Let the Night Begin (17 page)

“I
s Clarke coming with us?” Olivia asked her husband as they lay in bed on the evening they were to attend the Wolf, Ram and Hart at the kidnappers' demand. They had just woken up and had several hours before they were to depart. Strangely enough, Olivia was much calmer than she thought she would be.

She hadn't felt this complete since the first time she and Reign had made love. Only now that feeling was intensified by the sharing of their blood. They were connected now. One.

Reign held her hand in his, his thumb making small circular strokes around her knuckles. “Yes. He'll follow at a distance, and go to the Bucket of Blood for help if we need it.”

“He doesn't like me,” she remarked, not sure why that should bother her, but it did. He had been pleasant enough in London, but ever since his arrival the night before he had looked at her like she was the serpent that corrupted Eve.

“He doesn't know you,” Reign replied, planting a small kiss on her forehead.

“Ah, but you don't deny it.”

His only response was to smile and kiss her again—this time on the mouth.

Reign was acting strangely too. He was more relaxed, more openly affectionate. She didn't understand it, but she liked it. It seemed as though all the bitterness between them had suddenly disappeared. Was this sudden change owed to the new intimacy between them, or something else? And was this connected to Clarke's dislike of her? Was he jealous of her on some level?

Olivia couldn't deny that she might deserve the man's animosity on several levels, but if Reign didn't care then neither would she.

She hadn't seen much of Reign after Clarke's arrival. He and his employee spent most of the night in Reign's study talking. They had let her in eventually and Reign had told her what Clarke had discovered about a group called the Order of the Silver Palm, which sounded to her like a more dangerous version of the Friends of the Glorious Unseen. He seemed to think that this “Order” was behind James's kidnapping.

Suddenly, it was all starting to make sense as to why these people knew about Reign, why they wanted Reign.

And she knew then that she couldn't let them have him.

The realization came to her with sudden sharpness and clarity. She didn't know how in the name of God James had gotten tangled up with such a group, but she suspected that he was safer with them than Reign would be.

And she didn't care if it made her evil, but at that moment, protecting Reign meant more to her than the boy she had raised as her own. God help her.

There had to be a way to save them both.

And now, she was just hours away from attempting to do just that.

“I'm sorry.” It was so very difficult to say those words, meaning them as she did.

He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “For what?”

“Everything.” It was so much easier than admitting to particulars. “For involving you in this.”

“You didn't.” His gaze was clear and sharp as it locked with hers. “If Clarke is correct, the kidnappers involved you because of me.”

Yes, and they asked me to bring you to them
.

“In fact,” he continued, kissing the tip of each finger in a way that sent little shivers down her arm. “I owe both you and James an apology.”

Olivia swallowed. Guilt formed a hard lump in her throat. “No, you do not.”

He moved then, sliding over her and covering her body with his own. “I'll make it up to you in another way, then.” He kissed her and she welcomed
the pressure of his lips, opened her thighs and let him take away her thoughts with his body's slick intrusion of hers. Her internal muscles stretched and tightened around the thick length of him as he began to thrust inside her.

Arching her back, Olivia wrapped her hands around Reign's biceps, giving herself up to the sensations stirring within her, the emotions his touch brought to a simmer under the surface of her skin.

“Look at me,” he murmured.

Olivia opened her eyes. Reign's forearms were braced beside her head, leveraging him so that he could stare down at her. She didn't respond with words. She tightened her thighs around his hips and moved with him, staring into the smoky depths of his eyes, trying to tell him everything she was afraid to say with her gaze.

“Come for me,” he whispered, increasing the depth and speed of his thrusts.

And she did. She came in a great shove of pleasure that blurred the edges of her mind and had her crying out at its ruthless onslaught. It left her trembling and boneless as Reign stiffened above her, growling his own release.

Only he had ever made her climax so quickly, so easily. It was as though their bodies were attuned to one another, instinctively knowing just what the other needed, wanted.

Olivia clung to him for as long as she could, reluctant to let him go until she had to. He caressed
her face with light, feathery kisses, each one tightening the invisible band around her chest, bringing her one step closer to bursting into tears.

“I'll go fill the tub,” he said softly. “I want to bathe with you.”

Despite being sated, Olivia's body shivered in anticipation. “And when we're clean and smelling pretty?”

He grinned. “I'm going to make you come with my tongue.”

Oh God.
She would have liked that. But it wasn't going to happen. Before she climbed into the tub, Olivia went to her room to gather some clothing. While she was there, she pulled her valise out of the armoire and withdrew a small metal syringe from the inside pocket.

The syringe contained enough laudanum to kill a man. That same amount would render Reign unconscious for twenty, maybe thirty minutes if she was lucky. She didn't want him injured or dead, she just wanted a head start. Originally she had planned to use it to make handing him over to the kidnappers easier. Now, she was going to use it to save him.

Still wrapped in a towel, she hid the syringe in her bundle of clothes and carried them into Reign's room. He was in his trousers but nothing else and the sight of his naked back was enough to make her want to confess all and finally relieve herself of this weight on her shoulders.

“You look decidedly glum for a well-pleasured woman,” he joked. “Are you nervous about tonight? Don't be. James will be fine.”

“I know.” She wished she could believe that. Then, when he went to the armoire to select a shirt, Olivia followed him. She dropped her own clothes on the bed and whirled around, syringe in hand.

She plunged it into his hip, injecting the full barrel of laudanum into him.

He turned around, his face a mask of surprise. “Liv, what the f…” And then his knees began to buckle.

Surprise turned to shock, then anger. “Liv, no.”

Olivia moved back so he couldn't grab her, and watched as he slowly crumpled to the carpet. “I'm sorry, Reign. I truly am.”

“No.” He fell forward onto his hands. “Don't do…this.”

“I have to. You'll understand later.” Then, she rushed forward, heedless of the fact that he might still have the strength to subdue her, and fell to her knees beside him. Cradling his head in her hands, she kissed his cheek. “You'll always be my husband, no matter what.”

He looked at her with glazed eyes and then slumped into her arms. The drug had him in its hold.

Olivia slipped her arms around his ribs and stood. He wasn't any heavier than a human man his size, so she was easily able to get him to the
bed. Then, she hurriedly dressed in a demi-corset, split skirt, and loose blouse. Her clothing wouldn't be shocking enough to draw a lot of attention, but she would have freedom of movement, something much more important.

Once she was dressed, she ran up to the attic and through to the door to the roof. From there she vaulted into the night, turning her body toward Old Town and the Wolf, Ram and Hart tavern.

She landed on a nearby roof, and jumped to the ground in an alley, landing in a soft crouch. The knife that she had brought
just in case
was tucked into her right boot. The hilt dug into her calf as she straightened.

Could she really do this? Her actions tonight could cost James his life, but she didn't think it would come to that. For all she knew there could be nothing but another invitation waiting for her inside. Or, they could be there with James. Either way she was going to send a message. If it was just another letter, they would no doubt be watching her as she received it, and she would let it be known that she had no intention of giving in to their demands.

And if James was by chance with them, she was going to free him by any means necessary, even if it meant her own life. Even if it meant the lives of the men holding him. She had never willingly killed someone, but tonight could change all of that.

Holding her head high and her shoulders back, she entered the tavern. There wasn't a large crowd inside, maybe twenty or thirty people that she could see. The same barkeep was in attendance as had been the last time she and Reign had been there. He looked up and met her gaze. And then he nodded to a table in the back where it was darker and more shadowed.

Olivia glanced around her, noting three men who were watching her from different locations in the tavern—one on a balcony above, and one on either side of the room below. Knowing what she was they wouldn't be foolish enough to have three alone, not if they planned a meeting, which this appeared to be. They especially wouldn't be so foolish if they thought she would have Reign with her, so there had to be more scattered throughout the tavern.

She moved into the back section. No one seemed to find it odd that a lone woman would enter this area. No one seemed to find her out of place at all, which struck her as odd.

She was not surprised to see Dashbrooke sitting alone at one of the few tables in the darkened alcove. Surely he realized he was at a disadvantage with her in such dim surroundings?

He looked decidedly cocky for a man whose neck she could snap like a dry branch. Of course, he believed himself to have power over her. He had James.

If she ripped his heart out of his chest, would he live long enough for her to choke him with it?

“Mrs. Gavin,” he said in that oily tone of his. “Are you alone?”

Olivia pulled a chair out from the battered, rickety table and sat down, positioning herself so she could see Dashbrooke's meaty hands as they rested on his heavy thighs. “Do I need a chaperone, Mr. Dashbrooke?”

“Of course not, but I am surprised your husband isn't with you.”

“Oh? I'm not surprised to see that James isn't with you.”
Duplicitous pig.
“Where is he?”

“He's safe.”

“If you didn't plan this meeting to give him back to me, why are we here?”

A humorless smile curved his cruel lips. He enjoyed thinking he had power over her. “I thought it might be nice to meet face-to-face while we discuss particulars of the exchange.”

“There's not going to be an exchange.”

She had the pleasure of seeing confusion flicker in his eyes. “I beg your pardon?”

Now it was her turn to smile. Her turn to be in charge. “I'm not giving you Reign.”

A thundercloud of expression rolled over his broad face. “We had an arrangement.”

“No, you gave me an ultimatum.” Her gaze locked with his. “I don't like being threatened, Mr. Dashbrooke.”

He leaned across the table, his face florid. “Either you deliver Reign to the address I'm about to give you by sunrise on Tuesday or I'm going to put a bullet in young Mr. Burnley's skull.”

Olivia lashed out, her fingers grabbing his throat like a hawk snatching up a mouse. Sweet, unsettling rage the likes of which she had never known coursed through her veins. “You harm my nephew and I will have your boy Reggie for breakfast.” When that didn't seem to have the desired effect, she added, “and that darling little daughter of yours for dinner. And then, I'll suck the marrow from your bones while you're still alive.”

Dashbrooke paled and made a gurgling sound in his throat. Olivia squeezed harder. It was coldly satisfying to see his eyes bulge. “Give me my nephew, Dashbrooke, and I just might let your family live.” It was an empty threat, of course, she would never hurt an innocent, but she would tear Dashbrooke's throat out with her teeth.

Dashbrooke couldn't speak, but he didn't try to. He held up his hand in what Olivia thought was a gesture of surrender, until she heard a gunshot and felt the sting of a bullet tear into her shoulder.

She rose with a roar, knocking over the chair as she lifted Dashbrooke from his seat and threw him in the direction of the shot. Then she whipped the blade from her boot. Diving to the floor, she sliced neatly through the backs of the boots of a man coming at her with what looked like silver
manacles. He screamed as her blade severed both of his Achilles tendons, and fell to the floor on top of the restraints.

Another shot rang out and Olivia rolled behind a pillar, gasping for breath. She realized three things at once. One, the bullet in her shoulder was made of silver and was burning her from the inside out. Second, that at least three quarters of the people in the tavern were on Dashbrooke's side. She was outnumbered, even for a vampire.

And third—that she had had to be the stupidest creature in all the world for believing she could do this alone.

She had hurt Dashbrooke. Even better, she had scared him. Now she had to get the hell out of there and go find Reggie or George Haversham—someone impressed enough with what she was to lead her to James.

It was the plan she should have thought of to begin with, but she had been a little too slow in realizing that while Dashbrooke was their enemy, James's friends were simply his pawns.

Several men were closing in on her. Over the din of people yelling, and innocent bystanders scrambling for cover, Olivia could hear someone shouting for help for Dashbrooke. Maybe she had broken the bastard's neck.