Summers, Jordan (4 page)

Richard felt himself falling into those blue depths,
drowning in the honesty and vulnerability he saw there. He glanced down and
realized he still held her hand. Turning his head slightly, Richard coughed and
released her fingers, before anyone could claim impropriety.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Lily
Devlin.” His lips quirked and Richard managed to flash Lily a smile without
exposing his fangs.

The rose scent clung to her skin, but didn’t mask the
sweet smell of the blood coursing through her veins. It was distinctive, rich
and pungent, unlike any other he’d encountered. Richard blinked, a tremor of
awareness raced through his senses, as his mind assimilated the information his
nose sent him. He shifted casually in an attempt to hide his growing arousal
from prying eyes. His cock ached almost as much as his fangs. He hadn’t had a
reaction like this to a woman for almost seven hundred years. It was…
invigorating.

There was something about Lady Lily Devlin that went
far beyond her beauty. She struck a cord deep inside him as if her spirit alone
could speak to his soul… if he had one.

Lily stared into an unusual pair of obsidian eyes. It
was like she peered into the great abyss. Light seemed to be absorbed by them,
instead of being reflected back. For a second she saw their naked bodies
joined, slick with sweat, twisting in sheets.

Shocked, she drew in an unsteady breath and covered her
reaction with her fan. Just as quickly as it had appeared the vision faded.
Lord Lyon flashed a practiced smile as if he knew what she’d imagined, which
was ridiculous not to mention scandalous. She’d obviously exerted herself on
the dance floor and needed to move to the drawing room to recover.

Lily planted a smile upon her face and tilted her head
to get a better look at the strange man with the black eyes. True to his
breeding, he was tall, well developed—a gentleman to his toes. Muscle was
clearly outlined beneath his gray formfitting breeches. Lily swallowed hard,
willing her gaze away. Since when had she become so brazen? He wore a
navy-colored jacket, cut to perfection, with an ivory shirt and a matching
ivory cravat. His Hessian boots had been shined and polished to glimmer in even
the faintest of lighting.

Mahogany hair, the color of the finest wood, had been
pulled back in a tight queue, which wasn’t particularly fashionable, but looked
becoming on him. Lily longed to run her hands through the thick mop. Was it as
silky soft as it appeared? Her fingers started to itch, so she gripped her fan
tighter. His skin was pale, unusually so, but quite the fashion of a gentleman
of his caliber. Lord Lyon was a regular Beau Brummell, without the pretense.

Lily shuddered as his eyes raked over her. She had the
distinct impression if they weren’t in the middle of a crowded ball he would
devour her on the spot. His attention hadn’t gone over the lines of propriety,
but it certainly skirted the edges. She had to do something to break the
crackling tension. After all she had no wish to encourage a known rake.

“So Lord Lyon—”

“Please, my lady,” he interjected. “My friends and
family call me Lyon.” His eyes flashed, but did not sparkle.

She gave him a curt nod of acknowledgement. “Seeing as
though I am neither, I shall stick with your proper name, my lord.” Lily hid
the urge to grin behind her fan, while Lord Martins shuffled his feet beside
her making small talk with the rest of their group.

Richard’s eyes widened, but he said nothing, only
deepened his smile approvingly.

“Is that an Irish brogue I detect in your speech?” she
asked, further considering his dress.

“Aye, indeed.” He inclined his head. “It is nice to
know the lady not only outshines everyone with her beauty, but is intelligent
as well.”

“Thank you for your ‘pon rep’.” Her lashes dropped
shuttering her eyes. “But I feel your flattery shall be wasted upon me.” She
smiled again, this time showing him.

“Why is that, my lady?” Richard arched a brow and took
a step closer, still well within propriety, but near enough to impress his size
upon her.

She laughed nervously and swung her fan around to tap
him on the arm. “Because, my lord, this is neither my first season, nor my
second. I am well versed in the ways of the ton.” The smile she gave him was
smug.

His lips twitched at the corners of his mouth. “Then we
are in the same boat, I fear.”

“Why?” Confusion marred her voice.

“Because my dear lady, up until now we have not found
what we have been seeking.”

Lily arched a brow. “And you think that has changed?”

He grinned devilishly, a small dimple appearing on his
cheek. “I know it has.” His voice dropped to a husky murmur.

Delicious shivers raced up Lily’s spine as his deep
cadence washed over her. Lord Lyon was cocksure. If he wasn’t so charming it
would be irritating. She looked at him once more, drinking in his handsome
features. Lily knew that with his obvious wealth there was a good chance her
father would immediately approve of such a union, if Lord Lyon was so inclined.

She tamped down the rush of excitement zinging through
her veins and reminded herself not to encourage his attention. Lord Lyon was a
rake of the first order and therefore quite unacceptable to her. She had her
own requirements to consider. Lily sighed, a bit disappointed.

She held out her hand once more. “It was very nice
meeting you, my lord. I hope you enjoy the rest of the season. If you’ll excuse
me, I must join my Aunt, Lady Margaret.”

Richard quirked a brow, noting her slight blush, yet
refusing to accept her dismissal. “It shall be my pleasure to escort you to her
side.”

Lily nodded stiffly, allowing him to place her hand
upon his arm.

“Martins.” He inclined his head to the man who’d
introduced them.

“
Lyon
.” Martins answered in
kind, a frown upon his face.

From the first touch of her, Richard felt the predator
in him stir, feeling challenged for the first time in… well, he couldn’t
remember how long. How could he have missed such a succulent flower? She’d been
under his nose the whole time. He walked Lily across the room to where her aunt
awaited. She nodded. He bowed over her gloved hand.

Allowing temptation to get the best of him, Richard
brought Lily’s slender fingers to his mouth. At the last moment he flipped her
hand over and placed a chaste kiss upon her bared wrist without allowing those
around them to see. Lily trembled beneath his lips. Richard hid his smile of
triumph and released her.

“‘Til we meet again.” He inclined his head, not missing
the speculative glance Lady Margaret, Duchess of Dreyer sent him, and then
walked away.

Richard wasn’t positive what his next move would be,
but he had no doubt he’d be seeing Lady Lily Devlin again. He’d make sure of
it. Despite her coolness, she had shown interest.

The beast within him raged as he imagined her naked. He
wouldn’t be satisfied until he was able to take Lily in his arms, sink his cock
and fangs deep inside her virginal flesh, tasting his fill of her unblemished
bounty, all the while listening to her scream out the first of many releases.
Richard’s cock bucked beneath his breeches. He turned on his heel and went in
search of familiar prey.

It was time to feed.

Chapter Two

Richard left the ball, unable to bring himself to dance
with any other women, since his introduction to Lily. In a few short moments,
she’d managed to slip beneath his skin, heating his blood to an inferno.
Dismissing his valet, Hurley, before leaving, Richard wandered down the street
past many gambling and prostitution dens that catered to gentlemen of his
station.

He weaved his way through alleys, having arranged for his man to
pick him up later at Caulfield’s. He knew Hurley well enough to know he’d be
waiting around the back of the building long before Richard ever reached the
entrance. He laughed to himself. His man was extremely predictable and Richard
truly appreciated it.

Hurley had been with him for ages, a trustworthy and
loyal servant who would defend Richard with his life if necessary. After almost
losing Hurley in a villainous attack, Richard made sure that the latter was
never necessary.

Like it was yesterday, Richard recalled that horrific
moment when he’d thought he’d lost his friend. The night had been black as pitch,
much like this evening. Hurley’s body lay in a crumpled heap upon the ground,
while three men circled him like a pack of ravenous dogs. In the darkness, the
three had mistaken Hurley for a gentleman, growing angry when they’d realized
they’d attacked a penniless man. The men had kicked and beaten Hurley to within
an inch of his life. They lingered, hovering like vultures, debating whether to
finish the job they’d started.

The men’s words became garbled as rage engulfed
Richard. Razor sharp talons sprang from his fingertips. A red haze blanketed
his mind. Bones snapped. Fangs sank deep. Richard drained one man while ripping
out the throat of another. By the time he’d recovered his control three men lay
dead with Hurley balancing on the edge. Richard carried Hurley home, later
forcing him to drink a bit of his ancient blood. Enough to heal him, yet not
trigger a change. It was the only reason Hurley was alive today… one hundred
years later.

Because of that hard-earned lesson, Richard was
careful… very careful, deflecting suspicion away from his true nature by not
drawing unnecessary attention to himself.

On the few occasions Richard had to defend his person,
the humans involved had not faired well. He regretted the need for killing, but
sometimes it was necessary—just not for food. Contrary to popular myth,
vampires did not have to kill during feeding.

Richard approached Caulfield’s. The elegantly appointed
doorman bowed and then opened the door, granting him permission to enter. The
familiar odor of smoke, whisky, and heavily laden perfume wafted in the air.
With his exceptional hearing, Richard could make out the conversations of the
men participating in the many faro and whist games currently taking place in
the other room. He’d join them later. First he needed to assuage his thirst.
The owner of the house approached. Richard bowed low in greeting, taking
Josephine’s hand.

“Ah Madam Josephine, you look ravishing as always
tonight.” He pressed his lips to her hand, then straightened.

Josephine giggled then batted his hand away. She tossed
her ebony hair over her shoulder, removing the only obstacle blocking the view
of her bountiful curves. “You’re back. Dear Richard, what can I do for you this
evening… the usual?” She cocked her hip and batted her eyelashes.

Richard shook his head. “You know me too well.” He
smiled and winked at her.

“I know all my clients well.” She grinned back, then
led him into another room, sequestered away from the gamblers. “You have
already purchased Rose’s services for a fortnight, but I’ve got a new girl, if
you’re interested.”

He quirked a brow. “Do tell.” Richard wasn’t
interested, because of Rose, but he was curious.

Josephine’s full ruby-colored mouth widened into a
salacious grin, as she leaned toward him, resting her hand on his elbow,
exposing a bounty of cleavage. Her berry-colored nipples poked out from the top
of her neckline, in striking contrast to her pale skin, giving Richard an
eyeful as she spoke with a seductive French accent. He knew she teased. It was
Josephine’s way of amusing herself. She no longer serviced clients, but she
loved to flirt nonetheless.

“Are you going to tell me about your new arrival? I’m
intrigued,” Richard purred, trying to sound interested, but not too interested.

“She is everything a man is looking for and more,
breeding, grace, and of course a fresh unscathed beauty.” Josephine’s brown
eyes sparkled devilishly in the dim light. Then she lowered her voice to a
conspicuous whisper. “She’s a virgin. I’ve checked.” She leered. “It’s just a
matter of finding the right client to break her in.”

Richard squelched the anger that flashed through him.
If his face showed an iota of concern, Josephine wouldn’t allow him access to
the woman.

He blanked his expression and hitched a tone of boredom
to his voice. “Will I do?” To add to the illusion of calmness, he raised his
hand and glanced at his fingernails.

Josephine stared at his face for a few moments in
consideration, before smiling again. “Of course darling, Rose raves about
your—expertise. It almost makes me consider coming out of retirement.” For a
second, Josephine’s public mask dropped. She licked her lips, glancing down to
the front of his breeches before returning her gaze to his face.

Richard cocked a brow.

As if realizing her slip, Josephine cleared her throat.
“You are exactly who I had in mind when I saw her.”

Sure you did, Richard thought, but didn’t say it aloud.
He simply smiled.

Josephine was a shrewd businesswoman. She had two
ape-sized bruisers with fists the size of mallets that enforced her rules
without question. She believed strongly in buying loyalty and made sure they
were paid well for their services. It was why she’d been successful for so
long. She weighed and measured every man who crossed her threshold and was
merciless if you owed her money.

In the past, it wasn’t at all unusual to have a
gentleman turn up bashed and battered after being unable to pay his gambling
debts, although she was careful to make sure not much claret spilled in the
process. Everyone learned by the example she’d had set with her bruisers, so
getting cleaned out at the tables was tantamount to accepting a beating.

Josephine led Richard to a small room up the back
stairs and down a narrow corridor. Thick red silk draped the windows. The
lights had been dimmed so low, it was almost impossible to identify anyone
passing by, unless you were standing face to face—which was exactly what
Josephine had intended. It was a way to ensure her clientele’s anonymity.