And then the door closed and they were alone in the shadow-swathed vehicle.
Even in the faulty light,Voss could see how pale she was. Her lips were bloodless and her eyes deep in shadow, wide and very nearly empty of emotion. She huddled in the corner, a quiet and colorless version of the intriguing woman he’d danced with, bantered with, kissed.
Nevertheless, he wanted her. So much he could barely draw a breath without being fully immersed in her presence. His veins leaped and pounded as he watched the play of passing illumination on her face, the light slipping over her cheeks, her lips, the hollow of her throat.
It was the close confines of the carriage. The silence, the privacy, the realization they were alone and he could have her. Just as he’d had any number of women, willing, unwilling, coaxed or convinced, over the decades.
He could slide across and sit next to her, murmur in her ear and tempt her to him. It would be over before she knew it, his incisors buried in her neck, her blood flowing onto his tongue, hands on her skin, their bodies straining and twining. Voss swallowed, considering.
And if his hot-eyed thrall didn’t loosen her restraints and bring her willingly into his arms, so be it…shewouldfind pleasure. Eventually.
It would be effortless. He could pull her to him, yank her across the space between them, gather her into his arms, find what he wanted.
Yet he didn’t move. His Mark twinged as if to ask why he held himself back, but Voss ignored it. Instead he pulled off his cloakand leaned forward quickly, draping it over Angelica, covering her half-bared shoulders. Then he settled back in his seat to plan his next move.
Angelica murmured her thanks and drew the cloak, which must be warm from his body, closer beneath her chin. Her eyes were so dark in her pale, oval face.
And as he looked over at her, captured by the curve of her cheek and the dark, exotic eyes fastened on him, something shifted inside him. Deep within, like a little mechanism falling into place.
He didn’t want to hurt this woman.
“Who were they?” She trained her gaze on him, still wide and shocked, but with some emotion therein. “What do they want from me and Maia?”
The second question was infinitely easier to answer than her first, and he saw no reason to lie. “They want to use you to get to your brother. As collateral or a ransom.”
“Chas? Why? For what?”
“He’s taken something that belongs to a man named Cezar Moldavi—there’s long been bad blood between his family and that of Corvindale and his associates.”
That was the simplest way to explain the two factions, or cartels, that split the Draculia: those who supported Cezar Moldavi and his thirst for power over the mortal world, and those who did not.
Voss tended not to ally himself openly with either, but that was because he preferred to remain neutral in the ongoing struggle. It was much less messy—and infinitely less dangerous—to remain above the fray. He wasn’t about to get caught in the crossfire, so to speak.
“Moldavi wants the…item your brother took returned to him. Those were Moldavi’s men tonight.”
“Men? Those weren’t men,” she said, her voice choked, her eyes flashing suddenly with rage. “They were…” She couldn’t seem to find the words, and her voice trailed off.“Vampirs.They werevampirs,weren’t they?”
He could barely hear the low syllables over the rumble of wheels along the cobbled street, but he saw the way her lips moved. He was surprised she was familiar enough with the Hungarian word to apply it to a man, rather than a rotting corpse. But, of course, being Chas Woodmore’s sister, she would probably know more than most other young women.
“What do you know about vampires?” he asked, pronouncing it in English. He asked partly from curiosity and partly to take control of the conversation’s direction.
Voss would be surprised if Chas had actually divulged to his sisters any details of his relationship with Corvindale and the Draculia. Woodmore was discreet, and well aware of the consequences of betraying those with whom he associated. He’d become a valuable asset to Corvindale in particular, but even Chas Woodmore was expendable if he overstepped his bounds.
And now that he’d been foolish enough to elope with Cezar Moldavia’s sister…Voss shook his head. Woodmore had been prudent to arrange for his own sisters’ safety and guardianship. Too damn bad for Corvindale the earl didn’t realize it would likely be a permanent arrangement. And that Voss had relieved him of the burden of one of his charges—at least temporarily.
He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Corvindale’s reaction when he learned Voss had Angelica Woodmore. The smile was more than a bit complacent. Perhaps then the man’s cold facade might crack.
Voss hadn’t known Dimitri before entering into his agreement with Lucifer. In fact, none of them knew each other before being turned immortal, for each Dracule came from adifferent geographic place, and in many cases, even different generations.
They became acquainted by accident, or perhaps by Lucifer’s influence—or likely a little of both—but since they tended to congregate and find pleasure, sustenance, and entertainment in the darkest, most dangerous and expensive pleasure houses or clubs, it wasn’t surprising they should encounter others of the Draculia in the same places in the largest, most exciting cities of Europe: Paris, Rome, Prague, Barcelona and, of course, London. Their world, after all, was a relatively small one.
Angelica had wrapped the cloak even closer around her throat, and he could see the shapes of her knuckles where they curled into the silk-lined wool. “What did you say to them? How did you get them to leave? Do youknowthem?”
So much for diverting the conversation.
“I’ve had…dealings with them,” Voss replied. Strictly speaking, that was true. He wasn’t sure why he hesitated telling her more. This conversation was pointless. He should be showing her his fangs and his glowing eyes, and getting beneath that cloak he’d so foolishly given her.
But, again, he didn’t. The fear lingered in her eyes, and he knew it would come back in full force if she realized he was of the very same kind of people who’d just mauled two of her peers.
