Chapter 50
Chapter Fifty
I entered Marcus’ bedroom, and he turned to face me.
I climbed onto his four-poster bed and lay beside him. “I’m considering purchasing several more properties,” I said. “Safe houses around the city.”
Marcus nodded, half-distracted.
I lay on my side. “Perhaps you could help me find appropriate residences?”
“I’m ready.”
“Are you?”
“If I’m going to help you find Jacob.”
I moved closer to him and pressed my wrist against his mouth. “This is what he looks like.”
Marcus’ bite felt gentle, and he took just enough to envision Jacob, the purest images passed on through my blood. He fell back and gazed up at the ceiling.
“Are you all right?” I asked softly.
He looked shaken but blissful. I sucked on my wrist, licking the remaining drops as the fang bites healed and my taste buds tingled. I glanced over, but Marcus avoided making eye contact.
I studied him. “Did you see enough?”
He nodded and sat up, having not only glimpsed my son, but also experiencing my emotions. Disquieted, his desire for more left him blushing, aroused. He shifted away from me.
Trying to make it easier for him, I subdued a smile, all the while listening to him stumble over his thoughts. An endearing crush, cravings ignited. I’d stirred a vampire’s nature. I offered him my wrist again.
“I should be going.” He let out a deep sigh.
“What’s wrong?”
“Your blood, it makes me feel…” He pressed a hand against his chest.
“Makes you feel…?”
He climbed off the bed and stared back at me, full of desire.
I arched an eyebrow. “As good as that?”
Marcus quick-footed it out the door.
Of course, he’d also gotten to sample ancient blood from me.
Waiting for Sunaria, I sat in the living room, trying to warm myself before the roaring fireplace.
Despite the fact that Marcus had taken my place tonight, making good on his promise, I couldn’t help but feel that I should also be out there scouring the city streets. Melancholy lingered like an unwelcome guest.
Sunaria entered the room. She’d dressed in gentleman’s attire, looking both pretty and masculine.
I rose to greet her. “I’m taking you out for a romantic night and you dress like that?”
“I thought you’d like it.” Hands on her hips, she studied me. “You won’t tell me where we’re going.”
“Your blue dress, wear that.”
“It’s safer to dress as a man.”
“You’re a vampire for God’s sake. You couldn’t be any safer.”
“If we’re going to be flying over the rooftops!”
“We’re not. Change, now.”
“I saw Marcus before he left,” she said sharply. “What went on between you?”
“I know I’m a flirt but that’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
“Yes. Come here.”
She stood her ground.
“Look, I just showed him Jacob, that’s all. Marcus is out there searching for him so that I can be with you tonight.” I walked over and wrapped my arms around her.
She stiffened. “Why do you close your mind to me? I should be able to probe the secret out of you, but no, you’re keeping all sorts of things from me.”
“One of the benefits of sucking a Status Regal dry is that you learn new tricks. Now get changed.”
“Not until you tell me the surprise.”
I sighed. “That’s why it’s called a bloody surprise, woman.”
Sunaria stormed out.
“You have ten minutes!” I yelled after her.
Sunaria reappeared wearing her blue empire line gown, with elegant, long sweeping sleeves. Her seamstress had designed the dress to complement her small waist and emphasize her breasts. A European twist on the English fashion, enhanced by the silk-lined cape, bestowing a classic style.
I’d donned my dark trousers and luxurious velvet jacket. Black on a man provides an air of mystery but also ensures ease in mingling with the crowd and disappearing into it if needed. London’s streets were at times so choked with shadows that if I stepped back into a doorway, I’d become invisible.
At night, Fleet Street teemed with well-dressed pedestrians, and along the newly constructed roads rumbled fine-looking carriages, taking their wealthy passengers home after a day of wheeling and dealing, or for the lucky few, after an afternoon of frivolous entertainment.
Sunaria and I strolled hand-in-hand, taking in the fresher air found in this part of town. We experienced many lingering stares from passersby, though we proceeded on with our heads down, ignoring them all.
I resisted pulling Sunaria down a dark alley, wanting nothing more than to pleasure her. Aware of my long strides, I slowed my pace. She enjoyed me taking the lead, as only a strong woman can. Our less frequent arguments were a sign she’d stopped vying for dominance.
We turned down Bouverie Street, heading in the direction of Temple Avenue, and the breeze from the Thames reached us.
We stopped before an English townhouse. The exterior brickwork was interlaced with wooden beams, and upon the roof rested a tall chimney.
Judging by the dark windows, the residents were not at home.
Just a little way back from the house on the estate stood a white-washed, shed-like structure that overlooked the Thames.
I guided Sunaria around to the side entrance and shoved her up against it. “Don’t move,” I whispered.
I withdrew a small strip of black velvet material from my inner coat pocket and used it as a blindfold on her. I spun her round to face me, savoring the excitement I’d stirred in her, delighted by her quickening. Sunaria was breathing fast, her bosom rising and falling with arousal.
“Stay here,” I ordered.
She nodded, and I entered the small structure.
The single room was pitch black, the back wall offering the only window. I walked over and drew back the curtain to let in the moonlight. I found a box of matches and lit the first of twelve candles, trying not to be drawn in by the striking display.
Sunaria was where I’d left her, and she’d obediently kept the velvet strip over her eyes. Taking her hand, I led her inside and over to the center of the room and then waited, feeling her excitement building.
I nuzzled close, and then loosened the blindfold, letting it fall.
Sunaria let out a sigh.
We were surrounded by thirty or so paintings of sunsets and sunrises.
Sunaria stepped forward, awestruck, admiring the large canvas before us, a rendering of daybreak over the Thames, with its lush yellows, oranges, and deepest golds, an exuberant mixture of colors and textures, a glorious array, a magnificent depiction.
She suppressed a sob.
The painting shimmered, reflecting light from the many candles.
“I don’t know anything about art,” I spoke quietly. “But this is like seeing it for real.”
Sunaria’s fingertips hovered near the canvas, respectfully not touching it, but lingering close. We marveled at the way the artist had duplicated the minutest details, and we both sighed in wonder.
“Let’s commission him,” I said. “His name’s Alberto Ceravassio.”
“He’s Venetian?”
“I believe so.”
Sunaria expression was joyful.
Sharing this moment with her made me burn with pride. “I knew you’d like it.”
“The family in that house provides this studio for him?” she asked.
I nodded. “In return, he paints.”
“They sell his paintings?”
“Yes, and I imagine he gets hardly anything for them.”
“That’s a shame.” Sunaria sighed. “Still, the high paying aristocracy probably double what the Vatican offers.”
“The Church considers painting for them a privilege, therefore, they pay little.”
“How did you find him?”
“Marcus visited artist’s row near The Strand. He met the painter and admired his work. Ceravassio told him about his studio here.”
“I love my surprise.” Sunaria reached up and planted kisses on my cheek.
I smiled at her. “And I love you.”
“Even after everything?”
“Luckily, I’m obsessed with you.” I squeezed her against me. “Can’t get enough.”
“I promise that I’ll never disappoint you again.”
“I believe you.”
She snuggled into my neck and then stood on tiptoe to kiss my lips. “I’m rather enjoying London.”
“If you’re willing to brave the unknown,” I added, “it’s certainly not boring.”