“Grayson,” she said softly, the pleading in her voice almost his undoing. He closed his eyes and his honorable mind warred with his lust filled body. Merde, he should toss up her skirts and have his way, relieve the ache that had settled permanently in his groin from the moment he’d seen her. He lifted his lashes and his fingers curled into the floorboards, his body trembling. He knew in that moment he could no longer fight the feral beast inside. He had to taste her.
“Tell me to stop,” he urged.
She squirmed underneath him. “Please, don’t.”
He knew he’d regret it, but he couldn’t stop himself. Her blood thrummed in her veins, calling to him. Desire surged through him in a heated wave that left him breathless and trembling. Vaguely he was aware of his teeth lengthening. There was no going back now, no returning to what had been. He breathed in her scent, his lips hovering over that pulse in her neck.
“God save you,” he whispered, his teeth directly over that vein in her neck. His hand slid up her smooth thigh, finding her bloomers gone and her skin bare. Further, to the sleek folds. She gasped, arching her back as his finger slid into her tight sheath.
He knew if he drank from her, everything would change. Yet, he couldn’t stop himself from lowering his head. Then before he could truly think about the ramifications, before the human in him could regain control, he sank his sharp teeth into her neck. At the same time, his fingers found the bud between her folds. The points of his teeth pierced her skin easily. Immediately, warm blood flooded his mouth. The salty taste coursed through his body, filling his soul, giving him strength and renewing the demon within. He couldn’t get enough.
Meg gasped, arching her back. His fingers stroked her damp folds, urging her to come. He knew she didn’t hurt. He knew he was only prolonging her desire by drinking her blood. Her fingers bit into his back, urging him onward.
He had to stop, but he couldn’t pull back. The animal inside had taken control. She tasted so lovely. He needed more, more of all of her. His finger moved in and out of her tight sheath as he drank deeply. Her blood surged through his body, feeding him, warming him. He could practically feel his muscles tightening, his body growing stronger with each swallow. He knew he had to stop. Just a little longer… Meg tightened around him, crying out as she came. Her bliss was his, adding to the power surging through him. He was no longer in control of his body.
Her soft whimper as she floated back to earth entered his muddled mind. He must stop. With a groan, he pulled his teeth free. He didn’t dare look at her, but flung himself backwards, as far away from her as he could possibly get. Horrified and euphoric, he fell back against the wall. Slowly the human within regained control, the monster sedated. Meg lay curled upon the floor. Her glassy gaze found him as soft pants stirred the loose tendrils that hung around her face. For one long moment, she merely stared at him, her wide eyes horrified or confused, he wasn’t sure which.
Slowly, she sat up and lifted her fingers to her neck where only moments ago, he’d drank from her. “What are you?” she whispered.
Anger and horror rippled through him. He didn’t look away, but held her gaze. He wouldn’t lie, there was no point in lying any longer. She’d wanted to know what he was, what he was capable of. Now she knew. “You know. You’ve known all along, haven’t you? I’m a vampire.”
Chapter 14
Grayson grabbed Meg’s arm and yanked her from the carriage, his movements almost frantic. Meg refused to whimper when her feet hit the ground at an odd angle, her ankles twisting painfully. What was wrong with him?
He might be able to ignore her, but she couldn’t ignore the miserable dropping of her gut, nor the way her hands grew clammy in his hold. He was angry. With her? Nothing made sense! She bit her lower lip to keep the tears from falling. How could he be so cruel after what they had shared? Embarrassment gave way to despair.
She’d let him touch her, let him…bite her neck and…hadn’t he? Her fingers went to that area where he’d kissed, sucked, but there were no marks. Perhaps it hadn’t happened, her perhaps she was insane. Just as she’d imagined the Dowager in that marsh, she’d imagined Grayson sinking his teeth into her neck.
Grayson threw the front door wide and pulled her down the hall. He seemed intent on seeing her to her room and getting away from her as soon as possible when less than an hour ago he’d acted as if he couldn’t get enough. But no matter how much she’d begged him to explain in the carriage, he wouldn’t. He seemed to have left his body, as if he couldn’t hear a word she said. The Grayson she thought she knew was no longer there.
The marble floor seemed harder under her feet. The air seemed more chill. Each slight sound seemed like a shout. Her head pounded with each step she took, until she thought she could stand the pain no longer. Nelson appeared, wavering in and out of focus like a mirage.
“Is there anything you need, my Lord?” For once, the butler’s eyes betrayed his feelings. The man was worried, his gaze darting back and forth between the two of them. Was the dear man intercepting on her behalf?
How peculiar, she thought, wanting to reach out and tell him everything would be well. Certainly, everything would be well. Wouldn’t it? Grayson was merely annoyed with her once again for something she didn’t quite understand.
“Gray?” Millie called out, sweeping into the hall and looking as perfect as a bloody goddess in a gown of peach, a book in hand. Her finely arched brows pulled together in obvious confusion. “What’s happened?”
His finger’s tightened on Meg’s arm and this time she couldn’t help but gasp, more from surprise than pain. It was as if he hadn’t a clue what he did.
“Call for the Constable, I want him here as soon as possible.” He didn’t bother to glance Meg’s way as he made that bold statement.
“But why? What’s happened?”
Blimey, if Millie’s eyes didn’t match Nelson’s. They looked frightened for her. Didn’t they realize this nonsense would be cleared soon enough?
“I never should have brought her here.”
Meg frowned. His voiced sounded pained and the words so ominous. He jerked her up the stairs. She tripped, her shins hitting the edge of a step. Pain radiated up her bones, but he kept on, practically dragging her to the second floor. He tore open her bedroom door and pushed her inside as if she had the plague.
Meg stumbled across the room, grasping onto her bedpost to regain her balance.
“You will stay here until the Constable arrives.”
She leaned heavily against the post, her legs too weak to hold her, and turned to face him. Grayson stood in the doorway, his features haunted, his breathing shallow. A man she no longer knew.
A cold shiver raced down her spine and for the first time since the incident in the gaol, her worry escalated. Her hands curled as she resisted the urge to reach out to him, to beg him to be the Grayson she knew. How could a man who had kissed her so gently, frighten her so now?
“Grayson, please,” she whispered.
He slammed the door shut. She was alone.
With a sob, Meg fell back onto the bed. A cold ball of misery settled deep inside her body. She pulled the duvet around her, whimpering. She wanted to tell Grayson the truth about Beth. If she told him, perhaps he wouldn’t be angry any longer. God help her, for some reason she did and that frightened her more than she wanted to admit. How could she even contemplate betraying her best friend for a man she’d just met?
“Meg?” The soft voice entered her muddled mind, a voice that bespoke of kindness and compassion. She lifted her lashes to see Millie hovering over her. “What happened?”
Meg shook her head, her heart hurt too much to speak. Millie frowned and pressed a cool hand to Meg’s forehead. As if that wasn’t enough of an assault, she gripped Meg’s chin and tilted back her head.
Her gaze fastened on her neck and she sighed. “Oh dear.” With quick, efficient hands, she tucked the bedspread around Meg. “You might as well rest. You have a fever. I’ve seen it
happen before. Usually the first time.”
Surprise had Meg struggling to sit up. “I do?” She pressed her hands to her cheeks. Her skin felt clammy, chill.
Millie pulled the bell cord as Meg collapsed back onto the bed. “What happened, Meg?”
“I don’t know,” she mumbled, confused. Was she truly ill? “The gaol had been so cold and then last night in the rain.”
“Oh Meg, this has nothing to do with the weather, I’m afraid.”
But Meg didn’t have time to think on her odd statement. The door opened and a maid stepped inside. “Yes, my lady?”
“Bring soup, tea and a bath. Hurry.”
She dipped into a curtsey and left.
“Come, I’ll help you.” Millie pulled Meg to her feet. “Blast, I don’t know what to do, I’ve never had to deal with this before. I have servants to take care of my humans.”
Humans? Meg wanted to hate the woman, dear God she did. She wanted to hate her, and Grayson and their wretched lives but Millie’s touch was so kind as she helped Meg undress.
“I’m fine, truly,” she said when Millie removed the stiff, dirty bodice from Meg’s body.
Millie frowned, staring hard at Meg’s neck. “Of course you’re not fine. You feel downright wretched, I’d say. One usually does.”
Meg flushed and looked away. “I don’t know what you think happened, but I assure you I’m still a virgin.”
Millie released a wry laugh. “I’m not speaking on the act of sex.”
The word only brought a deeper flush to Meg’s face. Surely the woman didn’t know what Grayson had truly done. Her fingers curled as she resisted the urge to touch her neck. “I’m not ill. You don’t have to lie to him. I won’t stay where I’m not wanted.”
“You are sick, Meg. Besides, where will you go? Back to prison? You’ll only get worse.” She helped Meg step from her skirt and then placed a blanket around her shoulders. “You have two choices. Stay here in relative splendor, or….”
Meg shook her head, tears burning her eyes. “I can’t stay here with him. Not when he looked at me with such…such hatred.”
How could things go so wrong in such a short period of time? She closed her eyes and thought back to the morning… Grayson’s body pressed to hers. The strength she’d felt there had made her ache with a desire she’d never known. Now, she ached for an altogether different reason. How stupid she’d been to think of trusting him!
“Did he…did he drink from you, Meg?”
Her bloody went cold. Meg jerked her head upright.
Millie’s gaze was soft and knowing. “You don’t have to answer. I could smell your blood in him when he entered.”
Meg didn’t move, barely breathed. Even though Millie’s statement shocked her, oddly, she felt as if she finally understood. Grayson was a vampire. Fear and panic settled like an icy blanket around her soul. How did Millie know what Grayson had done, unless…
“Yes, you can stay here.” Millie moved across the room. “You’ll barely see him in a house this large.” She picked up the night wrap she’d given Meg the other day. “We aren’t together, you know.”
Meg blinked up at her, confused with the change of topics.
She placed the clothes across the bed. “Gray and I. We aren’t seeing each other. We are merely friends. Have been for a very long time now.” She smiled a sad, distant smile. “When he went into the war, I followed.”
“You were in the war?”
Millie laughed. “Not fighting, but helping in other ways. I was a spy, as was Gray. I thought to join in order to help him. But Grayson rarely needs help.”
Meg wasn’t shocked in the least. Not only was Millie beautiful, but she’d been helping England win a war. How very… noble of her. “Why are you telling me this?”
Her knowing gaze met Meg’s. “Because I see the way you look at him.”
Meg opened her mouth to protest but Millie held up her hand. “And I see the way he looks at you.”
Meg released a harsh laugh, cursing the tears that slipped from her eyes. There was a small part of her, deep down that wanted him to look at her the way Millie claimed. But apparently, she was so bloody awful, no man could love her. “Whatever you think you saw, you misjudged. He hates me.”
“No. He likes you. Too much. It frightens him.”
The door opened and the servant rushed inside with a silver tray. The scent of chicken and broth made her stomach clench. Meg turned her back to Millie. “I’m not hungry.”
“You need to eat.”
Meg was about to protest when a footman entered, a copper tub in hand. Another quickly followed, carrying buckets of steaming water.
Her knees buckled and she sank onto the bed, pulling her cover close. Millie went about getting her soup ready and pouring wine in a glass while the tub was prepared. Meg merely watched them all, a swirl of movement that made her head ache. Blast it, why couldn’t they leave her to her fate?
“I’m fine,” Meg snapped as she surged to her feet, having had enough. “Please, everyone leave.” She swayed and grabbed onto the bedpost.
Millie nodded and the footmen scurried from the room. The maid hovered by the closed door, waiting for a command.
Millie strolled toward her as if everything were completely normal. “You are not fine. The past two days you’ve had little sleep, been in the cold twice, barely eaten. And after what Grayson did to you, you need rest.” She took Meg’s hands and pulled her toward the tub. “Tell me you do not want a bath?”
Meg released a frustrated groan and tossed her shift into a pile on the floor. Without a word, she slipped into the warm water. Her body trembled, the heat biting lovingly into her muscles.
With but a nod of her regal head, Millie commanded the maid to the tub. The young servant knelt and began to wash Meg’s hair. Meg wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the entire situation. Being waited on by maids and footmen and at the same time, being accused of murder. Really, it was worse than the gothic novels Mary Ellen loved to read.
She drew her knees to her chest as the maid poured water over her head, rinsing the suds from the strands. She couldn’t deny that it felt wonderful to be clean again and to merely sit while others did your work. But then she thought of Grayson and any pleasure vanished.
“He’ll not let me stay,” Meg whispered.
Millie tilted her head in a sympathetic manner. “He won’t kick you out. Do not fret my dear. Hurry, Sarah, before she is chilled.”
“Yes, mum,” Sarah said.
The young maid helped her stand, the child barely old enough to be working. Meg’s legs trembled as she stepped over the tub’s edge. Ever the efficient servant, the maid immediately wrapped her in a large cloth that did little to warm her body. It was strange really, a child taking care of her.
“Come, sit.” Millie took her hands and led her toward a chair by the fireplace.
Sarah stoked the flames, curtsied and then left them alone. Meg didn’t bother to object when Millie began to brush her hair. Exhausted, Meg closed her eyes, the soft pulls dragging her into a relaxed state.
“Here, drink this.” Millie’s voice broke into her muddled mind. “You will need plenty of rest and food.” She clucked her tongue. “He almost took too much. I suppose that’s why he’s so upset. He realizes he could have harmed you and Grayson likes to think of himself as very noble.”
Meg opened her eyes, prepared to defend the man just as the woman pushed a bowl of broth into her hands. She wanted to shove the food back, but the porcelain warmed her chilled fingers, providing comfort to her aching body. Hesitantly, she brought the bowl to her lips. The smooth liquid burned a trail down her throat, melting her insides. Meg didn’t take a breath until the bowl was empty. Perhaps she had been hungrier than she’d realized.
“How do you know so much?” Meg whispered, setting the bowl on the small table. “What are you?”
Millie smiled. “You know, don’t you?” She was silent for a moment, the crackling fire the o
nly sound in the room. “Some call us blood suckers, some vampires.”
Meg trembled and stumbled to her feet. No! It couldn’t be. Vampires were something invented to frighten children.
Millie quirked a brow, looking amused. “You’re afraid of me, but not Grayson?”
Meg didn’t answer. Of course she was afraid of Millie. She had been the moment she’d met her. Carefully, she inched her way toward the door. Instinct told her to run, yet where would she go? How far would she make it before she collapsed?
Millie set the brush on the side table. “Good, you should be leery. In many instances, we’re not to be trusted around humans.”
Meg couldn’t seem to catch her breath. She stepped back, hitting a table and clutching the edge. “You’re saying I shouldn’t trust Grayson?”
“No, he’s the one blood sucker you should trust. The only.”
“Bloodsucker?”
“Because we feed…”
“On blood,” Meg finished. Before she thought better, her hand went to her neck where Grayson had pierced her flesh. She hadn’t imagined it. He had fed off her blood. She should have been repulsed. Afraid. She should have felt anything other than the aching heat that was currently twirling within her like ribbons on a maypole.
“We are born this way. Both of Grayson’s parents were vampires as well. But they tried to live a normal life.” She strolled to the windows, gazing out into the bright day. “They attempted to blend into the human way of living. They taught Grayson that if he wanted to be normal, he could.”
But he wasn’t normal and never would be. “Will I…turn into one of you?”
Millie laughed. “No, no of course not.” She turned toward her, amusement flashing in her hazel eyes. “You’re either born a vampire or not. No matter what the myth says, no one can turn you.”
She wasn’t sure how she felt. Confused. Upset. Somewhat frightened. “I need to know more, there’s so much I don’t understand and—”
“What?”