The Vampire Dimitri (Regency Draculia #2)(34)
Author: Colleen Gleason

“At last,” Chas said, looking up from the table. Tension had settled in his face.

“A drink, Corvindale?” Giordan asked as Dimitri strolled across the chamber. His neckcloth had been loosened and he was in his shirtsleeves. It appeared that he and Chas had been in the midst of a chess game.

Interesting, and hardly comprehensible, particularly since surely by now Chas was aware of the history between Giordan and Narcise. But then, if nothing else, Giordan was a gentleman, and well in control of himself.

Dimitri glanced at the board to see who seemed to be winning. It took him only a glance to confirm what he would have suspected: Chas was for the bold, brazen moves and Giordan more subtle and covert. Well-matched, but two different styles.

Interestingly enough, the queens had both been captured already.

Even more interesting than that was the absence of Narcise herself. The presumption was that Chas had settled her safely somewhere while he saw to the situation at hand. Perhaps with Rubey.

“Angelica has been abducted,” Dimitri said without preamble. Accepting the drink, he sat at the table with them.

“Voss?” Chas spat, rising to his feet. If he were a Dracule, his eyes would be blazing red and orange. “If he caused it—”

“No,” Dimitri said, taking a healthy swallow of whiskey, and then tersely explained what had happened. “We’re going to have to search the city and then to Dover if we don’t catch them.”

Chas settled back into his chair and nodded. His eyes were fierce and his jaw moved slightly as if being clenched. “We’ll have to split up.”

They’d just finished determining the most likely places Belial would have taken Angelica, and the best routes, dividing up the locations, when the door opened.

Voss stood there on the threshold, gripping the arm of a cloaked and hooded figure.

Dimitri started up, reaching for the stake in his inside pocket just as Chas whirled in his seat to look.

“Don’t be a fool,” Voss said sharply, flipping open his coat to expose a large ruby in the center of his neckcloth. “Did you think I would be so foolish as to come unprepared?”

Dimitri remained standing, settling his hand onto the table in a pool of spilled whiskey as he fixed Voss with a dark glare. The ruby was far enough away that its potency was weak, but certainly he couldn’t get much closer. Bastard. A smart, sneaky bastard.

Reluctantly he glanced at the figure next to Voss. It was obviously a woman, and Dimitri had a sudden, ugly feeling he knew who it was.

Impossible. Even she wouldn’t be so foolish.

But he couldn’t talk himself out of the certainty, and when she yanked off her hood and he saw Miss Woodmore’s accusing eyes and mussed golden-chestnut hair, he couldn’t hold back his exclamation of annoyance. “You.” He turned his glare onto her.

“Of course I wouldn’t come unprotected, knowing just how you feel about me,” Voss was saying to Chas, who had withdrawn his stake and had it ready in his hand. “Keep your distance, and no one will get hurt.”

“Maia,” Chas said, “are you all right?”

“Other than worried to illness for the safety of my sister, while the rest of you sit about and play games at your club?

Yes, I am fine. If it weren’t for Lord Dewhurst, I would still be standing at the door, arguing with the butler. It was he who helped me gain entrance.”

“How convenient,” Dimitri replied from between his teeth. He sank back into his seat, but he couldn’t control the blaze in his eyes as he returned his gaze to Voss. Meddling arse.

And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Miss Wood more stiffen. She was looking right at him and he saw sudden shock and recognition in her eyes when she noticed the glow in his gaze.

She’d figured it out. At least he wouldn’t have to hide his fangs from her any longer, but that was small comfort. Naturally she’d rush off to tell Mirabella at the first opportunity.

He snarled under his breath. Damnation. He’d have to enthrall her and clear her mind of the knowledge if he was to have any peace.

“I cannot believe your incompetence, Dimitri. I sent you the warning,” Voss said flatly, drawing Dimitri’s attention from his misery. “And you, Woodmore. Another disappearing and then reappearing act? Are you here to take care of your sisters or not?”

Fury propelled Dimitri to his feet again, his eyes fairly burning with the heat of anger. “Oh, aye, I got your message—along with the pair of bloody ruby earbobs, you sneaky bastard.” He would have lunged across the room if Chas hadn’t thrust an arm out in front of him.

“Easy,” Woodmore said under his breath, holding his stake at a lethal angle. “He’s mine.”

Voss flashed his fangs, holding Dimitri’s glare. “It was a jest, nothing more. I warned her not to wear them in your presence.”

Like hell you did, you bastard.

“Damn your soul to Lucifer, it’s your bloody fault Angelica’s been taken,” Chas interrupted. Dimitri could feel the man gathering up next to him like a spring, even though his expression didn’t change and nary a muscle moved. “You and your cursed jests and games, Voss.”

Before Voss could respond, Chas leaped, tossing a chair out of his way and bounding up and over a table to slam the man into the wall. He was fast, but Dimitri was faster, fairly flying across the room to grab Miss Woodmore, snatching her out of the way just as the two men tumbled to the floor.

She weighed no more than a pin, just as she had three years ago and of course a few nights ago, as well. And, unlike the other night at the masquerade, she didn’t have yards of skirts and fabric bunching up and around them as he scooped her up out of the way, slamming her quickly against his torso to avoid being smashed by a flying chair.

It was probably best if she didn’t see what was about to happen to Voss Dewhurst.

“Release me, you idiot man!” She slammed an elbow that was as sharp as her tongue into his gut and Dimitri grunted, shifting her so that she didn’t have another chance at him. But she tried to kick at him and to yank away, even as chairs flew and tables upended. Chess pieces scattered. The bottle of whiskey crashed to the floor.

Addled woman. Do you want to get yourself killed? He whipped her out of the way just in time to keep from being crashed into by Chas and Voss, who were putting on a damned good show. If Dimitri weren’t so furious with the latter, he’d be watching the fight with interest. For being mortal, and not as strong or fast as a Dracule, Chas Woodmore was brilliant. One would never know that he was overmatched.