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As if realizing this, Corvindale moved abruptly, shifting so that he blocked their connection and severed the thrall. Maia touched him briefly in gratitude and realized she mustn’t make eye contact with any of the Dracule. At least, the ones who meant her harm.
The third vampire with the rubies had moved some distance from the window while the second one had continued to edge farther from Lerina. It was clear Lerina meant to distract her opponent while setting up her mode of attack.
Now, the three vampires were spread out at the edge of the room, leaving Maia and Corvindale in the middle.
The earl continued to scan back and forth between the three, and Maia felt him easing her back as if trying to get to the wall where at least one side would be protected. He made no bones about hiding his stake, and despite the presence of the rubies, his muscles bunched and his breathing seemed relatively steady.
“You left me no choice, Lerina,” he replied coolly.
“Whatever do you mean?” she asked, but her hands fluttered, belying her innocence. “Unless I’m mistaken, the last time you deigned to feed on a mortal, it was me. I hate to think that I’d ruined you for a century, darling.”
Corvindale gave a disgusted snort. “As you wish. But, I confess, in a hundred years, I’ve met no one like you.”
The other woman seemed oblivious to the sarcasm in his voice; or perhaps she was just used to it. “We could share, Dimitri, and then we wouldn’t have to go through all of this mess. She does seem rather lovely. She’s light and I’m dark…wouldn’t we make a pretty picture? Together? We don’t have to send her on to Cezar. I’ll just tell him she…didn’t make it and he can find another way to get to Chas Woodmore.”
Lerina smiled and her fangs showed, long and wicked. She looked over at the vampire with the necklace. He’d moved farther from the window.
“What do you suggest?” Corvindale replied, his stake arm relaxing. He sounded almost inviting.
Suddenly the vampire who’d been at the window raised his arm and slung the necklace through the air toward Lerina. Corvindale reacted instantly, and, with a groan of exertion in a great moment of pain, raised his stake to intercept the jewels midair. They caught on the wooden spike and in a sharp movement, he whipped them to the ground.
Maia didn’t hesitate. She dropped to the floor and snatched them up, staggering a bit with the unexpected activity. Better that they were in her hands than their enemies’. But then, before anyone could react, she ran a few steps toward the window and winged the necklace toward the opening.
The vampire near it leaped but missed, and the lethal gems sparkled as they tumbled into the moonlit night.
Lerina gave a muffled shriek of anger just as the nearest vampire lunged for Maia. She tried to spin away, still gripping her stake, but he was fast as a breath and he caught her by the arm. His yank was hard enough that she fairly flew through the air, slamming up against him. She flailed out with her stake, stabbing as Iliana had taught her to do; but she was no match for the vampire and couldn’t get him in the right place.
He laughed and shifted, twisting her around roughly, grabbing up a handful of her hair and baring her neck. He spoke for the first time. “Did you say something about sharing, mistress?”
Maia swallowed and risked a glance at Corvindale, expecting to see him apprehensive—or at least furious—but he wasn’t even looking at her. He was watching Lerina, whose eyes had turned red and whose fangs were showing once again.
“Lovely thought,” Lerina said.
Maia’s heart was pounding and she couldn’t get a good angle with her stake, which had been immobilized by the vampire holding her anyway. Then, everything happened at once…but it was as if the world slowed, underwater, and the events unfolded like a bolt of cloth.
As Corvindale turned, he made a sharp movement. Something spun madly through the air and slammed into the torso of Maia’s captor. A stake. The vampire cried out and released her, tumbling to the floor, but by that time, Corvindale was there, slinging Maia up around the waist. She lost her breath and before she caught it again, he’d lunged toward the window. He caught the edge with his hand and pivoted them through the opening.
She heard someone scream as they went out, weightless, into the night, nothing but air around them.
15
AN INTERMINABLE CARRIAGE RIDE AND A PREEMPTIVE APOLOGY
“Do stop screaming,” Dimitri said, his ears ringing, his feet flat on the ground. He hadn’t even staggered when he landed. He adjusted his hold on the squirming woman in his arms, for now that they were on the ground safely, she was bound and determined to get free.
“You’re mad,” she was gasping. “Mad!”
This was no time to talk; Lerina and her make would be out and after them in a moment—either through the window or down the stairs. And though Dimitri had man aged a perfectly executed escape, he was still more than a bit wobbly in the knees and trembly in the muscles. Yet, the rush of energy from real, fresh, human blood had restored him more quickly than he’d thought possible.
But he wasn’t going to think about the consequences of that now.
Definitely not now. Much, much later.
Perhaps even never.
Ignoring Maia’s contortions, Dimitri ducked into shadows and dodged around the close-knit warehouses. They were, as he’d surmised, near the wharf, and even at this time of night, sailors were unloading and loading cargo, drinking, gaming and whoring. An easy environment in which to get lost.
If someone would keep her mouth closed.
“Hush, blasted woman,” he ordered. “They’ll hear you.” The last thing he wanted was to attract attention from anyone at the wharf and have to deal with that delay, as well.
It wasn’t until he flagged down a hack and she disappeared within, disdaining his assistance, that Dimitri was able to take a deep breath. And suddenly everything halted.
The driver waited for him to climb in, his hand on the door, an impatient look on his face. Certainly Dimitri knew he looked beyond disreputable, with blood streaking him every where, and what had been left of his shirt lost somewhere along the way.
But he was Corvindale, and he wasn’t about to be rushed into anything, particularly by the likes of a hackney driver. He glanced into the shadows of the carriage, easily able to make out Maia’s figure even in the dark. The prickling over the back of his shoulders and the upheaval in his gut bordered on unpleasant.
If he climbed into that carriage with her, he knew what was going to happen.
