The Vampire Dimitri (Regency Draculia #2)(55)
Author: Colleen Gleason

“Yes. He’s waiting for word from me that you’ve become cooperative.” She fondled one of the strands of rubies. There were perhaps a dozen of them, each the size of his thumbnail, set in a gold chain. She wore three necklaces like that, each of different length, and each finished off with a large pendant ruby. “I’ve learned so much from him. So much about how to get what I want.”

“You’re taking me to Paris,” Dimitri said, sniffing and again smelling the river. “To Moldavi.”

“Oh, no.” She shook her head, smiling. “No, you aren’t of interest to him. Not any longer anyway. Not since we agreed that you belonged to me, and that I would take care of you.”

She was close to him again, leaning forward, roped in gemstones. That hungry look was back in her eyes and as she caught his gaze, Lerina lifted one of the ropes of rubies from her neck.

Dimitri’s breathing shifted and he struggled to move…but they were too close, too many of them. Too powerful. He could do nothing as she wrapped the chain around one of his arms, binding it to the arm of the chair. Rolling pain undulated along his arm to his shoulder, battling with that of Lucifer’s Mark.

The room was turning red, his vision colored with struggle. She came closer and he was dimly aware of her busy fingers tugging at the ties of his shirt, warm and quick. He marshaled all his waning strength and gave a sudden heave. He managed to jolt her, but Lerina was quick and she whipped off a second necklace and bound his other arm. Her knee wedged onto the chair next to his thigh as he struggled against this new onslaught of pain. Sweat, warm and thick, trickled from his temple to mingle with the blood on his cheeks.

“You see, Moldavi is more interested in getting his sister back. And destroying Chas Woodmore for taking her,” Lerina continued. Her voice was almost singsong, but her eyes blazed hot and furious. She was very close now, nearly sitting on his lap. “Once you were out of the way, and otherwise occupied, he could obtain the prize he truly wanted.”

Dimitri was vaguely aware of his shirt opening, the cooler air brushing his hot skin. Her hands, once familiar, now spread over his shoulders like spidery fingers, pulling the shirt wide. She grasped the opening and yanked. The sound of the linen tearing was like thunder in his waterlogged ears.

“Prize?” he managed to gasp, despite the fact that he had a sudden horrible feeling he knew what. No, who. No.

Lerina smiled. Her fangs were fully extended. Her breath smelled like his blood. Her fingers curled up into the hair that clung to his damp neck, lifting it so she could blow on his hot skin.

“I’ve dreamed of this moment,” she said. Her voice penetrated the black and red clouds filling his vision and clogging his nostrils. “Since the first time you fed on me.”

“Prize?” he demanded with his last bit of breath.

“The girls, of course,” she whispered near his ear. “The sisters. The only way to get to Chas.”

Maia.

He gathered all of his strength and tugged, groaning deep in his throat with the effort. But the paralysis was complete.

She slammed her fangs into his shoulder. He gasped, his body shuddering even as it remained horribly immobile. The release of the pressure in his veins, the surge of blood flowing into her warm mouth had him trembling. His fingers couldn’t grasp the arm of the chair and he could no longer keep his eyes open.

The little tugs of pleasure as she sucked were lost in the vortex of pain. He didn’t have even the energy to pull at his bindings, to kick or twist away. Maia.

And so he closed his eyes and screamed inside his mind: Help me. Wayren, damn it, I’m ready.

13

IN WHICH OUR HEROINE PROVES HERSELF WORTHY OF THE APPELLATION

Maia stared at the ruby-studded hairpin all the way back to Blackmont Hall, trying to recall where she’d seen it.

The design was distinctive: elegant curlicues of metal twining along the pin, decorated with five small rubies. Of course, identifying the owner didn’t necessarily mean she, or—one couldn’t eliminate any possibilities at this time—he, was involved in Corvindale’s disappearance. But the fact that it was rubies, combined with Maia’s very acute sense that something wrong had happened in the back room at that shop, certainly led to the logical conclusion that if she found the owner, she’d find information about Corvindale.

The constable had listened to her concerns, and seemed willing to do something since a peer of the realm was missing. But at the same time, he’d looked at her sidewise as if to question why she was involved. And even, why an earl must need to answer to the likes of her in regards to his actions.

And on top of all of this, Maia realized she had no way to contact Chas to let him know what had happened. But Angelica would tell Dewhurst, and perhaps the other vampire, Mr. Cale, could be notified, and then they would start the search.

Maia shook her head. By that time, impossible as it seemed, Corvindale could be dead.

The thought was like a cold hand seizing her heart and she swallowed, looking at the hairpin with even more determination. She couldn’t do much herself but try to find the owner. That was one thing Dewhurst and Mr. Cale couldn’t assist with. But it was something that Maia could put her attention to. It obviously belonged to a woman, and there were two ways to go about identifying her.

Once back at Blackmont Hall, Maia sent Tren to notify Crewston and Mrs. Hunburgh about the apparent disappearance of the earl. Someone had to take charge, and Maia was so used to doing it that she didn’t consider letting anyone else do so—including Aunt Iliana.

Then she sent for Angelica and Mirabella, only to find out that Dewhurst had taken them for a drive in the park. So she set Tren after them to bring them back.

Next, she called for the ladies’ maid she and Angelica shared. Showing Betty the hairpin, she told her nothing other than that she wanted to return it to its owner, and that she was certain she’d met her at one of the recent events. Knowing how tightly knit the below-stairs community was, how servants gossiped from one house in the ton to another, and that of all people, the ladies’ maidservants would be the ones to know of the person who wore such a hairpin, Maia felt this avenue was her best chance to identify the woman. Thus, she sent Betty off to the market and to do some shopping, where she was most likely to encounter other loose-tongued servants.

After that, she sent for Aunt Iliana and while she waited, began to peruse through the stack of calling cards and invitations that had arrived for her and Angelica, as well as for Corvindale himself. Normally he ignored such things, leaving it to his man of business to respond if necessary, or to Crewston to handle callers.