Octavia frowned. “That’s madness. I don’t believe you—”
“I cursed your husband. He either had to change, to be worthy of your love, or he would lose you forever.”
“You did what—?” Octavia wanted to smack this awful woman—this madwoman who thought she was a goddess—but Mrs. Darkwell held up her hand. Octavia found she could not move.
“I did it to protect you. I know what is in your future, if Lord Sutcliffe comes back to you. He will not be able to fight his vampire tendencies—he was created by Esmeralda, who is evil and vicious. He will kill you and the baby, and he will be unable to stop because he is a vampire. Or, when he attacks, you will kill him to protect your child. Do not tell me you would never destroy him, because in that moment of great emotion, you will want to lash out at him, and your powers will do it for you. You won’t be able to control them. So either he will kill you, or you will kill him. He had two weeks to win your love. He has only days left. He will fail.”
In a flash of purple and lavender-colored smoke, Mrs. Darkwell disappeared.
“The journey to the Underworld is supposed to be hell,” Sebastien de Wynter observed. “Your own personal hell. I learned this from a friend who is no longer a vampire—a man by the name of Zayan who had to travel to hell to save the woman he loved.”
Cold water dripped on Matthew’s head. The air of this tunnel was dank and smelled of the sea. They were in the network of underground caverns and tunnels that led from the Thames and ran under London. These were the remnants of old, underground rivers. Ahead, he heard the pounding of the Thames water. At high tide, this tunnel would fill with water, and they would be submerged. “You’re certain this is the entrance?”
“There are other entrances, but many have been sealed up. This is the best one I know of.”
He couldn’t see how they would go down from this tunnel without drowning. But then, vampirism was thought to be impossible, yet he was one.
De Wynter led them onward, until Matthew, using his ability to see in the dark, pointed out, “This is a dead end.” A wall of rock stood before them.
“Not exactly. Walk up to it and give the reason you want to enter Hell.”
Matthew stepped up to the wall, feeling idiotic, but if this would get him to the Underworld, he would try it. He had to do this and free Octavia.
Behind him, De Wynter said softly, “On your journey, you will be subjected to tests, Sutcliffe. The things you experience will feel real, but they aren’t. They exist only in your mind.”
“I suspect that will be bad enough,” Matthew muttered. He faced the dark, wet rock, and shouted, “I want to speak to the devil. He holds my wife Octavia in his service, and I want to have her freed.”
The rock gave a grinding sound. A crack formed, rushing up the rock, until it became a door. Groaning, the door in the stone swung open.
Matthew stepped into darkness. On this journey, he had to go alone. Anger rose in him—why did the damned devil have to use Octavia? She didn’t deserve this.
The door swung shut behind him. He glanced around, and the crack sealed, filling in the rock. The door disappeared.
His own private hell.
De Wynter had warned him he would walk through thousands of bugs, through groups of female demons who wanted to steal his soul. But the hell he found was worse.
It was so dark in this tunnel to Hell, even he could not see, and he had a vampire’s ability to see in the dark. But what he saw were visions—of Octavia’s life when he was gone. He saw her be seduced by man after man. Young, handsome men who told her how beautiful she was. He saw her glow for other men. He saw her lift her skirts or let her full breasts spill out of her open bodice—
His heart was thundering and hatred flowed through his veins.
He wanted to rip Lucifer apart.
He started to run, determined to get to Hell as fast as he could.
The floor vanished beneath his feet, and he fell.
De Wynter had told him everyone saw Hell differently. Matthew slammed onto a floor and felt soft wool under his hands. He surged to his feet. He stood in a lavish bedchamber, and a seven-foot man with horns lay on a large, oval bed, having his enormous erection sucked by a pretty woman with golden curls.
Lucifer grinned. “Lord Sutcliffe, I believe you came to ask me to free your wife?” The girl stopped her duty, curtsied, then vanished into the dark. The smell of brimstone hung in the air. Out of the shadows, a three-headed dog emerged, straining at its chains. Then another appeared.
Lucifer held up his hand, and the dogs were silent.
“Yes, let her go. She is a gentle and good woman, and she doesn’t deserve to be a succubus.”
The devil’s handsome features contorted into an evil leer. “She is lovely, and she pleases me. She has done a good job of taking your soul.”
“But you need a woman who will go to other men’s beds. That’s not Octavia. She has a heart; she needs love. She deserves a loving husband, a family. Free her. I demand that you let her go.”
“You demand it?” The devil snarled. “I think not. ”
“No?” Matthew roared. “What the hell do you mean
no?
”
“Unless you ask me properly, I will not let her go.”
Matthew gritted his teeth. But the devil got off the bed. He stood seven feet tall, and his body bulged with muscle. He had claw-like nails that were five inches long. Matthew wanted to fight, but he decided to ask properly. Swallowing pride and anger, he asked again and again, very politely.
Each time, Lucifer sneered and turned him down.
Damnation, he was done with polite. Matthew leapt at the devil, drawing a blade out of his boot. Surprise gave him the advantage, and he swung behind Lucifer. He grappled the devil around the chest, using his vampire’s strength, and pressed the blade to Lucifer’s throat.
“Let her go, damn it, or I destroy you.”
“You will, will you?” mocked Lucifer.
The blade instantly transformed to molten metal. The heat burned Matthew’s palm. He had to drop the knife, and it clattered to the stone floor.
The devil clapped his hands. Suddenly, human figures streamed out of the shadows. They looked like black specters. Horrible moans flew from their open mouths. They had no legs, just tattered cloaks, and they swooped around him.
“Protect me, my souls,” roared Lucifer.
The ghostly beings flew at Matthew. He tried to fight, but his hands went through them. Their hands clutched at him and tore at his skin. They pulled his flesh off in chunks. Each time, he healed, but there were so many of them, he was losing too much skin.
“All I want is my wife’s happiness,” he shouted. “Kill me but free her.”
“I am Satan,” the devil snapped. “I do not grant favors. I provide eternal damnation and torment. However, I will do one thing for you. I will spare you.”
Flames roared up around Lucifer, and stinking sulfur-scented smoke filled the room. The black specters vanished. Then, the devil disappeared. But his voice came into the empty bedchamber. “You have one hour to make your way back from Hell. If you do not get out, you will be entombed here forever.”
18
Pleasure in the Theater
T
hat night, she dreamed of Matthew.
Octavia was in a box at the theater, watching a performance, and her husband was down below her, in the pit. There, he was being accosted by voluptuous orange sellers and fondled by bold prostitutes.
She wanted to go down to him, but the crowd was too great. She was with elegant people she did not know. Each time she tried to leave, someone dragged her back, warning her that she must stay where she was safe.
She needed to be with him, so she ignored their entreaties and tried again. This time, a beautiful woman with blond hair pulled Octavia back into her seat and clasped her hand. Wearing a devilish smile, the woman furtively glanced around, and when she saw no one was looking, she winked at Octavia and began to trace circles in the palm of Octavia’s hand.
The soft touch made her skin tingle.
Onstage, a famous actress appeared, wearing skintight men’s breeches and shirt. Every member of the audience stared at her generous figure.
Although they were in public, they might as well have been alone. The blond smiled and cupped Octavia’s breast.
A jolt of surprise went through her, quickly followed by a warm, aroused sensation from her bosom. The woman’s hand cradled her gently, then her thumb brushed Octavia’s nipple, making it grow hard.
If someone turned . . .
If someone paid attention . . .
Octavia’s heart pumped madly.
The blond bent to her ear and whispered, “I am Lady Vane. Do you like this?”
Octavia nodded, and Lady Vane squeezed her breast. Octavia swallowed a gasp, so no one would turn. Onstage, the actress had turned, displaying a rounded bottom in the tight breeches.
She was going to do something shocking and scandalous; something that would astound her husband and that would drive him mad. For, though all the audience stared at the stage, he was watching her.
Lady Vane whispered, “Let us go somewhere private. Somewhere we can have fun.” Then she stood and said aloud, “I must excuse myself. Off to the retiring room.” She held out her arm. Octavia took the hint, linked arms with Lady Vane, and they quickly left the box.
Octavia had a glimpse over, down into the pit. Matthew left his spot, following them from below, fighting through the crowd.
As soon as they were in the corridor that ran outside the boxes, Lady Vane giggled like a schoolgirl. Then Lady Vane slipped her arm free and scampered off.
“Where are we going?” Octavia breathed as she followed.
“Here.” Lady Vane glanced around, then pushed open a door. They were in a box, but it was empty, and the curtain was drawn. “Now we can be alone.” The woman’s large green eyes flashed wickedly, then she quickly undid the top fastenings of Octavia’s dress. “Your breasts are so plump and lovely. I’ve been watching them all night, wondering what they taste like.”
Octavia hadn’t expected that. The woman pulled Octavia’s bodice down, so the neckline trapped her arms, but slid off her breasts.
Lady Vane stuck out her tongue and licked Octavia’s bosom. Octavia giggled nervously, shyly.
“Your skin is so soft and sweet. Now I want to taste your nipples.” Lady Vane’s plump lips closed over her areola and suckled. Octavia moaned—it was so good. Her lover had a soft mouth, a warm tongue, and sucked just perfectly. Her nipples stiffened, becoming as hard and full as thimbles.
There was a soft click. The door was opening. Octavia had embraced Lady Vane as the woman kissed each of her nipples. Over Lady Vane’s gleaming blond curls, she saw Matthew step in. He quietly closed the door behind him.
“Your husband?” Lady Vane asked softly.
“Yes,” Octavia whispered. “Do you want to stop?”
“No.” Lady Vane’s full pink lips curved in a smile. “No, it will be exciting to have him watch.”
Octavia heard her husband’s soft moan as Lady Vane sucked her nipples again. Pleasure streaked through her, pleasure she wanted to return. She caressed Lady Vane’s large, round breasts—they were almost spilling over her bodice.
Lady Vane breathlessly stopped. “Let’s open our gowns.”
Quickly, they fumbled with fastenings. Tripping over skirts, they both sank to the carpeted floor behind the rows of seats. Lady Vane pushed up Octavia’s skirts. She had never dreamed she would like the thought of another woman lifting her gown. But the sight of Lady Vane’s silk gloves on her lace-trimmed hems made her juices flow. She was aroused, feeling wet stickiness between her thighs.
“You smell divine,” cooed Lady Vane. Then the woman bent and kissed Octavia’s nether curls. She shivered in pleasure as Lady Vane’s tongue flicked out and caressed her. The woman tongued her quim more gently than Matthew, but it felt so good.
Especially when she knew her husband was watching. She saw him in the shadows. His jaw had dropped open in shock.
Flirtatiously smiling at him, Octavia reached down and caressed Lady Vane’s full breast. It was a lovely, soft globe. She saw Matthew’s reaction of astonishment, then he had to adjust his trousers.
It was so erotic to see Lady Vane’s skirts spilling out as she leaned over to suckle Octavia’s cunny. She was an attentive lover, paying much attention to Octavia’s swollen, throbbing clit. Lady Vane gently stroked it with the flat of her tongue.
Octavia had wanted to make this a pretty scene for her husband, but soon she couldn’t think about poses or seductive moans. Lady Vane’s clever tongue was giving her incredible pleasure. Her hips rocked fiercely; her clit quested more of the lovely licking.
Her moans were desperate and frantic.
Lady Vane giggled against her quim, then suckled her clit. At the same moment, Octavia felt Lady Vane’s gloved finger slip up her bottom.
Arching off the floor, she came. The orgasm took her like a fierce wind. She felt buffeted. She was crying out.
Then, as she gasped for breath, she whispered, “I want to do the same to you.”
She heard Matthew’s hoarse groan.
“We will lick our pussies together,” said Lady Vane. Holding up her skirts, the woman moved around on top, until her mouth was over Octavia’s quim and her cunny was positioned over Octavia’s mouth.
This was daring, to do this to another woman. She almost lost her courage, but she knew Matthew would love to see this. Closing her eyes, Octavia put her mouth to Lady Vane’s wet, slippery nether lips. She tasted different than Octavia, but the same, too. It was a familiar, erotic taste.
Octavia tried to do to Lady Vane what she herself liked.
It appeared to work. Soon Lady Vane was pumping her hips and grinding her quim on Octavia’s mouth. Octavia was close to orgasm again.
When Lady Vane suddenly clutched her legs, and her pelvis jerked up, Octavia came, too. With a wail absorbed by Lady Vane’s soaking wet quim.
They fell apart, then both of them looked at Matthew.
He was stroking himself. His large hand was clasped around his thick shaft, pumping madly. Heavens, he did it so roughly, giving long, fierce strokes. Every so often, he would take his hand down to the head and squeeze it mercilessly.
Then he clutched his cock and his hips jerked forward. He moaned loudly, threw his head back.
His seed jetted out, spattering on his hand, even on the floor.
Enthralled, she sat up. She wanted to go to him and wrap her arms around him, but before her eyes, his image began to fade.
I have to go, Octavia. I can’t stay with you now. At least I know you are safe. I left London and returned to Scotland. I got here and found you and Lottie were gone. Servants were safe but the creatures are attacking again. I have Brookshire and De Wynter with me, with other vampire slayers on the way. We will win.
She tried to send a message to him.
I have been taken by Mrs. Darkwell to another house.
Octavia, try to speak in your thoughts to Lady Brookshire. She will be working to hear you. If you can talk to her, I believe you can tell her where—
He vanished before he finished his sentence.
Octavia knew, somehow, that it was true Matthew was at the castle now. He had left London, and he had gone back for her. Was he in danger? Were the assassins still there? Had people been hurt at the castle?
She had to go there to be with him—
Someone grasped her shoulder from behind and stopped her.
It was a tall woman with flowing black hair. Her fangs flashed in the faint light. “I am Esmeralda,” the woman said. “I am the strongest female vampire. I have come for you. You are one of the six.”
Octavia jerked free. “Leave me alone. I have no intention of bonding with you, or of taking over the world, or enslaving men.”
In the dream she was brave and foolhardy. She was telling a being who could kill her that she would never cooperate.
“You will change your mind,” Esmeralda declared.
“I won’t.”
“You said you wanted answers, yet no one has given you the truth. I can, and I will.”
She should resist. Esmeralda was probably lying. But she couldn’t resist. “And what do you know?”
“I know you are not a witch,” Esmeralda said. “They have all lied to you. But I will not. I will give you honesty. There is a reason you need sex to survive. A reason that you meet your husband in dreams and the lovemaking feels real. You are a succubus.”
Octavia knew what such a thing was—from the legends in her father’s notes from his travels. Succubi were demonesses. They were sultry, alluring, deadly. They went to men while the men dreamed, and they seduced the men. And when the men climaxed with a succubus, they gave up some of their soul.
It made logical sense. It explained everything that had happened to her.
“D-does Sutcliffe know?”
“Of course he does,” Esmeralda said. “As does Mrs. Darkwell. Everyone has lied to you. But with me, you can be powerful and strong. We will rule the world.” Esmeralda held out her hand.
“Oh no, we won’t.” Octavia knew she had to escape the dream. She had to force herself to awaken.
She had to do something—
She scrambled up onto the window ledge. It was a long way down—and a stone terrace was right below the window.
“Damnation,” Esmeralda howled. “Stop. Don’t go back to them. Come with me. What of your daughter? Your husband wants to imprison you. What will he do to her, because she might be a succubus, too? Come with me and find—”
Octavia jumped.
She fell and fell, much farther than the distance from the window to the flagstones. Everything roared past her so quickly, she saw only a blur. Then she saw nothing at all. . . .
Octavia jerked awake and sat up. Her heart galloped in her chest. Falling had freed her from the dream.
She could not live without having answers. She had to know who or what she was. She had to find out whether she was a witch . . . or something else.
She had to find out what Charlotte was.
She needed to know where she had come from.
Quickly, she would get answers, then she would return to the castle to find Matthew.
To start she had to get to London, to the Royal Society. Matthew had told her she could try to speak in her thoughts to Lady Brookshire.
She must try.