Chapter Twenty-Five
Marcus was sitting on his bed, pressing a piece of clean cloth against an oozing sore on his shoulder and considering what to do about the fact that his wife probably wanted to kill him, when Cordon burst through the door, nearly sending it flying off its hinges.
“Brother, you must—” Cordon said before his expression twisted in horror.
Marcus removed the cloth from his skin with a wince.
“So. Now you know.” He hadn’t wanted his brother to discover his worsening condition, but it was too late.
The symptoms that had abated after consuming Winifred’s and Smith’s blood had returned.
He’d allowed himself to be careless, setting aside his experiments in favor of Winifred’s well-meaning but pointless exercises in stoicism. Now there was no doubt.
He was dying.
“How long have you been hiding this?” Cordon asked.
Marcus buttoned his shirt. “It doesn’t matter.” His suffering would soon be over. Anything that followed was none of his concern.
Cordon crossed the room in a flash. He grasped Marcus’s shoulders and shook. “Don’t you dare give up.”
Marcus felt hot and cold at the same time. This was exactly why he’d kept the secret. He maneuvered out of his brother’s grasp. “What did you come here to tell me?”
Cordon scowled. “You haven’t changed.” His irises glowed blue. “When will you stop pretending to be like Marguerite? You’ll never be able to replace her.”
Ice formed around Marcus’s heart. He’d given his brother more than enough chances.
His continued disrespect was unacceptable.
He rose to his feet, withdrew his fangs, then lunged, fully intending to force the younger vampire to his knees.
Instead, Cordon caught him about the waist and slammed him to the floor.
Marcus channeled his blood into his shoulders until a fierce pain bloomed in his head and made him cry out.
“Stop, brother,” Cordon whispered. “Please. You cannot beat me.”
Marcus gritted his teeth and bared his neck.
Only then did Cordon release him. Marcus curled into a ball, unwilling to see the disgust on his brother’s face.
The facade was over. He had lost his authority, and it was only a matter of time before his family imploded and his siblings killed each other or were absorbed into other nests.
“Helena searched the archives,” Cordon said. “You were right. There is a line of hunters associated with the sun symbol. We tracked them through Lucius Sorrow to a family of at least thirty. Brother, you should know that the countess—”
“Is one of them.” Marcus crawled back to his bed and pulled himself into a sitting position. “I know.”
He assumed her family had carefully inserted her into his life as a distraction while they poisoned his animals and slaughtered the birds in his aviary. The only thing he didn’t understand was why her family hadn’t simply killed him. They’d had plenty of chances.
Perhaps they wanted him to suffer first.
“She’s not a hunter,” Cordon said.
Marcus stared at his brother. “What?”
Cordon scratched the back of his neck. “She never completed her training. From what I discovered, there was a violent argument between Mrs. Belltree and her brother. A few weeks later, the Belltrees fled to Toronto. The countess was only a girl when it happened.” He sighed.
“I owe you an apology, brother. Whatever else has occurred, your wife is innocent.”
Marcus felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
Cordon shifted. “However, I might have given her your letter.”
As if she’d been waiting for a cue, there was a loud knock on his door.
“Come in.” Marcus said, while glaring at his brother.
Winifred entered, looking as pale as the afternoon her family had left. She met his gaze and pressed her lips together, but before she could say anything, she glanced at Cordon and straightened.
“Good evening,” Cordon said. “Do not let me interrupt.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked around Winifred. When he left, she furrowed her brow. “He’s a vampire too, isn’t he?” She shook her head. “I feel as though I’ve taken leave of my senses.”
“You haven’t.”
She gave him a penetrating stare, then rushed forward and put her face close to his.
“W-What are you doing?” he asked.
She narrowed her eyes. “Turn them blue.”
“Pardon?”
She put her index fingers and thumbs on his forehead and cheeks, then pulled his eyelids open. “Make your irises glow. You did it when you bit Smith. I want to see it for myself and confirm it’s not a trick.”
He clenched his fingers on the leather arms of his chair so hard, he feared he would have to send it for repair after this interlude. But he would do whatever she asked against the slim chance she chose to stay. He focused on her neck, on the faint vein beneath the surface.
His fangs descended.
“Fascinating,” Winifred said. She released her grip on his face, then lifted his upper lip with her thumb.
He obligingly opened his mouth so she could inspect his teeth.
She slid the pad of her index finger down a fang and was about to move it over the sharp tip when he grasped her hand and jerked it away.
She leaned back. “Why did you do that?”
“You would have cut yourself and I-I do not want to taste your blood.”
“I see.” She walked over to sit in the chair opposite him and perched on it. “So, that much is true. You consume blood. Interesting. How often do you need it? Does it have to be human?”
So, it was to be an interrogation. That, at least, was easier than restraining himself while she poked at his face.
Her reaction was much more rational than he’d expected.
Perhaps her hunter family had taught her something, after all.
He could have told her he knew about her lineage, but it would be more revealing to see how—if—she brought up the subject herself.
“Several times a day,” he finally said. “Animal blood is my usual fare, as you might have guessed from the number of livestock the estate maintains.”
Her fingers twitched. She patted her sides, then twisted her lips. “I wish I could take notes.”
He could not help but laugh. “There is no need. If you want to know more about my kind, I can tell you anything you wish. There are also many more texts you could read.” His lips quirked. “Although you would not find them in the library.”
“Books,” she repeated. “Like the ones you left me to read. That’s why you didn’t tell me. You wanted me to figure it out myself.”
“Yes. Then you saw me with Smith and even though you didn’t remember, I knew you would eventually.”
She curled her arms around her knees. “What really happened with Smith? Was he one of your victims?”
He winced. His nest siblings preferred “donor” to “victim,” but they usually drank from their lovers.
Marcus, stuck in his castle, had not had that option before now.
“No. Smith is the first human I’ve bitten in centuries.
Mrs. Gillanders, Gillanders, and Smith are the only members of my staff who know what I am. ”
She furrowed her brow. “Then why…?”
This was the part of the explanation he hadn’t been looking forward to.
“Smith volunteered.” When she didn’t respond, he reluctantly continued.
“He knew of my weakened state and did not want me to assault a servant. Inadvertently.” He held up his hands.
“I would never intentionally harm an innocent, but I was not entirely in control of myself.”
She paled. “What do you mean?”
“I had gone too long without human blood.” He covered his face with his hands. “God, Winifred. I am a monster.”
“I would not say that.”
He peered through his fingers. “You wouldn’t?”
“I think what you did was quite considerate.”
He lowered his hands. “Considerate” was not a word he had applied to himself in a very long time. Callous, careless, complacent, but not considerate. She continued to surprise him.
“Yes,” she said firmly. “If I understand correctly, you did nothing wrong. Your valet made an offer, and you accepted. What I witnessed was nothing more than a consensual exchange.” Her eyes lidded. “This bite of yours. Does it hurt?”
He chuckled. “Yes, but it is also quite pleasurable.” He lowered his voice, although there was unlikely to be anyone else listening. “You’ve felt the touch of my fangs once already.”
She raised her right hand. “Our wedding night.”
“Yes, and when we…” He gestured to her skirts.
Her cheeks turned bright red and her spectacles fogged.
He put his hand over his heart. “You have my word that I will not do it again.”
She stared at her palm for several seconds before dropping it to his lap. “What if I asked you to bite me?”
He dug his fingers into the arms of his chair to stop himself from reaching for her. “Absolutely not.”
*
The vehemence of Marcus’s refusal made Winifred stand and put her hands on her hips. “What is wrong with my blood?”
His nostrils flared. “Do not make this about you.”
She wasn’t sure why his rejection bothered her.
Perhaps because now that she knew that his bite was pleasurable, every time she closed her eyes, she saw him with his arms around his valet.
Or because knowing he wasn’t human made it impossible to rid herself of an insidious thought that she would never be enough for him.
He’d lived for centuries. Compared to that, she might well have been an entertaining plaything to use until she grew too old or frail to be of value.
There was one other possibility. She could be displacing her shock and fear from learning vampires were real into an emotion that was easier to process.
Unfortunately, while it was relatively easy to analyze her own mental state with cool detachment, it was significantly more difficult to change her behavior.
The rational part of her was willing to make observations, but it would not take away the pain in her heart.
Maybe seducing Marcus would.
She crossed the room and crouched so that their heads were at the same level, then pressed her lips against his. Two slight lumps confirmed his fangs were still out, but he kept his mouth firmly shut. She tried again, kissing him with more force. He moaned deep in his throat.
“Choose me,” she whispered. “Let me give you what you need.” Then the image that was seared on the inside of her eyelids would vanish, and the churning in her gut when she imagined Marcus remaining the same while she aged and eventually died would stop.
“You don’t understand,” Marcus said in a tight voice. “Drinking from Smith was a last resort. I could have killed him.” He tilted his head and rested it on her shoulder. “Your blood is unlike anything I’ve ever tasted. It is too dangerous.”
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Then make me yours. Consummate our union.”
It wouldn’t get rid of the nefarious voice in her head that insisted a vampire could never truly be with a human, but it might silence it for a while until she had time to examine her options.
Marcus hefted her in his arms and carried her to his bed. First came her bodice, lifted over her head. Then her corset, skirt, petticoats, and hoopskirt. Finally, he crouched and made her place one hand on his shoulder while he removed her slippers, then rolled down her stockings.
“Your feet are lovely,” he said. “Do you ever apply balm?” He nibbled her heel. “Your toes would look delectable slathered in oil. I could do it for you.”
She was too lost in the pleasurable feeling of his hands massaging her shins to answer. Being so exposed while he remained fully clothed made her feel like he could shatter her with a glance. She touched the top button of his shirt.
“No,” he said before placing her knees on his shoulders.
She pursed her lips. “I want to see you.”
“Next time,” he said. Then he ran his fangs along her inner thigh, and it no longer mattered. The conflagration he’d sparked in her abdomen threatened to consume her.
“Do you know what I felt when you pressed your lips to Smith’s throat?
” she asked. “Envy. I was jealous you’d picked him over me.
I feel it even more now that he has given you something you won’t accept from me.
” She curled her fingers in his hair. “Stop holding back. I don’t want to be worshipped. I want you. All of you.”
Perhaps more than that, she wanted things to go back to normal. She didn’t want to fear her own husband, but until he released his tightly held restraints, she’d never know how much he was keeping from her.
“I’m terrified of hurting you,” Marcus said. He kissed each of her toes. “I’m afraid that if you see the real me, you’ll understand how evil I truly am and you’ll run away the first chance you get.”
“I won’t,” she whispered. Despite her tumultuous emotions, she felt the same way now as she had when she’d arrived.
There was nothing to fear in the dark. True monsters, like her uncle, did not need to hide themselves.
They were comfortable in the light because they knew they’d always be safe from the consequences of their actions.
It was Marcus’s very reluctance to reveal his nature that confirmed she’d been right about him all along.
He might have been a vampire, but he was no monster.