Page 37 of The Duke’s Bloody Bargain

He chuckled. “Do you want to kill me? That is amusing. I was having a rather boring night, but you’ve changed that.”

“Irene, leave.” My fangs descended quickly.

She didn’t let my arm go. “Alex, please. Don’t do this.”

“I have to.” I removed her hand from my arm as gently as I could.

“Alex.” Irene shook her head, her pulse going faster.

Bethlen whipped his head in the direction of the thug, like a hound who had caught a whiff of the prey.

I grabbed the count by the lapels of his fine jacket and tossed him against the brick wall in front of me. Or at least that was my intention.

Somehow, he’d slipped out of my grip and dashed away, like sand through my fingers. He stood yards from me, an amused look on his face.

I held up a hand when Irene opened her mouth. “Go to the carriage. Go home.” I didn’t turn around to look at her.

She stepped in front of me, blocking me. “You aren’t in the right state of mind to fight against a four-hundred-year-old vampire who might be a rogue.”

“I’m in the perfect state of mind to show him how much I appreciate his bloody gift,” I gritted out.

From the other side of the street, Bethlen beckoned me to come closer. “Are you already giving up, Alexander?”

He lifted his fancy hat in greeting before using his superhuman speed to run.

Instinct took over. I didn’t have to think. The moment he vanished, I sprinted towards him, past carriages, carts, horses, and people. Irene’s voice was lost in the background noise.

Horses neighed and pranced at my passage. Someone shouted. I bumped into a drunken man, and we both fell over. The man groaned as I leapt to my feet and started running again.

Bethlen was a grey blur. He paused only to give me time to spot him. It was a stupid game, and I’d fallen for it like an idiot. Yet I didn’t want to give up.

He turned onto a less crowded street, and I chased him, pushing my body to the limit.

Every time I was close enough to grab him, he flew away, only to stop yards from me and tease me with a smirk.

Alley after alley, I chased the count to St. James’s Park. I couldn’t win. His speed and strength were superior. But I couldn’t stop either. Primordial anger fuelled me although I’d never let wrath cloud my judgement in the past.

This chase was suicidal. If he wished, he could bite me without me seeing him move.

The count came to an abrupt halt close to the shore of the park’s lake, lifting a cloud of grass blades and dirt with his elegant boots.

Gas lamp-posts lit the main path in the park, but the area close to the water was cloaked in darkness; my eyesight was sharp enough to catch every detail of him.

His fangs were fully extended, and his facial features were distorted at odd angles. His human traits were barely distinguishable. His ears were pointed, just like the vampire rogue in the painting. He was losing himself completely.

As his muscles swelled further, the fabric of his jacket ripped at the seams.

He flexed his hands open, waiting for me.

We moved at the same time and clashed with each other. His strength was immense and squashed every inch of my body. It was like wrestling a locomotive going at full speed.

I sank my fangs into his shoulder, but he didn’t wince. He returned the favour and dug his teeth into my neck, deeply and viciously.

The burning pain was unbearable. My back arched, and my knees threatened to buckle. I pummelled his side, hitting him with my knuckles as hard as I could.

He huffed as if my punches were a minor inconvenience, but he stopped biting me. The relief washing over me made me sag, and I lowered my guard for a second.

With a kick square in my chest, he pushed me back with enough strength to sweep me off my feet and toss me into the air. The wind got knocked out of me. I drew an arc towards the sky before slamming into the ground. The grass cushioned the blow as I hit my back with enough strength to make my bones rattle.