My Lord Immortality (Immortal Rogues #3)(27)
Author: Alexandra Ivy

"You… you were the shadow," she stammered before considering how dangerous confessing her awareness of his monstrous sins might be.

"Yes."

Her hands pressed to her heaving stomach. "Dear lord, what are you?"

"What am I?" He mockingly pretended to consider the question. "I am your master. The one chosen to rule above all."

"This is madness. A … nightmare."

"A nightmare?" His eyes narrowed to cold slits. "Truly, Miss Hadwell, there is no need to be insulting. You should consider yourself to be exceedingly fortunate. It is not every mortal who can claim to have been in the company of the most superior of all vampires."

Amelia uttered a strangled noise. She desperately desired to close her eyes and pretend this was all some horrible nightmare. Instead, she attempted to clear the fear fogging her mind.

"You must be insane. There are no such things at vampires."

"No? Would you desire me to prove the truth?" The thin lips widened to reveal the white teeth.

Then, even as Amelia watched in morbid fascination, a set of fangs lengthened to glint evilly in the darkness. "I assure you I have devoted a number of nights to considering how pleasurable it would be to feast upon you."

Instinctively, Amelia lifted protective hands to her throat. It could not be possible. Vampires were myths. Mere children’s stories.

But possible or not, there was no denying the awful truth.

This gentleman was a vampire. And she was standing directly in his path.

"I… what do you want from me?" she managed at last to choke out.

"It is rather a simple thing. I desire your amulet."

Amelia was quite certain she had misunderstood. "My amulet? Why?"

"You are hardly in a position to ask questions, my dear," he rasped.

That was certainly true enough. Only a fool would dare to cross this dangerous monster. And, a very large part of her had no desire to cross him. Not when she had only to shift her head to see the last poor victim of this vampire lying still as death upon the ground.

And yet, Amelia found herself hesitating. There had to be a reason for his desire for the amulet. No doubt a dangerous and nefarious reason. And had the Gypsy not warned her never to give the necklace to another?

Besides which, she had a horrible fear that the moment he had the necklace in hand she would be yet another maiden found savaged upon the streets of London.

"It belongs to me," she retorted between stiff lips.

She heard his rasp as he stepped even closer. "Do not be a fool. It could never belong to a mere animal. The amulet is but a piece of an ancient Medallion that belongs in the hands of a vampire. In my hands."

"No, you are mistaken," she babbled. "This was given to me by an old Gypsy woman."

"It was given to you by Nefri. An interfering, loathsome vampire who has mistakenly presumed that she is capable of forcing other vampires into becoming her willing prisoners. It is a fate I have no intention of enduring."

That sweet old woman had been a vampire? Her head whirled and her heart was beating so rapidly that she thought it might burst. Had the entire world gone mad?

"Is it enchanted?"

The thin lips twisted. "In a manner of speaking. Now, I will have it."

Her hand clutched the amulet. "No."

"Fool." A savage anger twisted the elegant features and the vampire lifted his hands, as if to take the necklace by force. Then, to Amelia’s vast relief, the sudden glow of approaching lanterns brought the stalker to a halt.

Covertly glancing out of the corner of her eye, she noted the small group of men determinedly headed down the alley. Their obvious lack of stealth and steady pace clearly indicated their identity at once.

"The Watch," she breathed in unsteady tones.

She heard the vampire growl, but his expression re mained one of evil intent. "You think I fear any mortal? They are mere fodder." He paused for a long moment. "Still, they do have their uses."

Amelia eyed him in wary terror. Could he possibly kill so many? Or was he simply attempting to keep her from calling out for help?

"What uses?"

Without warning, the monster reached beneath his coat to remove a long, blue scarf.

"A little memento I intend to leave upon my latest morsel."

"A scarf?"

His soft laughter was more horrifying than his earlier threats.

"A scarf quite exquisitely embroidered with your brother’s name."

Amelia grasped the tree to keep herself from falling to the ground in fear. She, of course, now recognized the scarf. She had given it to William for his birthday only months ago. Gads, she had even been the one to embroider his name upon it.

"You beast," she hissed in fury.

"If you desire to save your brother from the hangman, you will bring me the amulet. You know where to find me."

Before Amelia could even form an answer there was a cold chill in the air and the man before her was suddenly cloaked in a heavy shadow.

"No…"

She stepped forward, but she already knew it was too late. Although she could make out no more than a fluid blackness as it moved toward the unmoving form on the ground, she knew beyond a doubt it was Mr. Ramone as he placed the scarf upon his victim. Even worse, the lanterns were far too close for her to have even a small chance of darting from behind the tree and retrieving the incriminating evidence without being seen.

Surely it would only make William appear even more guilty if she were seen taking the scarf away?

Dazed with shock, fear, and a blossoming dread, Amelia simply watched as the approaching men neared.

Dear lord, what was she to do?

Sebastian returned to his home in a dark fury.

He longed to indulge the passions that pulsed through his blood. To stalk the streets fiercely until he had his hands on Drake. Preferably about his neck.

Instead, he walked into the kitchen and restlessly paced the confines of the narrow kitchen.

He had been a fool, he acknowledged grimly. For all his concern for Amelia, and even for himself, he had never once thought that Drake would strike at him through his innocent housekeeper.

But then again, why should he? There was no obvious gain to be made by such a ruthless act.

The servant had been unaware of his true nature, as well as Drake’s. And certainly she had no interest in the Medallion.

Bloody hell. Why would Drake have lured the elderly woman to the very midst of the stews?

And more to the point, why would he have left her hovering near death to suffer for hours as the last of the blood slowly drain from her body?