My Lord Immortality (Immortal Rogues #3)(6)

"What are you doing?" she demanded in breathless tones.

"Leading you into my house," he retorted before he disappeared into the darkness within.

Feeling rather foolish, Amelia tugged her brother forward and stepped over the threshold.

Once inside, however, she was forced to come to a halt as the darkness shrouded about her.

"A moment," the disembodied voice of her rescuer whispered through the air, sending an odd chill down her spine.

Not fear, she rather inanely realized. Instead, a stirring fascination with this man who had appeared from the darkness to save her.

There was a faint rasp of a flint before soft candlelight bathed the room.

Amelia blinked as her eyes adjusted to the sudden light. A moment later her breath tangled in her throat as she regarded the stranger.

Good heavens. He was ... beautiful.

Fiercely, hauntingly beautiful, from his long, lustrous bronze hair that flowed past his broad shoulders to the powerful thrust of his legs. Even his unadorned black coat and breeches only served to reveal the fluid elegance of his body. Bemused, her gaze slowly lifted, tracing the crisply tied cravat to at last reach the lean countenance.

In the candlelight his features were shadowed, but there was no mistaking the startling perfection of his smooth, alabaster skin and finely sculpted features. Almost absently, she noticed that his nose was long and slender, his lips surprisingly full, and his brows the same shade as the bronze hair.

But in the end, it was his eyes that captured and held her attention.

Never had she seen eyes that were such a pure, molten silver. Eyes that glowed with a fierce intelligence. Eyes that seemed to hold her with a force she could feel to her very soul.

She should say something, a dry voice whispered in the back of her mind. Something that would bring an end to the thick, prickling silence that sent a rash of excitement over her skin.

"Oh," was all she could manage.

Thankfully unaware of her predicament, the gentleman lifted an elegant hand to wave it toward the nearby stairs.

"If you take these stairs, they will lead you to the front of the house. You may leave through the main door. Take care not to be seen."

Leave? Alone?

Amelia struggled to clear her foggy wits. "But, what of you?"

The pale countenance was grim as he glanced toward the open door. "I will ensure that the danger does not attempt to follow you. And also distract the Watch if need be."

"But..."

He stepped forward, those silver eyes glowing with a determined light. "See to your brother.

No one must suspect that he was out of his home on this night. That is all that need concern you for now."

Her mouth opened to argue. She was unaccustomed to taking orders from anyone. Even those gentlemen who had saved her life. But before she could utter even a word, he was moving with that uncanny swiftness to press the candle into her hand and had disappeared through the open door.

She drew in a shaky breath.

Well. So far, it had been quite an evening.

She had lost her brother. Been confronted by a monstrous shadow that had ruthlessly murdered some poor soul. Been saved by a stranger. Run from the Watch. And now was abandoned in a strange house.

Oh, yes. Quite an evening.

Chapter Two

Early the next morning, Sebastian St. Ives sat alone in his library. A heavy, leather-bound book lay open upon his lap, but his attention refused to remain focused upon the ancient teachings of Plato. Instead, his pale, slender fingers tapped upon the leather chair and his narrowed gaze was trained upon the empty grate.

In the distance he could detect the faint scent of Drake. It was a scent that at the moment he barely noted. The vampire would not soon be leaving his lair. After slaying and feasting upon the blood of humans he was now cursed with the sun bane. It would not be until darkness once again claimed London that he would return to the streets.

There was another scent, however, that was far more distracting.

The scent of Miss Hadwell.

A scent that was growing ever closer.

Sebastian frowned. It was odd how easily he was able to sense the maiden. He had made a deliberate decision when he left the Veil to remain in the shadows. He was settled in a position to keep a careful eye upon the treacherous vampire—and ensure that he could halt any attempt to lure the maiden into handing over the Medallion. He was certain that in time Drake would weary of his futile games and return to the Veil.

A reasonable plan and one that had worked quite well until last evening.

His frown deepened. Last evening had changed everything.

The sight of Miss Hadwell standing in the dark as Drake crept ever closer made him realize how swiftly the vampire could strike. Had he not been on the trail of Drake, he might never have arrived before the maiden had been lured into handing over the amulet.

Even worse, upon meeting Miss Hadwell, he was forced to realize that she was not the timid, reclusive soul that he had hoped. This was no maiden who would run screaming in terror at the first hint of danger. Instead, she was bold and reckless, with a fierce determination to protect her brother. Traits that Drake would no doubt use to his full advantage.

Once again that sense of Miss Hadwell tingled through his body. She was closer. Close enough that the vision of her'slender form and vivid black eyes rose easily to mind.

Too easily.

Sebastian shook his head impatiently. He was a vampire who had been pleased to turn his back on earthly passions once he'd entered the Veil. An aesthetic life devoted to acquiring knowledge and appreciating the beauty of the ancient vampire culture suited him to perfection.