Those eyes bored into her as a half-smile twitched his lips, and he waited as if trying to lull her. Meanwhile, his chest rose and fell as if his own anticipation was heightened.
Angelica realized at that moment silence had fallen. Even Ella was quiet. The only noise was her own gasping breaths and a soft, eerie gurgling sound that made the hair on her arms rise.
Something heavy and metallic-scented filled the air, and in that frozen moment, she realized it was blood. Lots of blood.
A horrified gasp escaped her and her fingers groped for something on the floor—a broken bottle, a piece of the bed,a pillow—anything. Her hand slipped through the puddle of blood gathering beneath her foot, roaming over the uneven wooden planks.
“Woodmore,” said thevampir. “Art thou Woodmore’s sister?” He stepped closer. “Speak now, or meet thy fate.”
A flicker of his attention to the opposite side of the room tricked her into looking there, where Ella lay half-sprawled across the tilted dressing table. The other intruder bent over her, his hand curled up into her hair. She’d stopped screaming and fighting, and even in her quick glance, Angelica saw the faint twitching of her feet and one hand. Blood stained the front of her gown and tinged her fingers.
“I am,” Angelica whispered, hoping that was the proper thing to say. The answer that would save her life…or gain her some time until Voss arrived.
Where was Voss?
“Chas Woodmore’s sister?” the man demanded in a voice that could only be described as disappointed. “The hunter?”
Hunter. Suddenly something snapped in Angelica’s mind—a vague memory crystallizing into a surge of hope. Stories from her childhood.
A stake. Right. A wooden one. Where? In the…in theheart.
“Yes,” she said to him as much as to herself. Yes, that was how the story went. Not the metal poker; that wouldn’t help. But wood.
A piece of the bed.
Now she felt blindly on the floor with purpose.
His eyes bored into her and she felt another surge of fear.
He looked as if he wanted to tear her into pieces. His smile revealed two sharp incisors, and as his grin widened, she saw that his teeth and gums were stained red.
With blood.
“Methinks you lie,” he said. A hand swung down and grabbed at her, but before he could drag her to her feet, an emphatic “No!”erupted from the corner. The grip released and she sagged back onto the floor.
He turned to glower at his companion, who, as Angelica watched, dumped the bloody mess that was Ella onto the ground. It landed in the faint square of sunlight. In the moment of distraction, she found what she sought and her sticky fingers closed around a splinter of wood.
“You are the sister of Chas Woodmore,” said the one who was obviously the leader, and who’d saved her life. At least for the moment. He walked toward her, swiping his mouth with a scrap of cloth. A quick, sharp look at his companion had the other one stepping back.
Angelica didn’t miss the look of fury he cast the leader, but her attention was caught by this new threat.
“Who are you?” she forced herself to ask. A strange calmness had settled over her—a moment when everything seemed to slow down and become very clear. She would have one chance to try and penetrate his chest with this piece of wood.
Whether it would work?—
Suddenly a great, sleek force burst into the chamber. Angelica ducked instinctively, and the next thing she knew, the vampire in front of her was flying through the air. The other one lunged, but too late, and Voss—of course it was him, tall and golden and ferociously catlike—grabbed him by the back of the neck and lifted him effortlessly.
Angelica gaped as Voss flung—literallyflung—the man across the room, pitching him through the sunny window like a rag doll.
The sound of agonized screams faded into descent as Voss turned to the leader of the pair, who’d landed next to Ella in the pool of sunlight. The intruder was gasping and writhing as if pinned there by some invisible bondage.
Voss lashed out and snatched him by the leg, then spun him neatly up and out into the full sunlight. This one didn’t scream, and a sudden quiet descended.
Angelica stared. It had happened so quickly, within a matter of breaths, she could hardly credit it. Voss was turned away from her, still staring out the window as if to be certain the invaders wouldn’t return.
Through the fog of shock, she nevertheless noticed and admired his shoulders—so wide and solid as they rose and fell—and the thick mass of tawny golden waves brushing the collar of his coat. One hand hung at his side, veined and powerful. Tightly fisted.
“My lord,” she whispered after a moment when he didn’t turn.
