Chapter Twelve
Jonathan stepped over the limp body at his feet and approached Felicity, taking care to remain far out of the range of her sword, even though he was certain he could move fast enough to dodge any strike she attempted.
Had she always smelled so good? The rich, honeyed scent of her blood invaded his senses and made his fangs ache.
Her arms trembled, and beads of sweat formed on her forehead.
She had excellent reflexes but lacked the stamina for a lengthy standoff.
All he had to do was wait, and then he’d finally have the chance to taste a hunter, even though having her learn he was a vampire had not been part of his plan for the night.
The tip of her sword dipped, then hit the tile with a clang. The moment the sound filled the hallway, he darted forward.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a beaded chain with a cross attached to the end.
A crucifix. Before he could process what he was seeing, she slipped the thing over his neck.
Instead of settling atop his clothing, it melted through them and vanished.
He grasped for the chain, but his fingers slid through it as if it weren’t there.
He jerked his head up, grasped her shoulders, and brought his mouth to her neck, only for a burning pain to bloom in his temples and send him to his knees. When it finally faded, he realized she was laughing.
“It worked!” Felicity grinned. “Don’t bother trying to remove it. Only a hunter can take it off.” She snapped her fingers. “Stand.”
Buzzing started in his arms and legs. He resisted, but it was futile.
The damned woman had bound him with the relic, giving her a fraction of the power a maker held over the vampires they created.
The power Marguerite had once held over him.
He grimaced as he struggled to his feet.
“How did you come to possess the crucifix of St. Samuel?” It had been lost decades ago in a fight between a powerful Irish nest and a group of hunters.
“My great-uncle bought it at a market. The merchant didn’t know what he was selling. I hoped the legend was true, but this is excellent.” She snapped her fingers again. “Jump on one foot.”
His right leg lifted, and he began bouncing, even as he imagined increasingly violent ways he would punish the hunter when he was free.
Still, more than fury, he felt a rush of excitement.
This would make defeating her much more fulfilling.
He had come to the museum to put an end to their game, but convincing her to remove the relic would have to come first.
“Stop jumping,” she said. Then she sheathed her sword. “You came for the illuminated manuscript.” It was not a question. “Did Winifred put you up to it?”
“Yes,” he lied. Both because it was a convenient excuse and to confirm his own suspicion that her new power did not extend to forcing him to tell the truth. She didn’t need to know he had his own reasons for wanting the codex.
The sound of a clock chiming reminded him of their location.
“We should move our conversation to the conservatory,” he said. “Unless you want to explain what we’re doing to the other guards.”
A sly smile erupted on her face. “That is an excellent idea.” She spun around, and he followed in silence, watching the sway of her hips.
She was truly a remarkable woman. Despite having consumed his fill of blood for the night, he inhaled deeply, trying to capture her scent.
Unlike his brother Cordon, he could not discern a human’s emotions from the smell of their blood, but the sweet honey aroma rising from her skin made his mouth water.
She tilted her head slightly, and his attention was drawn to her neck.
His fangs throbbed as he imagined sinking them into that soft skin. Knowing she was out of his reach only made him want her more. Once he got the accursed crucifix off, he would tease her until she begged for release.
His trousers suddenly felt much too tight. He reached down and adjusted himself before she noticed his aroused state. It would make things more complicated if she knew how attractive he found her.
When they reached the closed doors of her exhibit, she swung them widely and entered. Rather than immediately following, he reached out a hand and was not surprised when it bumped into an invisible shield.
“What is the problem?” she asked. “Can you not enter?” She walked over to the table that held the codex, freed it from its glass case, then returned to the door and held it out in front of him, just out of reach. “Go ahead. This is what you want, isn’t it?” Snap. “Take it from me.”
His hand jerked into the barrier, causing her to erupt into delighted laughter.
The sound was quite pleasant, even if it was at his expense.
He tried to imagine wrapping his hands around her throat, but the image transformed into him, threading his fingers through her silky hair and pressing his lips to her—No!
He clenched his teeth. She might control his actions, but he would not let her invade his mind.
Her spell had blocked his entry but had not seared his skin.
That meant she’d cast it without a key ingredient.
When the compulsion faded, he brought his wrist to his mouth, withdrew his fangs, then bit into his own flesh.
As the blood welled from the rapidly healing wound, he extended his arm and let his vital essence drip onto the tile.
The liquid sizzled and hissed as it seeped into the tiny holes in the grout.
He spread his fingers and placed his palm on the barrier.
She must have realized her protection was in jeopardy, because she began frantically flipping through the codex.
“Nothing in there will protect you,” he said. “You should have bound your ward with vampire blood.” If she’d done so, he wouldn’t have been able to break it so easily.
“Cease your chatter, demon,” she said, but the words came out weak.
He had expected more from a hunter. He should have been filled with triumph at subverting her meager attempt at protection, but his victory rang hollow. It had been far too easy. With that thought, a wild idea entered his mind.
“Perhaps there is a way we can both get what we want.”
She looked up from her book, brow furrowed. “Explain.”
He chuckled. “You can’t stay in there forever.
The trick you pulled might protect you from me, but it will do nothing against any other vampire who targets you.
All I’d have to do is have another member of my nest take my place.
” He studied his fingernails, which were caked with blood at the cuticles.
Now was the hard part; creating a believable lie.
“Luckily for you, I have no interest in any of your dusty relics. Stealing them was Winifred’s idea. ”
“What do you want, then?”
“Immunity.”
Her shoulders drooped. “‘Immunity’?”
“There are so many of you hunters,” he said.
“You swarm the city like rats. I know all it would take is one word from you and the Sorrow hunters would come after me in force. What I want is a guarantee that your family will leave me alone.” It was a ridiculous request, one he knew she wouldn’t be able to fulfill, but he only needed her to believe it long enough for him to find a way out of her control.
The pressure of the barrier against his shoulder vanished. He stepped inside. “Do we have a deal? I’ll even help you cast your ward properly.”
On the surface, the offer appeared to go against his interests, but there was a rather significant caveat he had no intention of revealing: that using his own blood to complete the warding spell would allow him to pass through it unscathed.
She chewed on her bottom lip. “If we are to proceed, there is one more thing I need from you.”
His long legs ate up the space between them, and he looped his arms around her waist. “Oh?”
She recoiled, and her cheeks turned an even brighter shade of red. “Nothing of that nature!”
He knew, of course, that it hadn’t been her intention to make a sexual overture, but her intoxicating scent, the blush on her cheeks, and the way she darted the tip of her tongue across her lower lip made him shudder. “What, then?”
She gestured around the room. “This is my goal. To educate the people of London and the world about vampires. But…” She closed her eyes. “It’s only a means to an end.”
He clapped his hands. “Oh, is it story time? Let me get comfortable.” He pulled a wooden crate from beneath a nearby table, sat, and crossed his legs. “Please go on.”
Felicity walked over to a display and picked up a sword in a jeweled sheath.
“Ten years ago, my parents were killed by one of your kind.” She removed the curved blade.
“I would give anything to go back and warn them.” She slid the weapon back into the sheath and then tossed it in his direction.
It smacked him in the chest and fell into his lap.
He stared at the twinkling jewels, uncomprehending. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
Then he looked up to find she had drawn her sword and was posed as if ready for a duel.
“Are we to fight again?” He grasped the handle of the sword and pulled it out. “I would rather engage in more pleasurable activities.”
She scowled. “Stop talking and show me what you can do.”
He did as she’d demanded, copying her pose even though it made him feel ridiculous.
As a human, he’d rarely wielded a sword.
He’d much preferred to use his wiles and his charm to accomplish his goals.
But her serious expression told him he would not be getting out of this confrontation without indulging her.
She lunged, moving insultingly slowly.
“I can’t rely on my family for help,” she said as she brought her sword back and repeated the previous motion, faster this time. “They think I’m a failure.” CLANG. “My family won’t even let me join the patrols.” CLANG.
He tilted his sword to meet her blows, which were powerful enough that they sent jolts of pain through his wrists. “That’s why you’ve been patrolling on your own.”
She shuffled back and dropped the point of her sword to the ground. “Yes.”
He lowered his weapon. She was proving far more interesting than he’d expected.
The anger in her voice when she spoke of her family reminded him of the second night after Marguerite’s abandonment.
He’d throttled Cordon and had demanded the older vampire put him out of his misery because Jonathan had failed to summon the courage to walk into the sun.
He had slashed and snapped his teeth, but Cordon had avoided his attacks, stone-faced, until Jonathan had collapsed in a heap on the floor.
Then Cordon had picked him up by the neck and dragged him down the stairs and into the cell they’d kept for interrogating prisoners.
“If you act like an animal, then I will treat you like one,” his brother had said.
As Jonathan looked at Felicity, he felt as if he’d taken on his brother’s role, trying to convince a woman who was so intent on revenge that her self-destruction was all but guaranteed. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want her to go down that path.
It was because she was interesting. That was the only reason he could come up with.
“You could have killed me the moment we met,” she said. She put her sword back into its sheath and walked forward until she was so close that he could smell the sweet honey scent of her blood wafting from her skin. “Why didn’t you?”
Because her stubbornness thrilled him. Because she’d penetrated the defenses he’d erected around his heart more than half a century ago. Because he ached to taste her.
“I’m not a killer,” he said. He tossed his sword. “What do you want?”
She exhaled softly. “I want you to help me find the vampire who killed my parents.”