The Vampire Dimitri (21 page)

Thanks, in part, to him. He closed his eyes.

“Poor darling,” Lerina said, her voice bringing him back.

Her eyes shifted, focusing on the wound on his face.
Before he could brace himself, she bent forward, rubies and all, and, grabbing his shoulders, pressed her lips to the oozing cut. The necklaces swung against him and Dimitri jolted as they slammed into his chest and throat, burning through his shirt like a dozen white-hot pokers. He gasped in spite of himself, in spite of the hot, wet mouth covering his cheek.

She sucked and licked the blood from his skin, her tongue making sensual circles over his flesh as he tried to keep his breath even. Then Lerina slid her blood-soaked lips to his, covering his mouth with her own, breathing his own bloodscent into him.

He used every effort to wade through the pain and tear his face away from her, but Lerina's hands held him tightly, and the rubies were potent. Her fingers dug into the back of his skull, pulling his hair, her incisors sharp and sleek as she mauled his lips.

When she pulled back, her red lips glistened with blood and saliva and her eyes glowed like coals. He met her eyes defiantly, cold and filled with disgust, and when she saw his loathing, she drew back sharply. And then she slapped him again, on the other cheek this time.

“And you wonder why I wouldn't sire you,” he managed to growl.

“That was your chance,” she said, stepping back and taking the evil, glittering rubies with her. “I was willing to give you an opportunity to see your error. Foolish, Dimitri.

You've learned nothing about women in the last hundred years.”

She walked away, and he was able to draw a relatively easy breath for a moment. Then she turned, contemplating him. Her eyes burned with loathing…and something else.

His skin prickled.

“Moldavi is in Paris?” he asked in an effort to distract her and to confirm his suspicions.

“Yes. He's waiting for word from me that you've become cooperative.” She fondled one of the strands of rubies. There were perhaps a dozen of them, each the size of his thumbnail, set in a gold chain. She wore three necklaces like that, each of different length, and each finished off with a large pendant ruby. “I've learned so much from him. So much about how to get what I want.”

“You're taking me to Paris,” Dimitri said, sniffing and again smelling the river. “To Moldavi.”

“Oh, no.” She shook her head, smiling. “No, you aren't of interest to him. Not any longer anyway. Not since we agreed that you belonged to me, and that I would take care of you.”

She was close to him again, leaning forward, roped in gemstones. That hungry look was back in her eyes and as she caught his gaze, Lerina lifted one of the ropes of rubies from her neck.

Dimitri's breathing shifted and he struggled to move…but they were too close, too many of them. Too powerful. He could do nothing as she wrapped the chain around one of his arms, binding it to the arm of the chair. Rolling pain undulated along his arm to his shoulder, battling with that of Lucifer's Mark.

The room was turning red, his vision colored with struggle. She came closer and he was dimly aware of her busy fingers tugging at the ties of his shirt, warm and quick. He marshaled all his waning strength and gave a sudden heave. He managed to jolt her, but Lerina was quick and she whipped off a second necklace and bound his other arm. Her knee wedged onto the chair next to his thigh as he struggled against this new onslaught of pain. Sweat, warm and thick,
trickled from his temple to mingle with the blood on his cheeks.

“You see, Moldavi is more interested in getting his sister back. And destroying Chas Woodmore for taking her,” Lerina continued. Her voice was almost singsong, but her eyes blazed hot and furious. She was very close now, nearly sitting on his lap. “Once you were out of the way, and otherwise occupied, he could obtain the prize he truly wanted.”

Dimitri was vaguely aware of his shirt opening, the cooler air brushing his hot skin. Her hands, once familiar, now spread over his shoulders like spidery fingers, pulling the shirt wide. She grasped the opening and yanked. The sound of the linen tearing was like thunder in his waterlogged ears.

“Prize?” he managed to gasp, despite the fact that he had a sudden horrible feeling he knew what. No,
who. No.

Lerina smiled. Her fangs were fully extended. Her breath smelled like his blood. Her fingers curled up into the hair that clung to his damp neck, lifting it so she could blow on his hot skin.

“I've dreamed of this moment,” she said. Her voice penetrated the black and red clouds filling his vision and clogging his nostrils. “Since the first time you fed on me.”

“Prize?” he demanded with his last bit of breath.

“The girls, of course,” she whispered near his ear. “The sisters. The only way to get to Chas.”

Maia.

He gathered all of his strength and tugged, groaning deep in his throat with the effort. But the paralysis was complete.

She slammed her fangs into his shoulder. He gasped, his body shuddering even as it remained horribly immobile. The release of the pressure in his veins, the surge of blood
flowing into her warm mouth had him trembling. His fingers couldn't grasp the arm of the chair and he could no longer keep his eyes open.

The little tugs of pleasure as she sucked were lost in the vortex of pain. He didn't have even the energy to pull at his bindings, to kick or twist away.
Maia.

And so he closed his eyes and screamed inside his mind:
Help me. Wayren, damn it, I'm ready.

M
aia stared at the ruby-studded hairpin all the way back to Blackmont Hall, trying to recall where she'd seen it.

The design was distinctive: elegant curlicues of metal twining along the pin, decorated with five small rubies. Of course, identifying the owner didn't necessarily mean she, or—one couldn't eliminate any possibilities at this time—he, was involved in Corvindale's disappearance. But the fact that it was rubies, combined with Maia's very acute sense that something
wrong
had happened in the back room at that shop, certainly led to the logical conclusion that if she found the owner, she'd find information about Corvindale.

The constable had listened to her concerns, and seemed willing to do something since a peer of the realm was missing. But at the same time, he'd looked at her sidewise as if to question why she was involved. And even, why an earl must need to answer to the likes of her in regards to his actions.

And on top of all of this, Maia realized she had no way to contact Chas to let him know what had happened. But
Angelica would tell Dewhurst, and perhaps the other vampire, Mr. Cale, could be notified, and then they would start the search.

Maia shook her head. By that time, impossible as it seemed, Corvindale could be dead.

The thought was like a cold hand seizing her heart and she swallowed, looking at the hairpin with even more determination. She couldn't do much herself but try to find the owner. That was one thing Dewhurst and Mr. Cale couldn't assist with. But it was something that Maia could put her attention to. It obviously belonged to a woman, and there were two ways to go about identifying her.

Once back at Blackmont Hall, Maia sent Tren to notify Crewston and Mrs. Hunburgh about the apparent disappearance of the earl. Someone had to take charge, and Maia was so used to doing it that she didn't consider letting anyone else do so—including Aunt Iliana.

Then she sent for Angelica and Mirabella, only to find out that Dewhurst had taken them for a drive in the park. So she set Tren after them to bring them back.

Next, she called for the ladies' maid she and Angelica shared. Showing Betty the hairpin, she told her nothing other than that she wanted to return it to its owner, and that she was certain she'd met her at one of the recent events. Knowing how tightly knit the below-stairs community was, how servants gossiped from one house in the
ton
to another, and that of all people, the ladies' maidservants would be the ones to know of the person who wore such a hairpin, Maia felt this avenue was her best chance to identify the woman. Thus, she sent Betty off to the market and to do some shopping, where she was most likely to encounter other loose-tongued servants.

After that, she sent for Aunt Iliana and while she waited,
began to peruse through the stack of calling cards and invitations that had arrived for her and Angelica, as well as for Corvindale himself. Normally he ignored such things, leaving it to his man of business to respond if necessary, or to Crewston to handle callers.

She thought that by reviewing these items, her memory might be jolted as to where and when she'd seen the woman with the hairpin. Maia knew it wasn't someone she'd known from the
ton
. It was either a newcomer—someone who'd married into the peerage from another country or area—or someone who hadn't been out in Society for some years, or some distant relative. Or even, she thought suddenly, someone of the demimonde. Those women who were neither fully accepted into Society, but who nevertheless interacted with the men as their mistresses. Perhaps she'd seen such a lady wearing this sort of decoration while shopping or at the theater.

“Maia, whatever is wrong?” Aunt Iliana appeared in the doorway of the parlor. A handsome woman of perhaps forty or forty-five, she was built nearly as tall and sturdily as a man, although she was by no means masculine in appearance. Her skin was nearly as dark as the earl's, and her eyes the color of strong tea.

Maia was more than a bit shocked to see her dressed in loose trousers and a manlike shirt, along with soft slippers. The older woman's dark hair was pulled straight back into a braid and her cheeks were damp and flushed. She looked as if she'd just been doing something with great exertion.

“I apologize for my appearance,” Iliana said ruefully. “But Hunburgh said it was urgent, that it had to do with D—the earl.”

“He's disappeared,” Maia said, and explained. She ended by showing her the hairpin.

Iliana took one look and said a very unladylike thing under her breath. “Rubies. Someone knows about his Asthenia.” Then she looked at Maia as if she'd been caught with her hand in the biscuit box.

“What is it about rubies?” Maia asked. “Do they affect all the Dracule that way?”

Iliana seemed to measure her for a moment. Then, obviously finding her not wanting, said, “It's called an Asthenia. Each Dracule has his own specific weakness. The effects are like paralysis, and when whatever it is is touched directly to them, it can cause great, excruciating pain. Your instinct is correct. Someone used the gems to weaken him enough to take him away. Dimitri would never have been caught otherwise.”

Maia had known that without being told. Although she'd never had cause to see him in jeopardy or otherwise in a physical altercation, his presence suggested a man very much in control at all times. A flash of memory, of that bare, chiseled chest, broad shoulders and the long, sleek curve of his muscular arms had her insides fluttering again. No, indeed. He would not have been caught unless taken unawares.

She explained to Iliana the steps she'd taken to identify the hairpin's owner, and the other woman nodded in satisfaction. “Very good. When Angelica and Voss arrive, we can send word to Giordan and Chas.”

Maia wondered about this woman, and certainly not for the first time. She spoke of the vampires and their world with such familiarity. “Who are you?” Maia asked. “You aren't really Corvindale's aunt, are you?”

Iliana laughed. “No, of course not. That would make me more than a hundred twenty years old, and a crone—or a Dracule—at that. No, indeed. I'm merely one who understands the threats of his world, and an old friend of Dimitri's.
I helped to raise Mirabella after he found her. She needed protection from the earl's enemies, and I needed a place to live away from—well, that's another story for a time when we have time. Suffice to say,” she said, “I've learned to protect myself to some extent from the beastly ones. Even your brother admitted that I'm quite capable.”

Maia looked at her. “Could you teach me something?”

The older woman opened her mouth, likely to decline, but Maia pushed on. “If I'm to live in this world where my sister is to wed a former vampire, my brother hunts them and my so-named guardian
is
one, I think it only proper that I know something about protecting myself. Especially since there are vampires who are coming after us. My father taught me how to shoot a pistol when I was twelve,” she added when Iliana began to shake her head.

“Your brother would never allow it.”

“He doesn't have to know,” Maia said firmly. “No one has to know.”

Iliana frowned and then threw up her hands. “Very well. But don't tell the earl.”

 

Maia awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright.

Her heart was pounding and her body slick with perspiration.

That
had not been a pleasant dream. The darkness still lingered, wrapping the frightening images through her mind. Not of a warm, red world with sensual lips and tongue, the easy and welcome slide of fangs, but one of tearing flesh and screaming pain. Violence and violation.

She couldn't catch her breath, and Maia threw back the covers of her bed, trying to jolt the last vestiges away with sharp movement. It didn't work instantly, but slowly the ugly feelings eased.

Moonlight shimmered over her empty bed and the table next to it. Maia's attention fell on the two new additions to her bedside table: the ruby hairpin and a slender wooden stake.

True to her word, Iliana had taken Maia to an empty chamber in the servants' wing of Blackmont Hall. The room had no furnishings to speak of, and was windowless. There, she'd shown Maia how to hold a stake the proper way and where to aim when stabbing at a vampire.

“In the heart,” she said, “and they die instantly.”

A little shudder ran through Maia when she recalled how Chas had launched himself across the room at White's and thrust his stake into Dewhurst's torso. If he hadn't been wearing armor, he would have been dead.

Maia and Iliana had practiced awhile, with Maia surprised by the other woman's speed and agility, and learned that she did quite a bit of training for this skill. Maia realized that her own days spent with merely a bit of walking, some riding and much sitting, had left her much less fluent in body movement. And although she was uncomfortably warm and damp after her session with Iliana, Maia also realized she felt energized. And now, however, her own body was a little sore.

She decided then that she would practice every day, with Iliana if possible. But now, Maia was unsettled and felt the need to get out of her bedchamber.

She left the stake on her table and padded down the hall to the stairs. Perhaps a book. Or a cup of milk or even a slice of cheese and an apple might help to distract her mind.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard voices. Her heart leaped and she hurried down and along the hall, her nightgown flowing around her ankles. A light poured from beneath the door of Corvindale's study, so, without
much thought in regards to her attire and the mortification of the last time she'd seen him, Maia flung the door open.

“Oh,” she said, freezing in the entrance. Not Corvindale.

It was Dewhurst…and Angelica. They were standing in the middle of the chamber, in an embrace whose image immediately replaced the last bit of horror from Maia's dream.

“Maia,” said Angelica, pulling away from what looked like a very passionate kiss…among other things. Her lips were swollen and her cheeks a lovely dusky rose. Dewhurst didn't release her, and she didn't seem to be interested in putting space between them, either. “Is everything all right?”

Maia swallowed, trying to ignore the heat that had rushed to her face and surely made it bright red. “I heard voices and thought perhaps the earl had returned, or been found.”

Dewhurst shook his head, and Maia couldn't tear her eyes from the way his elegant hand curled comfortably around her sister's neck, a finger sliding up into the loose braid at her nape. It was such a simple gesture, yet very intimate. So casual, bespeaking of a deep and comfortable connection.

A rush of envy shuttled through her and she was instantly ashamed. Alexander was a good man and he cared for her.

He might not make her insides billow and burn when he kissed her, but he was financially comfortable and unfailingly polite and rather boring. She stopped any further thoughts right there.

“I've spoken with Cale, and have sent word to Chas—”

Dewhurst was saying.

“How do you do that? Do you know where he is?”

He looked uncomfortable. “There are ways we do it with blood pigeons and private messengers and other techniques.

But that's beside the point. I just came here to…er…” He
looked at Angelica and the heat that passed between them with a mere glance was enough to make Maia's knees weak.

“He came to report that there isn't any news about Corvindale,” Angelica said. At last she stepped away from her fiancé, and for the first time, Maia noticed that her sister was garbed in no more than a night rail, as well. “And to let me know that he was safe.”

“We're doing everything we can to find him. When Woodmore returns, I'm certain he'll have other ideas about where to look and how to track him. One would expect Moldavi to be involved somehow, and since Dim—Corvindale isn't one to…uh…spend time around women, whoever was there and dropped the hairpin is likely in Moldavi's employ. And now that I can move about in the day, it gives me more freedom.”

Angelica looked at him. “But you are no longer Dracule. Which makes you more vulnerable.”

Dewhurst waved this off in the way men did when a woman raised an issue they preferred to ignore. “But I'm smart and fast and I no longer have an Asthenia.”

“Your Asthenia now is a bullet,” Angelica reminded him flatly. “As well as a sword, a stake and many other implements. Not to mention fire, and…” Her voice trailed off. “Please take care.” These last words were little more than a heartfelt sigh, leaving Maia to feel like more of an intruder than ever.

“And you, as well,” he said, looking at both of them. “That's the other reason I've come. Cale and I have arranged for more guards to keep watch over you now that Corvindale is missing. Both day and night. I suspect Moldavi has had him removed so he can more easily get to one of you. So don't go anywhere without an escort—particularly at night.”

“But vampires cannot move about during the day,” Angelica argued. “We're safe enough shopping and visiting the park.”

“Corvindale was taken during the day,” Dewhurst reminded her flatly. “Do as I say, Ange.”

“I suppose I should return to my bed,” Maia said, turning toward the door. Why she felt so bereft was one thing, but the other thought that followed her as she climbed the stairs was the realization that she, the very proper Miss Woodmore, had just left her sister and a man alone in the study with hardly a second thought. At night.

What had changed her?

 

Maia slept fitfully for the rest of the night, and in the morning the first thing she did was send a message to Alexander that the wedding would need to be postponed until her guardian returned.

And then she sat down at the breakfast table. Alone.