, reminding him that she was near.

Even when two of the upper chambermaids somehow found the opportunity to retreat to their shared attic room shortly after supper, undress and conduct simple ablutions in front of a grainy mirror, Voss was hardly distracted. In the past, he would have considered such an opportunity a gift, and he would have emerged from where he hid beneath a narrow bed complete with glowing eyes and a variety of ideas that involved the three of them.… But he had no desire to bestir himself while he was waiting for Angelica to return. When the chatting maids left, smelling of lye soap and cheap rose petal water, Voss found himself wondering precisely why he had taken the trouble. Why he was here, hiding under a dusty bed on a threadbare rag rug.

Of course, a good portion of the reason was that he enjoyed the challenge. And he had the inexplicable desire to annoy Dimitri. He meant to leave the man a farewell gift of sorts so that he was aware that Voss had breached the house on his way from London to…wherever he was going to go now. Seville? Venice?

Constantinople was appealing.

He’d stop first in Paris to do business with Moldavi—or perhaps in Barcelona to see Regeris—and then be on his way. Despite his disregard for governments—imperial or otherwise—Voss had no desire to remain in a land in the midst of a war.

Yes, there were benefits to it: many women were left lonely and unprotected whilst their men were off fighting, and of course, some Dracule appreciated the smorgasbord of fallen soldiers on a silent battlefield. Voss liked fresher blood than that, but he’d been known to partake when necessary. After all, a vampire really only needed to feed once every few days or so. The other times were merely enhancements to or ways to prolong sexual pleasure. It was difficult—and, really, unnecessary in Voss’s mind—to separate a bit of a fang-slip and a taste of lifeblood from other physical pleasure. Why bother to try?

Of Voss’s relationship with Moldavi, there was no love lost. Despite what others might think, Voss had never done significant business with him. Just enough to keep the man from being suspicious or offended so that Voss didn’t become one of his particular targets as Dimitri had become so long ago in Vienna.

Voss crawled from beneath the bed that was barely wide enough to hold a child, let alone a woman, and thought he might have to have a word with Dimitri about his servants’ quarters. Not that he was terribly concerned for the comfort of servants—who was?—but at least if they slept well, they were more productive during the day or night.

But that bit of advice he would save for later, of course. Decades from now, perhaps a century, when Angelica was long dead and this whole incident was well in the past and forgotten.

Yes. A hundred years from now, all this would be forgotten and Voss would still be visiting Rubey’s.

Voss lurked about well into the night, easily evading notice. Aside of the two chambermaids who’d changed earlier, he was also privy to a passionate encounter between one of the young, muscular footmen and a curvaceous blonde kitchen maid. He couldn’t help but mentally critique the footman’s technique, which could have been more visually attractive—for he knew from experience just how a man and woman looked when they were together against the wall. He’d utilized a mirror more than once to determine the best angles.

Another incident involving a less fortunate groom and a redheaded girl ended with the groom half falling down the back stairs after being rebuffed by the toe of a well-placed slipper.

Smirking to himself, Voss shook his head. The groom’s advances had been clumsy and doltish…just as his own had been. One hundred and twenty-five years ago.

Originally Voss had assumed that Angelica would be staying in tonight, after her unpleasant experiences that had begun three days earlier with the masquerade ball. But to his surprise—and perhaps annoyance—his eavesdropping indicated that she had gone to a dinner party. Although he didn’t see the frock in question, the discussion between the two upstairs maids about her choice of a periwinkle gown with dark blue ribbons induced an unseen nod of approval from Voss.

She would look lovely in blue, with her dusky rose complexion and dark eyes. Perhaps her hair would be dressed high, leaving the slender column of her neck bare for all to see. The delicate ridge of her clavicles, a bit of a swell of bosom, and perhaps even the hint of a shoulder blade…

A twinge of regret tightened his belly, but he pushed it away. He would see her soon enough, mussed from the pillow and sheets, warm with slumber. A pang tightened his gums, but he kept his fangs sheathed.

How would she have hidden the marks he’d left on her shoulder? It had only been two days; they wouldn’t have quite healed yet.

Voss frowned. Perhaps with a well-placed curl and a wide necklet. It might mar the picture, but it would preserve her reputation.

He wondered if her reputation was, indeed, intact. Would she find a suitable groom, a man who either didn’t know what had occurred—or didn’t care?

Not that anything terribly untoward had happened, at least in Voss’s mind. A bit of kissing and a single, abbreviated nibble shouldn’t be enough to remove a woman from marriage consideration. And as for his own discomfort…the pain from his Mark, while it hadn’t completely dissolved, had at least become bearable. It ached more than it ever had before, and occasionally he got a stubborn streak of fire radiating over his torso, but it wasn’t enough to send him gasping for breath as it had before. Feeding on Angelica, for however brief a time, had obviously been the right thing to do to stop it.

It was well past two o’clock before the ladies returned from the dinner party. Corvindale was not with them, and Voss suspected that he was scouring London for none other than himself.

Such an irony that he should be hiding here in Corvindale’s home, of all places, whilst the very man was hunting him. He grinned in the dark library, where he’d taken refuge shortly after midnight. None of the servants would be looking for reading material, and the ladies were otherwise occupied. He was reluctantly impressed with the choice of literature lining the walls—a great variety of novels as well as books in languages from Greek to Latin to Spanish and even Egyptian and Aramaic. Apparently studying was what Dimitri did instead of socializing.

Studying, researching. Trying to find a way to break a covenant with the devil. Poor damned sot.

There was no way to break the unholy bargain.

Voss’s keen ears heard bits of conversation as the ladies came in, and even as they chattered in and around their chambers. Angelica laughed more than once and she seemed rather gay, considering what had happened to her three days earlier. When Voss heard the word “Harrington,” followed by a quickly muffled feminine squeal, he frowned. And then low laughter and murmurs that even he couldn’t discern.

It didn’t take much for him to realize she had likely seen Lord Harrington tonight.

His frown deepened. How quickly she seemed to find other companionship.

Voss was forced to wait for another hour before he could make his way from the dark library up to the second floor, where the bedchambers were. At last, silence reigned over the household, and he slipped from the dual doors of the library. Angelica’s scent led him to her room, and after he opened the door and slipped inside, he stood for a moment, his hand still on the knob.

Her scent, her presence…it overwhelmed him. So familiar and so much what he desired.

A sharp twinge of pain burned over his shoulder as if to urge him on, but Voss ignored it. Yet, he salivated as he smelled the citrusy-floral scent melded with woman and a waft of summer breeze from the open window. His mouth throbbed and he had a difficult time controlling the shoot of his fangs—like a green boy who grew hard at the mere mention of a breast.

What was it about this woman that made him so foolish? So thoughtful?

What was it about this one that put him in so much agony?

Luce’s blood, he was a hundred forty-eight years old. He’d had thousands of women and never given one more than a second or third thought. Even Rubey.

Even Giliane, a woman he’d even considered making Dracule. Only for a day, but the thought had crossed his mind during one of their energetic bouts, back in 1755. They— she—had survived the horrendous earthquake in Lisbon and were celebrating with wine and cheese, stolen from one of the shops.

Now, as Voss looked down at the woman in the chamber he’d invaded, all thoughts of Giliane and every other of the thousands he’d known faded. A shaft of moonlight rippled over Angelica like the caress of a hand, and the curtains fluttered in a soft breeze. She slept with her face half buried in the pillow, her hair loose and curtaining her cheek. One hand was curled beneath her pillow, and the other tucked beneath her chin.

Voss moved closer to the bed, his heart pounding, suddenly rampant. A violent surge of awareness had taken over, trammeling through his veins, rushing to fill his cock and to thrust his incisors free. His skin flushed hot and his eyes warmed with heat.

Yes.

He turned and silently bolted the door behind him.

Angelica shifted onto her back and sighed, moving the pillow in her sleep.

And then she opened her eyes.

Voss froze and their gazes met in the darkness. He stiffened, preparing himself to clamp a hand over her mouth, but then her eyes closed and she turned her head away. Still asleep.

Why was he so relieved?

He reached to touch her hair, gently sliding his hand over the long tresses in a way he hadn’t had the chance to before.

There’d been no gentleness, no caresses, no learning the texture and shape of her.

Before he realized it, Voss had come to sit on the bed next to her. His heart pounded, rampant and apprehensive. Ready, again, to cover her mouth to stifle a scream, he gently lifted a thick lock of hair from her bare shoulder, skimming his fingertips over the smooth warm skin.

He wondered how she’d looked in the periwinkle-blue dress. If Harrington had found an opportunity to coax her into a private corner. If she’d smiled at him with the wise light in her eyes, as if to say all would be well. If she’d talked with him about thoughtful things, like life and death.

If she’d told Harrington the secret she’d told Voss.

He bent, pressing his lips to the curve of her shoulder, resisting the sudden blinding urge to slide his fangs into that sweet muscle. Instead his teeth slid along her skin and he flicked his tongue out to taste her.

She was salty and hot, citrus and musk, and he curled his fingers into the blankets. A wave of pain clashed with the new rush of desire and he kissed her again, squeezing his eyes closed against the battle. Lucifer versus Angelica.

Taking, violating…versus coaxing, seducing. It would be nothing to slide into her. Release that hot flood of rich blood. White light shot down to his hips and burned over his back. Take.

She was well asleep.… She would enjoy it. She would moan and her eyes would flutter behind her lids and she might perhaps spread her legs so that he could slip a hand into that warm crook, pleasure her while she dreamed.

And then, suddenly, Voss felt something pushing into him.

Poking into his torso.

“Get away.”

Her words, cold and low, were unmistakable. And the pressure in his torso could only be…

Voss eased back and saw that, yes, indeed, she had a whittled wooden stick pressing against him. A bit too low for his heart, but too close, nevertheless. She must have pulled it from beneath the covers.

She’d been sleeping with a stake. Expecting him?

He tried to smile, but it felt weak. Surprisingly his fangs had retracted, although his gums still throbbed a bit.

“Get away from me,” she said again, and jabbed him hard enough that he felt a definite point through his shirt, into the soft part of belly below his sternum.

Hands raised in placation, he shifted off the bed. “All right, then. There’s no need to be overset.”

To his chagrin and delight, Angelica sat up, still holding the stake like a talisman in front of her. Her technique left much to be desired, for it wobbled a bit, and it wasn’t quite at the right angle…but Voss was not about to underestimate the sister of a renowned vampire hunter.

“Get out of here,” she said from between tight jaws. “Or I’ll scream.”

“Corvindale isn’t here to rush to your assistance,” Voss couldn’t help but mention.

“Are you certain of that?” she replied steadily.

He relaxed a bit and leaned slightly against the bed with his thigh. “Of course. He’s searching the City for yours truly, Angelica. He’d never think to look for me here.”

“What do you want?” She obviously couldn’t find an argument for that, so she tried a different tact. “To finish what you started? Are you going to bleed me dry and tear me into ribbons of flesh?” Bitterness filled her voice.

Voss’s belly tightened. Never. “No,” he said. “Of course not.”

She sniffed and the play of moonlight over her face told him that her jaw tightened.

Angelica could have no idea how enticing she looked at that moment, with the pearly light half illuminating the details of her face, and the dip and curve of her shoulder. The strap of her night rail was nothing but a three-finger-wide pink ribbon, and the eyelet lace that edged the straight neckline gapped a bit. Her lips were gently parted and full, and the cloud of dark waves cascaded over her shoulders and onto the pillows.

The only aspect marring that beautiful image was the loathing burning in her eyes. Even in the ineffective light, he saw it. The smile he’d tried to force wavered.

“What do you want, then?” she said again, still as coldly as before.

This was not as simple as he’d expected it to be. Voss knew he could easily overpower her, remove the stake from her hand and do whatever he wanted. He could take what he needed, and be gone from London within hours.

The sharp, pounding pain radiating over his back urged him to grab those delicate shoulders and drag her to him. Take.

“I have something for you,” he said, pulling two velvet pouches from the inside of his coat. “And for your sister. An apology. To both of you.”

“I don’t want anything from you.” Her voice was cold, and she didn’t even glance at the jewelry bags.

“Nevertheless, I shall leave them. Perhaps your sister will accept them. They are quite valuable.” He turned and set them on her dressing table. The gifts were really more for Dimitri’s sake than Angelica’s.

“Very well, then. You’ve delivered your apology—unwelcome as it is. Now leave.”

“I also came to ask that you use your Sight to give me information.”

Her eyes widened in shock, and those delicious lips pruned up like an old maid’s. “You came to ask a favor of me? Why in God’s name would I do anything for you?”

Voss winced at her use of the name of God—or perhaps it was simply the Mark—and he once again tried to adopt a placating smile. “Because if you assist me, I’ll leave London and I won’t bother you ever again.”

Despite her bitterness and loathing, he didn’t expect her reaction to be quite as quick and businesslike as it was. “You’d leave London? Is that a vow? Because if it is, I would be most happy to make such a bargain.”

Something panged uncomfortably in the vicinity of his heart and even his belly squeezed—like it did in the morning after too much blood whiskey and ale and wine had all mixed up and sloshed around. “You have my word,” he said.

Angelica snorted in that ladylike way that had amused him previously. “What is it then?”

Voss pulled out the slender gold chain from a different pocket inside his coat. When he’d first acquired it, he hadn’t realized that it would be put to use in this way, but now that he knew Angelica’s secret, it made perfect sense.

“It isn’t a glove—I know that you prefer gloves,” he said, looking at her purposely. He forced himself to say it. “You read death on my glove, didn’t you? Will you tell me what you saw?”

“What I saw is not at all to my liking.”

Voss stilled. Waited. But she said nothing further. “Angelica?”

“It’s not to my liking because I saw nothing. I would that I’d foretold a violent, imminent death for you.”

“You saw nothing?” He wasn’t certain whether to be alarmed or relieved. Did that mean he wasn’t to die? Ever? Something like relief blossomed.

“Are you hard of hearing?” She held out her hand. “Give me the chain and be off with you.”

“You will attempt it?”

“Leave it with me, and I’ll meditate upon it. I’ll send you a message in the morning through Rubey with any information I can cull from the chain.” The stake shifted warningly in her hand, its point still aimed at him.

Voss hid his surprise. “But how can I trust that you will follow through on our agreement, Angelica?” He allowed his voice to caress her name the way he had done to her shoulder.

That very same shoulder lifted in a delicate shrug. “You will have to trust me.” Her eyes narrowed and she straightened. For a moment, he saw something else besides hatred and anger there. It might have been hurt.

“And how am I to know that you wouldn’t send me a message simply so that you can advise Corvindale of my direction?”

Her lips quirked a bit. “A brilliant suggestion. Thank you, Dewhurst. I’m not certain I would have thought of that myself in my haste to rid London of your vile presence. Now, if you please, remove yourself from my chamber. And this house.”

He couldn’t leave. “Don’t you wish to know to whom that watch chain belongs?”

Again, a shrug. His eyes followed the shift of moonlight over the hollow of her shoulder and he swallowed, clenching his teeth. “I couldn’t care less about anything in regards to you. Now, Dewhurst, if you please…I should like to return to my slumber. You interrupted a very delightful dream.”

“I don’t suppose I figured in your nocturnal visions,” he said, lowering his voice and allowing his eyes to glow a bit. “But you have appeared in mine. Angelica…” He dug his fingers into his thighs to keep from reaching for her…and to distract himself from the pain.

Her shoulders shifted back and her breasts thrust forward and he nearly lunged for her at that point. “Indeed you have,” she said, surprising him again. But her voice had dropped and for the first time, it was unsteady. “You’ve figured quite vividly—in my darkest nightmares. This is the first night I’ve slept without Maia since I returned.”

Voss couldn’t breathe. Every bit of insouciance fled and he felt as if he’d been slammed in the gut. “Angelica,” he began, searching for something…something to say that would truly placate her. Something real, something to heal her. His thrall seemed to have no effect on her, leaving him helpless.

Her eyes had become haunted circles. “Go away, Dewhurst. I’ll send a message to Rubey’s in your care. And I’ll return the chain then.”

Words failed him.

She truly meant it.

Anger, sudden and inexplicable, flared through him, surging to his hands, down his legs. His fangs shot forth, his eyes flamed hot and the dark room filled with a red haze. Voss’s fingers curled, ready to grab at her, to tear into her, and he even jerked toward Angelica—but somehow caught himself, turning before he touched the bed.

Somehow, somehow he fought through it, battling the white fury that ordered him to take, take, take.…

Something helped him stumble to the window—the cold night air, the smooth slide of moonbeam—and he grasped its sill even as the blast of pain seared in his hands and behind his eyes. Lucifer was intent that he would do his bidding.

Voss held on so that he wouldn’t turn back. So he wouldn’t tear into her.

“Get out of here,” he managed to say. If she would leave… “Go. Now.”

In the recesses of his consciousness, he heard the rustle of the bedclothes. He battled needy red fog and the demands of his body, somehow focusing on the sounds of her sliding the door’s bolt and then the slide as it closed behind her.

When she was gone, he vaulted through the window and landed easily on the ground three floors below.

Angelica stumbled from her chamber still clutching the stake. Her heart pounded and her knees were weak, and she had one thought: to get away. As she turned to rush down the corridor, she slammed into something—someone—soft and warm.

“Angelica, what is it?” Maia automatically caught her in a comforting embrace.

Angelica’s arms went around her sister, but even as she did so, she had the presence of mind to push her down the hall, toward Maia’s chamber.

She didn’t believe Voss would follow her. He’d ordered her to leave, but she wasn’t certain. His face…it had been so terrifying.

Almost as if he’d turned into someone else.

Go. Get away.

No, he wasn’t coming after her.

But she wasn’t going to go back in that chamber again.

“What’s that in your hand?” Maia asked as they went into her room. She caught Angelica’s wrist and held it up so she could see the stake. “A stick?” Then her eyes went wide. “Oh.”

She remembered Granny Grapes’s stories, too.

“What are you doing awake?” Angelica asked, sitting on her sister’s bed. There was something about being in Maia’s chamber, with all of her things cluttering the dressing table, and more pillows than anyone could ever use piled high on her bed and chair, that made her feel comforted and safe.

“I came to check on you,” Maia told her. They sat on the bed facing each other. “What’s happened?”

Angelica considered whether to tell her sister or not. Maia would be angry and worried for her if she learned that Voss had sneaked into her room, and she’d become even more managing and motherly and smother her to death.

But if she told Maia, then her sister would certainly tell Corvindale—likely in a high-pitched, demanding tone. And she was sure that the earl would make certain it didn’t happen again.

And that would make her sleep so much easier.

“I had a dream,” she said. Which was strictly the truth. She had been dreaming before he woke her. Perhaps she could weave fact with fiction.… “That—Dewhurst came into my chamber at night.”

“Darling, I’m so sorry. How terrifying it must be,” Maia said, stroking her arm. “I didn’t hear you cry out, although I heard something that sounded like you mumbling in your sleep. Or talking to someone.”

“It seemed so real,” Angelica said, continuing with the charade. “He…” He was so gentle. I was sleeping and then I felt him touching me and I wanted him to slide closer and take me in his arms. To be the man he’d been…before.

She wanted to say that. But she couldn’t. She hardly dared think those words, let alone confess them to Maia. Her sister would not understand.

Her sister, who did everything so perfectly and who always had the answer and who didn’t have to live with the demons of death that Angelica did. How could she comprehend the fact that Angelica was both terrified of Voss…and attracted to him, as well?

Or, at least, she had been attracted to him. Now, when she thought of him, there was little more than that heavy ball in her belly. He’d lied to her, he’d tricked her and he’d attacked her. All under the guise of protecting her.

“Sometimes dreams can be more frightening than reality,” Maia said. She sounded so certain, so sure. Just as she always did. Angelica thought it would be nice to be so certain about things. All the time. “And sometimes, they can be so much more…beautiful…than reality.”

More than willing to turn the subject from her experience, desperate to think of something other than the way she’d warred internally between wanting Voss to touch her and truly wanting to kill him, Angelica said, “What do you mean?”

Maia smiled in a way that Angelica had never seen before. A rather secret sort of smile, as if she were being coy or discreet. She fancied that if there were more illumination than the glow of a lamp in the corner, and a hint of moonlight outside, she might see the rise of a blush on Maia’s cheeks.

“Well.” Her sister sat up and pulled one of the two dozen pillows onto her lap, clutching it over her belly. Her face changed, becoming more reserved. “I don’t know if I should tell you about it. After all, you’re still unwed and—”

“And so are you.” Angelica was glad to have the spurt of annoyance to focus on, instead of her fingers that still trembled and the sealike pitching of her belly. Why had he come? Just when she was beginning to feel safer, to begin to forget him and think about other men. “You aren’t married yet, dear sister, and so you haven’t any more experience than I have.”

There was that secret smile again—so odd from her prim sister—and Maia looked up at her over the top of the ruffled pillow. “But that isn’t true, dear younger sister. Alexander and I have… Well, we are engaged, and Chas and the lady patrons haven’t been as vigilant as they were before our engagement was announced.”

Now it was Angelica’s turn to sit up straight and grab a pillow. She felt her eyes as if they were about to bug from their sockets. “You and Mr. Bradington have—”

“No, no,” Maia said. “Not exactly. Not precisely. But… Angelica. It’s quite…nice. Flossa and Betty are right. It’s very pleasant. And I think it gets nicer.” Her lips curved a bit.

“And what does this have to do with dreams being better than the reality? Or did you mean they were more frightening than reality?”

“Well.” She looked away, adjusting the pillow in her lap. Hesitating.

“What is it?” Angelica pressed, now morbidly curious, as this was a side of her proper sister she had never before seen— and had assumed didn’t even exist. Maia had an odd expression on her face—as if she were bursting to share the confidence, but at the same time, ashamed to do so.

“After your experience with Dewhurst, I had a dream. About…it.”

“You dreamed about Dewhurst?” Angelica’s voice might have risen, but not enough to be heard outside the chamber. She didn’t think. Although the door wasn’t shut tightly. She needed to keep her voice down or Mirabella would hear them.

And she was fairly certain that event would lace Maia’s mouth closed tighter than her smallest corset.

“Shhh! You’ll wake Mirabella! No, I didn’t dream about Dewhurst. It’s going to sound horrible to you, Angelica.” Now Maia’s eyes had lost that secretive look, and she shifted back as if to recant her words. “You’ll think me mad.”

“Not any more than I already do,” Angelica replied with a small smile. “Tell me.”

Maia smiled, too, but her fingers were plucking energetically at the fringe of lace on her pillow. “I dreamed that a vampire visited me in my chamber. But it wasn’t frightening. It was…like embracing Alexander, and kissing him.… But it wasn’t him. This was different. Better. And when the vampire bit me—”

Angelica gasped. “What?”

“In my dream, he bit me. Right…here,” Maia said softly, touching the side of her smooth, white neck just above the shoulder. “It didn’t hurt, in my dream. In fact, it was… It made me…”

That secretive smile was back, and Angelica could hardly credit her ears. “You liked it?”

But Maia’s eyes had widened in shock and she straightened up sharply, clutching the pillow to her bosom like a shield. “My lord.” Her words were shocked and prim with affront.

Angelica turned to look behind her, but she already knew that Corvindale had appeared there in the open door. Dark and shadowed, he stood like a sentinel. Nevertheless, the moon light caught him across the eyes, giving them a faint glint along with a white shine on the bridge of his strong nose.

Did he already know that Voss had sneaked into her chamber? Was that why he’d ventured to their floor? Should she tell him?

The earl seemed stiffer than usual, and for a moment, he didn’t speak. Then said, “My apologies, Miss Woodmore. Angelica,” he said. “I had just arrived home when I heard voices. I came to investigate.”

“Now that you’ve determined all is well, perhaps you would allow us to return to our conversation,” Maia said stiffly.

“Indeed,” Corvindale said, and then, just as he began to turn, he stilled. Raising a peremptory hand, as if to forestall any further comments from Maia, he tilted his head, and then turned back to them. Now his expression was intense and serious. “Someone is below. Stay here.”

And then he was gone, closing the door behind him.

Angelica bolted off the bed and went to the door, opened it and put her ear to the crack. Was Voss still about? Had she been wrong and he hadn’t left?

“Angelica,” Maia admonished in a low voice. “What are you doing?” But then there she was, crowding behind her. Perhaps the reprimand was meant to get Angelica to move and to give Maia the better spot, but she wasn’t about to do that, so her sister was forced to crouch and duck beneath her arm to listen. She was shorter than Angelica anyway, so it was only fair.

As they listened to hear if anything was happening below, Angelica whispered, “Did you really like it, in your dream? When he bit you?”

Maia stilled, her shoulder pressed into Angelica’s side. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she snapped back. “I wish I’d kept my mouth closed.”

They were silent for a moment as a single, soft thud from below reached their ears, then nothing.

“I cannot imagine finding it anything but horrifying,” Angelica said, her belly tightening at the memory. She’d tried to forget about that moment of soft, sensual kissing and Voss’s hands sliding over her breasts in a reckless but delightful way. She’d been flooded with pleasure and heat, and then suddenly…the pain. The surprise and the pain.

Never one to allow another to have the last word, Maia replied, “Even those stories Granny used to tell us, about the vampires. Even then there were some people who didn’t find it…horrible. And it was just a dream, Angelica.”

Angelica opened her mouth to reply, but clamped it shut when she heard footsteps on the stairs. Without another word, the two of them spun away from the door and fairly leaped back onto the mattress—just as they had done when they were younger and weren’t supposed to be out of bed.

As expected, the footsteps came to their chamber and, since it hadn’t been shut completely in their haste, the door swung open. But it wasn’t Corvindale who stood there.

“Chas!” exclaimed Angelica as she and Maia bounded off the bed.

“Hush,” he said, gathering each of them in with one strong arm. “No one can know I’m here.”

Angelica looked up at him, the obvious question forming on her lips, but before she could speak, he added, “Come down to the study with me so we can converse privately.”

Quickly Angelica returned to her room to don a robe and slippers. The window was open wider than it had been, the curtains fluttering in the soft breeze. That was how Voss had left, of course.

She paused and found herself sniffing the air. Did she fancy it, or did his scent linger? A tightening in her belly reminded her how much she hated him now, how, despite the way he smelled and held her and had kissed her, how handsome and charming he was…how he had listened to her, as if he cared what she thought…despite all of the things that had attracted her to him, she could no longer care for him.

The monster that he was had destroyed any affection she might have had.

The robe skimmed her bare feet, and she decided to disdain slippers. But as she turned to leave the chamber, she noticed the two black velvet pouches on her dressing table—Voss’s “apology” as he called it.

She paused, then tucked her curiosity beneath her loathing for the man and her desire to talk with Chas, and she hurried from the room.

Down one flight of stairs to the first floor, Angelica followed the spill of light from beneath the door of Corvindale’s study. The murmur of voices was so low that she wouldn’t have heard it if she hadn’t known they were there.

When she walked in, she saw that there was a fifth person in the chamber. A tall, gaunt-faced man in a wide-brimmed hat stood near the fireplace. A small fire burned therein, giving off unnecessary warmth on this summer night. Its illumination, however, was welcome in the dark room.

Maia must have thought the same, for as Angelica walked in, she saw that her sister was in the process of turning up the gas lamp on the other side of the chamber.

Corvindale sat in an armchair, not behind his desk, but in a shadowed corner near a tall window. He was dressed in only his white shirtsleeves and trousers, the shirt unadorned by a neckcloth, but fastened at the throat nevertheless. His long legs were crossed and one scuffed boot was highlighted by a shaft of moonlight. He held a short glass of something that looked like whiskey, reminding Angelica of her unfortunate experience with that liquor.

Maia, having finished adjusting the light of the room to her preference, selected a seat near the lamp. The soft yellow light made her unbound chestnut hair gleam in a variety of shades of bronze, mahogany and honey. The fact that she hadn’t pinned it up surprised Angelica, for her sister was so particular about propriety. Being in the room with two men other than their brother, dressed only in a night rail, robe and slippers was hardly permissible…but to have her hair down, as well?

Chas leaned against the desk littered with papers, a pile of pens and a haphazard stack of books. He looked weary and yet, powerful. Angelica hadn’t ever thought of her brother as a particularly strong, virile man…but at that moment, she saw him with new eyes, saw him as being formidable. This was a man who, according to Voss, had somehow outsmarted a very strong, evil vampire to kidnap—or elope with—his sister.

At that moment, he looked every bit as capable as that.

She looked at the other man, standing near the fireplace, and realized that it wasn’t a man at all. Simply a woman dressed as a man.

“You must be Narcise Moldavi,” she said, looking at her. “The vampire.”

The woman swept away the wide-brimmed hat that had shadowed her face, and Angelica saw at once that she had been a fool to believe this woman was a man. She was beautiful— the most beautiful woman Angelica had ever seen.

What she’d originally perceived as gauntness in the harsh shadows was instead a lovely face with high cheekbones and sculpted lips. Her hair, pinned up and yet sagging now with the removal of the hat, was coal-black. Her skin… Angelica had never seen such porcelain skin—smooth and white and delicate. The gaze that swept to fasten on her was startlingly blue.

“I am,” Narcise replied in a voice nearly as low as a man’s. Now without her hat, and her gender acknowledged, it was obvious that the white shirtwaist and loose coat were meant to hide her shape.

“Are you here so that we can welcome you to the family?” Angelica responded. She didn’t try to hide her disdain and disapproval, and the woman noticed. Her eyes flared hot and red for a moment, then subsided to blue.

“I’m here, in fact, endangering my person, only because of you,” replied the vampire in an even voice.

Chas shot Angelica a warning look that did nothing to quell the horror that her brother could possibly have fallen in love with a bloodthirsty, violent vampire woman. Seeing Narcise, Angelica couldn’t imagine any man not falling in love with her. Yet…how could he? She was…unnatural.

At that point, Chas would likely have spoken, but Narcise stepped away from the fireplace and walked over to help herself to a glass of Corvindale’s whiskey. As she did so, she spoke. “Your brother learned that Voss had abducted you and he insisted on coming to London, despite the danger to me.”

“You know very well you didn’t have to come to London with him,” came a new voice from the doorway. “Don’t blame your own cowardice on the girl, Narcise.”

Angelica whirled to see another, vaguely familiar man striding into the study. He was shedding his own hat, which exposed a head of thick, curling dark hair and a handsome, strong-jawed face. The flaps and hem of his coat fluttered behind him as he stalked over to stand near Maia. His expression was blank, but she fancied she saw a fire in his eyes.

Narcise shot the newcomer a violent look, complete with what Angelica was certain was a flash of fangs, then walked over to stand next to Chas. The air in the room tightened and no one spoke. The silence stretched for what seemed like a long time.

“Miss Woodmore, Angelica, meet my friend Mr. Giordan Cale.” It was Corvindale who spoke abruptly, at last, from his seat in the corner.

“Chas, what in heaven’s name is going on here?” Maia demanded. Angelica could almost hear what she didn’t say: And who are all these people? And why didn’t you warn me so I could dress properly?

“I’ve been attempting to tell you,” Chas replied mildly. “And I will…if we aren’t going to have any further interruptions?” He glanced at Narcise, but it wasn’t a look of reproach as much as it was one of affection. Angelica pressed her lips together.

“You’re taking us home,” Maia said. “Tomorrow?”

Narcise shifted, and so did Chas. “I’m afraid that’s impossible right now,” he said.

“What do you mean? You’re back. There’s no reason for us to stay here any longer,” Maia said. The emphasis on the word here was not lost on Angelica, and she couldn’t help but glance at Corvindale—who was clearly the cause of that tone.

“Don’t disappoint the girl, Chas,” the earl said. “Take her home.” Then he glanced at Cale. “Or perhaps Giordan would take on governess duties?”

Cale snorted and Angelica saw humor flare in his face. “I wouldn’t dream of depriving you, Dimitri.” His smile was both feral and filled with humor.

“Gentlemen,” Chas said, holding up his hands. Improperly gloveless, which Angelica was certain Maia would notice. He looked at his sisters, a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there earlier. “I’m sorry, but I cannot take you back home. I cannot even be seen in London, and there can’t be any hint or rumor that I’ve come back. For Narcise’s sake. I’m taking a great risk by being here.”

“I don’t understand,” Maia said. “Then why did you come?”

“To get Angelica away from Voss—although that has already occurred—and to kill the bastard.”

Maia gasped at the use of profanity, and it was all Angelica could do not to roll her eyes. They were in a chamber, dressed in their nightclothes, with a vampire and two strange men. An off-color word was the least of their worries.

“That’s what I do,” Chas said, stepping away from where he’d been leaning on the desk. “I might as well tell you now, so you understand.”

Angelica frowned, but before she could speak, her brother continued. “I kill vampires. Some of them, at any rate,” he added with a sidewise glance at Narcise and then Corvindale. “Only the ones who endanger humans.”

“What are you talking about?” Maia said. Her voice was faint and Angelica felt a little sorry for her. Between the profanity and their casual state of undress, her very proper sister seemed out of her element. No surprise: she wasn’t in control. And Maia, for all she might desire it, hadn’t been bit by a vampire—or even come in close proximity to one.

Chas gestured toward Angelica. “You were blessed, or cursed, with Granny Grapes’s Sight. And so is Sonia. I’ve discovered my own ability, courtesy of that same Romanian heritage. I can do something vampires can’t even do. I can sense the presence of one…identify them, even if I don’t know them.”

“Oh,” was all Angelica could say. And then she realized what he’d said. “You do this all the time? You kill vampires? Isn’t it—” she glanced at Narcise, who was looking at her as if she were a toad “—dangerous?”

“Of course it’s dangerous,” Maia put in. “Don’t you recall the stories Granny used to tell us? About the vampires, and the men who hunted… Oh.” She looked at Chas. “That’s how you knew? What to do?”

He nodded. “All my gratitude goes to Granny Grapes. And as soon as I learned from Cale that Voss had abducted Angelica, I came back. Corvindale is your guardian for the foreseeable future,” he said, looking at Maia, “but I wasn’t going to stand aside and let Voss compromise my sister.”

“I’m not compromised,” Angelica said.

“We know he was here tonight, Angelica. Whether you invited him or welcomed him or—”

“I certainly didn’t invite him,” Angelica shot back in horror, her heart pounding. “I wouldn’t invite a terrifying creature like him anywhere!” How had they even known he was there?

“It doesn’t matter,” Chas continued. “Corvindale and Cale are going to help me find him. And then I’m going to kill him.”