Page 36 of The Duke’s Bloody Bargain

Hell. I hadn’t paid attention. We stopped in an empty dark corner. I studied the man, and yes, he was one of Rothbart’s thugs. He had an endless supply of them. If anything, I had an excuse to drain someone.

“We’ll follow him⁠—”

The tug in my chest was strong enough to cause me to shift forwards. But it wasn’t my bond with Irene.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” I bent over.

I searched the crowd and met the gaze of a gentleman I’d never seen.

A fine charcoal-grey suit, a matching top hat with a d’Orsay curl on the brim—the man had money. He didn’t particularly stand out in a crowd where there were men wearing fine clothes, but his presence called to me. His blood did. But not because I wanted to drink it.

He locked his gaze with mine.

The realisation dawned on me.

“He’s my sire.” I didn’t know if I’d spoken out loud or not.

The moment I finished the sentence, my blood stirred and urged me to go to him, and vivid memories flooded my mind.

He’d come to my flat, searching for my late sister Odette. He’d introduced himself as the Count of Bethlen and had bitten me three times before giving me his blood.

“Your sire?” Irene searched the crowd. “Where?”

I licked my dry lips. “Until a moment ago, I didn’t remember his face clearly, but now I remember everything. Every detail.”

He weaved through the crowd towards me, moving with an elegance that hid his physical strength. What the hell was I supposed to say to the man who had cursed me?

Irene shifted her weight. Her nervousness caused the bond to tighten. “Is it that gentleman? Why is he coming here?”

The closer he walked, the harder Irene gripped my arm, and the more I wanted to unleash my power.

12

EMBRACE WHO YOU ARE

Alex

Bethlen walked towards me, and the tug in my chest throbbed so hard I believed it was ripping my body apart.

He was taller and broader than I and moved with a lethal grace I’d never had. I’d met murderers and all sorts of criminals, human and otherwise, and none of them had sent a chill down my spine as my sire did.

Irene’s heartbeat pounded faster, a natural response to the proximity of a dangerous predator.

Bethlen stopped in front of me and gave me a long, appraising glance. His icy-blue eyes narrowed to slits. “You’re Mr. Alexander Hart.”

“You bastard.” I hadn’t planned to start the conversation like that, but it was the only thing I could think of at that moment, and aside from insults, I didn’t have much else. “You turned me into a monster.”

He arched his brow. “I gave you a gift, Alexander.”

I had no idea where his strong accent was from, and I didn’t give a damn, but it didn’t sound as funny as I’d thought the first time I’d met him.

“Gift my arse. You cursed me.” Fury rose swiftly, causing my blood to boil.

He tilted his head lightly when, behind him, Rothbart’s thug started to walk away. “You’re immortal, powerful, and feared. That is hardly a curse.”

My vision darkened at the edges, and red spots blotched it. I’d never been sweet or calm, but the speed with which anger flared up surprised me.