Page 1 of The Duke’s Bloody Bargain

1

PEACE AND HARMONY

LONDON, 1897

Alex

Iwould never forget that rainy grey day I’d walked into Whitechapel for the first time, but bloody hell if I wasn’t going to try.

I’d set foot in the poorest and most crowded part of London when my family went bankrupt. My father had lost his job, and we had sold our home in Clerkenwell, earning barely enough to rent a flat shared with fleas, rats, and enough humidity to drown us. Then things had gone from bad to worse when the flu outbreak had ravaged the city, and dead people had piled up in the streets. Including my parents and sister.

Whitechapel hadn’t changed much in the past ten years. The old cobblestones jutted out in different directions, making for bumpy carriage rides and staggering walks. The coal dust and the fumes from the sewage were the same, and the smell of blood permeated everything because butcheries opened at every corner.

What had changed was the effect the blood had on me.

Since I’d turned into a vampire, my relationship with blood had become intimate. With a whiff, I could tell animal blood apart from human blood. Heavy smokers had a pungent-smelling type of blood, as appealing as drinking chlorine. Healthy people’s blood smelt like fresh peaches, and the taste was even better.

My attitude towards life had changed as well. I wasn’t a street criminal who relied on his thieving skills to survive anymore. I was Ravenhill, the Duke of the Dark Court. That was an achievement I didn’t wish my parents to witness. They wouldn’t have been impressed by my diet.

Looking like a fairy-tale princess, Irene walked next to me. The sunlight danced on her golden hair, making it shimmer. As a wili, a spirit of vengeance who protected and avenged women, she emitted a delicate radiance I found comforting and alluring. More than that, she was everything I wasn’t—calm, compassionate, and kind.

She slowed her pace as we brushed past a group of dirty, scrawny children playing on the pavement. This part of Whitechapel was under the control of Sebastian Knight, the Duke of the Moon Court; he was a werewolf I’d helped fight an outbreak of rabies.

The children set their werewolf amber gazes on us, likely understanding a vampire and a wili had entered their court. I would have avoided coming here if not for Nathaniel Graves, a short-tempered werewolf who had been a member of my court before trying to take my place.

Irene gazed around, big sapphire eyes widening. “Knight isn’t taking care of his pack.”

“Which surprises me. Werewolves always watch over each other, and we did our best to help. His economic situation must be worse than we thought.” I tentatively held her hand and ignored the swift tremor going down my spine.

The contact never failed to spread warmth and awe through me, but there was a good dose of fear as well.

She didn’t grip my fingers but let her hand slide into mine gently. After weeks of practice, I hadn’t completely overcome the revulsion of touching and being touched. But at least I managed to hold her hand without feeling sick.

“You’re making excellent progress.” She always had an encouraging word for me.

But I didn’t think my progress was excellent or quick. There was nothing I wanted more than to hug her without passing out from pain. I had to thank my transformation into a vampire for this crippling condition.

I released her hand and stepped aside when a couple of women walked close to me. Shivers of concern that the women might touch me crawled down my spine. So much for making progress.

I loosened the collar of my shirt. “Where’s Lucy’s house?”

She gave me an understanding look. “Not far. Right around the corner.”

Hopefully, this visit wouldn’t be a waste of time. I avoided sunlight if I could; this afternoon’s promenade was as comfortable as sand in the undergarments.

Lucy was Graves’s sister and the only one who might help us find him.

If it were up to me, I would leave him alone to rot in whatever hole he’d chosen to crawl into, but Irene had insisted that repairing broken relationships would improve my role as the duke. And admittedly, I hadn’t treated Graves well.

Lucy’s house rose in the middle of an alleyway so narrow my shoulders skimmed both walls. The front door needed a new coat of paint, and the single window had never seen the sunlight, judging by the moss growing on the frame. Water was dripping from a half-broken gutter, and the plink noise was getting on my nerves.

“Graves fought hard to convince Knight to return this damp to Lucy,” I said. “I thought it would have been better than that.”

“It was.” Irene pointed up. “This building was originally the ducal palace, a refined, luxurious place. After the war, it was split in sections that were assigned to Knight’s people. What was left was this flat, once the servants’ quarter.”

“I’m surprised Graves didn’t say anything.”

“I suspect his sister asked him not to.” Irene was about to knock but paused. “Please try to contain your temper.”