Blood Rose (34 page)

For the first time, true fear wrapped around Jonathon’s heart. Lukos possessed untold power, the capability to carry out unimaginable evil. “But what are you, de Wynter? Do you understand how you have life when you should be dead? What happens within you when you create magic?

How do you survive on blood—”

De Wynter held up his hand. “I don’t know. How do
you
breathe? How does your heart beat?

What is your soul?”

Jonathon fought to bring the answers to the tip of his tongue, but de Wynter grinned. “How are all those miracles created from a fuck, Sommersby? From seed and womb? You can explain it, but you can never understand how such a miracle came to be.”

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“I believe that I can,” Jonathon insisted. “I have to believe that.”

De Wynter’s pitying look sent hot anger through his gut. The vampire was naked, unarmed, didn’t even have a soul, but was more at peace that he’d ever been.

“I am forcing Althea to leave England tonight,” de Wynter continued. “I know the Society has been lying to her. They want our child. They want to ensure she stays until the baby is born, then they want to rip it apart like the soulless beasts they are. They want to study it in the name of your blasted science!”

Hit by de Wynter’s enraged words, Jonathon recoiled. He’d removed the hearts of children.

He’d cut up men’s brains. He had staked the woman who had loved and trusted him. Was he a soulless beast? Was de Wynter, the vampire who loved his wife and child, the one who truly possessed a soul?

“Listen to me, Sommersby—it took the combined magic of my brother and me to protect Althea from a powerful foe. Swift can’t summon his full power yet. It doesn’t work at his command. The love of an intense, committed, loving threesome would unleash his power, but even then you will not have the strength to stop Lukos.”

Jonathon lifted his crossbow and leveled it at de Wynter’s naked chest. “I don’t believe you.”

“No, Sommersby. Your problem is that you do.”

“So I allow Lukos to take her?” Jonathon shouted.

“No. You become vampire. You let Swift change you, and you combine your strength with his.”

Cold shock slid through Jonathon’s veins. Become vampire? He had destroyed Lilianne because vampires were evil—he couldn’t become one.

Or could he? He grabbed for de Wynter’s shoulder, trying to ignore the man’s nudity. “When you changed—”

“Did it hurt?” De Wynter finished with a grin. His silvery green-blue eyes glinted with irritating mischief.

“No, I want to know why you aren’t a ghoul driven by the need for blood.”

“Indeed, I am not. I need blood, but I ensure that I kill no one. I have powers that a weaker vampire does not possess—that’s why the Society has let us live.”

“If I changed, would I be...be more than a mindless demon?”

“I have no bloody idea, Sommersby.”

“So I take the chance of becoming a soulless killer to save Serena? There’s no other way?”

Jonathon raked his hand over his jaw. What an irony—would he finally understand how a vampire was born by making the ultimate experiment of himself? But could he let himself live as a vampire? Or could he transform, destroy Lukos, and then destroy himself?

Serena,
a seductive internal voice whispered in his head.
Become vampire and you can be with
Serena for eternity—

“My brother and I were twins,” de Wynter said. “We were connected by a bond from our mother’s womb. You and Drake Swift grew up together, hunted together. That bond may be as strong as that of brothers.”

No, Jonathon reflected. He and Swift shared only one thing—loving Serena. They had never had a bond—only animosity, jealousy. He sure as hell didn’t consider Drake Swift a brother….

Could he really invite Drake Swift to suck his blood out of his neck? And trust Swift to transform him instead of letting him die—?

Grimly, Jonathon nodded. “Saving Serena is worth any price.”

Stay with me. Let me stay with you.

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Serena reached out to stroke Drake’s forehead, to brush away the beads of sweat, but he grasped her waist and drew her to him. His long, erect cock betrayed his arousal. His muscular chest glistened.

Help me through this, love. The craving is so strong…But I will fight it, fight it for you.

Bright, hot, his eyes stared beseechingly into hers, yet his fangs were out, stark white against his beautiful lips. Serena felt her stomach flip over with nerves. Drake looked utterly innocent and helpless and needy, but at the same time he was a powerful vampire.

His eyes changed. The lashes lowered and a molten fire touched him. A wicked grin came to his lips, a grin reflecting the most lascivious thoughts.

I want you. You. Only you. I want you to want me.

His words were barely coherent, but the raw hunger stunned her. His palms tapped the underside of her breasts, covered by shift and gown and unsupported. Her nipples hardened, knowing his touch.

But it was the drug driving him, and she couldn’t bear that. She pushed his hands away.

“I have nothing to give you, Serena, but you have my heart.” He spoke aloud, weakly. His hoarse, angry laugh made her shiver. “Not worth bloody much.”

“Why did you take the drug?”

“To feel like a king, love. Why else? And so I’d sleep a dreamless sleep.” He ground his pelvis against her, rubbing his hard cock between their bodies.

Need and desire welled up. Need that swamped reason, that shattered rules. She burned underneath her gown, and her head pounded with the yearning to climb on top of Drake and take him deep inside. But she couldn’t. She asked shakily, “What do you dream of?”

“Crying. Screaming. Holding a dead baby. I dreamed that a lot, but I’d held a lot of dead infants. Even my own, my son, and I lost Mary, his mother, while she was giving birth—”

“Oh God.” Her heart ached for Drake—she understood his pain. “So the solange helped you escape. Helped you forget.”

“I dreamed of when I was a pitiful infant and my mother tried to smother me. She told me when I was a boy—told me about how she’d pushed the blanket against my mouth and nose, muffling my cries, and thinking how it would be better if I were dead. She’d been drunk, and she’d watched my legs kick slower with tears streaming down her face. Someone stopped her—another whore in the flashhouse—who told my mother she’d burn in hell for killing me.”

Serena bit back the tears, and when he reached out to her hand, she held his tight.

“My mother died when I was a boy. She choked on her vomit and I slept right through it. She hadn’t made a sound…” Vividly green, his eyes held on hers. “I still want to forget, Serena, but you don’t want me to take the stuff—”

“I can’t force you to stop. And I can’t imagine what it is like to be haunted by memories like that. But you have to want this.” She realized that. “You have to find the strength within yourself.”

Just as she had to—she had to find the strength within herself to face Lukos. To face the truth of what she was.

He cupped her cheek, drew her to him, and his mouth slanted over hers. Hot. He kissed like Jonathon—his kisses were raw and hungry, his mouth wide, his tongue demanding. His fingertips traced down her back, sending pleasure rushing over her skin in his wake—

Startled, Serena pushed at Drake’s jaw, pushing him back from the kiss. She lurched away from the pallet. “No—I can’t do this. It isn’t right to make love to one of you alone.”

Eyes glinting with lust, Drake laughed uproariously at that, and she felt her face burn. “So, you will only make love with the two of us? Then you’d better tie me down to this bed, Serena, because my body is craving sex with you, and I can’t trust myself.”

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Shivering, Serena reached for the tattered blanket. With shaking hands she tore off a strip.

“Are you certain?”

“Do it. It’s the only way you can protect yourself.”

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Drake began to thrash on the bed, but the bonds at his wrists and ankles held him fast. Sweat dripped down his forehead, his nose, rolled to his lips. His neck gleamed with it, tempting her to taste, and Serena had to look away as she rinsed the white washcloth in the basin.

His rigid cock lay along his belly, and his hips rocked and bucked. Deep, throaty groans came from his tense lips. His nipples stood hard.

Hiking up the skirt of her shift, Serena sat on the bed and bathed his face. She slid the cloth down to his gleaming neck, and then ran its coolness across his sweaty chest.

Solange. She remembered the sweet, cloying scent of it filling her nostrils as she awoke to find herself tied to a billiards table. Only days ago.
A lifetime ago.
All she’d wanted that night was the truth. Now she knew so much more…and nothing more.

The solange had not destroyed her.

Her mouth suddenly formed a startled “o”. She’d forgotten about that entirely. She was half-vampire. The vampires had
known
that, of course, and had used the solange to subdue her—to give her that wool-headed, confused sensation. They had used it on her, but she had not been sent into a blank trance, the way a vampire should be.

What if she had some strength against the drug because she was half-mortal? She couldn’t be certain, and it was easy to think of other reasons. Perhaps she simply hadn’t ingested enough.

Shakily, she turned over her pale wrist. She needed something that would cut. Drake’s fangs could penetrate, but he was beyond control—

She had nothing else. No knife or razor, and she was afraid to leave Drake long enough to find one.

Drake’s fangs.

On her knees, she inched along the rough wooden bed, stroking her hand along Drake’s chest.

As she neared his shoulder, she bent and pressed her wrist to his fang. He jerked. The point of the canine sliced her flesh…

Hot pain radiated, but she forced herself to hold her arm steady. The coppery aroma of her blood crept into the air, and her heart raced.

With a shuffling grunt like an angered beast, Drake turned his head. His tongue lapped out, cleaning her blood from her pale, veined skin.

His fangs plunged in—she didn’t have time to even scream—

The flick of his tongue teased her skin. Pleasure sizzled. He began to drink, suckling her blood into his mouth, and delight raged through her with each pulse.

Such intimacy…to have him taste her blood, to have his hot mouth on her delicate skin…

Serena splayed her hand on his chest, aching to reach down for his cock. His beautiful erect cock, with the foreskin pulled back from the massive head. She couldn’t. Not when he was so vulnerable.

Oh, the sucking at her wrist felt so good! With only his mouth on her wrist, tension built insider her, the luxurious tension of orgasm. She began to rock her hips, to squeeze her thighs.

She couldn’t stop. Only drive toward it. Tighten and relax. Over and over, bringing herself to Blood Rose ©Sharon Page 2007 Email: [email protected] 146

brink, until—

She shattered, riding the orgasm, trying not to pull her wrist free. Restraining herself only made the pleasure more intense.

Threading her fingers through Drake’s hair, Serena stroked his head. Her vampire. She grew dizzy as he slowly, gently drank. He was teasing her, giving a light suckle, then taking a long drink.

She felt the pleasure building again.

Would this work? Would her blood help him?

“What in blazes is he doing to you?”

Serena cried out in shock, then whipped around to find Jonathon standing in the doorway.

Furious, he strode in. “He was drinking from you.”

“It’s solange. He was addicted to solange and he was still drinking it even though he’s a vampire.” Her words spilled out in a hurried mess. “It will kill him, so I—I convinced him to try to fight his addiction. But…but I don’t know what to do…”

Serena found her legs still trembling from her orgasm. He must know she’d climaxed from letting Drake take her blood.

“Do you have any idea how much of a risk you took?” Jonathon was in front of her, his large hands on her shoulders, and she winced, expecting him to shake her. Instead he wrapped his arms around her. Kissed her—one breathless kiss on her lips. “He could have killed you.”

“But he didn’t.”

“He can’t survive this—not in this place. He needs a clean bed. And you—damnation, you need rest, and food. I have texts on solange. There might be something there. To help free Swift of its grip.”

She struggled to follow his abrupt sentences. “Wouldn’t it be dangerous to return to Sommersby House—that’s where you want to go, isn’t it? Is there anywhere else we can hide?”

She didn’t know London well. Althea had treated her to many of the pleasures—the museums, libraries, and shopping after dusk at special modistes. She knew the locations of cemeteries but had no idea where to run…

Then she shook her head and managed a grim smile. “I want to go back there. Lukos will come for me there, and I’m tired of being afraid. I want to face him.”

Jonathon kissed her again, his eyes haunted. “No, Serena. Not yet.”

Despite her brave words, Serena found the next hour to be one of the most harrowing of her life. Fear for Drake consumed her as Jonathon carried him down to the waiting hackney. Dirty blankets covered Drake like a shroud. She tried not to think of it. As a vampire, he had only been taking solange for days—it couldn’t be long enough to kill him, or to have destroyed his mind, but what would withdrawing from the drug do?

For all her hours spent buried in vampire books, she had no idea. She hated this helpless feeling.

The night was clear, cold, and her breath puffed out into the dark. Shivering, Serena huddled beneath Jonathon’s coat as he loaded Drake into the carriage. They could be driving into a trap, but suddenly she didn’t care. She was swaying on her feet, her hand on the hackney’s side. Giving the blood had left her weak, and her stomach ached with hunger.