Blood Rose (33 page)

Come, Serena, we have to go,
Jonathon urged.

Serena couldn’t imagine where they could be safe. Where would be a haven from the Society?

From vampires? Daylight would protect them from vampires, demons—but that was hours away.

And Drake would have to be protected from the light—

My world,
Drake shouted in her head.
We must go to the stews. I know my way around there
as no one does. The Society can’t follow us there and the vampires will be stopped by the dawn.

The stews. Drake thought of them as his world?

We need your carriage, Sommersby.

Jonathon nodded. “You know the hidden passages in this house, don’t you? The Society won’t know—unless you’ve told them.”

Drake grinned, showing fangs. “Hell, no.”

“Use the tunnel to get out of the house. Get to the stables. I am not leaving my innocent servants here to be slaughtered. But take Serena and get her away from here. I’ll follow if I can.”

She couldn’t leave him alone. “Jonathon—”

Meet us in Covent Garden, Sommersby. I will guide you.
Drake grabbed her hand and forced her to run down the hallway.

Blood Rose ©Sharon Page 2007 Email: [email protected] 138

Drake hated to bring Serena here—to the filthy, stinking flashhouse that had been the only thing he’d ever called a home. When Jonathon’s father had taken him in to apprentice, he’d had a fine bed, but he knew that it wasn’t home. He hadn’t belonged.

Serena tried to hide the horror in her eyes as she saw the sort of room he’d lived in—tiny and dirty. Brown and yellow stains marked the walls and the corners smelled of piss. He’d slept on the floor, with a tattered blanket when he could fight for one.

And some nights, he’d shared the blanket with Mary while his babe grew inside her.

Drake crossed his arms over his bare chest, to hide his shaking. Damned solange. He still craved it, but he had none to take. A vial would slake the thirst he had for the stuff, but he didn’t have even one damned drop.

“But what are you going to do?” The flicker of one penny-candle reflected off Serena’s worried eyes. “Can you find somewhere to sleep in the daylight?”

He gave a rueful grin.
There’s a cemetery near. I’m sure the occupants of one of the crypts
won’t object to a visitor.

She shuddered for one instant before she stiffened her spine and gave him her impassive and prim governess face. Hell, even as a vampire, he had nothing to offer Serena. Many vampires were centuries old and had used their powers to amass great wealth. He had nothing to give. Not even a home.

Moans came through the flimsy walls—the moans of girls serving men. The men who’d paid them, those who owned them, or the boys who shared their beds. With a spike of regret, Drake remembered back to a scene from his youth—to lying on the blankets laid on the floor, his arms pillowed behind his head as he grinned in triumph and watched two girls pull off their dirty dresses for him. He’d felt like a king—a knife in the ribs had saved them from their “protector” and he’d claimed them as his.

What had happened to them? Were they still alive or dead?

He had power now, but was it enough power to right those wrongs? To help the damned?

A low rap sounded on the door. Drake moved to it with a vampire’s speed and opened it a crack. He knew it was Sommersby—he’d guided his partner here through his thoughts only because he feared putting Serena at risk if he did not.

Drake knew his partner hated him. And he hated sharing Serena.

With a brief nod to him, Sommersby barged in and strode right to Serena. Possessively, Sommersby slipped his arm around her waist, kissed the arch of her neck. “You need to sleep, Serena. We need to find a way to stop Lukos—”

“We know the way,” she insisted, stepping out of the earl’s embrace. “Shared magic. But it will not work until you gentlemen accept it.”

Sommersby shot a disgusted glance at the rough pallet and the two tattered blankets—a luxury in a place like this. In return, Drake snarled as the earl swung off his coat and dropped it on top of the blankets, the way he had done at Mrs. Bellamy’s brothel. Did Serena appear any more impressed by Sommersby’s chivalry than she had by his own? He couldn’t tell.

“But not tonight, my love,” Sommersby said. “Not here. You need to sleep.”

Blood Rose ©Sharon Page 2007 Email: [email protected] 139

Endearingly, Serena put her hand to her pretty mouth to stifle a yawn. Drake felt his muscles growing heavy and weak as the need for daysleep stole over him.

Damnation. Dawn was close—so close. And he had no choice but to leave Serena alone with Sommersby.

“Are you certain you can share?” Serena asked.

Tucking his coat over her, Jonathon paused. His mouth dried at the sight of her lying on the pallet. Her hair fanned out behind her, a shimmering raven-black halo about her breathtaking face.

Lithe and sensual, her body relaxed on the meager bed as though she slept on the softest down.

Even here, amidst squalor, she was lovely, tempting, irresistible.

“It is not in my nature to share, sweeting.” He lay down alongside her and wrapped his arm around her waist. Swift had left to seek refuge from the dawn, and he had her alone.

“I know. You are an earl.”

He nodded. “The head of my household. I was raised to lead, to shoulder responsibility, to have my wishes met. I never expected to have to share the woman I adore.”

“But Althea says—”

“Lady Brookshire fell in love with two vampires. How can it be the same for us? I am mortal, and so are you.”

Frank honesty shone in her eyes. “I’m not mortal. I’ve realized I have to accept that.”

Jonathon couldn’t resist brushing a kiss to her temple, and he stroked her hair. “Did you like being shared?”

“Heavens, yes.”

Definitely honest. He adored that about her. He understood in that instant how hard it must be for her to keep her secret. To believe her entire life was a lie because she had thought she was a normal girl, when all along she was someone quite different. Someone special. Powerful.

“Did you?” she asked. “You climaxed.”

“I’ve never done anything like that in bed,” he admitted. Even after all its exertion, his cock was rising again. His heart pounded like a thousand bat wings, and he wanted nothing more than to tumble back onto that rickety cot and have Serena ride him. He wanted to hold her hands, caress her breasts, and watch her lovely silvery eyes as he thrust up into her and she drove down hard on him. But she must be exhausted, and the gentlemanly thing was to let her sleep.

Her pink mouth curved in a shy smile. “It did feel…magical.”

He bent his head, snuggling against her warmth. “I understand the power of it—listening to you and Swift finding pleasure. God, I can’t explain it. All I could think of was giving you pleasure, and I wanted Swift to come. I wanted to see him explode.” Christ, he didn’t want to think about what it meant about him that he’d enjoyed another man’s pleasure.

Serena held the top of his coat, pulling it up beneath her chin, and his heart broke. The more their intimacy grew, the more he knew he couldn’t share her.

She gave another wide yawn, and even that told Jonathon how close they’d become.

“I wish Althea had told me more,” she murmured. “She told me I must find out for myself exactly what my destiny is, how our love is to make us powerful…”

Jonathon pressed his hand against her silky cheek as her lids fluttered shut. He would give anything to protect her. But did that include sharing her with a vampire?

Drake soared over the rabbit warren of his world. Around him the sky deepened to the color of black pearls. He swooped down, marveling at the power, at the freedom.

Blood Rose ©Sharon Page 2007 Email: [email protected] 140

With a beat of his wings, Drake propelled his transformed body faster. Thick soot hung in the air here, obscuring the waning moonlight.

Serena…just at the thought of her name, arousal shot through him—through his thoughts, but not his new form. He remembered taking Serena while Sommersby was inside her. The damned earl had a huge cock, and through the thin, delicate walls of Serena’s snug arse, he’d felt his cock stroke against Sommersby’s.

His blood has roared at the sensation. His fangs had shot out, his jaw screaming with the pain of it, and Serena’s glistening neck had been so close…

But she’d come and he’d fought to hang on, to hold off long enough to see Sommersby give in to the explosive orgasm, before he succumbed to his own.

He’d never come so hard in his life—either alive or undead. He’d felt power surge through him. Instead of being weakened by his climax, he’d been slammed with a force that seemed to make his senses stronger.

Drake moved silently, slicing along a current of wind. First he would feed—he would find some brutal whoremonger filled with rich blood—then he would return to Serena…

Serena opened her eyes, surprised to find she was alone beneath Jonathon’s coat. She sat up, and a sharp pain in her bottom made her cry out. She slapped her hand there—something pricked her finger. Her fingertip jabbed on a splinter from the pallet beneath her blanket. A long one, one that had poked through her shift.

Jonathon?
Drake?
Rubbing her sleep-filled eyes, Serena saw Drake, standing in the dark corner—the one that didn’t stink—with his back to her. She caught her breath at the sight of his naked broad shoulders, the long line of his spine, the hard muscles of his rear.

It must be night. Still the same night, or had she slept through an entire day?

Drake?
She asked again. They were alone in the room. Where was Jonathon? Why did Drake not seem to hear?

He had braced his hand against the wall as though he was too weak to stand, and she saw the glass vial in his hand.

He was still taking solange?

It would destroy him!

Without thought, she jumped up, the tattered blankets falling away, and she ran to him. She gripped his forearm. At first his arm jerked out, and she knew he meant to throw her off, but he hesitated. His eyes shone, reflecting the moonlight that slid in through streaks in the filthy window.

That pause gave her enough time—she grabbed the vial and tried to wrench it from his fingers.

The slippery smoothness was her ally—as was his surprise. He couldn’t hold it. But she’d pulled too hard, and the vial fell from her grasp. It bounced on the worn, dusty, plank floor without shattering. But as the vial lay still, the fluid dripped out onto the floor.

Beneath his brow, Drake leveled her with a look of fury that sent her scurrying back.

Serena fought for courage. “You are going to stop this. Now. Tonight.”

Empty and desolate, his silvery-green eyes stayed on hers. “I want to stop. For you, I want to stop.”

Jonathon eased out of the shadows as he felt a stirring of air by his face. A large shadow swooped by, and though he strained to watch the transformation, he found himself magically confronted by Sebastien de Wynter, nude, and leaning casually against the brick alehouse wall.

De Wynter arched a brow, crossing his arms across his chest. He seemed unconcerned by the Blood Rose ©Sharon Page 2007 Email: [email protected] 141

cold air, by his vulnerable nakedness, by his dangling genitals, which Jonathon deliberately did not look at.

“What do you want to know, Sommersby?”

He remembered his note to de Wynter.
I know you don’t trust the Royal Society. If there is
anyone I can trust to give me the truth, it is you.

However, he hadn’t trusted even de Wynter enough to reveal Serena’s location. So he’d chosen this filthy alley several blocks away.

Succinctly, while keeping watch down the alleyway for demons and for footpads, Jonathon explained the attack by the Society—by men he’d believed they could trust.

Grim horror etched de Wynter’s face, and the silvery eyes dimmed. “You believe they wanted to capture Miss Lark?”

“What other explanation is there? Ashcroft doesn’t want me to attempt to stop her change, he wants to study it. And Althea is at risk—”

“Goddamn it, I know that.”

Staring into the swirling fog, Jonathon thought of the man who had been like a father to him.

“Ashcroft wants to save humanity—it’s distorted his view.”

“His lordship wants to play God,” de Wynter spat. “Althea has played along with Ashcroft’s wishes, but she never trusted him. Now, however, she is afraid to leave Miss Lark; she wants to protect her. My wife believes that Serena must bring you and Drake Swift together to create the power to stop Lukos.” De Wynter shook his head.

“How in Hades is that supposed to work?”

“I have no idea. All I know is that it does. Drake Swift was turned by Lukos—and Lukos was an apprentice to Lucifer.”

“Lukos is a tenth apprentice?” Tension rippled down the back of Jonathon’s neck. He knew the legends of the ten apprentices—men who would be allowed to enter a labyrinth of underground caves, which would take them to the realm of Lucifer. There they would make a pact with the devil to acquire occult knowledge—alchemy, magic spells, the secrets of nature and animals. Nine scholars would graduate, having undergone intense, bizarre, horrific ordeals. The tenth would be retained by Lucifer as payment and serve at the devil’s side.

“Aye. Since Swift was made by Lukos, who was in turn changed by the devil, he should possess the powers passed on by Lucifer. I was created by Lucifer and given powers known only to Old Nick. Your science, Sommersby, can never explain what we are.”

“There is no riddle that science cannot—”

De Wynter’s mocking grin reminded Jonathon of Swift’s. “Do you want to learn, my lord, or not?”

Grinding his back teeth, Jonathon nodded. “Continue.”

“The demons that remained with Lucifer grew too powerful and broke free of his hold. They became determined to overpower the devil and rule earth and the Underworld in his place. Each one fights for power and, like Lukos, each one seeks to be master.”