The Vampire Dimitri (24 page)

Maia managed a brief nod of acknowledgment, her brain still foggy from the sudden change of sensual assault to this frightening intensity.

And then she heard them: voices. The sounds of people below.

Corvindale said something vile under his breath, looking around the room. The rubies had fallen to the floor when she knocked over the table, still contributing to his sluggish movements. Their proximity was likely the only reason she
was able to pull out of his grip, but she did, darting toward the pile of bloodred stones glittering amid gold.

Without a word or even a glance at him, she scooped them up and dashed to the window, then flung a thousand pounds of jewelry out into the night. When she turned, she saw a flash of approval on his face, and then he gestured sharply toward the door.

But Maia knew that there were more gems just beyond, a larger cache, and if they met up with whoever was downstairs when he was in the proximity, they could be in trouble.

“Stay here,” she hissed in the same way he'd done. “Don't argue. Don't say a word. Trust me.” Despite her weak knees, she made it to the door before he did and slipped out as he lunged for her.

In the dark corridor, she heard voices below and recognized that of Mrs. Throckmullins and two masculine ones. They were moving through what Maia had realized was an abandoned or closed-up house, and one would assume that they would soon be coming to check on their prisoners.

The rubies that she'd dumped there earlier still rested in a little pile, and Maia picked them up, started back toward the room she'd just vacated and saw Corvindale coming out after her, his face ablaze with fury. So much for listening.

She hesitated, then spun and went light-footed down the hall to the room in which she'd been imprisoned, the rubies dangling from her hand. She couldn't stomach throwing them out the window, as well, but at least she could hide them far from the earl.

By the time she found a place deep in a drawer, far from the door, after stubbing her toe in the dim light, the voices were rising in volume. Corvindale had whipped the chamber door open silently. His face was black with fury, but
Maia ignored it and dashed over to him. “Out of here,” she mouthed, pointing toward the chest where she'd put the jewels.

They went out into the hall just as the tops of several heads appeared, coming up the shadowy stairs. Corvindale shoved her behind him and backed her roughly into a different chamber from the one in which he'd been imprisoned. But by that time, Mrs. Throckmullins had appeared at the top of the stairs and her furious shrieks filled the air.

Inside this new chamber, Corvindale grabbed Maia and pushed her behind him, then reached for a chair. It splintered on the floor just as the door slammed open to show a red-eyed, fanged Mrs. Throckmullins.

Oh. Maia realized she should already have figured out the woman was a vampire, but then, there'd been other things on her mind. Then all of her thoughts evaporated as she realized Corvindale had a broken chair leg in his hand and he was facing their abductor.

“Back so soon, Lerina?” Corvindale said. His voice was calm and cold, but Maia, who was held in place behind him, felt the tension rippling through his muscles.

The broken chair next to their feet reminded her of the stake that she'd dropped when she found Corvindale, along with the metal poker, which, of course, would be of little use now. She needed a weapon of her own, but knew better than to dodge down and snatch one up, distracting the man in front of her.

Mrs. Throckmullins—or Lerina, for, apparently, they knew each other—was speechless with fury. But Maia noticed that she wore several ruby rings, and that more hairpins glinted like blood in her dark hair. She felt the shimmering in Corvindale's body as their effect slowed him. And she was not certain how much feeding from her had restored him.

And then behind Lerina emerged another figure with burning red eyes and fangs, pushing past her into the room.

“I don't think I'm quite ready for you to leave yet, Dimitri darling,” Lerina said. “Especially until you properly introduce me to your companion.”

The tone in her voice, the way her eyes settled on Corvindale with a mixture of heat and fury, told Maia all she needed to know about their relationship. And who had put the marks on the earl's shoulders and arm.

Maia eased away from Corvindale, despite his blind attempt to keep her in place while watching the two at the door. She kept a hand on his back so that he knew where she was, and, using him as a shield to block her movements from sight, crouched slowly to the floor.

“I believe you two have already met,” he replied to Lerina.

As Maia picked up a piece of wood, the second vampire edged into the room and started to move along the perimeter. Corvindale tensed and shifted his body so that he could watch both Lerina and the man as they separated. Maia stood, and he immediately curved his hand around to hold her behind him, giving her a hard, angry squeeze that clearly said, “Don't move.”

A noise behind them had Maia spinning to see a third vampire, climbing through the window.

He was holding a glittering red necklace.

Maia felt Corvindale's involuntary shudder and she thought if there was ever a time for a lady to curse, this would be it.

In lieu of that, she realized whatever she did now would have to be careful and smart. The earl didn't think she was capable of thinking for herself, obviously, but she hadn't
escaped from her chains
and
saved him by being a dunderhead.

Any further thoughts were interrupted by Lerina, as she made a sudden, furious sound that was almost like a shout.

She was staring at Maia, her eyes narrowed.

“You,”
she said, and at first Maia thought she'd suddenly and unaccountably recognized her. But that was ridiculous—of course she'd recognized her—and that thought was dismissed as Lerina continued, now speaking to Corvindale in a voice that sounded both happy and taunting at the same time. “I see that you've been busy, Dimitri.”

Her eyes turned back to focus on Maia, and they were evil. Their very weight seemed to make the blood course in her veins, and her bites throb as if responding to some siren's call. Maia gripped the wooden stick, trying to keep it hidden within the folds of her skirt, trying to keep her mind clear in the face of such animosity, and realized that the vampire was attempting to enthrall her. And if the shimmer in her vision was any indication, Lerina was succeeding.

As if realizing this, Corvindale moved abruptly, shifting so that he blocked their connection and severed the thrall. Maia touched him briefly in gratitude and realized she mustn't make eye contact with any of the Dracule. At least, the ones who meant her harm.

The third vampire with the rubies had moved some distance from the window while the second one had continued to edge farther from Lerina. It was clear Lerina meant to distract her opponent while setting up her mode of attack.

Now, the three vampires were spread out at the edge of the room, leaving Maia and Corvindale in the middle.

The earl continued to scan back and forth between the three, and Maia felt him easing her back as if trying to get
to the wall where at least one side would be protected. He made no bones about hiding his stake, and despite the presence of the rubies, his muscles bunched and his breathing seemed relatively steady.

“You left me no choice, Lerina,” he replied coolly.

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked, but her hands fluttered, belying her innocence. “Unless I'm mistaken, the last time you deigned to feed on a mortal, it was me. I hate to think that I'd ruined you for a century, darling.”

Corvindale gave a disgusted snort. “As you wish. But, I confess, in a hundred years, I've met no one like you.”

The other woman seemed oblivious to the sarcasm in his voice; or perhaps she was just used to it. “We could share, Dimitri, and then we wouldn't have to go through all of this mess. She does seem rather lovely. She's light and I'm dark…wouldn't we make a pretty picture? Together? We don't have to send her on to Cezar. I'll just tell him she…didn't make it and he can find another way to get to Chas Woodmore.”

Lerina smiled and her fangs showed, long and wicked. She looked over at the vampire with the necklace. He'd moved farther from the window.

“What do you suggest?” Corvindale replied, his stake arm relaxing. He sounded almost inviting.

Suddenly the vampire who'd been at the window raised his arm and slung the necklace through the air toward Lerina. Corvindale reacted instantly, and, with a groan of exertion in a great moment of pain, raised his stake to intercept the jewels midair. They caught on the wooden spike and in a sharp movement, he whipped them to the ground.

Maia didn't hesitate. She dropped to the floor and snatched them up, staggering a bit with the unexpected activity. Better that they were in her hands than their enemies'. But then,
before anyone could react, she ran a few steps toward the window and winged the necklace toward the opening.

The vampire near it leaped but missed, and the lethal gems sparkled as they tumbled into the moonlit night.

Lerina gave a muffled shriek of anger just as the nearest vampire lunged for Maia. She tried to spin away, still gripping her stake, but he was fast as a breath and he caught her by the arm. His yank was hard enough that she fairly flew through the air, slamming up against him. She flailed out with her stake, stabbing as Iliana had taught her to do; but she was no match for the vampire and couldn't get him in the right place.

He laughed and shifted, twisting her around roughly, grabbing up a handful of her hair and baring her neck. He spoke for the first time. “Did you say something about sharing, mistress?”

Maia swallowed and risked a glance at Corvindale, expecting to see him apprehensive—or at least furious—but he wasn't even looking at her. He was watching Lerina, whose eyes had turned red and whose fangs were showing once again.

“Lovely thought,” Lerina said.

Maia's heart was pounding and she couldn't get a good angle with her stake, which had been immobilized by the vampire holding her anyway. Then, everything happened at once…but it was as if the world slowed, underwater, and the events unfolded like a bolt of cloth.

As Corvindale turned, he made a sharp movement. Something spun madly through the air and slammed into the torso of Maia's captor. A stake. The vampire cried out and released her, tumbling to the floor, but by that time, Corvindale was there, slinging Maia up around the waist. She lost her breath and before she caught it again, he'd lunged toward
the window. He caught the edge with his hand and pivoted them through the opening.

She heard someone scream as they went out, weightless, into the night, nothing but air around them.

“D
o stop screaming,” Dimitri said, his ears ringing, his feet flat on the ground. He hadn't even staggered when he landed. He adjusted his hold on the squirming woman in his arms, for now that they were on the ground safely, she was bound and determined to get free.

“You're mad,” she was gasping. “Mad!”

This was no time to talk; Lerina and her make would be out and after them in a moment—either through the window or down the stairs. And though Dimitri had man aged a perfectly executed escape, he was still more than a bit wobbly in the knees and trembly in the muscles. Yet, the rush of energy from real, fresh, human blood had restored him more quickly than he'd thought possible.

But he wasn't going to think about the consequences of that now.

Definitely not now. Much, much later.

Perhaps even never.

Ignoring Maia's contortions, Dimitri ducked into shadows and dodged around the close-knit warehouses. They were,
as he'd surmised, near the wharf, and even at this time of night, sailors were unloading and loading cargo, drinking, gaming and whoring. An easy environment in which to get lost.

If someone would keep her mouth closed.

“Hush, blasted woman,” he ordered. “They'll hear you.” The last thing he wanted was to attract attention from anyone at the wharf and have to deal with that delay, as well.

It wasn't until he flagged down a hack and she disappeared within, disdaining his assistance, that Dimitri was able to take a deep breath. And suddenly everything halted.

The driver waited for him to climb in, his hand on the door, an impatient look on his face. Certainly Dimitri knew he looked beyond disreputable, with blood streaking him every where, and what had been left of his shirt lost somewhere along the way.

But he was Corvindale, and he wasn't about to be rushed into anything, particularly by the likes of a hackney driver. He glanced into the shadows of the carriage, easily able to make out Maia's figure even in the dark. The prickling over the back of his shoulders and the upheaval in his gut bordered on unpleasant.

If he climbed into that carriage with her, he knew what was going to happen.

“My lord,” the hack driver said, allowing the barest hint of impatience in his voice as he looked around. “Shall I—er—transport the lady, and return for you?”

“No,” Dimitri said at last, stepping onto the stair. Then he paused and looked at the driver and, making a quick, probably foolish, decision, gave him Rubey's direction.

He couldn't take Maia home looking as she was, and himself the same. If anyone saw them in their respective conditions, let alone together, Maia would be ruined. At least they
could get a change of clothing and washed up at Rubey's, and perhaps something that would even hide the mauling marks he'd left on her skin.
Damn it all. Damn me.

He snatched the morbid thoughts away and continued on logically. Aside of getting cleaned up, going to Rubey's would be the easiest way to get word to Giordan and Voss that he and Maia were safe. Despite Voss's change back to mortality, the establishment remained a central location through which those familiar with the Dracule communicated and socialized. They knew Rubey could be counted on for confidentiality and secrecy even if she and her ladies weren't providing services.

It was the most expedient, prudent thing to do. Just like intercepting her before she waltzed at the masquerade ball.

With uncustomary care, he climbed into what he now perceived as his own personal hell and settled onto the bench seat across from his own personal tormentor. As the door closed behind him, its latch clicking into place with finality, Dimitri looked across at Maia.

She was not, as one might expect after such a harrowing experience, huddled in the corner, wide-eyed and meek. Not Maia.

He steered his thoughts around. Perhaps it would be best if he went back to thinking of her as Miss Woodmore.

“You could have killed me,” were her first words. Not shouted at the pitch or volume that set his ears to ringing, but in a low, hushed tone.

That was the first sign that something was truly wrong.

“Which time?” he replied, hiding behind a bored tone.
Not
thinking about how right she was. How close he'd come to doing just that.

He could, of course, see quite clearly in the dark. Everything was tinged bottle-green, and all shades of that hue and
black, but he could easily discern the enticing curves of her collarbones, the sagging bodice of the simple dress she was wearing, the fact that her hair hung in a messy knot at the left side of the back of her neck, and that her mouth was a hard, flat line. He was not looking at the tiny marks on her shoulder. Definitely
not
remembering the taste of her…skin, lifeblood, scent, mouth—

“That's a very good question,” Miss Woodmore replied, shifting a bit in her seat. Her very movement sent a shimmer of her essence toward him and he had to turn away, trying not to allow the scent to reach him. “Both times, in fact. The time when you threw a stake at me and hit the vampire and the time you jumped out of a window and dragged me with you.”

Dimitri opened his mouth to correct her—after all, he'd thrown the stake at the vampire, not at her—but thought better of it. Perhaps if he simply didn't talk, he could get through this carriage ride with nothing more than having to listen to her reprimand him.

And that was much preferable to other things that could happen herein.

Things that he simply was not going to allow himself to think about. Or remember.

Like the moment when he really had nearly killed her, when he was so filled with her essence…her lifeblood flooding his mouth, coppery and sweet, her skin beneath his hands as he forgot where he was…who she was…what he was doing. He took, and
took,
molding her with his hands, tasting, sipping, drawing on her,
from
her…

He closed his eyes, his fingers trembling, and tried not to smell her. He rested his head against the side of the carriage and pushed it all away.

Had he lost the chance to free himself from Lucifer? Black
despair started to build inside him and he squeezed his eyes closed. And yet, he would do it again.

Oh, he would do it again.

Don't think about it now.

“How are you feeling?” She broke the silence with a voice that was soft, perhaps a bit husky with…worry.

Dimitri opened his eyes. No, that would not be a good direction for the conversation to go. It would be better to fight with her, keep her hackles up and therefore her at a distance.

The cold, hard ball in his gut had begun to grow and swell, despite the fact that he wasn't going to allow himself to think about what he'd done. What, after decades of control, of sacrifice, he'd given in to. And how good it made him feel. About how she moaned and writhed against him, pleading for something she didn't understand.

Lucifer's dark soul, he'd nearly killed her.

It was only a miracle that had brought him out of the maelstrom of need and pleasure. A miracle.

He examined her in the green-gray light. Even now, he could see how drawn her skin was. The ghostly pallor, evident to his sharp eyes.

He should ask her how she was feeling. But he couldn't speak for fear of what might come out. And so he pulled his cloak of cold, hard emotion around him and looked over at her with deliberately steady eyes. “Other than a rather nasty experience, I couldn't be better,” he said, deliberately leaving the “experience” unspecified.

She bit her lower lip and lifted her chin in a gesture that he'd come to recognize as one of stubbornness.

Just then, the carriage stopped and it was all Dimitri could do to keep from leaping out with alacrity.

Instead he lifted one eyebrow and said, “We've arrived at
Rubey's. It's not a place frequented by ladies of your esteem, and I'll preempt your complaints and criticism by offering my apologies now. I suspect we'll find not only Dewhurst but Cale here, as well, and perhaps even your brother. As well, Rubey will allow you to put yourself to rights before returning to Blackmont Hall.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but, right on cue, the carriage door opened. Dimitri fairly lunged out, drawing in the refuse and smoke-scented air of London.

It was infinitely better than the essence inside the carriage.

 

Rubey, Maia learned, was the proprietress, or more accurately, the brothel owner. The moment it became clear to Maia that Corvindale had brought her to a
brothel,
she turned to glare at him and found him watching her with that condescending look as if to remind her that he'd already apologized.

She looked away and instead allowed herself to be brought into a luxuriously decorated residence that smelled faintly of floral and tobacco. Although she had no idea what a house of ill repute looked like, it certainly wasn't this tastefully and elegantly appointed place.

The woman named Rubey, who looked comfortably like her name—for she had strawberry-blond hair and intelligent blue eyes, and spoke with a bit of an Irish lilt—took one look at Maia, then at the bare-chested earl, and immediately clamped her lips closed.

Corvindale, of course, was lavish with commands and directions, and Rubey was efficient and yet less than obeisant in her response. But her eyes were wide and shocked, if not speculative, and she said nothing as she rang for a maid. Ap
parently, despite Corvindale's certainty, neither Dewhurst nor Mr. Cale were currently present.

Not long after, Maia found herself in the deepest, warmest, most fragrant bath she could ever recall having. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes as she rested back against its edge, as pleasure washed over her, followed by confusion and anger and a variety of other emotions.

She'd sent the maid away as soon as she slid into the bath, telling her to return only when she rang for her. Maia needed time alone.

She could scarcely account for everything that had happened since yesterday afternoon—for the sun was just rising and it was a new day. Come to think of it, she could scarcely comprehend everything that had happened, and that she'd experienced, since Corvindale became her reluctant guardian. Everything from the existence of vampires, to being attacked, fed upon and kidnapped by them…along with her sister becoming engaged to one of them, who had become mortal once again.

In her exhausted and confused state, she could no longer ignore the loneliness that she often forced herself to disregard, that sense of having no one with whom she could truly talk and share the things that worried her. She let it all pour out in tears, silent and furious recriminations punctuated by violent splashes, and even a rash of prayerful words directed to Above.

Maia was grateful for the steamy water, for she used it to wash away the tears of frustration and anger and confusion, and when she was finished, she rang for the maid.

Determined to be as strong and resilient as she always was—for if she weren't, no one else would be—Maia allowed the maid to wash her hair and to thoroughly bathe her before helping her out of the tub.

Her dress, shift and corset were replaced by ones from Rubey, and despite Maia's suspicion that they'd be scandalous, she was pleased to find the garments tasteful and stylish.

Shortly after, her damp hair pinned in a loose braid over one side of her neck, strategically placed to hide the marks there, Maia found herself in a parlorlike chamber, waiting for she wasn't certain what.

Rubey came in, looking fresh and elegant in a light green dress of muslin. She was carrying a tray and that was when Maia realized how hungry she was.

“I've met your sister,” Rubey said, offering Maia a short glass filled with amber liquid. “Here, a bit of the Irish gold for you, as my papa called it,” she explained when Maia hesitated. “After what you've been through, you should have twice as much.”

Maia took it and sipped the burning liquid as her hostess arranged cheese and bread on a small plate and offered it to her.

“You've met Angelica?” Maia asked, sipping more of what she presumed was whiskey. Rubey was right, it made her feel better. Warmer and a bit looser.

“She was here some time ago with Voss,” Rubey explained as Maia nibbled on the cheese. “The night of the masquerade ball where the vampires attacked. By the by, Dimitri has sent word to her that you're found and safe.”

“I appreciate knowing that. Thank you. You seem more than a bit familiar with the Dracule,” Maia said, and noticed for the first time that Rubey had bite marks on her neck, just below the ear. The sight reminded her of her own experience, and her stomach did a little flutter. “Are you one of them?”

“Stars, no, and I wouldn't if they asked me. In fact, they
have,” Rubey added with a wave of her hand. “I've been offered more than once to turn Dracule, and I've declined every time. Why would I want to live forever, and then be damned at the end of time?”

Maia flinched at the woman's use of the blunt word, but found herself fascinated nevertheless. Here was someone who might actually answer her questions without prevarication. “Is that truly how it is?”

Rubey nodded gravely. “It's unnatural, is what I say to Giordan. He's kind enough to me, and visits frequently when he's in London, but I'm merely a replacement for—someone else. And who'd want to live forever anyway? The same, day after day after day? Everyone you know and love, dying without you, while you're staying the same? Everything dies, everything has a season and a cycle—that's the way God made it. I don't mind a few gray hairs, either. But the sagging I can do without.” She flashed a bit of a smile as she made a subtle gesture to her bosom.

Maia nearly blushed, but the woman was perhaps a decade or more older than she, and perhaps sagging was a concern. “Do you mean to say that Corvindale has made a pact with the devil? And that's how he's become a vampire?”