My Lord Immortality (Immortal Rogues #3)(46)

The dark eyes widened with fearful hope. "You will release me?"

"Oh, yes. You are about to be released," Drake mocked, his fangs lengthening in anticipation.

"Are you prepared?"

The hope remained in her eyes only long enough for her to witness the slow, relentless descent of his head.

"No! No!"

Her scream shuddered through the air as he sank his fangs deep into the firm skin of her neck.

Drake fed upon her pain as intensely as he fed upon her blood. The shrill agony fueled his lust, stoking his passions to a fever pitch. All too swiftly, however, her pitiable struggles lessened to mere twitches. He sank his fangs deeper, draining the last of her life.

Her body went limp and he tossed her aside. Slowly turning, he regarded the second captive with a glittering gaze. The woman was moaning, already sunk in fear so deep she was incapable of fighting. He paced to grasp her hair and force her upward. His features hardened with disgust as she continued to moan.

Worthless creature. No courage, no dignity. Simply another maggot that cluttered the streets of London.

Bending his head, he ruthlessly drained her of her life, taking little enjoyment in the kill. Soon, he silently promised himself. Soon he would have Amelia Hadwell in his clutches. He did not doubt for a moment that she would battle him to the bitter end. A sweet, fulfilling kill made all the sweeter by gaining command of the Medallion.

Tossing the woman aside like a piece of rubbish, Drake produced a snowy linen handkerchief to wipe the blood from his lips. Then, reaching out with his thoughts, he called to the minions who waited above.

Within moments he could hear the uneven scuffle of heavy boots upon the stairs. He moved toward the door as the two burly men entered. Only a few days before, the ruffians had been the undoubted rulers of the underworld. Brash, ill-tempered, with an ugly habit of killing those who opposed them, they had possessed little fear of the elegantly attired gentleman who had strolled into their dingy alley.

They had still been laughing when he had reached out his hand to crush their minds. Now, under the grim grasp of his Compulsion, they no longer laughed. The broad faces were slack, their eyes devoid of intelligence. They would stand in place until death unless he commanded them into motion.

"Take these bodies to the river," he ordered with a wave of his hand toward the dead maidens.

"Then re-tarn here. We have a very busy night ahead of us."

As if being jerked forward by invisible strings, the two henchmen crossed the cellar to obey his commands. Assured that his scheme was properly set into motion, Drake left the gruesome task to his servants.

He needed to change into something more formal, he decided with a cold smile. Tonight he would gain command of the Medallion, and crown himself the ruler of all vampires. It was only fitting that he appear suitably magnificent.

His soft laugh echoed eerily through the darkness.

The heat was unbearable.

Stripped to the waist, Sebastian left the closed con fines of his chambers. He was restless.

The house slumbered in darkness as he silently prowled through the halls, but there was a hint of disquiet in the thick air. It was that barely discernible unease that made it impossible for him to settle down for the night.

Perhaps he should seek out Drake, he thought as he pushed open the door to the library. If nothing else, he could reassure himself that the treacherous vampire was not plotting anything foul. Of course, that would mean leaving Amelia here alone. His heart gave a squeeze of alarm.

No. He would not leave her unprotected. Not on this night.

Stepping into the room showered in silvery moonlight, Sebastian moved toward the center before he came to a sudden halt.

Just for a moment he wondered if his brooding thoughts of Amelia had conjured up her image.

If so, they had managed to create a dangerously faultless illusion.

His breath was stolen as he regarded her standing next to the window. The silver light bathed her slender form with a soft glow and shimmered on the long hair that flowed like satin down her back. The flimsy silken gown easily revealed the enticing curves of her body. She might have been a creature of moonbeams. A delicate nymph made of iridescent shadows.

Then the warm, potent scent of her skin assaulted his senses and a shudder raced through him. No, this was no magical nymph, but a full-blooded woman who stirred his passions to a searing pitch.

Sebastian struggled to rein in the hunger that flowed through his blood. A hunger that was dangerously close to overwhelming his reason.

"Amelia," he called softly.

No doubt already aware of his presence, she slowly turned to face him, her expression troubled.

"Good evening, Sebastian."

Instantly on alert, he moved forward, not stopping until he was a mere breath from her.

"What is the matter, my dear?"

Her gaze rested briefly on his bare chest before reluctantly lifting. "Nothing. I could not sleep, so I thought perhaps a book ..."

The words trailed away as she moistened her lips in a revealing motion. Sebastian gritted his teeth, feeling the fierce awareness of her own smoldering desire. He should return to his chambers, he sternly warned himself. The heavy pulse of awareness was too potent on this night.

It would take one glance, one touch for both of them to be consumed in flames.

But even as he acknowledged the peril, he discovered himself lost in the dark beauty of her eyes.

"Ah."