Blood Red (32 page)

Authors: Sharon Page

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Erotica

“There she is.”

Bastien’s heart surged with an excitement he’d never known. He strained to catch a glimpse, swiveling in the direction Yannick faced. Althea. Where was she? Damn, he wanted to see her again. Needed to see her. He’d never craved being with a woman as much before.

“She’s ravishing,” he whispered, as he spied her.

She far outshone every woman there. Even the duchesses, the countesses, the heiresses could not compare. Althea’s rich, gleaming burgundy-red hair shimmered, unique and breathtaking beneath the chandeliers. One long curl tumbled down to bounce seductively against her slim back. She half-turned and his mouth dried. Tiny emeralds glittered in those thick tresses, but her sparkling eyes put them in the shade. A pink blush touched her cheeks. It was a crush of a ball, hot, overcrowded, and tedious, but Althea radiated excitement and joy. Althea made enduring this event worthwhile.

Randolph’s to visit. As a friend of Althea’s father, the baron likely knew exactly what he was.

He couldn’t wait to be with her again.

During his day sleep, he’d been visited by a scorching dream—Althea and a pretty blonde exploring each other’s delights, reaching ecstasy together. He’d slept with a raging erection and was bone-hard again, harder than he could remember being. His eager cock was pushing the buttons on the falls of his trousers to their limits.

He started to head toward Althea, but Yannick grabbed his shoulder. “Wait.”

He moved to shrug off Yannick’s hand, then noticed that a blond woman and a tall, distinguished gentleman accompanied Althea. A dark-haired youth walked at her other side, and the boy’s gloved hand looked to be hovering close to Althea’s silk-clad bottom.

“Mr. de Wynter! How delightful to see you returned from the Continent.”

Hell and the devil, Lady Somebody-or-Other was advancing on him, daughters in tow.

“Is that where I was?” He turned to shoot a glance at Yannick, only to see his brother trying to flee into the crowd. He bowed to Lady Somebody and to her star-struck daughters. Angular and plain, they curtsied, and he couldn’t resist promising them both a dance. Anything to get them to move away so he could chase after Althea.

“I accompanied my brother, Lord Brookshire,” he remarked as casually as he could. He almost laughed as Lady Somebody, obviously trolling for marriage candidates, set off in pursuit of Yannick. Served his bloody titled brother right. With the advantage of height, he could see over the crowd. Yannick was fending off an assault by two matrons—a plump woman in purple, armed with a cane, and a doe-eyed beauty who was hanging on his his arm and obviously hoped to snare him for some bedsport.

With his brother otherwise occupied, Bastien searched the crowd for Althea.

Gone.

He raced up to the ballroom door, possessed with the need to find her.

For the first time in his life, Yannick shuddered as a large, soft breast pressed against his arm. Its owner, the voluptuous, beautiful Lady Aubrey tapped her closed fan against full lips.

She snapped it open and flapped with savage strokes. “I fear I may perish in this heat. The gardens are lovely and delightfully cool...and private…” Her lashes batted as she awaited his invitation to escort her. Her hip rubbed seductively against his thigh. Up his arm, her fingers danced until they reached his biceps and boldly stroked.

Yannick gritted his teeth. Why should this irritate him so much tonight?

Coming to the first large ball of the Season was madness. To polite society, he was an available earl—a prime quarry in the marriage mart. And he since he rarely appeared in Society, he was elusive prey—the matrons knew they had few chances to snare him.

Being squashed amidst several hundred warm bodies—more than half belonging to attractive females—was playing havoc on his self-control. His fangs had long since exploded out of his jaw and he had to watch his every move to ensure they didn’t show. Stabbing pain shot from his teeth though his entire body as he breathed in the tormenting scent of the blood of five hundred people.

Since becoming a vampire, he hadn’t risked attending a ball.

Lady Aubrey inclined her head, revealing the white length of her neck.

Just one bite—

So easy. Lure the lovely lady out into the dark and have a taste of all that delicious blood….

No. And not because he feared exposure. No, tonight he had come for Althea. And he was damned and determined to control his vampire nature.

He removed her ladyship’s hand from his arm. Kissed her satin-covered fingertips. “We can’t have you swooning on us, my dear. Pray don’t let me prevent you from seeking the restoring breezes out on the terrace.”

Lady Aubrey dipped the fan. Frustration flamed in her eyes. “Would you join me, Brookshire?”

“I must decline, my dear. I’m searching for one particular young lady. The lady I hope will grant me the first waltz.”

“Really?” Her dark eyes gleamed at the prospect of gossip. “And who might this fortunate young woman be?”

God, he hated this. The gossip, the games, the rules. All he wanted was to claim Althea.

To have tonight with her.

“An angel,” Yannick answered shortly. With that, he left Lady Aubrey abruptly, not caring if his behavior was rude.

He wanted Althea—he wasn’t pursuing her only because she was in danger, and he hated himself for that. He was bred to be a gentleman, and he should possess enough honor to let her find a husband. Her father spoke the truth. She deserved a devoted husband; she deserved children.

He’d been a selfish bastard even to consider capturing her heart, even to think of making her a vampire. He couldn’t steal her away from a happy mortal life. That was the future she was destined to live, not one with him.

But right now, he had to protect her.

“Save me a dance, Miss Yates. I must dance with you at least once tonight.”

Althea trembled as Bastien murmured by her ear. The brush of his hot breath set her tingling. She turned on her heel, heart soaring as she met his darkly intense gaze. His silver eyes shimmered beneath the twinkling candlelight. His hair, elegantly snared at the nape of his neck, glowed like pure gold. One strand fell free, following the sharp curve of his high cheekbones.

As in her dream, he wore beautiful dress clothes. A black tailcoat topped a gold satin waistcoat and black trousers. He moved closer, leaning over her, capturing her against the wall, his stance blatantly intimate.

She glanced about for prying eyes, but in the pack of bodies, couldn’t tell if anyone had a gaze—or a quizzing glass—trained on them. Not that she expected anyone but Lady Peters to be watching
her
, but many eyes must be following golden-haired, gorgeous Mr. De Wynter.

Playfully, Althea reminded him, “If you dance with me more than twice, society will rumor that we are engaged.”

you.”

Her breath caught. She met Bastien’s gaze, knowing she shouldn’t flirt. Relief had flooded her when he’d first spoken to her—relief that he was here and safe. Yannick might be here, too.

But as much as she wished to melt into Bastien’s arms, hold him tight, kiss him, and touch him, she couldn’t. Not just because they were in the middle of a ballroom, but because she represented risk to him and Yannick. She was Zayan’s tool and she had to warn him.

She caught hold of his sleeve. “Would you come out onto the terrace with me? I must speak to you about what I’ve learned.”

Bastien winked. “Slip out into the dark with you?” He gave a slow smile that ignited a fire in her quim. “Should I worry about my virtue?”

This was going to prove terribly difficult. She wanted him so much she wished she could rip his clothes off immediately, in the midst of polite society. But she couldn’t give in to the desire, not when it could destroy the men she loved.

“I
wish
you should,” she murmured. Damn Zayan.

Instantly he responded to her sad tone, to the soft regret there. The sorrow. He caught her elbow. “Let us make haste and talk, then, little dove.”

The crowd parted for him, to her surprise. He had presence, an aura—a power that emanated from him. Even men who far outranked him instinctively allowed him through. Some greeted him, but he propelled her quickly.

The night was balmym and the terrace doors thrown open to let the warm gentle breezes in.

Other couples strolled toward the open doors.

Come with me, Althea.

Hand in hand with Bastien, she walked with him down the steps at the far end of the terrace.

Soon they passed a series of statues, half hidden by lilacs in full bloom. Pan amongst pretty water nymphs. So similar to her dream—her heart set up a fervent patter.

No, she couldn’t make love to Bastien, because if she did, she was helping Zayan. She didn’t understand how much her desires—and theirs—were controlled by Zayan.

Here, we’ll be safe enough here
. Lust crackled through his voice as he spoke in her mind.

But something deeper also. She sensed it.

In the shadows here, behind a wild growth of lilac at the very end of the garden, Althea could see little. Only the sculpted planes of his cheeks, his shining eyes, the glitter of satin and the shimmer of fine wool.

And his grin of delight. She could see his white curved fangs.

Bastien caught her in her arms. She slammed her palms into his chest to break free. She knew exactly what he wanted.

“No,” she pleaded, “Let me tell you what I’ve learned first.”

“No, little dove, let me give you an orgasm or two first.”

He was so incorrigible she laughed despite the tension that made her muscles ache. “Do be silent or…or I’ll whip you.”

His body went rigid against hers; his erection, pressing against her thigh, seemed to buck in response.

“Well, then, I’m hardly going to want to be silent now, am I?”

“Oh!” she groaned in frustration.

He broke away and studied the lilacs.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Looking for a suitable branch to use for my punishment.”

Was he teasing? Or not? His nonchalance—no, his
enthusiasm
—over punishment made her nervous. She could hardly picture wielding a whip and striking him, whether he liked it or not!

How did he do this to her? She’d brought him here to discuss Zayan, to save his life, and now all she could think of was naughty, sinful, sexual acts.

“Bastien.” She spoke his name as a command.

With a long, swaying lilac branch in hand, he turned.

She couldn’t draw her gaze from the bobbing blooms as she told her the story, everything she’d learned from the vampire queen.

He frowned. “You believe Zayan alone is responsible for our dreams and desires?”

“Yes. To destroy you—or Yannick. You both must stay away from me. For your safety! I refuse to be used as the weapon to hurt you!”

“Noble little dove,” he whispered, with a soft smile. He shook his head, a few loose strands of his hair dancing in the light breeze, reflecting gold like fireflies. “The dreams may have been planted by Zayan, but our desires are real.”

“But—”

“Everything that happened in those dreams came of the true desire in your heart and soul, little love. Zayan cannot plant emotions; he can only try to manipulate those that really exist.”

“You mean…I wanted to do…truly what happened was what I wanted?”

“Sorry, love.”

But she was already breathing the words, “Thank goodness.” She’d wanted her feelings, as improper as they were, to be real. But suddenly she clapped a hand to her mouth. “Even—”

“Even your dalliance with the little blond maid.” His voice was throaty, his eyes twinkling.

Suspicion rose. “Are you just making this up so I will make love with you?”

“I couldn’t lie to you, sweeting, even if I wanted to. You possess my heart and it would be impossible for me to deceive you.”

Althea frowned, “You are magically forced to be honest to me?”

He nodded and turned away. He moved to break off another lilac branch.

She crept up behind and slipped her arms around his narrow waist. He didn’t speak. He only acknowledged her by moving back against her, and she answered by pressing her cheek to his back.

“I wish I could make love to you,” she whispered. A foolish thing to do, to goad a man she knew she mustn’t have. Even if the desires were real—

“Has my brother made love to you yet tonight?”

“No.” she said, uncertain at his cold tone. “I wish I could make love to you…first.”

“Oh you do, do you?”

tried to draw away but she clasped her hands together. Her arms couldn’t make much of a prison. He could easily force her hands apart if he wished, but she took it as hopeful that he didn’t try.

Was he still hurt and angry that she had chosen Yannick? Her feelings were so different now.

“Don’t pity me, Althea.”

“Pity you! You think I want you out of pity?”

“No, I think you are asking me to be first out of pity. You fear for my poor broken heart, knowing I’ll always be second fiddle to Yannick.”

“It’s not true. Not with me it isn’t.”

“You made a choice—”

“Yes, and I made love to both of you! I gave my virginity to both of you! Don’t you realize what that meant to me?”