Page 62 of The Duke’s Bloody Bargain

He sat down, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I failed her. Again. I should have protected her. Instead, she’s dead. For the first time, I’m glad my father isn’t alive to see what I’ve done. She got the flu and was killed because those stupid werewolves believed she was contagious, that she had rabies, and I wasn’t there to help her.” His sorrow glowed dark blue in his aura and left no space for any other emotion.

“Actually, there’s something you should know.” I cleared my throat. “Lucy didn’t catch influenza or rabies. She was bitten by a vampire and⁠—”

“What?” His demeanour changed in a moment from sad to furious as he shot up. “Was it Ravenhill? Is that what you’re trying to tell me? I’m going to kill him.” Rage exploded scarlet in his aura, and fur grew on his face, neck, and hands.

Now I understood why Alex had trouble talking with Graves. “It wasn’t him.”

“Then who? Tell me.”

I closed my hands. “First, you calm down. And I would appreciate it if you didn’t use that tone with me. I’m trying to help.”

His fur withdrew. “My apologies.”

“You must have heard of people found dead, bloodless, in Whitechapel.”

He sat down. “Yes, I have. I thought Ravenhill was responsible for those deaths.”

I was offended on Alex’s behalf. “You don’t understand him at all. It wasn’t Alex, but a rogue vampire called Bethlen. He bit Lucy.” I paused to let him ponder my words.

“I don’t understand. Who killed Lucy then? Did he kill Lucy? Did he drink too much from her?” The veins in his neck swelled.

I supposed his inner wolf wanted to come out.

“No, he didn’t drain her, but Lucy might rise again as a vampire if Bethlen had intended to turn her.”

The look on his face was difficult to interpret. It could be anything from hope to disgust. His aura didn’t offer any hints either. It was a solid grey cloud with no tendrils or movements, although the sorrow for his sister’s death reached my chest.

“Lucy becoming a vampire?” Even his tone was dangerously flat.

Scarlet flashed through his aura—anger.

“We aren’t sure. We need to find Bethlen and ask him. But it’s good news.”

“Good news?” He looked like his old, strong self for a moment. “Lucy might become a bloodthirsty monster who cares only about biting people, and that’s the good news.”

“That’s not true, and do you prefer her to be dead?”

He clenched his fists, likely in an effort to keep himself calm. “Who is this vampire?”

“Alex’s sire, the Count of Bethlen. He’s ancient and powerful. He’s busy getting his revenge against Rothbart, a sorcerer who feeds off people’s pain and fear.”

His features tightened, and concern tinted his aura with sepia. “I know whom you’re talking about.”

That surprised me. “Do you?”

He rubbed his face hard, reddening the skin. His emotions exploded like the bubbles from a well-shaken champagne bottle. Colours glowed around him with a good dose of darkness. There was shame, fear, and deceit.

“What is it?” I twirled a finger towards his head. “I can detect your emotions. Please don’t lie.”

“There’s something I should tell you.” He chuckled bitterly. “Ravenhill is going to kill me.”

“Trust me, Ravenhill isn’t going to hurt you.” Not after what he’d done. “Can we stop talking about killing, please?”

“I suppose I owe him because he defended me and cared about Lucy.” Graves exhaled and placed his hands in his lap. “I worked for Rothbart in the past few months.”

“What?” The shock was so deep I closed my fists hard enough to hurt my palms with my fingernails. “Were you aware he tried to kill me?” White light glowed out of me.

It was ironic that now it was me bursting with anger. But Rothbart was the only person I truly hated, and it wasn’t a pleasant sensation.