Did she really think she could save him, the naïve child? His answer was harsh. “You can’t, angel.”
“Let me touch you,” she said.
He had not expected this. She spoke to him as his wife used to. He was the general, but his wife had spoken sharply to him, had expected him to obey her command.
Zayan jerked back as the woman’s hand struck his chest, her fingers splayed wide. Heat surged through his pectorals, a hot BLOOD DEEP / 59
spear through his muscles, a fiery grip around his heart. Her power held him transfixed. He couldn’t move.
By the gods, she was strong with magic.
Far more than he’d guessed.
His temperature soared; heat raced through his veins as though he were being consumed by fire. Could she make him burst into flame? Could her touch make him explode, burn to ash?
“Oh! Oh!” she cried. Her body was convulsing. She moaned.
She moved her hips in the fierce bounce of a woman caught in the throes of a powerful orgasm. Her lips opened wide as she rode out the pleasure.
Zayan’s nostrils flared at the tang of her juices. He could scent her cunny becoming wet and creamy. Lukos could scent her, too, he knew. Lukos could shift shape and become a wolf, which made the demon even more primal about sex than Zayan was.
“What in hell is she?” Lukos growled.
Still enduring the blasting heat, Zayan could barely speak.
“Not a demon,” he managed. “Not a vampire.” He drew in a deep breath as the heat began to ebb. He wasn’t going to go up in a ball of flame. “An avenging angel?” But he didn’t think so.
Miss Miranda slumped back against the seat. Her chest rose and fell. Zayan saw the horror in her eyes. The stark fear. She stared down at her own shaking hands.
She didn’t understand her own power. He read it in her thoughts before her intense emotions became a blur that he couldn’t understand. He’d never had that happen before. The only minds that could shutter themselves from him were those of vampire queens, and demons who had been Lucifer’s apprentices. But he had glimpsed the most powerful emotion Miranda felt—she was afraid of herself.
You don’t know what you are, do you?
he asked softly in her thoughts. He tried to shield them from Lukos but doubted he 60 /
Sharon Page
was successful. Zayan was the older vampire—and stronger, he believed. But not quite strong enough.
Helplessly, Miranda looked at him. “It’s never felt like that before. That’s never . . . never happened. I don’t know if I did anything.”
Sweetheart
. . . Zayan had only ever spoken so softly and gently to his children.
What exactly were you trying to do? You
can’t believe your touch could return my soul.
Miranda couldn’t let them find out the truth. “I-I thought you could be saved,” she lied, “by a good soul.”
Lukos chuckled. “You thought what? The touch of a virtuous woman would drive his demons out?”
Mute, Miranda nodded her head. She prayed they thought she was just some impetuous do-gooder. What a fool she’d been to reveal herself. But she’d thought it would work. She had saved Aunt Eugenia, her brother, Simon, her sister-in-law, Caroline, the young boy in the park, and others over the last twelve years. She’d thought she could save a vampire.
Miranda rubbed her hand. It felt as though it had been burnt. She’d felt the heat and even thought it had gone into the vampire. It had seemed to bounce back into her.
That scorching heat had turned into desire—desire and arousal she didn’t want and couldn’t control. It had grown so strong.
She’d ached and throbbed, and had needed to rub between her thighs. She had squeezed them together, unable to fight the yearning. Then she’d burst—she couldn’t explain it any other way.
She hugged herself. That explosive feeling must be what drove her brother and his new wife to their bedroom so often and was responsible for those agonized moans Caroline made that could be heard through the bedchamber walls.
It had to be. Her pleasure had been so intense she’d feared her heart might stop, or burst.
Her cheeks still burned. She couldn’t catch her breath.
BLOOD DEEP / 61
Miranda stared at Zayan. He smiled at her. He still had fangs. So it hadn’t worked. And she didn’t believe she had returned his soul.
Why not? What had gone wrong?
Was it because he was not dead but undead?
She remembered the terror she’d felt when Simon had drowned, when she had been eleven and he had been thirteen.
It had been like her heart had stopped along with his. She’d been almost physically sick, her stomach leaping upward, bile in her throat. Tears had been streaming down her face. She’d begged him to live. She’d touched his heart. Then he’d coughed and sputtered and had thrown up a lot of horrid, slimy water.
It had been the same when she had saved Aunt Eugenia—
she had desperately wanted her aunt to be alive again. With her parents, she’d never had the chance. Her mother had died when she was very young; her father just over three years ago, but on shipboard while crossing from Calais during the heady newness of peace. His body had been lost.
She thought of the child in Hyde Park. Even though she hadn’t known the little boy, it had shattered her heart to think he would die. That he was dead. Each time, her heart had been broken and she had been determined to bring life back. Each time, she had truly cared.
She could never care enough about these vampires to give them their lives back. That avenue of escape was lost to her.
The carriage began to slow its breakneck pace. In the space between the window and the shade covering it, Miranda saw hints of light. They were in a village now. This—this would be her chance to get free.
She turned beseeching eyes to Zayan. “Please . . . I am so hungry. I need . . .” She blushed, as a respectable lady should while discussing the privy. “I need to relieve myself. Please?”
It was Lukos who answered. “We’ll stop. I need to feed.”
* * *
62 /
Sharon Page
Coaches clattered into the yard beside the inn. Twilight had settled in, and only a strip of soft violet remained along the horizon. Lamps burned, and Miranda noticed both Zayan and Lukos hid their faces to ensure the light did not glint on their reflective eyes.
Lukos held her wrist and she could not break free of his hold. Could she scream to the surrounding crowd—the families and gentlemen and elderly ladies leaving coaches or approaching others?
There were children in the crowd.
And she remembered the magic that Zayan had done. He could possibly kill dozens of people with his power if he threw a bolt of it into the crowd to stop her.
She had no choice but to go along with the vampires. And then find a chance to escape.
“We’ll go to the dining room and you may have a meal.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to sarcastically thank Zayan for being so kind. But she bit down. Best to let them think she was so frightened she would obey them.
Lukos shook his head. His long hair fluttered in the breeze, and his eyes gave a betraying flash of silver. “I need to hunt.”
Miranda caught her breath. He meant he was going to hunt down an innocent person and take their blood.
“No, you can’t.” She pointed to her own throat. “If you need to feed, take the blood from me. I don’t care. But I won’t let you hurt anyone else.”
“You have no choice, love. And I can’t feed from you. But if you wish, you may choose the person I’ll feed from.” Lukos waved his arm to encompass the crowd of innocent people.
She stared. A mother embraced a child. A woman urged four young boys toward a stage that was preparing to leave. A couple gazed lovingly at each other in a tender good-bye. An elderly man patted the hand of his elderly wife. She couldn’t select any
BLOOD DEEP / 63
one. Each person was loved and cherished by someone. They all deserved to live.
“You’re evil!” she spat.
“Yes, angel, I am. I served Lucifer. I was born to be evil.”
“If you must feed, why not bite Zayan! Or bite a pig!”
Lukos merely inclined his head. “I need a mortal’s fresh, rich blood, angel.”
Was there anyone there who deserved a vampire’s bite? A man who abused his wife? A vicious man who preyed on children? A woman who snared innocents for brothels? A murderer? A thief?
She could not do this.
But she couldn’t let him just select anyone. “Who would you choose?” she asked softly.
“When you eat, sweetheart, do you select the dish that tempts you most? Would you choose mutton over lamb? Or tough beef over a succulent roast?”
She shuddered. “You’d chose someone young and pretty, you mean.”
“Sometimes I choose children.”
Miranda clapped her hand to her mouth. “That’s unspeakably evil!”
Should she scream? Perhaps the vampires’ magic couldn’t hurt all these people—but what if her horror led to one death?
“I would choose children who had little hope, angel, and then I would change them. I would give them unimaginable strength and speed. I would give them the chance to turn the world upon its ear.”
She shuddered. “Can you not feed without hurting someone?”
Lukos winked. “For you, pet, I’ll try.”
She didn’t believe him. But Zayan had hold of her arm and Lukos strode away. He was so tall, so striking with his long 64 /
Sharon Page
hair and cloak that he did not vanish in the milling crowd—he stood out. Men watched him warily; women stared with obvious desire. He prowled toward the shadows.
She could not swallow over the lump in her throat.
Zayan’s arm slid around her waist. There were men walking with women this way. Those women wore low-cut gowns, had rouged lips, and were obviously doxies. People would think that of her.
She choked on a laugh. They would think her a whore. They would have no idea she was going to be a vampire’s victim.
“Aren’t you going to feed?” she whispered.
Zayan cocked his head. “I do not need to yet, my dear.”
Blast, she’d hoped he would want to leave her to feed. Of course, he wouldn’t let her go. She was likely to be his meal.
“But I expect you are hungry,” he said. “Let us get you some dinner.”
“What do you plan to do to me? If you intend to kill me, why feed me?”
A stage arrived, rushing into the yard before Zayan answered. He watched it in a pensive silence. The grooms jumped down, the doors opened. Boxes were thrown down as the people began to spill out. Other grooms hurried forward to unhitch the horses.
And others rushed forward to greet friends and to make ready to take their journey.
Was he watching to choose his victim? She had to act. She turned and pointed across the yard. “Look! Our carriage is leaving! It must be Lukos!”
As Zayan spun around, she pulled away from him as hard as she could. His surprise—and anger—had loosened his grip.
Her pelisse tore, but she was free!
She yanked up her hems and plunged into the crowd.
“ ’Ere miss, have a care!”
BLOOD DEEP / 65
Someone elbowed her in the back. She tripped, almost fell, but grabbed a man’s coat to stop herself. She stumbled forward.
She heard a roar behind her. That must be Zayan and she cringed, waiting for a bolt of his magical power to strike her.
A man shouted. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man sail backward off his feet and land hard in the mud.
Zayan wasn’t using magic.
She squeezed and pushed her way between bodies.
Someone shoved her forward and she slammed against the side of the stage. Her wind flew out of her chest. Gasping, she raced around the large vehicle.
What was she going to do? She couldn’t outrun a vampire.
Could she leap into a passing carriage? Three were leaving and she raced blindly toward them.
“There’s been a boy trampled!” someone shouted. “My god!”
Standing still amidst the cries of shock and horror, Miranda slowly turned toward the gathering crowd. She could not just run away now. She had to do something. Shivering, glancing around for Zayan, she made her way to the circle of people who were all trying to crush forward, to see. She had to elbow her way between these heartless people. They weren’t doing anything, they were feeding on horror and disaster like a vampire fed on blood. And it was like trying to fight a raging current.
“Move,” she commanded one man. She had to kick another to get him to jump aside. Through the gap between bodies, she saw a tiny form sprawled in the dirt and a woman leaning over him, screaming, tears streaking down her face.
She had to act now. She didn’t have much time.
From behind her, a hand clamped down on her right wrist, holding her captive. “Got you, you witch,” a man growled.
That voice. She recognized it. Her heart threatened to leap out of her chest. Miranda twisted to meet the hard gaze of James Ryder—the vampire slayer who wanted to kill her.
4
Rescued
“It’s no use. She will not take my milk anymore. She doesn’t even want blood.”
Althea Yates, Lady Brookshire, heard the frantic desperation in her voice. How could she be so helpless? So useless? She did not know what to do. Her child wouldn’t eat, no matter what she tried. She had consulted with midwives, wet nurses, experienced women, and vampires, too, and nothing worked.
Her maid hurried away. Althea heard Nan’s rapid footsteps on the stone floor of the ancient castle’s corridor. The frightened girl would be fetching Yannick and Bastien, Althea guessed.
If her daughter didn’t eat, surely she would waste away.
Althea licked away the tear that dripped to her lip. She could cry. She may be a vampire, but she could cry. But what would tears solve?
She gazed down at baby Serena, known as Serry, so as not to be confused with Serena, Lady Sommersby, Althea’s very best friend. Althea smiled at soft, puckered lips that blew tiny bubbles, and at the fragile, translucent lids, and the dark lashes that lay along small cheeks. One thick lock of downy blond hair lay along her daughter’s cheek. She guessed Serry must look as both 68 /
Sharon Page