My Lord Eternity (14 page)

Authors: Alexandra Ivy

BOOK: My Lord Eternity

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Amadeus lifted his brows at Lucien's gracious words. “While Miss Kingly flees to the protection of Gideon and Sebastian? I think not.”

“Not even one drink to toast my soon-to-be demise?” Lucien prodded with a smile. “I have a very fine spirit in London if you would care to wait here while I retrieve it.”

As expected, the morose vampire gave a sniff of disdain at his levity. He had always condemned Lucien for his lack of proper dignity, seemingly offended by anyone who did not share his sullen darkness.

“Frivolous to the end, eh, Lucien?” he snarled.

Lucien smiled. “It is preferable to your grim lack of humor.”

Spreading his arms wide, Amadeus called upon his powers and began slowly to change into mist.

“We shall see if you are still laughing when I have finished with you,” he mocked in hollow tones.

Lucien tightly gripped the dagger and called upon his fading strength.

“We will, indeed,” he muttered, wincing as the mist struck out to cut deeply into his arm.

Jocelyn's hands were raw and bleeding as she struggled to pull open the shutters that had been firmly nailed shut.

When she had fled the cellars, she had made it outside the gloomy castle and halfway to the nearby trees, when she staggered to a halt. She wanted to run. To hasten to the trees and find the awaiting horse so that she could return to the sanity of London.

Quite frankly she was terrified.

She had never been so agonizingly frightened in her life.

The ghastly Amadeus had devoted the past hour to revealing precisely how he would torture her. He had spoken of horrors beyond her imagination and pain she could never endure. For a time she had thought she might actually go mad from sheer fear.

Who could possibly blame her for seeking safety? She was no match for a vampire. And as Lucien had said, the Medallion must be kept out of the traitor's hands. Nothing was more important.

This was not her battle. She should do as Lucien demanded and seek out Gideon Ravel to protect her.

But even as she had stumbled out the door, she had known she could not leave Lucien behind.

How could she? Whatever he was, whatever falsehood he had told her, she loved him. She loved him with a force that nearly consumed her.

If he were to die, then her own life would be meaningless.

And beyond that there was a rebellious part of her heart that condemned her cowardly flight.

No.

She would not be forced into walking away.

Not on this occasion, she suddenly told herself.

She had allowed herself to be humiliated out of society. To be condemned by her parents and thrown out of their lives.

Had she been older and wiser, she would never have given them such power over her. Nor would she have wasted so much of her life regretting what was no more than a mistaken trust in another.

She would prove to herself that she had changed. That she was now a woman who could face bravely whatever life chose to throw at her.

And so she had forced her reluctant feet to carry her back into the cramped vestibule.

That was when she had suddenly been struck with a dangerous plan.

She could not hope to match the vampire's strength, but she could match his cunning. If only she could wrench free the shutters, then she would have the perfect weapon to battle a creature of the dark.

With a last jerk, the heavy shutter flung open. Jocelyn ignored her throbbing hands and glanced out the broken panes of the narrow window. Although darkness still shrouded the nearby woods, there was an undeniable glow of dawn upon the horizon.

From the stairs she could hear the unmistakable sounds of a battle being waged, and her heart clenched in fear.

“Oh, Lucien, hold on,” she muttered in low tones, silently willing the sun to rise.

For what seemed to be an eternity she stood there trembling as she desperately watched for the first rays of sunlight to filter over the trees. And then, at long last, a bright glow washed over her and tumbled into the shadowed room.

Hurriedly turning about, Jocelyn moved through the slender beam of sunlight, bending down to make a distinct mark in the thick dust upon the flagstones. Then, just as swiftly, she pulled the shutter closed, careful to ensure that it appeared firmly nailed in place.

Only then did she turn toward the stairs and call out in a loud voice, “Amadeus. I have the Medallion. It is yours if you still desire it.”

There was a thick pause before she heard Lucien moan in dismay. “Jocelyn, no.”

“Yes, Lucien.” She did not need to feign the decided quaver in her voice. “I will not allow you to be harmed.”

“Bring me the Medallion,” Amadeus commanded.

“No.” Jocelyn sucked in a steadying breath, her nerves so raw that she could barely think straight. “You must first assure me that Lucien is able to leave without harm.”

“Of course.” The oily voice of the traitor moved closer to the stairs. “You have my word. Now bring me the Medallion.”

Jocelyn grimaced, wondering if the evil man truly thought she would accept his word. For heaven's sake, he had kidnapped, tortured, and murdered without compunction. Why would he not lie?

“Not until Lucien is here beside me.”

She could hear a rasp of anger float through the air before the vampire was regaining command of his composure.

“Very well.” There was a faint rustling, and then Jocelyn could see Lucien making his way up the stairs, closely followed by Amadeus. Her breath caught at the bronze countenance that was cut and battered almost out of recognition. His lean body had fared no better, and his coat was tattered to reveal several wounds that were bleeding in an alarming manner. Smiling cruelly at her horrified expression, Amadeus held out his skeleton hand.

“Now. The Medallion.”

Jocelyn licked her suddenly dry lips, her heart painfully trapped in her throat. If her plot failed, then Lucien would be killed and she would once again be at the mercy of this horrid monster.

No, she firmly thrust the traitorous thoughts aside.

She would not fail.

Straightening her shoulders, she met the feverish gaze with a stubborn determination.

“Not until you have allowed Lucien to pass.” Amadeus snarled at her bravado. “I will endure no tricks.”

“No tricks.” Slowly she reached up to remove the Medallion from her neck and held it out.

“No, Jocelyn,” Lucien gasped.

She ignored his outburst as her gaze remained on the wary vampire. “Send him to me.”

There was a long pause before Amadeus reached out to push Lucien toward her. “Go to her.”

She forced herself to remain in place as Lucien painfully staggered forward, his hand covering a gaping wound that spilled blood over his fingers.

“Jocelyn,” he gasped weakly, his eyes glazed with agony, “do not do this.”

“I must, Lucien,” she said softly. “Forgive me.”

“No. . . .”

“Enough,” the vampire growled, moving forward with an icy fury. “I will have the Medallion.”

Jocelyn gave a nod of her head. “Very well. Take it.”

Sending up a desperate prayer, she tossed the Medallion toward the spot she had marked upon the floor. It arched through the dim shadows before landing upon the dust. At the same time Lucien gave a wrenching moan.

“No.”

With a gloating laugh, the vampire was already scurrying toward his prize.

“Too late, Lucien. Your foolish slut has already given the Medallion of her free will. It is now mine.”

“Amadeus,” Lucien choked.

Sinking to his knees, Amadeus reached his fingers toward the amulet that glowed with a golden light.

“Already I can feel the power. Glorious power . . .”

Lost in his haze of lust, the vampire did not notice as Jocelyn suddenly turned and reached for the shutter. He did not even realize his danger until a rosy shaft of morning sunlight angled through the window to land directly upon his crouched form.

For a heartbeat the world seemed to halt, then to Jocelyn's amazement a tendril of smoke rose from the vampire. It was swiftly followed by a sudden flare of fire that engulfed Amadeus even as he struggled to his feet.

“No,” the tortured vampire screamed, futilely attempting to bat out the flames that were consuming him.

In horror Jocelyn watched Amadeus stumble about the room, his shrieks sending shivers down her spine. He was being burned alive, his body turning to ash as he fell to the flagstones and gave one last scream of fury.

Silence descended, and with agonizing slowness the flames flickered out one by one. Jocelyn remained locked in sick disbelief until at last there was nothing left but the gruesome darkness upon the dust.

Heavens above, she had done it.

She had killed a vampire and saved Lucien.

Chapter 13

With her horrified gaze still upon the black marks on the flagstones, Jocelyn was at last shaken out of her shocked disbelief as Lucien gave a low groan and sank to his knees.

Shaking off the odd fog that clouded her mind, Jocelyn hastily lowered herself beside his weak form.

She had not gone through all of this only to have Lucien die on her now, she silently swore, her hands reaching out to stroke the satin of his hair.

“Lucien, you are wounded.”

“Give me a moment,” he murmured, his voice so low she could barely discern his words.

“Shall I go for a doctor?”

With an effort he lifted his head to regard her with a strained smile. “A doctor would be of little use to me, I fear.”

She bit her lip at his teasing words. “Oh . . . of course.”

“Do not fear. I heal very quickly.”

Hoping that he was not merely attempting to disguise how injured he truly was, Jocelyn shifted so that she could wrap her arms about him and pull him against her. She needed to have him close. She needed to feel the beat of his heart and his sweet breath against her cheek.

Instantly she was surrounded by his warm strength, and she could at last draw in a deep breath. There was a great comfort in simply having him near.

“I am not hurting you, am I?” she demanded in concern.

“No.” He shifted so that they were both leaning against the hard stone wall and released a faint sigh. “This is much better.”

Jocelyn buried her face in his shoulder, breathing deeply of his masculine scent. She was still reeling from her horrifying experience, and while she had never allowed herself to doubt that Lucien would come to her rescue, she could not deny that the past few hours had tried her nerves to the very limit.

Confronting a crazed vampire would have terrified the bravest of souls.

“Lucien, I was so frightened,” she whispered in broken tones.

Surprisingly he placed his fingers beneath her chin to tilt her countenance upward. The golden eyes glittered with a smoldering fire.

“Unfortunately you were not frightened enough.”

“What?”

“Why did you not flee when I commanded you to?”

She wrinkled her nose at his stern tone. To her relief, she could already sense him regaining much of his strength.

“Because I do not take commands from you, Mr. Valin,” she reminded him in crisp tones.

He smiled wryly, his thumb absently stroking the line of her lower lip.

“Eventually I will manage to recall that pertinent fact, Miss Kingly.”

Her own smile was weak, but a new warmth was beginning to battle the chill that had filled her.

“I do hope so.”

His expression became somber as he allowed his gaze to roam openly over her pale countenance and tumbled curls.

“Still, you should not have taken such a risk.”

“I could not leave you.”

“It was too dangerousâ”

“Lucien,” she interrupted firmly. “Would you have left me behind?”

His lips thinned at her logic. “It is not at all the same.”

“Of course it is.” She met his gaze squarely. “I have enough regrets in my life. Would you have me add hating myself for fleeing like a coward?”

He let out a resigned sigh at her adamant expression. “Of course not. But you are forbidden ever to do such a thing again. My heart could not bear the strain.”

Despite the welcome warmth that surrounded her, Jocelyn gave a violent shudder. It would be years before she would recall this day without a flare of fear.

“I hope there shall be no need. Unless there are any other vampires stalking me?”

He shifted so that his arms were locked firmly about her. “Not to my knowledge.”

“Thank goodness.”

With obvious reluctance Lucien turned to glance toward the faint remains of the powerful vampire. A brief anger flared over his elegant features before they softened with regret.

“How did you conjure such a clever scheme?” he demanded softly.

Jocelyn grimaced, pressing even closer to his hard body. She might feel deeply relieved that Amadeus was no longer a threat, but it was utterly unnerving to consider that she had brought death to anyone, even a vampire.

“Not clever, only desperate. I recalled you saying that a vampire who had taken the life of a human could not bear sunlight.”

“The bane of bloodlust,” he murmured.

“But I had to lure him up here without alerting him to the trap,” she continued in uneven tones. “The Medallion was all I could think of.”

“Yes.” Lucien gave a slow nod of his head. “He was so obsessed, he did not even consider his danger. Not until to was too late.”

The memory of those pale, fevered eyes made her stomach clench in disgust. He had been obsessed. Even mad. He would have done anything to claim the Medallion as his own.

“He is dead?” she demanded, needing to be reassured that it was truly at an end.

“Quite dead.”

She heaved a faint sigh. “I suppose that I should feel guilty. I have never deliberately harmed another before.”

“No.” His gaze returned to her darkened eyes, his features suddenly grim. “He would have killed the both of us without thought and ravaged his way through England. He had to be halted.”

Jocelyn winced as she recalled poor Molly and the other women who had been ruthlessly murdered by the vampire. Lucien was correct. She could not have allowed further innocents to be brutally tortured by Amadeus. He might even have attacked the children.

The thought was enough to harden her heart.

“Yes,” she said.

He grimaced as he studied her shadowed eyes and the pain that still lingered.

“I am sorry, however, that you were forced into such a position. I should have confronted him the moment I arrived in London.”

Jocelyn frowned at the self-contempt that laced through his dark voice. She would not allow Lucien to blame himself. Not when he had nearly died attempting to save her.

“Lucien.” She lifted her hand and pressed it to the side of his face. Her skin tingled as it encountered the satin warmth of his cheek. “You could not have known what he would do.”

His own hand rose to cover her fingers, his golden eyes haunted with remembered pain.

“I knew he was dangerous.”

“Enough,” she said sharply.

His brows lifted at the stubborn jut of her chin. “What?”

“It is the past. We cannot change what has occurred. All we can do now is consider the future.”

There was a long pause, almost as if he battled the urge to argue with her sensible words. Then the grimness of his features softened and the golden eyes were lit with that warm, rich light that so touched her heart.

“When did you become so very wise?”

Wise? Jocelyn gave a soft chuckle. No one could ever accuse her of being wise in the past. Not when she had so recklessly played the flirt with Lord Patten. Not when she had meekly allowed her parents to force her from her rightful place in their life. Nor even when she had determinedly set upon a new path without first accepting and forgiving the mistakes that she had made.

But now . . . now she realized she possessed a wonderful clarity. She knew precisely what she desired from her life and whom she desired to share it with.

Devoting her life to others was all well and good, but at the moment she wanted to think only of herself.

And this wonderful, glorious gentleman at her side.

“When you walked into my home and rented my garret,” she said with a smile.

“Ah.” He reached down to softly brush his lips over her forehead before pulling back to regard her with a teasing expression. “I thought you were going to toss me back onto the streets.”

“I desired to. I knew you were a dangerous gentleman the moment you entered the room. Only my need for your coin forced me to allow you to remain.”

“Do not tell me that you love me only for my fortune,” he chided gently.

“And your laughter. And your kindness. And your amazing ability to know my heart better than I know it myself.”

He stilled, his fingers moving to trail over her cheek and down the length of jaw. Jocelyn could not halt the tiny shiver of response to his light caress.

“And my kisses?” he prodded.

Jocelyn forced herself to pretend to consider his words. “They are bearable, I suppose.”

“Bearable?”

With a low growl he slowly bent his head to touch his lips softly to her own. Jocelyn readily arched toward him. It was not a kiss of passion or physical need. Instead, it was a tender reassurance that they had survived the nightmare and managed to escape with their lives intact.

For moments they clung to each other, drawing strength from the warm emotions that bonded them together.

Then with obvious reluctance Lucien at last pulled back to carefully tuck a stray curl behind her ear.

“Well?”

“Mmm. Perhaps they are wondrous.”

“That is considerably better.” His smile faded as he drew in a deep breath. “Ah, Jocelyn. I feared that you would never forgive me.”

Her gaze dropped as she recalled her horror at discovering the truth that he was a vampire. It was not, after all, every day that a maiden discovered the gentleman she had tumbled into love with was not human, she acknowledged wryly.

And, of course, there had been the fear that she had been played the fool once again. Echoes of the betrayal she had felt at the hands of Lord Patten had made her lash out with an instinctive need to protect herself from further pain.

But Lucien had nothing in common with the shallow, absurdly idiotic Lord Patten.

He had not been attempting to use her for his own pleasure. He did not consider her a mere object that was to be gained and then tossed aside when he grew weary of her.

He had wanted only to protect her.

And to bring a smile to her face.

Realizing that he was regarding her with a growingly concerned expression, she offered him a smile.

“I will admit that I was rather shocked to discover that you were not a simple rogue but a vampire in disguise.”

His expression cleared at her light tone, his brows wiggling in a ridiculous fashion.

“I prefer a roguish vampire.”

“Indeed,” she said dryly.

“I did not know how else to approach you, my sweet,” he confessed in rueful tones. “And in truth, I presumed that I would have returned to the Veil long before you would ever discover the truth. I did not consider the danger that you would steal my heart.”

“I believe you were the thief,” she promptly corrected him. “I was quite content with my quiet, uneventful life.”

“Perhaps content, but not happy,” he murmured.

“No. Not happy.”

“And now?”

Jocelyn paused. Wrapped snuggly in his arms, she felt warm and safe and utterly content. She loved this gentleman. And more than anything in the world, she wanted to know he would be at her side for the rest of her life.

But even as she wanted to weep for joy at the thought that he loved her, there was that annoyingly sensible part of her that forced her to recall that it was not so simple.

This was not the usual sort of flirtation. And Lucien was not another London gentleman.

For goodness' sake, he was not even mortal.

There were any number of difficulties that had to be confronted.

“I do not know,” she said slowly.

He furrowed his brow as he shifted, better to view her pale countenance. His movements were still awkward, and he could not entirely prevent his wince of pain. Jocelyn's heart cringed at the savage attack she knew he must have endured.

“What is it, Jocelyn?”

“Iâ” She came to a helpless halt, uncertain how to put her vague concern into words.

“Jocelyn?”

“Amadeus is now dead,” she at last blurted out.

His confusion only deepened. “Thank goodness.”

“I am no longer in danger,” she continued in brittle tones. “There is nothing now to keep you in London.”

“Ah.” His brow cleared as he realized the direction of her fears. “You are not attempting to get rid of me, are you, my sweet?”