Love Charms (163 page)

Chapter Twenty Two

Adam leapt down
off the horse without letting the mare stop. He didn't worry about tying the
animal off. He didn't care; his only thoughts were of Beth. His poor sister.

There was no fog
in the night air, but there was a breeze as he sprinted toward the front door
of his step uncle's mansion. He noticed a carriage and another horse tied up
nearby. Was Lady Ariel there consoling Beth, he wondered? She should be. It
lightened the burden and hurt he felt. Beth was ruined, ostracized from
society. They would never allow her among their ranks again.

"Bastards,"
he spat for the unforgiving standards of the wealthy. If it hadn't been for his
fellow university student, Charles Wingate, decent fellow, coming to warn him
what his sister had told him was, "The topic of the
ton,
"
before the night's round of parties and balls, he wouldn't have known of Beth's
fall into social ruin.

He'd only left
Beth that afternoon and she'd been set to visit Lady Ariel, and then travel on
to the train station. Easily, she could have missed the horrible gossip and
social cut. Something in his gut told him otherwise. If she hadn't, he'd travel
on to catch her fall when the ladies school denied her the job.

"My God, I
have to do something," he muttered, pushing open the front door. The thing
causing him agony was … what? What could he possibly do to save his sister? He
had nothing. Tears burned in his eyes, but he wouldn't let them fall. He was terrified
Beth's only choice would be to stay at their step uncle's … with Fanton.

"By God, I
will stay here too. And she'll not stop me," he uttered beneath his breath
as he came to a halt in the foyer.

It was nighttime
and the last thing he wanted was to see Fanton. Simply thinking the thought
made the side of his neck throb strangely. He grasped his neck, looking
upstairs at the darkness. He'd search for her without calling her name. His
hand fell from the pinpricks in his neck and he started toward the staircase.

Suddenly a man's
shout startled his steps and he halted. The shout had been muffled, but still
loud. What the hell? Fanton? Whom could he be shouting at? He was afraid it
might be Beth and he inched his way toward Fanton's side of the mansion. He
went to the entryway into the long hallway leading to Fanton's suite of rooms.

Yes, there was
definitely an argument going on in one of the rooms. Adam took several deep
breaths, gathering the courage to move closer. A crash sounded and a door flew
open. He nearly tripped over his own feet running for a place to hide. The
other hallway was the only place he could get to by the time two figures moved
into the foyer. Adam flattened his back against the wall, trying to make the
outline of his body as small as he could.

"Do you
have to rip them apart, you fucking noble?"

Adam didn't
recognize the man who shouted those fateful words, but he knew the other man.
Fanton!

In between their
words, they were hissing at each other in strange animalistic ways that made
his skin crawl. Haunting premonitions told him, if they found him, he was in
deep trouble and he glanced with panicked longing down the hall, where he
wanted to run. The way they were standing in the foyer, though, they would see
him if he moved away from the wall.

"What I do,
river scum, is none of your concern." Fanton's voice was snide and rolling
into guttural.

"Sire, to
you!" the man wearing a black vest bellowed. He had pale, but fit arms and
his dark hair was slicked and tied back. The man was definitely not a nobleman.

"Look at
you, calling yourself, Sire. You will never be what I am. You will
never
have what I have," Fanton snarled.

"So you
think you're some noble vampire, you idiot? I made you and I can unmake you.
You're not going to have the Blacknalls after my carcass!"

Adam sucked in a
more startled breath than all the rest. Vampire?
Oh God, he'd known
.
He'd known all along that Fanton was something … horrible.

"Just stay
out of my business, Cull, and don't come back here!" Fanton shouted like a
man losing an argument, who fell back on threats that he may or may not be able
to back up.

"Not this
time, Governor," Cull countered. "Only a foul vampire would mangle
women like you do and not even take their blood. You were a cannibal before I
turned you!"

"I'm just
doing what you'd like to do!" Fanton shouted. He tried to grab Cull by his
vest with the intention of throwing the lowlife liar out of his mansion.
"I don't live by your rules, ever!" he snarled, slashing his claws
outward toward Cull.

"Then you
die," Cull spat lunging toward him.

Fanton felt the
impact like nothing he'd felt in a long time. Other vampires were stronger than
he'd realized. His body gave and bashed into the door, cracking the wood.

Cull's hands
latched onto his throat and squeezed inch by inch, lifting him up the wall.
"Fight with a sire is a losing fight," Cull growled with his claws
cutting the flesh on Fanton's neck and throat.

Fanton howled
gurgling sounds with his throat restricted, realizing he'd horribly
miscalculated the strength difference between his brawn and Cull's wiry body.
Fanton choked, clawing at Cull's hands trying to loosen them. "You can't
kill a nobleman," Fanton managed to gag.

Cull's yellowed
fangs glinted off the oil light overhead. "Oh, nob, you are so wrong about
that." Cull hefted him higher. "I've had trouble at my doorstep three
times because of you, and I told you not to tell anyone about the
wolfsbane."

"
Paid,
"
Fanton gurgled with spittle flying through his fangs. It was the only word he
could manage through Cull's grip on his throat.

"Paying me
for the wolfsbane doesn't mean a damn thing when you let the secret out, you
foul-blood sucker!" Cull yelled each word and each word was emphasized by
pain lancing across Fanton's throat.

Fanton tried to
kick outward with desperation, hoping to connect with Cull's body as blood red
colors washed over his vision.

"I
never
should have turned you," Cull snarled.

Fanton felt the
shift and he knew Cull was lunging inward for a fatal rip of his fangs. Fanton
thrashed, wrenching his entire body, then in the last second when Cull had to
release his throat and his feet hit the ground he kneed Cull's groin just as
Cull's fangs were tearing into his throat. Fanton yowled, an inhuman sound of
agony at the near fatal blow. His hand clutched the shredded cartilage and
tendons as he lurched to the side.

In the core of
his existence, he knew he'd been within inches of immortal death. His need to
survive propelled him when his knees should have buckled and his body should
have slammed onto the floor. He staggered with the instincts to hide, to
escape. Through the tearing pain, he heard Cull groan, and then cuss.
No,
fuck, no.
Cull was reviving. Fanton hit a wall, bounced off it, and
stumbled forward. He nearly fell, was falling, but his free hand not holding
his torn throat latched onto a doorknob.

He turned and he
pushed, but something slammed into him from behind. "I'll tear you to
bloody pieces like you do those whores!"

Fanton expected
to feel the floor. Instead he fell into something solid that gave with a
resounding crack. Furniture? He flung out both his hands, even the one holding
the pieces of his throat together, while he turned, lashing out with his claws.
He hit bone and flesh, hearing ripe grunts of impact expel from Cull's throat.

He knew this
.
From his experience mangling bodies. The drive of that sadistic passion infused
him and he tore again, hitting. Cull howled, screamed. Fanton pushed away from
whatever broken furniture he was on and he wiped his eyes, finally seeing blurry
visions. Cull on his knees clutching his torn stomach.
He wanted more.
More ripping and tearing, he was the master at it. He started forward and
stumbled sideways. The headiness of having a kill so close fled with weakness
and pain. He groaned, blood bubbled from his torn throat and he realized he was
still close to his own end.

Adam clutched
the sides of the bookcase he tried to hide alongside as his frantic gaze leaped
from one animal to the next. They were animals! He'd never seen men fight like
the two vampires did. They seemed to have superhuman strength. And, he'd made a
horrible miscalculation sprinting into this room to hide. To further his very
bad situation he'd not made it to the patio doors before the two abominations
had crashed into the room.

Fear as he'd
never felt before clogged his throat as he saw Fanton with the side of his neck
ripped open but still able to move. Any man with such an affliction should be
dead on the floor. As far as Adam tried to cringe back and hide, it was
impossible. He would be seen, if either lethal monster looked up.

His eyes leapt
to the patio doors trying to decide if he should try for it, while the
monsters’ attentions were clouded by their battle. There was no hope really and
he knew it. He knew he had to try. Even as terrified as he was, he prayed Beth
wasn't inside the mansion and he pushed away from the bookcase, sprinting to
the windowed doors leading out onto a private patio. His hands closed around
the knobs with his heartbeat straining.

"Adam!"

"No!"
he screamed, looking back at the slashes of Fanton's glowing red eyes. His
hands fumbled with the knobs.
No, no, no.
He pushed.
Freedom.
Then, he saw the impossible … it was Fanton's body flying across the room with
an inhuman leap.

"No!"
Adam yelled.

Fanton's body
slammed into him, carrying them through the windows of the door he'd not gotten
quite open. Blackness snapped over his vision as the impact took the air from
his lungs. The next thing he knew was excruciating pain and heaving breath as
instinct had him punching and trying to shove Fanton from on top of him. Terror
came when he knew it was impossible to halt. He screamed, begging, "No!
Fanton! No!"

Fangs like
razors lunged for his neck and he felt slicing pain. It hurt so badly tears
poured from his eyes as he shoved against Fanton's chest. He bucked his body
trying to break free, but Fanton's strength held him as his breath gurgled.

What he thought
was pain was nothing compared to the agony that came next. He screeched sounds
that wouldn't fully come from his throat as his limbs thrashed. Pain ripped
through every part of his body, as he stiffened, held suspended and he felt his
life being sucked out. Each draw Fanton took surged agony through his veins,
until his body fell limp and blackness clouded his vision.

What seemed like
hours later, he could hear the slowing thud of his heartbeat one after the
other as though his chest were a hollow case. Fanton was gone … and his foul,
evil stepbrother had taken the essence of his life. His breath rasped, barely
gaining any air, and he thought of blood. The dark red, thick liquid, its
coppery smell and the way it clung to everything it touched.

Blood was rich
with life and for some reason he wanted blood. He craved blood and the hunger
for it grew stronger with each shallow breath he took. The need started clawing
through him.
He needed blood.
He had to
have
blood. It was pain,
tearing and slicing through him, and his body convulsed with ravenous lust for
blood pouring agony from his pores.

He had no air
left to say the word that would relieve his torment as his need for blood
pushed him beyond his own breath. He whimpered, shoving his body over to claw
forward inch by inch. With each move weaker than the last, until he tried, but
couldn't draw another inch forward. He was nearly dead and his breath rattled
his demise. His tongue fell out of his mouth with the tip sliding on the
stones, no longer propelled by his lifeless body.

A single, dying
thought of blood coating his tongue, snapped like a pistol shot through his
body.

Chapter
Twenty Three

Beth moaned,
caught in a nightmare. One about horrible death and she was terrified, with
tears burning her eyes.

"Beth."

"Help
me," she cried, praying Trinity would come.

"Beth.
Sweet. Wake up!"

"Help,
help," she panted, and then her eyelids lifted. "Trinity? Oh!"
He was above her and she grabbed him, embracing her arms around his neck,
hugging him with the dredges of desperation she could feel from the nightmare.
She buried her face into his thick hair smelling of the moors.

"Beth,
hush. You are safe." Trinity's voice rumbled against her and she trembled
with relief hearing his assurances she was safe.

More clarity
came into her thoughts. "Oh, I've never had such a horrible dream
before." She tried to slow her breathing.

She felt Trinity
shifting and she realized the bareness of her breasts was flattened to his
solid chest and her legs were intertwined with his legs, but she could feel his
pants. She could also feel something else. A harden length pressing against her.
All she could think was that he was her husband as quivers gently assaulted
her.

The length was
thrilling … and intriguing. She felt it bump unyielding against her as Trinity
continued to shift, until he'd pulled back so he could look down at her. His hands
smoothed away the hair from her damp temple and she saw with awe, so close,
that his eyes were yellow in color.

"How
beautiful," she whispered with her fingers reaching as though to touch
them, but of course, she couldn't and she stroked his eyebrow instead.

"Beautiful
is not a word I would use for these animal eyes." His voice was low and
measured, his jaw firm and his hair fell forward making a type of cloak about
their faces. "They turn yellow for arousal, hunger, danger, or before
battle," he murmured stroking her hair.

 A hot blush
crept over her cheeks. Everything spoke to the fact he was aroused. It was like
a heady male aura around him.

"I could
get very used to waking up like this." His gaze watched her lips.
"Without the nightmare," he added.

"I don't
usually sleep at night," she murmured without thinking. "Maybe that's
why I had a dream." The vein in his wrist kept lifting, back and forth, in
and out, of her view as he played with her hair.

"You are
going to have to tell me why that is." His voice was firm with resolve.

Tingling like
the ones she'd felt when he'd aroused her, began flushing through her body. To
have him command her as a husband was somehow very exciting. She nearly forgot
the danger of her answer.
Fanton.
Unwillingly, her body tensed at the
horrid answer and Trinity's gaze sharpened. She didn't want to think about her
vile stepbrother and how she was certain that Fanton was a …

"You've
lost your welcoming softness, maiden. What frightens you so?" The last
words he spoke were a command.

She had no hope
to hide from him this close. He could feel every nuance of her emotions if he
watched closely enough … and he did. He watched as a hunter centered on its
prey. She licked her dry lips.

"I sleep
during the daytime and go out at night to avoid my stepbrother," she
whispered, turning her head to the side, evading his gaze.

Trinity looked
down on the slender expanse of feminine throat exposed to him. His
extraordinary eyes could see the vein and warm blood pumping through it. Yet
not even this raised his hackles or lengthened his fangs, because he'd suddenly
realized his wife was afraid of something … very afraid and he'd completely
missed it within the drama they'd churned through since meeting. He might have
caught a bare hint of it that night out on the lawn, but he'd been so
distracted by desire for Beth's blood and lust for her charms he'd overlooked
the reason she was collapsed that night.

Now, he knew
with certainty she'd run from this fear.
Stepbrother.
He barely stifled
a menacing snarl and was surprised once again at how utterly possessive he
felt. It was as primal as before, but this time he controlled the emotions
thrumming through his body.

He rose, slowly
carrying Beth with him, until she sat on the edge of the bed beside him and he
could see her tempting bare breasts and soft attractive face. He appreciated
the way her nightgown hung off her elbows as she tried to raise her hands to
cover her breasts. He caught her wrists, gently holding them down.

"A husband
should be able to view his wife's intimate flesh."

One strand of
Beth's inky black hair slid over her shoulder and curled over one plump mound
as her cheeks grew blush. He watched the pink blush cover the firm globes of
her breasts as the nipples drew tight and rosy, while she peeked at him. The
constant arousal he'd been living with and controlling nagged him about how
cruel it was to leave such ripe lushness. He realized for the first time what a
lucky man he was. This tempting treat was his,
all his.

He leaned in and
tilted his head for a kiss, which she presented him hesitantly, and then with
more resolve, returning his lips’ motion. She was starry-eyed when he lifted
from tasting her and her alluring breasts rose and fell with her erratic
breathing. At least he would be leaving her affected. He would have smiled if
he weren't governing his arousal so tightly. His little Beth was very affected.

He rose with her
gaze following him, and he noticed she found a great deal of interest in his
bared chest and lower along the lean muscular handles of his hips, where his
pants hung low. An image of her petting and caressing him with free enthusiasm
came to him.
That would happen one day.
He suddenly knew it. Beth was
receptive and she would be a highly sensual woman awakened by his hands.
Slowly.

"I will
leave you to your morning toilet, my pretty little wife," he murmured, his
beast soothed and attentive at the blush he received.

"My
lord," she murmured and he found he like her deference to him as he strode
to the door.

"I look forward
to seeing you at breakfast." He bowed slightly. "And afterward when
I'm certain all your needs are attended to, we have things to discuss."

Beth slowly came
downstairs an hour later. Fortunately, Trinity had brought along her trunks,
however, she'd not packed many day-dresses in her hurry to leave, besides the
fact she'd thought she was going to go teach at a very proper ladies school.
Therefore, she'd brought along more sturdy attire and less frills. However,
she'd saved one attractive dress back just in case and now she was glad she
had. After a bath, she'd put on the white and pink flowered day-dress with lace
on the sleeves and collar. Admiring the way it showed her cleavage to plum
advantage. She so wanted to look pretty for her husband and she thought she'd
accomplished it.

Maven told her
breakfast was being served in the dining room where they'd eaten last evening.
When she entered she found Trinity already there … behind a newspaper. What she
could see of him was black-polished, tall boots and buff gray pants as he
leaned back in his chair. The moment her skirts rustled in the entrance, his
paper shifted and he looked up at her.

"Countess
Montrose, good morning."

Beth watched
Trinity rise from his chair as he set his paper aside, while a thrill raced
through her on several fronts. His use of her married name and the way his rich
blue eyes took in each point of her figure … very slowly. Then there was the
hint of the arousal she was beginning to recognize on the lean edges of his
face.

"Good morning,
Lord Montrose." She dipped a curtsy and blushed at the way Trinity's gaze
lingered on her chest. Inwardly she was pleased her ministrations had caught
his eye.

He surprised her
by coming around the large table to meet her at the entrance. "This is my
new favorite dress." His voice was warm, while his arm bracketed her waist
and his fingers lifted her chin as his lips lowered for a kiss.

Her palms
flattened on his chest as the melting intentions of his mouth molded over her
lips. She followed his amorous lips, softening into him. A rumble like a
half-growl, half-purr sounded against her mouth. Long moments later, Trinity
pulled away and she saw the true regret on his features. She wondered why he
was always stopping, and she looked up at him seeing yellow rims outlining his
dark blue irises as he rubbed his thumb over her kissed lips.

"You need
to eat," he stated as though he were trying to convince himself.

Beth found she
immensely liked the idea her husband was having trouble breaking away from her,
so she didn't help him at all, but continued to lean against him. His hand
squeezed the indent of her waist and he looked caught between pulling her mouth
up for another kiss and setting her away from him.

She smiled,
watching his lips. "So you'll eat then?" Her gaze lifted from his
lips and she was certain she could get lost in the richness of his eyes.

"I eat
maidens," he teased, and his voice vibrated against her as her smile grew
bolder. It was delicious fun to play with one's husband.

"With sugar
or salt on top, my lord?" she asked playfully.

He smiled then
and her breath caught as she suddenly realized how handsome he was. "I
prefer to be on top of you, maiden."

She blushed and
it grew even hotter when she felt his broad hand roam downward from her waist
to intimately cup then squeeze her behind.

"But,"
he said, releasing her slowly. "You are all sugar."

Beth dipped her
gaze as pleasure from the compliment flowed through her. She'd never felt
anything like it before.

"Come now,
let's eat," he said, clasping her hand as he guided her to a chair. He
pulled it out and she sat. "I'll eat for show," he said, dipping
against her ear to murmur the words.

Beth noticed a
dark-brown polished wooden stake setting on the table within arm's reach of
her. Lying next to it was a large silver cross on a chain.

"For
you," Trinity said, rising and walking around the table. "As we've
spoken about." He moved to sit in front of her, across the table. "I
realize when I made the stake it's too unwieldy to carry everywhere so I remembered
the blessed silver cross."

She wanted to
decry the need for ever using them. She wanted to tell him she could never use
them on him. Never hurt him. However, this was their reality and she realized
she trusted her husband's judgment.

"Am I to wear
the cross then?" she asked.

"I think it
best. However, if it touches my flesh it will burn a wound that will never
heal. Silver is abhorrent to us. We cannot abide it and some believe we are
born of the Devil so the holy blessings repulse us."

Beth looked at
him in alarm as she touched the cross, and said, "I will carry it in my
pocket then, not around my neck. I could never forgive myself if I hurt you
that way."

"You are
too gentle," he said, not looking pleased by it. He sighed. "Perhaps
that is the way of it. You were meant to temper me."

She didn't care
for being accused of being too gentle by him. She didn't want to look lesser to
him on any count. An apology touched her tongue, but she held it. She wouldn't
apologize for who she was. The cross was hefty as she picked it up, and then
she settled it in a pocket on her day dress. She would always feel its weight.

She schooled her
features as pleasantly as she could manage, and she asked casually, "Would
others of your kind think to do me harm then?"

Trinity's
features drew firm with a dangerous slant. "They would pay dearly should
they ever think to harm you." His voice rumbled through his statement and
she shivered at his fierceness. At the same time, she also felt thrilled her
husband, so capable, would think to protect her.

She watched him
visibly force the tautness out of his features and body. "Yet, we must be
practical, Beth. My brothers and I make enemies, and while I cannot mesmerize
you, it doesn't mean other vampires can't. So no, it wouldn't be unheard of
that you could be used against us."

That's why it
would do her well to listen to and trust her husband's judgment
, Beth
thought, while an odd feeling clawed through her. Trinity had mentioned
vampires mesmerizing before. They stopped speaking of such provocative subjects
while the servants served them from the sideboard.

When the
servants left, she asked. "You've said you cannot mesmerize me?"
She'd said the word "mesmerize" slowly as though tasting it.

Trinity looked
sideways as if in thought, then after moments, he spoke quietly. "I do not
tell you about us to frighten you. However, I've taken your world away and
given you this one."

"Taken one
I was completely ruined in," she interrupted him. "And saved me twice
now."

That elusive
smile of his, tugged at the side of his lips. "Granted," he said with
a nod. "Vampires have the ability to put humans, their prey, and their
food, into subservient trances without the victim …" He paused, and then
said pointedly, "
You
or said victim, knowing they've been
mesmerized."

Startled by the
implications of Trinity's words, Beth dropped the cup of hot tea she was
bringing to her lips. She cried out at the hot liquid damaging her dress as she
scooted away from it. The teacup broke and liquid poured across the table.

"Beth,"
Trinity uttered. "Have you burned yourself?"

"N-No,"
she stuttered looking down at the mess on the table as her thoughts raced
frantically over events from her past. Memory loss episodes, sleep walking, and
awaking in strange places … "Oh God," she gasped.
Awaking in
different manners of undress.
She stood, shaking, and clutching her skirts.
"I need to catch this dress from staining," She turned to hurry from
the room with one name mocking her thoughts in horror.
Fanton. Fanton!