Blood Fire (34 page)
“I don’t know. For that, we have to speak to Guidon. If a miracle can be had, he would be the one to know.”
He had been jammed into the crowded bookshop for hours; he had fetched book after book like a lackey for the gnome-like, gray-haired librarian. If he was offered another cup of tea, Matthew thought he could break every piece of crockery in London.
With each thump of a book shutting, each tug of Guidon’s hands in his straggly hair, a little more of Matthew’s hope drained away. De Wynter sat, drinking tea—his friend had stayed quiet and had let him do the work of bringing books.
Finally, Guidon pushed aside an enormous leather-bound book, one filled with tattered pages, secured by a tarnished, silver lock. “Nothing.” Grimly, the librarian shook his head. “There is nothing. She cannot be changed.” He picked up his tea and sipped it. “I wish I had better tidings for you, Lord Sutcliffe.”
“I was cursed to die and cheated my damned destiny. I’ve heard the vampire queens possess great power—can’t they help? What of Mrs. Darkwell?”
“She cannot interfere directly in a woman’s discovery of love.”
“Interfere? She cursed me to die.”
“And yet you are alive, and you and your beautiful wife are in love. She merely nudged you two on your way.”
He had been cursed to die. That was a
nudge?
He had traveled most of the world, and had been arrogant and confident at every step. He’d never really believed he could die—he was too clever, too rich, and he was a powerful earl.
nudge?
He had traveled most of the world, and had been arrogant and confident at every step. He’d never really believed he could die—he was too clever, too rich, and he was a powerful earl.
Now, he felt powerless. Confused. And humble.
“The vampire queens cannot help you,” Guidon added. “They cannot help a succubus.”
Matthew jumped up from his chair. He had been told many times that things were impossible. He’d been told he would not survive hiking in the Carpathians at night. He had been told he would perish if he climbed mountains in the Himalayas. He’d steered ships through storms that should have torn him apart.
He’d cheated fate dozens of times, even surviving a curse. But the one time he really needed to do it . . . he couldn’t. “So there’s no happy ending for us—for Octavia and I.” He growled the words, hearing the bitterness in them.
“The only way you can make love to her and not lose your soul is if you are changed back into a vampire.”
Could he do that? He had hated being a vampire before. And then he remembered. “It won’t work. She needs to take a piece of a man’s soul. If I kept her faithful to me, and I became a vampire, I could kill her.” He shook his head, then faced Guidon. “How long can I expect to survive?”
“Do you really want to know? If I do not tell you, you can”—Guidon blushed—“have your marital relations with your wife until you expire without warning. That might be for the best.”
“No. I want to know. I’ll wait.” As he spoke, Matthew caught De Wynter’s gaze and read the most damning of emotions in it. Sympathy. It was almost worse than pity. Hell, how long did he have?
“I will have to find out,” Guidon said. “Wait here.”
The gnome-like librarian leapt off the settee and raced back to his stove. Soon a strange smell filled the shop. Guidon returned with a gilt-decorated white china cup, filled with a dark fluid. The vampire handed it to him. “Drink. This will tell me how long you have.”
Matthew gulped the entire thing down. It was like drinking the sticky sap of a fir tree. “Ugh,” he spat after he’d finished it.
Guidon cocked his head and walked around Matthew. “Your body and your soul suffered great strain when you carried your curse, Lord Sutcliffe. Even the magic that freed you from the curse left you weaker. It drained some of your soul. You carried a great deal of guilt while you kept your vampirism a secret from your wife, and that has also taken its measure on your soul.”
“That does not sound good,” Matthew muttered.
“The next time you are intimate with Lady Sutcliffe . . .” Again Guidon turned pink. “I am afraid it will very likely be your last time.”
21
The Last Time
“D
o I tell Octavia? Or do I keep it a secret?”
o I tell Octavia? Or do I keep it a secret?”
Matthew drained his tumbler of brandy and paced in his study. His baby daughter was up in the nursery, tucked beneath the lacy blankets of her bassinet. Octavia was in bed, either asleep or wondering why in heaven’s name he wasn’t with her. He stopped stalking back and forth and looked to De Wynter. Why ask the question? Any answer De Wynter gave him would likely be wrong.
He had just needed to put out the question. To air it, so he could think it through himself.
De Wynter rested his arse on the edge of Matthew’s desk. “That sounds like a question where any answer is wrong.”
“I wasn’t really expecting an answer.” Matthew groaned.
“I can give you one piece of advice,” De Wynter said. “Keeping secrets from wives is more dangerous than facing an entire clan of murderous werewolves or fire-breathing dragon-shifters. There is a solution: If you don’t make love to your wife again, you survive.”
Matthew gripped the marble mantel and rested his forehead against it with a thud. “You can’t really think I would never make love to Octavia again. I couldn’t do it.”
His friend nodded. “Well, if you didn’t, she would die. However, you have to understand that if you die, she will still need sex to survive. She will have to go to other men anyway—”
“No.” He slammed his hands on the edge of the mantel. Facing De Wynter, he growled, “I know you have found happiness. But you also share your wife with only your brother . . . I assume there is no one else?”
De Wynter crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Touché. There’s no one else.”
“Do I just accept what Guidon says and give up hope? Do I warn my wife that I’ll die with my next orgasm with her? If I tell her, I suspect she’ll never let me into her bed again . . . until she has no choice. Damn it, this is madness. I won’t let her die for me. But why does it have to be this choice? What if Guidon is wrong? He’s a librarian—”
“He knows everything there is to know about preternatural beings. He is never wrong.”
“I intend to prove he can be.”
“Go to your wife,” De Wynter said. The vampire came to him and clapped him on the shoulder. “I would suggest honesty. Don’t make love to her and die in front of her. Think of her. That would be highly disturbing, and it would both anger and upset her if you hadn’t given her the chance to decide.”
Matthew pushed open the door of Octavia’s bedroom, inhaling delectable scents: the rosy perfume she wore, the lavender water she used, the sweet smell of her skin on her bedcovers. He stopped in the doorway in surprise. Her bed was empty.
She must have gone to his bed, to wait for him there.
How long could she go without making love? Before, when she had lasted for months, they had shared dreams together. And she had been pregnant. Guidon told him that lessened a succubus’s need for sex.
Tonight, he had to give Octavia the truth. He had to tell her what Guidon had predicted.
He had spent most of their time together not being honest with her. He’d tried to hide that he was a vampire, hide from her the truth that she was a succubus. He had only been truly honest when he’d told her he loved her.
De Wynter was correct, and Matthew had learned the truth of it. Honesty was all there should be between Octavia and him.
He went through the connecting parlor to his room. The door stood open. Moonlight poured in through an open curtain. It threw a slant of silver light across the bed. Octavia’s golden hair spilled out from beneath the sheets.
He had faced an army of assassins, but he hadn’t felt as nervous then as he did now.
Gently, he planted his arse on the edge of the bed. She had the covers pulled right up, so shadow hid her beautiful face. He bent over and kissed her. Smiled as his lips touched moisture on her cheek—she’d drooled onto her pillow.
It was so sweet it made tears prickle in the corners of his eyes. Damn, gentlemen did not cry. He would not. But it was hard to keep his lips steady when he knew he was going to die; he would never see Octavia and Lottie again.
“Mmm.” Octavia rolled on her back, and her lids lifted. “You are finally home. You are very late. Are you coming to bed?”
“Tavie, there’s something I have to tell you.”
Her eyes went wide, and in the next instant she sat upright in the bed. So quickly, she almost bumped her head against his. “What is it? You wouldn’t tell me you were a vampire, or that I’m a succubus. If you are admitting something to me, it must be terrible.”
Her words brought forth a spurt of guilt. Once he had not cared about his life because he had felt so damned guilty for not saving his brother. Now he hungered to live, to be with Octavia and Lottie.
He needed to be close to her. He wrapped his arm around her. This embrace would not last long: Once he talked to her, she would probably push him away.
He feared Octavia would focus on saving him.
“When we made love earlier, it left me weak—”
“I know. I’m killing you again. You don’t want to go to bed with me, and I don’t blame you. I’m so sorry. I don’t want to hurt you. I’d rather die than do that.”
“No,” he thundered. “Don’t say that.”
Tears glinted in her eyes. One fell to her cheek, wringing his heart like he might wring a wet shirt. “I went to White’s to find Bastien De Wynter, and he took me to Guidon’s.”
He told her everything Guidon had told him. Even the warning that the next time he made love might be his last.
“Heavens, no,” she whispered.
She had never looked lovelier. The softness of the moonlight caressed her oval face and made her lips look even more full and luscious than normal. Her eyes sparkled like silvery jewels.
Matthew looked down, and his throat dried. The valley between her full breasts was a deep, shadowy space, one that beckoned him to delve his tongue within. Her curves looked so round and generous his hand ached to cup them.
He knew he wasn’t reacting to her with such intense desire because she was a succubus. It was because she was the woman he loved.
“There is no way on earth I can never make love to you again.”
“But I refuse to hurt you,” she protested.
“You will die without sex. I am not going to let that happen.”
“You are the only man I want,” she whispered, staring into his eyes. Then she shook her head fiercely. “I cannot believe there is no solution! If you could be changed back from being a vampire, couldn’t I somehow stop being a succubus?”
She frowned, obviously thinking deeply. But all he could think of was how her lips pursed so sensually when she thought. How her breasts swayed when she was vehement. How much he wanted her—
Hell, there was no way he would be able to go an hour without making love to her, much less a lifetime. “I went to Lucifer and asked him to free you. He refused.”
She goggled at him. “You went to the Underworld?”
“Yes. It was an interesting journey. But Lucifer refused to let you go.”
She sank down. “So I truly am a being who serves the devil.”
Matthew hated to see such pain in her eyes.
The next time would be the last time. The words had broken Octavia’s heart, but she knew she must be strong. “Then we won’t make love again,” she said firmly.
Matthew was sitting on the bed beside her. He shook his head. “Tavie, I can’t do that. You are far too tempting.”
“We could live apart,” she said swiftly. “So you would not be tempted. I know that men have needs, so you could take mistresses. I would understand. This is my fault—”
His eyes blazed at her. “It is not your fault, and I do not want to take mistresses. I don’t want anyone but you.”
“Your father died over my mother. My mother died because of what she was. I don’t want that to happen to us. I don’t want us to both perish over love.”
“So we have to walk away from love and happiness?”
It broke her heart, too. “We can still love each other. We just cannot be together,” she whispered.
“Tavie, I want to show my love to you. Every night. In fact, I want to show my love to you at night, in the morning, and every afternoon. I cannot walk away. You need sex to survive. I don’t want you to go to another man. Making love with you means too much.”
“If only I could break this curse of mine,” she said sadly. “It is a horrible one. I want someone who could make me just a mortal woman.”
“You would never be ‘just’ anything.”
“What did Lucifer say to you, exactly, when you asked him to free me?”
“He said that unless I asked him properly, he could not let you go. So I tried asking him politely, tried it several times, and he refused. Then I held a blade to his throat and threatened to kill him. I quickly discovered you can’t threaten the devil with death.”
He spoke lightly, and that gave her a jolt of fear. “What happened to you?”
“First my blade turned into molten metal, burning me. Then I was attacked by hundreds of tormented souls, all seeking—in a perverse, warped way—to protect the beast that kept them imprisoned in Hell.”
“You were almost killed, weren’t you?”
“I survived. You are worth any risk.”
“He asked you to ask him properly. . . .” What exactly did that mean?
“I assumed he was mocking me. He refused to tell me what he meant. He laughed at me.”
“What if—” Her thoughts raced. She clasped her husband’s strong, elegant hands. “What if he meant there is a specific way you must ask for my freedom? Like an incantation of magic.”
The idea came off her lips at the exact same instant he said, “Guidon.”
She nodded fiercely. “We must go to him and find out.”
Matthew had to smile. They faced a grim future, but her determination made him smile. She was a stubborn and determined woman. And he loved her for it. He’d loved her for those qualities from the beginning, though he’d been too stubborn to admit it.
“It is the middle of the night,” he pointed out.
“Guidon will still be awake—he’s a vampire. Lottie is upstairs sleeping. She will want to be fed though, so we must be quick—”
“We could bring Guidon to us,” Matthew suggested.
His wife smiled. “An excellent idea. Is he actually a vampire? I never knew. I will dress quickly and prepare some food and drink for him.”
“Tavie, I don’t think you have to—”
“If he can give us a happy ending, I think he deserves to be treated like a king.”
Octavia poured tea for Guidon. She looked into his earnest eyes. “There must be a way,” she whispered. She was pleading the words to him.
Guidon patted her hand gently before he took the teacup and saucer. Grimly, he shook his head. “To be a demon is to carry a curse that makes one different from mortals. A curse can be broken, that is true. But you cannot beg for freedom.
You must
discover
the path to freedom.”
discover
the path to freedom.”
Matthew sputtered, but she held up her hand to warn him to stay quiet.
“So you cannot just give me the answer, Mr. Guidon. But there
is
an answer?”
is
an answer?”
He sipped his tea. “This is the most excellent tea I have ever had, my lady. If there is anyone capable of finding answers, it is a lady who can brew such remarkable tea.”
“I will find the answer.” She was aware of her husband looking from her to Guidon. She turned to him. “There is a way, but we have to find it. We must use our wits. I suspect that we have to prove we are worthy of happiness.”
Matthew was going to speak, but she lifted her hand. “No complaints. Let us prove it.” She faced Guidon. “If you could help us, and give us any clue you can, I could arrange a meeting with someone you care for.”
The vampire looked startled.
“I was thinking of Aphrodite’s daughter,” she said softly.
Guidon’s cheeks turned scarlet. “I will do what I can, my lady.”
“When Lady Sutcliffe takes a bit of a man’s soul, where does it go?” Matthew asked.
“To Hades. But do not look to Lucifer for help. He would never release a succubus. Those little pieces of soul are like a drug to him.”
“I know,” Matthew said drily. “I asked him to free her, and he refused.”
“You must outwit Lucifer to win.”
Octavia rubbed the heel of her hand against her forehead. She had to think—
“Damn, I can think of nothing,” Matthew growled.
The next time they made love, she would take the rest of Matthew’s soul, and it would go to Lucifer and he would die—
“Oh!” she cried. She leapt up, knocking the small table and almost upsetting the teapot. Guidon swiftly rescued it. “I think I know how to do this. I think I know how to win.”
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