Chapter Fifteen
Felicity felt like there was a tightly coiled spring tucked inside her chest, ready to come free at any moment and send her flying out of her skin.
She felt Mr. Drake’s knees nudge hers, inhaled the scent of decaying leaves and earth that had to have been coming from him, and heard the rhythmic tapping of his fingers.
Was her sudden awareness of him the result of his bite?
That would explain why it was strictly forbidden for a hunter to allow themselves to be bitten. If Great-Uncle Ezra discovered what she’d done, she’d be lucky to get away with a slap.
It was unfortunate that Mr. Drake hadn’t believed her promise, even if had been a lie. Providing her family with the location of a vampire gathering place might have proven she was worthy of re-joining the nightly patrols, if only as a spy.
The carriage lurched to a stop.
“Have we arrived?” she asked.
There was a creak, and then something cold brushed her cheek. She jerked backward until the back of her head hit the interior of the carriage. “What are you doing?” She reached for the scrap of fabric tied around her head, but his hands caught hers.
“Putting up the hood of your cloak so no one can see your face,” he said. “I will remove the blindfold when we are inside.”
It was, unfortunately, quite logical. What wasn’t logical was how sweat dripped down her neck despite the chill and his ice-cold hands. She shivered.
Maneuvering out of the carriage proved more difficult than she’d expected. More surprising, however, were Mr. Drake’s gentle words of encouragement and overall patience. When she was safely out of the conveyance, he patted her arm. “It’s a straight path from here to the steps.”
Steps! The man was going to take her down a set of stairs while she was blindfolded. She’d be lucky to avoid breaking an ankle.
“Find the wall,” he said.
She grasped until her fingers landed on something smooth and solid. A railing. She grasped it and lowered her foot down until her boot touched solid ground. From there, it was easy to descend all the way down.
“That’s the last one,” Mr. Drake said. “You can remove the blindfold now.”
She did so and found herself in a cramped, dark room. Mr. Drake was still talking, but his voice was muffled by the pounding in her head. She clenched her jaw to keep from screaming as the walls squeezed around her and she was thrust into a memory.
Hours had passed since the vampire had left, and Father’s body was cold, but Felicity stayed curled up against his side. Every time she stood, her parents’ sightless eyes seemed to cut through her, as if demanding to know why she had done nothing to stop what had happened.
Icy fingers caressed the back of her neck. “What’s wrong?”
She tried to bark a command for him to keep his distance, but the words clotted in her throat.
“We don’t have to do this,” he said. “If it’s too difficult—”
“No!” She exhaled harshly. “No. I-I’ll be fine.”
It was only a momentary burst of fear, an irrational reaction to a situation that reminded her of the cupboard in which she’d cowered that awful night. If she surrendered and allowed him to take her back to the safety of the townhouse, she might never avenge her parents’ deaths.
“Are you sure?” Mr. Drake curved an arm around her shoulders. “There’s no shame in a strategic retreat. It would break my heart to see you cry again.”
The blackguard was baiting her. “You set this up.” He’d remembered how she’d reacted when they’d been locked in the exhibit. She shoved his arm away. Channeling her anger made it easier to ignore her rising panic. “It won’t work.”
He grinned. “Well, I had to try.” Then, he slapped his palm on the door and pushed it open, flooding the vestibule with light and cigar smoke.
“See anyone familiar?” he asked.
She surveyed the space, which was cramped with tables. The vampire occupants looked at her the way a rat might scrutinize a bit of cheese left on the prong of a trap before the jaws closed shut around its neck.
“No,” she said. Then, quieter, she added, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
A lanky man in a shabby, brown woolen suit stood from a table in the corner of the room and made his way to them.
She tensed.
“Don’t react,” Mr. Drake whispered. “Remember who you’re supposed to be.”
That was right. She was playing the role of his human concubine.
Such a person would not be afraid because they would trust their master to keep them safe.
At least, that was what she assumed, based on the few humans present.
They were draped over their vampire counterparts with half-lidded eyes and open mouths.
If she was going to survive this encounter, she would have to become a better actor.
She leaned into Mr. Drake and copied the other humans. It seemed to work, as when the unfamiliar man reached them, he hardly glanced at her.
“Drake,” the man said, spitting the word like a curse. “Did I not make it clear what I’d do to you if I saw you again?”
She squeezed Mr. Drake’s arm until he flinched.
He deserved it for taking her to a place where he was not welcome.
There were far too many vampires to fight.
If they discovered she was a hunter, she’d be dead before she could draw her sword.
She would have to rely on Mr. Drake to guide her safely through the night.
It was not a pleasant prospect.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her tightly against him. “I apologize, Wormwood, but this one desperately wanted to see me gamble. Isn’t that right, darling?”
She giggled. “Oh, yes. Win me enough to buy a new carriage.” She would make him regret his words when they were free of the building and out of danger.
Mr. Wormwood gestured behind him. “If you’re willing to risk your coins, perhaps you would be interested in joining my table.”
Mr. Drake stiffened. Something about that offer obviously did not appeal to him.
Unfortunately, she had a feeling that they had little choice, as the rest of the room had fallen silent.
She stayed tucked to his side as he followed the other man to a table, then copied the postures of the other humans by wrapping her arms around him from behind.
A faint floral scent clung to his hair, and the muscles of his shoulders were pleasantly firm beneath her hands.
Still, she hadn’t ventured into the territory of her enemy to spend the night fawning over her guide.
While he distracted Mr. Wormwood, she observed the room.
It didn’t take long to confirm that the few non-human women present were not the one she sought.
Mr. Drake shuffled and dealt. When he was done, he held his cards so she could see.
She didn’t know the game they were playing, but if it was anything like whist, then his hand was terrible.
That didn’t seem to stop him, though, as he studied his cards for several seconds before sliding a large stack of coins another man had placed in front of him into the center of the table.
“What are you doing?” she whispered. She didn’t care if he lost all of his money, but did not want him to draw attention to them.
He tweaked her nose. “Wish me luck, darling.”
So, he had turned this into a game of his own. She hoped he would lose everything. Maybe that would teach him not to bring her into hostile territory. She adopted a fake smile and crooned, “Good luck!” Then she pinched his side.
Hard.
He made a pained sound but otherwise did not react as the rest of the table made their bets.
She paid the game little attention, being far more interested in memorizing the faces of the other players.
Thanks to Mr. Drake, she didn’t know where in the city this gambling hall was located, but it would still help her family to know how many vampires had visited the establishment.
Then again, in order to reveal that information, she would have to confess how she’d acquired it. She was prepared to betray Mr. Drake but did not want to think about how her family would react to learning she’d allowed a vampire to bite her.
“Quite a lovely chit,” Mr. Wormwood said. He put his cards on the table and pushed them forward. “She looks familiar. Where did you find her?”
Felicity dipped her chin. She could not be recognized now, when they were so close.
“This one?” Mr. Drake patted her hand on his chest. “Just a chorus dancer.”
Mr. Wormwood put his elbows on the table. “She’s flexible, then?”
It was hard not to feel embarrassed when they were discussing her physical capabilities, but none of the other human concubines seemed to notice.
They were all muttering or caressing their masters.
She did the same and tried not to think about the sluggish heat collecting in her abdomen as she stroked the firm muscles of Mr. Drake’s chest. He was the only man she’d ever touched so intimately.
It was as thrilling as it was disconcerting.
Mr. Drake slid another pile of coins forward. “Dancers know the most remarkable tricks. And have the sweetest blood.”
The round ended with someone other than Mr. Drake winning. He didn’t even flinch as the coins in front of him vanished, pulled into the arms of a grinning older man with red hair and a matching curly beard that engulfed the lower half of his face.
“Don’t get too excited, Maclean,” Jonathan said. “I will be taking those back before the end of the night.”
The man snorted. “So confident, Drake!” He pushed back from his chair. “I think you didn’t come here to gamble at all. Wormwood was right. That chit of yours isn’t the usual sort for this place.”
Felicity clung to Mr. Drake, fighting with everything she had to keep her expression neutral and her posture loose.
Jonathan caressed her arm. “You’re frightening her, Maclean. She made an enemy among our kind some years ago.” He lowered his voice. “Refused to volunteer her blood.”
The men around the table nodded and murmured, as if this were a usual topic of discussion.
“I’ve been trying to seek the lady out,” Mr. Drake said. “See if I can broker a truce. I wouldn’t want this lovely one to perish while doing my daylight bidding.”
“Perhaps we could assist you in identifying the lady,” Mr. Maclean said. “What does she look like?”
Mr. Drake studied his cards, then placed them face down. “Tall, beautiful, with sharp features and black hair. Carries a cane topped with a golden dog’s head.”
Mr. Wormwood tapped his fingers on the table. “Sounds rather like Madame Pearce. She collects walking sticks and the like.”
Felicity inhaled sharply. At last, a lead! She opened her mouth to ask Mr. Wormwood where they could find this ‘Madame Pearce,’ when Mr. Drake pinched her thigh.
“Thank you,” Mr. Drake said loudly. “I will pay her a visit.”
Mr. Maclean grunted as he pulled the coins in the center of the table toward him, having won the round.
As he stacked them into neat piles, he glanced at Felicity and showed a hint of fang.
“If you visit Madame Pearce’s fine establishment, you won’t have any need for that one.
” He sniffed. “She smells fresh. If I forgave your debt, would you let me borrow her for a night?”
Felicity’s stomach tightened.
“I don’t share,” Mr. Drake said as he accepted a new set of cards. A flush of clubs. His luck was changing.
Mr. Maclean tapped the table. “Selfish keeping flesh that sweet to yourself.” Then he reached out and grasped her upper arm. “What do you think, lass? Want to try us?”
She should have swatted the Scotsman playfully or scrunched her nose and insisted she belonged to Mr. Drake. Either of those responses would have fit within the role she’d adopted for the evening. Instead, she reacted instinctively to the unwanted assault by punching the man in the nose.
As Maclean clutched his face and let out a string of words in a language she didn’t understand, Mr. Drake burst into hearty laughter.
It was the latter that kept her from drawing a stake and plunging it through Mr. Maclean’s heart.
Instead, she followed the cues of the other humans present and pressed her face to Mr. Drake’s neck with a whine like a scared puppy.
SLAM
Something hit the floor.
“That bitch hit me!” Mr. Maclean shouted.
“Should have kept your hands to yourself, Maclean,” Mr. Wormwood said dryly. “Sit down before I’m forced to kick you out.”
She dared a peek. Mr. Maclean was being physically restrained by two other vampires. His chair lay on its side on the floor.
“I’ll not be leavin’ until I’ve seen her punished,” Mr. Maclean said.
Mr. Drake chuckled. “Punishment? As you wish.” Then he twisted his body in an oddly serpentine motion that ended with Felicity lying prone over his legs. It happened so quickly that she didn’t have time to react before his palm came down on her rear.
She held back an outraged scream with tremendous effort. He was spanking her.
“No.” SMACK. “Hitting.” SMACK.
The strokes were so hard that they echoed in the small room, but far worse than the indignation of being treated like a child and the jeers of the other vampires was the dampness pooling between her thighs.
She wished at that moment that she could melt through the floor, but as that was not an option, she closed her eyes and soothed her anger with increasingly violent thoughts of what she’d do to Mr. Drake when they left the gambling den.
When her ‘punishment’ was over, he lifted her by the waist, settled her on his lap, and brought their mouths together.
Before the shock of his icy skin faded, there was a rushing sound in her head, a sharp prick on her lip, and then everything went dark.