The Vampire Voss (24 page)

She was salty and hot, citrus and musk, and he curled his fingers into the blankets. A wave of pain clashed with the new rush of desire and he kissed her again, squeezing his eyes closed against the battle. Lucifer versus Angelica.

Taking, violating…versus coaxing, seducing. It would be nothing to slide into her. Release that hot flood of rich blood. White light shot down to his hips and burned over his back.
Take.

She was well asleep.… She would enjoy it. She would moan and her eyes would flutter behind her lids and she might perhaps spread her legs so that he could slip a hand into that warm crook, pleasure her while she dreamed.

And then, suddenly, Voss felt something pushing into him.

Poking into his torso.

“Get away.”

Her words, cold and low, were unmistakable. And the pressure in his torso could only be…

Voss eased back and saw that, yes, indeed, she had a whittled wooden stick pressing against him. A bit too low for his heart, but too close, nevertheless. She must have pulled it from beneath the covers.

She'd been sleeping with a stake. Expecting him?

He tried to smile, but it felt weak. Surprisingly his fangs had retracted, although his gums still throbbed a bit.

“Get away from me,” she said again, and jabbed him hard enough that he felt a definite point through his shirt, into the soft part of belly below his sternum.

Hands raised in placation, he shifted off the bed. “All right, then. There's no need to be overset.”

To his chagrin and delight, Angelica sat up, still holding the stake like a talisman in front of her. Her technique left much to be desired, for it wobbled a bit, and it wasn't quite at the right angle…but Voss was not about to underestimate the sister of a renowned vampire hunter.

“Get out of here,” she said from between tight jaws. “Or I'll scream.”

“Corvindale isn't here to rush to your assistance,” Voss couldn't help but mention.

“Are you certain of that?” she replied steadily.

He relaxed a bit and leaned slightly against the bed with his thigh. “Of course. He's searching the City for yours truly, Angelica. He'd never think to look for me here.”

“What do you want?” She obviously couldn't find an argument for that, so she tried a different tact. “To finish what
you started? Are you going to bleed me dry and tear me into ribbons of flesh?” Bitterness filled her voice.

Voss's belly tightened.
Never.
“No,” he said. “Of course not.”

She sniffed and the play of moonlight over her face told him that her jaw tightened.

Angelica could have no idea how enticing she looked at that moment, with the pearly light half illuminating the details of her face, and the dip and curve of her shoulder. The strap of her night rail was nothing but a three-finger-wide pink ribbon, and the eyelet lace that edged the straight neckline gapped a bit. Her lips were gently parted and full, and the cloud of dark waves cascaded over her shoulders and onto the pillows.

The only aspect marring that beautiful image was the loathing burning in her eyes. Even in the ineffective light, he saw it. The smile he'd tried to force wavered.

“What do you want, then?” she said again, still as coldly as before.

This was not as simple as he'd expected it to be. Voss knew he could easily overpower her, remove the stake from her hand and do whatever he wanted. He could take what he needed, and be gone from London within hours.

The sharp, pounding pain radiating over his back urged him to grab those delicate shoulders and drag her to him.
Take.

“I have something for you,” he said, pulling two velvet pouches from the inside of his coat. “And for your sister. An apology. To both of you.”

“I don't want anything from you.” Her voice was cold, and she didn't even glance at the jewelry bags.

“Nevertheless, I shall leave them. Perhaps your sister will accept them. They are quite valuable.” He turned and set them
on her dressing table. The gifts were really more for Dimitri's sake than Angelica's.

“Very well, then. You've delivered your apology—unwelcome as it is. Now
leave.
”

“I also came to ask that you use your Sight to give me information.”

Her eyes widened in shock, and those delicious lips pruned up like an old maid's. “You came to ask a favor of me? Why in God's name would I do anything for
you?
”

Voss winced at her use of the name of God—or perhaps it was simply the Mark—and he once again tried to adopt a placating smile. “Because if you assist me, I'll leave London and I won't bother you ever again.”

Despite her bitterness and loathing, he didn't expect her reaction to be quite as quick and businesslike as it was. “You'd leave London? Is that a vow? Because if it is, I would be most happy to make such a bargain.”

Something panged uncomfortably in the vicinity of his heart and even his belly squeezed—like it did in the morning after too much blood whiskey and ale and wine had all mixed up and sloshed around. “You have my word,” he said.

Angelica snorted in that ladylike way that had amused him previously. “What is it then?”

Voss pulled out the slender gold chain from a different pocket inside his coat. When he'd first acquired it, he hadn't realized that it would be put to use in this way, but now that he knew Angelica's secret, it made perfect sense.

“It isn't a glove—I know that you prefer gloves,” he said, looking at her purposely. He forced himself to say it. “You read death on my glove, didn't you? Will you tell me what you saw?”

“What I saw is not at all to my liking.”

Voss stilled. Waited. But she said nothing further. “Angelica?”

“It's not to my liking because I saw nothing. I would that I'd foretold a violent, imminent death for you.”

“You saw nothing?” He wasn't certain whether to be alarmed or relieved. Did that mean he wasn't to die? Ever? Something like relief blossomed.

“Are you hard of hearing?” She held out her hand. “Give me the chain and be off with you.”

“You will attempt it?”

“Leave it with me, and I'll meditate upon it. I'll send you a message in the morning through Rubey with any information I can cull from the chain.” The stake shifted warningly in her hand, its point still aimed at him.

Voss hid his surprise. “But how can I trust that you will follow through on our agreement, Angelica?” He allowed his voice to caress her name the way he had done to her shoulder.

That very same shoulder lifted in a delicate shrug. “You will have to trust me.” Her eyes narrowed and she straightened. For a moment, he saw something else besides hatred and anger there. It might have been hurt.

“And how am I to know that you wouldn't send me a message simply so that you can advise Corvindale of my direction?”

Her lips quirked a bit. “A brilliant suggestion. Thank you, Dewhurst. I'm not certain I would have thought of that myself in my haste to rid London of your vile presence. Now, if you please, remove yourself from my chamber. And this house.”

He couldn't leave. “Don't you wish to know to whom that watch chain belongs?”

Again, a shrug. His eyes followed the shift of moonlight over the hollow of her shoulder and he swallowed, clenching
his teeth. “I couldn't care less about anything in regards to you. Now, Dewhurst, if you please…I should like to return to my slumber. You interrupted a very delightful dream.”

“I don't suppose I figured in your nocturnal visions,” he said, lowering his voice and allowing his eyes to glow a bit. “But you have appeared in mine. Angelica…” He dug his fingers into his thighs to keep from reaching for her…and to distract himself from the pain.

Her shoulders shifted back and her breasts thrust forward and he nearly lunged for her at that point. “Indeed you have,” she said, surprising him again. But her voice had dropped and for the first time, it was unsteady. “You've figured quite vividly—in my darkest nightmares. This is the first night I've slept without Maia since I returned.”

Voss couldn't breathe. Every bit of insouciance fled and he felt as if he'd been slammed in the gut. “Angelica,” he began, searching for something…something to say that would truly placate her. Something real, something to heal her. His thrall seemed to have no effect on her, leaving him helpless.

Her eyes had become haunted circles. “Go away, Dewhurst. I'll send a message to Rubey's in your care. And I'll return the chain then.”

Words failed him.

She truly meant it.

Anger, sudden and inexplicable, flared through him, surging to his hands, down his legs. His fangs shot forth, his eyes flamed hot and the dark room filled with a red haze. Voss's fingers curled, ready to grab at her, to tear into her, and he even jerked toward Angelica—but somehow caught himself, turning before he touched the bed.

Somehow, somehow he fought through it, battling the white fury that ordered him to
take, take, take.
…

Something helped him stumble to the window—the cold
night air, the smooth slide of moonbeam—and he grasped its sill even as the blast of pain seared in his hands and behind his eyes. Lucifer was intent that he would do his bidding.

Voss held on so that he wouldn't turn back. So he wouldn't tear into her.

“Get out of here,” he managed to say. If she would leave… “Go. Now.”

In the recesses of his consciousness, he heard the rustle of the bedclothes. He battled needy red fog and the demands of his body, somehow focusing on the sounds of her sliding the door's bolt and then the slide as it closed behind her.

When she was gone, he vaulted through the window and landed easily on the ground three floors below.

 

Angelica stumbled from her chamber still clutching the stake. Her heart pounded and her knees were weak, and she had one thought: to get away. As she turned to rush down the corridor, she slammed into something—someone—soft and warm.

“Angelica, what is it?” Maia automatically caught her in a comforting embrace.

Angelica's arms went around her sister, but even as she did so, she had the presence of mind to push her down the hall, toward Maia's chamber.

She didn't believe Voss would follow her. He'd ordered her to leave, but she wasn't certain. His face…it had been so terrifying.

Almost as if he'd turned into someone else.

Go. Get away.

No, he wasn't coming after her.

But she wasn't going to go back in that chamber again.

“What's that in your hand?” Maia asked as they went into her room. She caught Angelica's wrist and held it up so she
could see the stake. “A stick?” Then her eyes went wide.
“Oh.”

She remembered Granny Grapes's stories, too.

“What are you doing awake?” Angelica asked, sitting on her sister's bed. There was something about being in Maia's chamber, with all of her things cluttering the dressing table, and more pillows than anyone could ever use piled high on her bed and chair, that made her feel comforted and safe.

“I came to check on you,” Maia told her. They sat on the bed facing each other. “What's happened?”

Angelica considered whether to tell her sister or not. Maia would be angry and worried for her if she learned that Voss had sneaked into her room, and she'd become even more managing and motherly and smother her to death.

But if she told Maia, then her sister would certainly tell Corvindale—likely in a high-pitched, demanding tone. And she was sure that the earl would make certain it didn't happen again.

And that would make her sleep so much easier.

“I had a dream,” she said. Which was strictly the truth. She had been dreaming before he woke her. Perhaps she could weave fact with fiction.… “That—Dewhurst came into my chamber at night.”

“Darling, I'm so sorry. How terrifying it must be,” Maia said, stroking her arm. “I didn't hear you cry out, although I heard something that sounded like you mumbling in your sleep. Or talking to someone.”

“It seemed so real,” Angelica said, continuing with the charade. “He…”
He was so gentle. I was sleeping and then I felt him touching me and I wanted him to slide closer and take me in his arms. To be the man he'd been…before.

She wanted to say that. But she couldn't. She hardly dared
think
those words, let alone confess them to Maia. Her sister would not understand.

Her sister, who did everything so perfectly and who always had the answer and who didn't have to live with the demons of death that Angelica did. How could she comprehend the fact that Angelica was both terrified of Voss…and attracted to him, as well?

Or, at least, she had been attracted to him. Now, when she thought of him, there was little more than that heavy ball in her belly. He'd lied to her, he'd tricked her and he'd attacked her. All under the guise of protecting her.

“Sometimes dreams can be more frightening than reality,” Maia said. She sounded so certain, so sure. Just as she always did. Angelica thought it would be nice to be so certain about things. All the time. “And sometimes, they can be so much more…beautiful…than reality.”

More than willing to turn the subject from her experience, desperate to think of something other than the way she'd warred internally between wanting Voss to touch her and truly wanting to kill him, Angelica said, “What do you mean?”

Maia smiled in a way that Angelica had never seen before. A rather secret sort of smile, as if she were being coy or discreet. She fancied that if there were more illumination than the glow of a lamp in the corner, and a hint of moonlight outside, she might see the rise of a blush on Maia's cheeks.

“Well.” Her sister sat up and pulled one of the two dozen pillows onto her lap, clutching it over her belly. Her face changed, becoming more reserved. “I don't know if I should tell you about it. After all, you're still unwed and—”