Damien

The Vampyre Scrolls

Robin Danner

(c) 2008

Damien

The Vampyre Scrolls

Robin Danner

Published 2008

ISBN 978-1-59578-435-3

Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509

Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2008, Robin Danner. All rights
reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise,
without the prior written permission of the author.

Manufactured in the United States of America

Liquid Silver Books

http://LSbooks.com

Email:

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Editor

Ansley Blackstock

Cover Artist

April Martinez

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of

the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual
events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Dedication

To William, as always

Chapter One

London 1823

The streets of London were deserted, which suited Damien Valencourt just fine.

Feedings were much easier when he didn’t have to worry about witnesses. His
flamboyant style was attracting the attention of the Counsel, so it was best that he lived
by the straight and narrow for a couple of months. At least until their attention turned
from him.

As he stalked his victim, his ire grew. Damn the Counsel and their interfering ways!

He was not a youngling, needing constant supervision until he learned the ways of the
Vampyre. He was almost a thousand years old, older than some of the Elders. Older, in
fact, than Yasmine, the current leader of the Counsel. His continued refusal to join the
Counsel made him a Rogue in their eyes, someone not to be trusted. Olen’s assassination
last week made Damien’s position even more perilous. One tiny mistake was all it would
take for the Counsel to bring him in on trumped-up charges.

A gust of wind made Damien’s cape swirl around his ankles. He felt the slither of red

silk against his legs and smiled grimly to himself. The Counsel detested his habit of
dressing the part of a Vampyre. They preferred all Immortals to blend in with their
surroundings. Damien took pride in disappointing them. His sense of fashion was well
known about London and his appearance duly noted every time he attended a social
function. The ladies flocked to his side, while the men envied his charming wit and
handsome looks. Publicly he was the toast of the ton. Privately he was the scourge of
London. He fed on the members of society he judged to be unworthy. Criminals,
miscreants, and lechers; one and all. If he had to drink blood, it might as well be the blue
blood of the ton.

“Sir, can you spare a pence? My sister is hungry.”
Damien glanced down at the urchin tugging on his cape. He ignored the grubby

handprints the young boy left on the precious silk and reached into his pocket. He tossed
several guineas into the outstretched hand of the wide-eyed youngster. “There you go,
lad.”

The boy looked up at him in wonder. “Thank ye, sir! Thank ye very much!” He ran

away, clutching the coins to his chest protectively.

Damien felt a rush of compassion for the boy. He’d once been an orphan too.

Moments later he heard a yelp and his senses went on overdrive. Up ahead, the victim
he’d been stalking was accosting a woman plying her trade on the corner of two
disreputable streets. The woman was poorly dressed, her bodice ripped to shreds. The
elegantly dressed man at her side was clawing at her breasts and making rude remarks.

“Don’t be shy, Fanny. We’ll have us a good time together, just like last night.”
Fanny, the unfortunate whore, turned her head away when her patron would have

kissed her. “I want nothing to do with your kind of fun.”

The man ignored her protest, as Damien knew he would. He stepped closer to the

couple, still remaining in the shadows. “Trouble, madam?” He directed his question to
the prostitute, who was anxiously fighting off the man’s continued advances.

“Nothing I can’t handle, sir,” she responded, even though her arm was held in an

iron-like grip. She was unable to hide a wince of pain when her attacker squeezed her
tighter.

Damien lifted his walking stick and used its knob to tilt the brim of his beaver hat.

He sketched a courtly bow. “As you wish, madam.” He made a move to step past, but at
the last moment, he swung out his stick and neatly clipped the man on the back of his
head. He went down like a ton of bricks. Without sparing a glance for the prostitute,
Damien bent and hefted the man on his shoulders. For weeks, he’d been waiting for the
right moment to capture this man. He hid his cruel depravities behind a polite mask, but
Damien saw through his disguise. He was doing London a favor by ridding it of such
pestilence.

“Where are you taking him?” The prostitute watched the unfolding events with wide

eyes. Damien figured she’d gotten over her fear if she was able to question him now.

Damien turned toward her with a raised eyebrow. “Do you really care to know?”
She shook her head, but her curious gaze remained on Damien as he retraced the

steps to his carriage. Damien’s coachman was well used to seeing his lord carting off
strange persons. He barely blinked an eye now as Damien dumped the unconscious man
into the carriage and climbed in after him.

“Home, my lord?” the coachman asked.
“Yes,” Damien answered. He preferred to feed in the privacy of his own home. He

glanced at the dinner lying at his feet and his lips curled. Something told him this man’s
blood would be vile indeed.

* * * *

Charisse Baxter was not like other girls. Besides being the only daughter of a

powerful duke, she was fascinated by the tales of the occult. She went about London
dressed completely in black, although there had not been a death in her family for ten
years. She was always sticking her nose into other people’s business, desperate to know
the hidden workings of their mind. Her interests ranged from music to medicine to death.
She was obsessed with the dark tales currently making the rounds of London about the
dozens of bodies found dumped in the Park. All had curious bite marks on their necks,
which led her to believe in the presence of vampyres in England. She could barely
contain her excitement.

She thumbed through the pages of a book, eagerly examining the drawings. In one,

an elegantly dressed man had his lips pressed to the neck of a pretty young maid. The
look on the girl’s face was of pure ecstasy. Charisse traced the sketch with her finger,
consumed with a yearning to learn more about the elusive creatures.

“Please tell me you are not wearing that gown to the ball!”
Charisse glanced up at her father, who was lounging in the doorway to the library,

and wondered what was wrong with the way she was dressed. Her gown was perfectly
acceptable. It was made of the finest silk and fit perfectly. The neckline was modest, with
a hint of lace at her throat. “Do you not like it, Papa?”

Ralph Baxter, the Duke of Eddington, covered his face with one hand and groaned.

“Charisse, why do you persist in being so difficult? Black is not an acceptable wardrobe
choice for a ball.”

“Who says?” Charisse asked. “I happen to like black. It is very flattering to my

figure.”

The duke despaired of ever having his only daughter married and settled. “You will

be the laughingstock of the party.”

Charisse lifted one rounded shoulder in a shrug. “I already am, Papa. What’s one

more night?”

The duke sighed. “Don’t you want to fit in? Have friends of your own?”
Charisse gave him a wounded look. “I have friends of my own.”
He realized his mistake and rushed to placate her. “I know you do, darling, but I am

referring to friends among Society.”

Charisse thought of her hodgepodge group of friends and a smile lit her face,

transforming her rather ordinary features into somewhat pretty. “I like my friends just
fine.”

The duke straightened away from the doorjamb and sent her a hopeful look. “I don’t

suppose I can convince you to change?”

She shook her head and grinned irrepressibly. “Not a chance.”
“Well come along then. We don’t want to be late for your aunt’s ball.” He extended

his arm to her and waited for her to cross the room to him. As she did, he caught sight of
the snake wrapped around her wrist. “And please leave your pet at home.”

She pouted. “But Plague wants to go!”
The duke glanced at the snake. “Sally would never forgive me if I allowed you to

bring Plague. Put him up.”

She made a moue of disappointment as she unwound Plague from her wrist and

carefully placed him in his box. She blew the pet a kiss and turned back toward her
father. “Plague is angry with you.”

The duke rolled his eyes to the heavens. “He’ll get over it. Come. We will be late.”
They arrived at the ball fashionably late, which was as close to fashionable as

Charisse was ever going to be. When they entered the room, nearly every eye turned
toward them, curious to see the dashing duke and his odd daughter. The whispers began
immediately. Charisse was something of a local legend. Tales of her exploits were known
far and wide. Since she was seven, when she’d run off to live with a band of gypsies,
Charisse had become used to being the center of attention. At ten, when she’d shown up
at her mother’s funeral dressed as a nun, she’d crossed the line from just a bit strange to
infamous.

“Ralph, Charisse; how good of you to come.”
Charisse groaned loudly at the grating sound of her aunt’s voice. The duke nudged

her in the elbow and gave her a warning look. Be nice, he silently mouthed to her.

She pasted a false smile on her face and watched as the older woman made her way

toward them. Her aunt’s face was painted white in the old style. A red wig was propped
precariously atop her wobbling head and she was clothed in a violently purple gown.
“And you think my wardrobe is lacking,” she muttered to her father, who coughed to
cover his chuckle of amusement.

“Charisse,” Aunt Millicent cooed. “You look positively morbid.”
“Thank you, Aunt Millie,” Charisse said with a tight smile. “And you look

terribly…” she made an oofing sound when her father again nudged her in the side.
“Vibrant.”

Aunt Millicent simpered with delight. “Thank you, my dear. I bought this gown in

Paris during my last visit. The dressmaker assured me it was one of a kind.”

“Thank God,” Charisse murmured under her breath. She knew her father had heard

her comment when a fit of coughing attacked him. Out loud, she said, “You were lucky
to find it.”

“I really wish you would go to Paris with me, Charisse. It would be so much fun.”
Charisse could think of nothing worse. She’d rather be tarred and feathered than

stuck in a dressing room all day. “Aunt Millie, you know my work keeps me busy. I
could not dream of leaving London now.”

Aunt Millicent hated to be reminded of her niece’s hobbies. Her painted lips turned

into a frown. “Are you still determined to hunt vampyres?” She rolled her eyes toward
Ralph. “Nasty business. I do wish the murderer would be found soon. I won’t rest easy
until he is captured.”

Her aunt’s words mirrored the opinions of most of London. Unlike them, Charisse

found the investigation terribly interesting. If she were a man, she would be out hunting
for the killer instead of being forced to sit at home.

As soon as she could, Charisse detached herself from her father’s side and wandered

toward the refreshment table. She did not wait for a gentleman to serve her. Instead, she
plucked a glass from the table and took a sip. If she had to wait for a man to approach,
she would die of thirst.

She was something of an enigma to members of the opposite sex. If her father didn’t

intimidate them, her forceful personality would. She was not about to twiddle her thumbs,
praying someone would offer to get her a glass.

“I saw that.”
Charisse choked on her lemonade at the sound of a familiar deep voice in her right

ear. She spun around, her eyes widening when she recognized the person in front of her.
“Valencourt! I thought you were in Italy.”

“Just returned,” Damien, the Earl of Valencourt responded. He regarded her through

eyes of sinfully dark chocolate. “I grew bored.”

She placed a hand against his forehead, only to find it was cool to the touch. “You

must be ill. Why else would Rome bore you?”

“I missed London,” Valencourt answered. He turned toward the crowd and gestured

expansively. “I missed the intrigue and excitement of one of Lady Millicent’s grand
affairs.”

Charisse snorted with laughter. It was well known that her aunt’s balls were always

complete bores. “Hush. Aunt Millie might hear you and decide to host more balls. Then I
would be forced to attend instead of conducting my research and I would never forgive
you.”

He immediately sobered. “How goes your research?”
A few weeks ago, after the bodies were found in the park, she’d begun researching

vampyres. It started out as a hobby, but quickly progressed into an obsession. The more
she learned of vampyres, the more determined she became to track one down. She leaned
over and cupped a hand around her mouth. “Did you know that vampyres cannot have
sex?” She blushed as soon as the words left her mouth. Proper young ladies were not
supposed to speak of such things, but Valencourt was used to her bluntness.

“Bollocks!” he exclaimed. “Who told you that rubbish?”
She reached into her reticule and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She handed it

over to him. “A fellow by the name of Jake Tucker. He is a famous vampyreologist from
America.”

“Vampyreologist?” Valencourt repeated the word as if it was distasteful. “What in

bloody blazes is a vampyreologist?”

“What I aspire to be,” she informed him. “Mr. Tucker did an extensive study and

discovered all vampyres are sterile.”

Valencourt’s lips lifted into a smile. “Ah! Being sterile is not quite the same thing as

being unable to have sex, dearest Charisse.”

She hated being uninformed, especially when it came to vampyres. “Oh.”
Valencourt scanned the pamphlet, his amusement becoming more and more

apparent. He glanced at her with an undecipherable expression as he handed back the
paper. “Tucker is an idiot. His findings are based completely on popular myths and
legends.”

“I find him to be quite enlightening.” Charisse smoothed the wrinkled pamphlet

almost reverently and placed it back in her reticule. “Mr. Tucker referred to Olen several
times. Have you ever heard of this vampyre? He is said to be one of the Originals.”

Valencourt took a moment to answer. “I heard mention of him in Rome, but no

physical evidence has been found to support this theory.”

“What of his assassination? Surely you heard rumors of it in Rome?”
Valencourt shook his dark head. “No. Mostly the discussion centered on the bodies

found in the park last week.”

Charisse shuddered involuntarily. “Isn’t it disgusting?”
Valencourt did not answer. Instead his eyes were focused on something across the

room. She followed his gaze, groaning when she realized her father was studying them
from across the room. Her father was entirely too protective, but especially when it came
to Valencourt. Since she’d begun a friendship with him last year, her father’s attitude
toward him had cooled considerably. Valencourt would be a fine catch, rich, handsome,
and titled, but her father worried that he was only toying with her. Charisse did not share
her father’s concern. Valencourt’s interest in her, although it did not involve marriage,
seemed genuine enough.

She placed a hand on Valencourt’s arm, ignoring the tingles shooting up her fingers.

“He does not mean to be so rude.”

When Valencourt glanced down at her, his brown eyes gleamed golden. “He does

not trust me.”

“My father doesn’t trust many people,” Charisse said, by way of apology. When she

was this close to Valencourt, her wits usually deserted her. Thankfully, this time her mind
and tongue remained functional.

“It is a good habit to have,” he replied. His face grew forbidding. “There are many

dangerous people in London nowadays.”

She laughed out loud at his talk of gloom and doom. “You sound just like my

father!” Her laughter died a quick death when she noticed the approach of Carlotta
Youngblood, the reigning beauty of the ton. Unfortunately, the lady’s beauty far outshone
her personality. Charisse looked for a place to hide, but short of ducking under
Valencourt’s cape she was out of luck.

“Clarissa, darling! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Carlotta called across the

crowded ballroom. She rushed forward with outstretched arms, as if she expected

Charisse to rush into her embrace. She was to be disappointed if that was the case since
Charisse was not moving an inch.

“It’s Charisse, you nincompoop,” Charisse muttered loud enough for Valencourt to

hear. He glanced down at her with a twinkle in his eye that made her heart stop beating.
Really, the man was too handsome by half. She nudged him in the side and narrowed her
eyes. “Oh, do behave! You’re the reason she’s even talking to me.”

“If you didn’t want to talk to her, why didn’t you just say so?” He plucked the glass

from her nerveless fingers and dumped it on the table behind them. Before she could
make a sound, she found herself whirled toward the dance floor, wrapped in Valencourt’s
strong arms.

“Oh my!” Charisse exclaimed. She stumbled and nearly missed a step, but he

tightened his grip and swept her into an elegant waltz before she could protest. Not that
she was going to do it anyway. She lived for the few precious moments in his arms. He
did not dance often, but when he did it was invariably with Charisse. If she’d not already
been an outcast with females her own age, Valencourt’s interest in her would have tossed
her in the position regardless.

They whirled around the dance floor, keeping a proper distance between them, yet

Charisse caught the disapproving looks cast in their direction. No one seemed to
understand her relationship with Valencourt. Some said she was his mistress, which was
utterly ridiculous. Others said he felt sorry for her, which she lent some credence to. The
most outlandish opinion was that she reminded him of his dead wife. Charisse had not
known the previous Lady Valencourt, or even what she looked like, but she doubted
Valencourt would’ve aligned himself with someone as odd as herself. Charisse knew she
was not a beauty, not even remotely, and her oddities far outweighed her good
characteristics. In short, Charisse was firmly on the shelf, even though she was only
twenty years old.

“You can at least smile when you dance with me,” Valencourt remarked.
She stopped biting her lip, which she’d not even been aware she was doing, and

glanced up at him. “Sorry,” she mumbled and proceeded to give him a wide smile. She
might not have much going for her, but at least she’d been blessed with a set of even,
white teeth. Some people even said when she smiled, she could light up a room. A
fanciful notion to be sure, but one Charisse held dear to her heart.

“Much better.” Valencourt’s grin was almost wolfish. Her back began to tingle

where his hand rested. As if he sensed her inner thoughts, he pressed closer until mere
inches separated them. Her skirts brushed against his legs and she could feel the buttons
of his jacket through the thin silk of her gown. A rush of hot need filled her. How could
he leave her weak with desire from just one touch?

In an effort to distract herself from the strange feelings coursing through her body,

she attempted conversation. “Did you know there is an ancient scroll that is said to list all
the secrets of the Vampyre?”

He did not miss a beat. “Is there?”
She watched him carefully for any sign he knew more than he was letting on. He had

the disturbing tendency sometimes to act dense. “Mr. Tucker says it is never left
unattended. If it were to fall into the wrong hands…”

“All hell would break loose,” Valencourt finished for her.
She sighed enviously. “I wish I could see it.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she was whipped off the dance floor and

through the open doors to the terrace. Valencourt loomed in front of her, looking
dangerously dark and sexy. “You are not to attempt to find this scroll.”

She hadn’t said she wanted to, but she was curious to know why he appeared so

angry. Obviously, he knew about the scroll. Why else would he react as violently as he
did? It was time for some playacting. She plopped her hands on her hips and glared back
at him. “Since when did you become my father?”

He spun away from her and stalked to the opposite end of the terrace. His cape

fluttered around his ankles as he walked, yet the brisk wind did not seem to ruffle his
hair. He wrapped his hands around the stone balustrade and spoke to her over his
shoulder. “This is a dangerous game you are playing, Charisse. You could get hurt.”

She laughed at his dire prediction. “I can take care of myself.”
He moved so quickly that she must have imagined his speed. He was at her side in an

instant, his hands on her shoulders, his dark eyes boring into hers. “They would not
hesitate to kill you.” His hands loosened their grip on her shoulders and his fingers
moved to her throat. She shivered involuntarily as he stroked the delicate skin there. She
tilted her head to one side, silently imploring his touch. He began to lower his head,
almost as if he were going to kiss her neck, but suddenly tossed her away. “Go!” he
ordered harshly.

She ignored his command. “Are you angry with me?”
He backed away from her, his hands clenched into fists at his side. “No.”
“You are acting like it.” She relentlessly followed his retreat. He could go no further

once she had him backed against the balustrade. She put herself right in front of him and
put her hands on either side of his trim hips. “I refuse to let you go until you tell me why
you are so upset.”

Her head barely came to his shoulders and he outweighed her by nearly two stone.

He could easily push her aside, but he chose to ignore that fact. His lips curved into a
sensuous smile and she groaned to herself. Only Valencourt would resort to using his sex
appeal to charm her out of a bad mood. He relaxed against the balustrade, crossed his
arms across his broad chest and gave her an infuriating grin.

“Damn you, Valencourt,” she huffed. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” He gave her a look of mock innocence.
“You know very well what I am talking about.”
“No, I don’t. I’m afraid you are going to have to enlighten me.”
She glared at him and leaned forward until their noses were almost touching. “Stop

being a dunce.”

Her words were met with silence. She began to fear she had truly angered him until

she glanced at his eyes and saw his attention was on a shadowy figure watching them
from across the garden. She felt a chill rush across her skin. The figure almost appeared
to be floating in thin air. She opened her mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by
Valencourt’s harsh exclamation.

“Bloody hell!”
With that startling pronouncement, she suddenly found their positions reversed. Her

back was now against the balustrade, with Valencourt’s arms trapping her. Then his
hands were moving up her waist and pulling her full length against his body. She was
shocked senseless when he closed the distance between them and kissed her.

Chapter Two

The entire time his lips were on Charisse’s, Damien kept his gaze on the garden. The

Counsel had finally stooped to spying on him. That was not surprising. The fact they had
chosen Nigel was. Surely the Counsel had to worry that Nigel’s loyalties were a bit
blurred. After all, Damien had been the one to create Nigel. Although Nigel had decided
to follow the ways of the Counsel, no bad blood existed between them.

When he first caught sight of Nigel, he’d reacted without giving much thought to

what he was about to do. All he knew was that he had to hide Charisse. The easiest way
to do that had been by kissing her. Soon after touching his lips to her, Damien watched as
Nigel gave him a mocking salute and disappeared. He’d left several minutes ago. Why,
then, was he still kissing her?

Maybe because for an innocent, she was a damned fine kisser, or maybe because it’d

been so long since he’d held a flesh and blood woman in his arms. Damien did not follow
many of the Counsel’s rules. In fact, there was only one that he obeyed and he was
breaking it right now by being here with Charisse. He lifted his head and groaned as he
noticed her mussed hair and swollen lips. Out of all the women in London, why did she
have to be the one he desired? She was too curious for her own good and her recent
obsession with vampyres put him in a dangerous position. It would be better for all
concerned if he turned and walked away, but he could not do that anymore than he could
make his black heart beat again.

“Valencourt,” she whispered almost reverently. She gazed up at him with a silent

question in her eyes.

He may be double damned, but he would have one more taste of her mouth. His head

descended, capturing her lips in another heated kiss. She responded by wrapping her arms
around his waist and holding on tightly. She was passionate, he would give her that but
she was too inexperienced to know he was only toying with her. There could never be
anything more between them.

With a harsh curse, he set her away. He quickly put distance between them. Maybe if

he were not so close to her, his ardor would not continue to overcome his good sense.
The strains of a country-dance reached his ears and he recalled where they were. Damn it,
they were on Lady Millicent’s terrace in full view of anyone who happened to come
along. He raked his hands through his hair and growled with self-loathing. How could he
have been so stupid? If one person had witnessed them, her reputation would have been
in tatters. He couldn’t very well marry her, so damned if he would be the person
responsible for her downfall.

“Come,” he extended his arm to her. “We must return.”
She came forward and put a trembling hand against his forearm. He’d hoped that

would be the last of it, but she apparently still had her wits about her. “Do you know the
individual in the garden?”

He noted with displeasure the way she did not refer to Nigel as a person. He nodded

tightly. “Yes. He is an old friend.”

Her grip on his arm became more pronounced. “It almost appeared like he was

floating.”

Damn Nigel and his showy ways. He was going to have to have a talk with the

youngling about revealing his powers to non-vampyres. “A mere trick of the moonlight.”

“That was some trick,” Charisse replied. “How do you know him?”
“I‘ve known him since he was a lad.” He stepped aside so she could precede him

through the terrace doors.

Their reappearance into the ballroom did not go unnoticed. Several matrons glanced

their way with identical expressions of disapproval. Charisse ignored their whispers and
kept her gaze locked with his. “Why did you kiss me?”

He groaned. Why did she have to be so bloody curious? “Must I have a reason?”
She nodded so emphatically that a red curl slipped from the elaborate crown of

braids wrapped around her head. “Yes.”

“I’m a rake, Charisse. Shouldn’t that be reason enough?”
She laughed at him. A mere mortal laughing at him. It was not to be tolerated. “What

is so amusing?”

“You are.” She clamped a hand to her waist and struggled to catch her breath.

“You’re no rake.”

“What makes you say that?”
Her green eyes twinkled at him. “I’ve never seen you with a woman.”
“I conduct my affairs in private,” he answered smoothly.
“Bah!” She waved her hand imperiously. “Everyone knows you are practically a

monk.”

A monk? Him? Valencourt shook his head in disbelief. Never in his life had he been

compared to a man of the cloth. It was a preposterous notion. “You are mistaken.”

“Am I?” She swept boldly passed him and motioned toward the ladies assembled in

the room. “Can you give me the name of one woman with whom you’ve had an affair?”

Of course he couldn’t. He did not dally with humans; at least not for several hundred

years now. “A gentleman never tells.”

“You’re a flirt. I’ll grant you that, Valencourt.” She stepped closer and tipped back

her head to meet his eyes. “But I doubt you’ve made love to a single woman in this
room.”

She was correct, but there was one woman in the room he wished he could make

love to. Unfortunately, she was a brazen bit of baggage who needed to be taught a lesson
and he was just the vampyre to teach her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were
interested in beginning a liaison with me.”

Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. “What gives you that idea?”
He circled her, his gaze lingering on her lush curves. “You are very tempting,

Charisse. You would no doubt make a spirited companion in bed.”

She turned to keep her eyes on him. “What is this madness you speak, Valencourt?”
He pursed his lips and continued to study her. “Being virginal is a drawback, but we

can overcome it easily enough.”

She lifted her chin and gave him a haughty look. “What makes you think I’m still

pure?”

He arched a brow. “I know when I’ve kissed a virgin.”
She grabbed his cape and pulled him to a halt. “Stop. You are making me dizzy.”
Not as dizzy as she was making him. His tainted blood thundered in his ears,

drowning out every sound but that of her voice. Her full lips beckoned him. Her curves

promised a worthwhile romp. She would be perfect if only her curiosity did not extend
toward unearthing vampyres and in the process endangering everything he held dear.

“How do you know him?”
It took him a moment to realize she was asking him a question. He frowned. “Who?”
“The man in the garden.”
“We are distant cousins.” He did not lie. Nigel was the descendant of one of his

relatives; roughly six hundred years separated their births. “Quite distant.”

“Does he wish you harm?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
Her face scrunched into a thoughtful expression. It was an endearing habit of hers.

“He watched you very closely. There was a seriousness to the way he looked at you.”

Did she miss nothing? If she were a vampyre, she truly would be a force to be

reckoned with. “A minor dispute exists between us. That is all.”

He caught scent of another vampyre and his head jerked up. Who dared to invade his

domain? The inherent violence in his soul struggled to be released, but he kept a tight
rein on his emotions. He would not surrender to the darkness that consumed so many of
his kind.

His gaze swept through the room, finally landing upon a slight figure garbed in

priceless satin. As he watched, she glided across the room toward him. Her black hair
swept back into an elegant chignon and her exotic face caught the attention of every male
she passed. Why had she come here? If it was only to sway him to her side, she would be
sadly disappointed. He submitted to nobody’s rules but his own.

The female vampyre drew forth and a whiff of priceless perfume reached his nostrils.

The scent and the female before him reminded him of a time he’d rather not think about.

“Damien, we’ve been looking for you.” Yasmine, the leader of the Counsel, spared a

brief glance toward Charisse, who was openly staring at the two of them. She extended
her hand. “Come. The Counsel awaits you.”

He bared his teeth at her, careful to avert his head from Charisse’s avid gaze. “I have

no interest in joining the Counsel.”

Yasmine’s black eyes snapped fire. “If you do not want to be labeled a traitor, you

must come now.”

He pinned her with a dark look. “Do what you must.”
She glanced again at Charisse before giving him a tight smile. “Your time with her

kind is finished. We will soon be at war, Valencourt. We need you.”

“War?” Charisse touched his shoulder. “What is she talking about?”
“Silence, peasant!” Yasmine commanded.
Damien groaned. Charisse did not take well to orders.
“How dare you waltz into my aunt’s ballroom and speak to me in such a manner?”

Charisse drew herself up to her full height. “I am the daughter of a duke.”

“And I,” Yasmine stated. “am the daughter of a prince.”
If she thought that would silence Charisse, she was sadly mistaken. “You are in

England now. Unless you are the king’s own daughter, there is no one in London who
ranks higher than my father and I.”

Damien covered his mouth and whispered an aside. “I would not anger her if I were

you, Charisse.”

She ignored him, much as he suspected she would. “I am not frightened of her.”

Charisse looked down at her nose at Yasmine. “No foreign princess is going to insult me
and get away with it.”

An amused smile finally broke across Yasmine’s face. “I like her. Wherever did you

find her, Damien?”

He found he could breathe easier. Yasmine’s temper, when invoked, was highly

destructive. Charisse’s frail human body would never withstand Yasmine’s wrath. “She
found me.”

“Ah. So she is as bold as Nigel says.” Yasmine held out her hand to Charisse. “I am

Yasmine Hadras.”

Charisse nodded tightly. “Charisse Baxter.” She looked at Damien as if she were

waiting to hear the reason Yasmine was there.

It was a question he needed the answer to also. He touched Yasmine’s arm and

turned her to face him. “Why did you come here?”

Yasmine’s eternally youthful face clouded with pain. “Since Olen’s death, several

Rogues have begun talks of a rebellion. We need you to help quell the disturbances. They
will listen to you.”

“Olen?” Charisse piped up. “The vampyre?”
Yasmine lifted a perfectly arched brow. “She is extremely well informed. Have you

been divulging our secrets, Damien?”

“Of course not. You seem to be doing a fine job of that yourself.” Damien wished

Charisse would remain quiet. If she continued to display her knowledge, Yasmine would
label her a threat to the Counsel. She would be destroyed without mercy unless she was
put under the protection of a vampyre.

“What secrets?” Charisse piped in. Curiosity fairly beamed on her face.
Yasmine gave her a second look. He could see the calculation in her eyes as she

weighed the dangers Charisse presented to their kind. “Who is she to you, Damien?”

“Just an acquaintance,” he murmured evasively.
Charisse sniffed. “I’m his friend, actually,” she said to Yasmine. “He’s been

assisting me in my research.”

Damien tried to interrupt, but Yasmine spoke first. “What sort of research?”
Charisse’s face became animated with her excitement. “We’ve been researching

vampyres.”

Yasmine’s eyes widened and she turned to Damien quickly. “Damien, what have you

done?”

“Nothing,” Damien growled low. “She’s harmless.”
Yasmine did not look convinced. Her black eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Who is she

to you?” she asked again.

If he did not claim her, she would be in danger. He groaned as he realized what he

must do. Praying Charisse would keep silent, he gave Yasmine a bland look. “She is my
ward.”

Yasmine appeared pleased by the information. It was then he realized he’d been

duped. “I am afraid I must insist that you and your ward accompany me.”

* * * *

“Keep still!”
Charisse struggled against the bonds securing her hands behind her back and glared

at Damien. Her eyes burned with anger and she tried to speak, but the gag in her mouth
made it a garbled mess. How had she come to be kidnapped? Unlike her, Damien was left
unbound. He’d not wanted to accompany Yasmine, but he’d finally agreed. For some
reason, he was trying to protect her. From what, she did not know. Yasmine was barely
five feet tall and did not weigh much more than a feather. Of course, the petite princess
was damnably proficient at tying people’s hands together. Only minutes before, Charisse
had stepped outside the ballroom to be pounced on by Yasmine and tossed
unceremoniously into a carriage.

She used her tongue to push against the gag and finally succeeded in freeing her

mouth. “What is the meaning of this? Where are you taking me?”

Damien put his finger to his lips and shushed her. “If she hears you, she will return. I

doubt she will be so gentle next time.”

Charisse was spoiling for a fight. She’d been pushed around long enough. “I will

have her head for this.”

Damien put his hands under her arms and lifted her to sit beside him. “Calm

yourself, Charisse. I will not let them harm you.”

That was the least of her worries. If he wanted to worry about someone, it should be

Yasmine the next time Charisse laid eyes on her. “Untie me.”

“I cannot,” Damien said. “If I interfere with the Counsel’s plans for you, I would be

putting us both in danger.”

“Who makes up this so-called Counsel? My father has very influential friends.”
“I doubt he has friends among this circle.”
He was being very secretive. What was his connection to Yasmine? And why had he

said she was his ward? The thought thrilled her, of course. Who wouldn’t want to be
linked to the handsome earl? “Why did you lie to Yasmine and tell her I was your ward?”

Damien groaned and dropped his head back against the squab of the carriage. “Can

you please just sit there and be quiet? I cannot tell you anything further.”

Charisse prided herself on being an intelligent person, but she was at a loss for the

reason she’d been dumped into a carriage headed Lord knew where. Yasmine had
mentioned something about a group called the Rogues. Were they friends of Damien’s, or
enemies? He’d not looked happy to see Yasmine or very concerned with her plea for
help. Her thoughts screeched to a halt. Wait a minute. Yasmine had asked about secrets,
their secrets, when she’d mentioned vampyres. She turned to Damien with a dawning
look of comprehension.

“You’re a vampyre!”
He tipped an imaginary hat to her. “Guilty as charged, I’m afraid.”
She scooted to the opposite seat as quickly as she could with her arms bound behind

her back. Researching vampyres was all well and good, but learning that one’s
acquaintance feasted on human blood was another thing altogether. Did he mean to drink
her blood? The thought caused her face to drain of color. “If you are considering eating
me, I must confess that I’m anemic. I would probably be a wasted effort.”

He tilted his head back and laughed. “Relax, Charisse. I’m not in the habit of

devouring virgins. I only dine on aged blood.”

“That’s a relief,” she said numbly. This was the oddest conversation. She was sitting

with the Earl of Valencourt, who’d just revealed he was a vampyre. Why was she not
screaming her head off in terror? Even though it was probably stupid of her, she trusted

him. Either that or she was suffering from shock. She mustered up enough wits to ask
again. “Where are you taking me?”

He lifted his head from the seat. “Most likely we are going to meet with the

Counsel.”

She recalled Damien saying he did not want to join the Counsel. Yasmine seemed

desperate for him to join her, so the Counsel’s need for Damien must be dire. Despite the
dangerous situation she found herself in, she felt a thrill of excitement at witnessing such
a dramatic meeting. When she’d set out to unearth vampyres, she’d never imagined such
an event.

The carriage rumbled to a stop and the door was suddenly thrown open. Yasmine

was framed in the doorway, her beautiful face gleaming in the pale moonlight. She
motioned toward Charisse with a crooked finger. “Come, my dear. I will show you to
your chamber.”

“My chamber?” Charisse echoed. She sent Damien a beseeching look. “I cannot stay

here. My father will worry.”

“As well he should,” Yasmine bluntly stated. “You seem to not realize the dangers of

the situation you’ve stumbled into.”

Charisse turned back to her and gave a haughty sniff. “If you think a coven of

vampyres will scare me, you are sadly mistaken. I’ve read all the published studies and
probably know more vampyre facts than you do.” She sent a pointed glance in Damien’s
direction. “Once a vampyre claims a human as his own, no other Immortal can harm
him.”

Yasmine’s dark eyes flashed. “I see you’ve studied the code, but I wonder if you’ve

read the section regarding virgins.”

Charisse gulped nervously. Actually, she had. Virgins were considered a delicacy

among vampyres. Her untainted blood would draw them like moth to a flame. She
refused to show any fear. Lifting her chin, she glared at Yasmine. “I am no virgin.”

Yasmine briefly glanced toward Damien, who only shrugged in response. “Shame on

you, Damien. I thought you’d given up human lovers?”

He emerged from the carriage and turned to assist Charisse, who was clumsily trying

to get to her feet. “She is an interesting diversion.”

Charisse gasped as he hauled her against his chest and allowed her to slowly slip

down his body. It was an odd reaction for a supposed mistress, but she could not help her
response. She swayed forward and her face brushed his. “Thank you, darling.”

His eyes gleamed with approval. He knew she was playing a role now. He offered

her his arm as Yasmine huffed and turned toward the doors of the most elegant mansion
Charisse had ever seen. She pulled him to a stop and tilted her head back to study the
massive structure. “Good God, it’s a bloody mausoleum!”

Gargoyles stared down at her, their eyes seeming to gleam in the moonlight. Massive

arches flanked each wing of the manor, giving the house an eerie quality. A chill raced
across her spine at the unwelcoming aura it gave.

Yasmine heard her comment. “I was born here.”
“I’m glad it was you and not me,” Charisse muttered. “I would’ve had nightmares

every night as a child.”

“I am referring to my immortal birth. I was no child when I first came here.”
Charisse gazed at Yasmine. She couldn’t have been much older than eighteen when

she’d become a vampyre. Her face was youthful and unlined, her body lithe and limber.
Charisse felt a pang of envy for the woman who would eternally retain an un-aged
appearance.

They entered the hall and Charisse drew back against Damien when a dozen pairs of

eyes turned toward her. They were of various ages and races, but seemed to regard her as
the enemy. Damien put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze.
“Relax, Charisse. If they sense your fear, it will only increase their thirst.”

“That is hardly reassuring,” she snapped. She turned her head to glare at him, but the

expression froze on her face. Damien truly was a vampyre. She looked at him now and
wondered how she’d never noticed. His fangs had appeared and the look he gave to the
others warned them away from her. He was unbearably dark and dangerous, just like the
etchings she’d seen in Tucker’s pamphlet. The air in the hall grew tense and caused the
hair on the back of her nape to rise.

Finally, a vampyre detached from the crowd and made his way forward. Charisse

recognized him as the one who’d been in the garden. And she’d been right, he could
float. He looked the way she imagined an angel might, with golden curls and piercing,
light blue eyes. He was so beautiful it almost hurt to look upon him.

He reached out a hand to her. Damien hissed warningly, but the other vampyre

ignored him. He touched her face and she held her breath expectantly. She’d expected his
fingers to be cool, but they felt much like a human’s hands. The blond vampyre tilted his
head and cut his gaze toward Damien. “She is mortal.”

The other vampyres relaxed after his announcement, although some continued to

stare at her with hungry eyes. Damien’s hand slipped from her shoulders and he stepped
in front of her. The move was done casually, but Charisse didn’t miss the protective way
he hovered near her.

“She is my ward, Nigel.”
Nigel’s booming laughter echoed throughout the hall. “Ward? Is that what it’s being

called now?”

He’d seen their kiss, so Charisse could hardly misunderstand his intended slur on her

character. She drew herself as haughtily as she could with her hands still bound behind
her back. She couldn’t protest and say she was still a virgin, but damned if she would be
ridiculed by this man. Vampyre or not. “Sir, I am the daughter of the Duke of Eddington,
so I insist you kindly hold your tongue.”

Damien turned to her with fury in his eyes. “Charisse. For the last bloody time, be

silent!”

Nigel laughed again. He seemed amused by her, which only fueled her anger further.

She did not know who made her angrier, Yasmine, Nigel or Damien. Her green eyes
snapped at Damien. She would deal with him first since he seemed the least dangerous of
the bunch. “I will not be silent. I am not yours to be ordered about, Valencourt!”

She realized her mistake instantly. Damien wrapped his hand around her arm and

drew her forward until their noses were nearly touching. “Without my protection, you
would be tossed to the wolves.” His lips curled with derisive amusement. “Or in this case,
vampyres. I’ll thank you to remember that before you naysay me again.”

She glanced over his shoulder at the vampyres who watched the proceedings with

great interest. They eyed her in much the same way she would a succulent piece of pork.
Her anger fled, only to be replaced by nervousness. “I do not like this place, Damien.”

His eyes softened as he framed her face between his hands. “I know. As soon as I

can, I will return you to your father.” He leaned close to her ear, so only she could hear
his next words. “For now, listen to what I say or I cannot protect you.”

She shivered at the feel of his lips against the sensitive side of her neck. He drew

back and his eyes locked with hers, waiting for her answer. She gave a brief nod in
response. His fangs gleamed as he smiled at her reassuringly. “Now kiss me,” he ordered.

Her mouth dropped open. “What?”
He flicked his eyes meaningfully to the vampyres watching their exchange.
“Oh,” she said softly. He wanted them to believe she was his mistress. Remembering

their first kiss, Charisse had no qualms about repeating the experience. She allowed her
body to melt into his. His hands closed about her waist as she pressed her lips to his. He
wasted no time making his statement. His tongue thrust boldly into her mouth, leaving
their audience with no doubts of their intimacy.

Unfamiliar sensations flooded Charisse all at once. Her nipples hardened and her

body tightened into a spiraling coil. Flames licked at her feet and she was quite sure she
would be damned eternally for desiring a vampyre, but desire him she did. Pretending to
be his mistress would not be a hardship at all. In fact, she would even give up the
pretending part and become his mistress in truth if only he would continue to kiss her in
such a manner.

Damien broke the kiss and stared at her. She may be a virgin, but she knew her

desire was mirrored in his eyes. He lifted a hand to her cheek and brushed back a
wayward curl. “Why you?”

She frowned. “Why me, what?”
He shook his head. “Later.”
Damien spun around, his cape fluttering about his body, and strode toward the center

of the room. He held his hands out at his sides, palms up. “I am here. What do you want
of me?”

Yasmine stayed close to her side. Perhaps the female vampyre feared she would run.

Charisse could’ve told her not to bother. There was no way she was running without
Damien at her side to protect her. Besides, she was in the company of real live, in a
manner of speaking, vampyres. She’d spent many months hunting for a trace of the
creatures, so be damned if she was leaving before she had a chance to study them.

Nigel opened his mouth to speak, but Yasmine held up a hand. Charisse saw the way

his blue eyes flared with irritation. There was obviously a power struggle between the
two of them. Of the two, Nigel seemed more powerful, but Charisse knew looks could be
deceiving.

“Wait,” Yasmine ordered. She gave Damien a stern look. “We will speak of this after

your ward has been shown to her chamber.” Yasmine snapped her fingers and a young
girl hastened forward. “Joslyn, please show Lady Charisse to the green chamber.”

Joslyn curtsied to Yasmine and came forward to take Charisse’s hand. “Come. I will

show you to your room.”

Charisse visibly recoiled at the sight of fangs protruding from the young girl’s

mouth. She could not be much older than ten. Her eyes flew to Damien, but his
expression gave nothing away. Joslyn tilted her beribboned head to one side and smiled
up at her. “Do not worry, my lady. I mean you no harm.”

But someone obviously meant it for you, Charisse wanted to say. Who would do this

to a mere child? She felt an absurd urge to embrace the young vampyre, but common
sense prevailed. As much as she resembled a child, the blood of the damned still ran
through her veins. Charisse would be a fool to trust any of them. With a last look at the
one vampyre she couldn’t help but trust, Charisse headed upstairs.

The room she was shown to was elegant and spacious, but a prison nonetheless. She

noticed the bars on the windows immediately. Her spirits sank. If her life did become
threatened, there were no freestanding objects in the room. She would have no way to
defend herself or find an escape.

Joslyn moved to the center of the room and turned to her. She clasped her small

hands in front of her skirts and rocked on her heels. “I wish for us to be friends.”

Charisse lifted an eyebrow at the girl’s statement. How to explain to the child why

her wish was impossible? “We are from very different worlds, Joslyn. It would be very
difficult for us to be friends.”

Joslyn gave her a fierce look. “I may appear to be a child, but I am five hundred

years old. I am a member of the High Counsel of the Vampyre. Do not talk to me as if
I’m still an infant.”

“I’m sorry.” Charisse rushed to apologize. “I meant no offense.”
Joslyn gave a resigned sigh. It seemed at odds with her young appearance. “Forgive

me, Lady Charisse. I’m afraid the political upheaval has made me snappish.”

“Political upheaval?” Charisse queried.
Joslyn patted the edge of the bed and waited for Charisse to take a seat before doing

the same. “Since Olen’s assassination last week, the Counsel’s rule over Immortals has
been tenuous at best. Yasmine is a competent leader, but some vampyres are allowing
themselves to be influenced by Jebediah. It is the Counsel’s duty to bring the Rogues in
line before a war begins.”

Charisse struggled to absorb all the information Joslyn was voluntarily giving her.

“Who is Jebediah?”

Joslyn’s tiny lips turned into a sneer. “A Rogue who will stop at nothing to destroy

the Counsel. He is the one responsible for Olen’s death.”

With Joslyn’s revelations and the knowledge she’d gained from Jake Tucker’s

studies on vampyres, the situation was slowly becoming clear to Charisse. The only thing
she didn’t understand was Damien’s role. “Why is the Counsel so determined to recruit
Damien to their cause?”

The seriousness on Joslyn’s youthful face warned Charisse that she would not like

what she was about to hear. “Jebediah and Damien are brothers. Damien is the only
vampyre capable of destroying him.”

Charisse clenched her hands into tight fists. Oh, poor Damien. No wonder he was so

reluctant to come here. “By destroying I assume you mean kill.”

Joslyn nodded solemnly. “Damien must kill his brother.”
“To protect the Counsel?” Charisse asked.
Joslyn’s brown eyes watched her carefully. “And mortals. Jebediah plans to use the

Scrolls to stage an uprising. He despises all vampyres and plots to pit Immortals against
each other until none are left. Your kind would get caught in the crossfire if a war does
begin. Jebediah is so blinded by madness that he cannot be reasoned with. His destruction
is the only way we know to prevent a war.”

“What about the Rogues? Do they have to be destroyed too?”

Joslyn shook her head. Her dark curls and ribbons bounced against her chubby

cheeks. “Goodness no. Only the Rogues led by Jebediah are dangerous. Some Rogues,
like Damien, prefer to live solitary lives. They may not follow the Counsel, but they are
relatively harmless.”

Damien, a Rogue? Why did that thought not surprise her? “But what of me? Why am

I here?”

Joslyn gave her a pitying look. “You are here to keep Damien in line.”
“So I am a prisoner,” Charisse murmured.
“Not at all. You are our guest as long as Damien remains cooperative.”
“What if he doesn’t?” Charisse really didn’t want to know the answer.
Joslyn’s face took on a deathly seriousness. “Then we will not hesitate to use you to

force his hand.”

Something told Charisse she would not like knowing what the Counsel had in store

for her if Damien refused his duty.

Chapter Three

Damien waited until Charisse was safely upstairs before turning on Nigel. He bared

his fangs and grabbed the younger vampyre by the throat. “What is the meaning of spying
on me, Nigel?”

Nigel had the audacity to smile at him. “Unlike you, I abide by the commands of the

Counsel.”

Damien growled and shoved him away. “Damn you all! I have no desire to be on the

Counsel.”

Yasmine swept forward and held her hand out to him. “Do not be angry, Damien.”

Her dark eyes lured him to give in to her wishes. He almost fell under her spell until he
remembered his reasons for being there. He jerked his eyes from hers.

“Do not try your mind tricks on me, Yasmine. What is it you want of me?”
Yasmine’s skirts rustled as she moved to Nigel’s side and nudged him forward. “Tell

him, Nigel.”

Nigel glared at her, but he was wise enough to not argue. His blue eyes raked over

Damien as he spoke. “Jebediah has become a threat to the Counsel.”

Damien simply stared. Of all the things they could have told him, this was the

absolute last thing he wanted to hear. “What evidence have you?”

Samantha, the youngest Immortal on the Counsel, in terms of vampyre years,

stepped forward. “He arranged Olen’s assassination. When we captured the assassin, he
admitted that Jebediah hired him. He also told us your brother is preparing to lead the
Rogues in a rebellion.”

Damien refused to believe without further proof. “Where is this assassin?”
Samantha’s eyes told the story. “He was executed when he tried to escape.”
“I will not condemn my brother with the words of an assassin.” Damien looked

around the room, silently daring one of the eleven Counsel members in the hall to refute
his claim. Some eyed him with pity, others grew restless with his continued refusal.
Omar, a vampyre from Africa, was the first to argue.

“Your brother killed Olen,” Omar snapped. “We cannot let his crime go

unpunished.”

Omar outweighed him by nearly three stone, but Damien came forward to stand toe

to toe with him. “Until I have further proof, I refuse to take part in this plot.” Damien felt
something brush against his back and he glared over his shoulder at Yasmine. “What say
you? You will kill your ex-lover on the claims of a Rogue assassin?”

Yasmine’s beautiful face clouded with pain. “Yes, if I must.” She touched him again

and he could feel her calming presence slip over him. “I love him too, Damien, but we
must protect the Scrolls at all costs. Without them, the human race will cease to exist.”
Her eyes met his knowingly as she continued. “Charisse and her kind will cease to exist.”

He shook off her hand and immediately felt the loss of her calming influence. “If the

Counsel believes Jebediah to be a threat, why not deal with it yourself? Why bring me
in?”

“No one has your strength,” Nigel answered honestly. “We would be no match for

Jebediah.”

Damien turned his back on all of them and struggled to contain his emotions. They

wanted him to destroy his brother; his own flesh and blood. It was too horrible to
consider. He clenched his fists and turned back to face the other vampyres. “Yasmine is
just as strong as I am. Why not send her?”

Lionel, previously a Flemish merchant, shook his head, causing his mane of white

hair to float in the breeze stirred. “Yasmine was once his lover. He could get into her
mind too easily.”

Damien lost his grip on his tightly held emotions. “I’m his brother, damn you all! Do

not ask this of me.”

“We wouldn’t have, had it not become necessary.” Nigel floated to his side and

handed him a rolled sheet of vellum. “This was found with Jebediah’s personal
belongings. You should recognize his seal easily enough.”

Damien glanced at the broken wax. It was the emblem of a serpent and hawk, his

family’s personal signet. He unfolded the note and began to read. It detailed the
movements of Olen the month prior to his death. The note ended with his brother’s
distinctive signature. Damien lifted his eyes and pinned Nigel with a pointed look. “This
proves nothing.”

Nigel shrugged. “Suit yourself, Damien.” He floated across the room and returned

holding something in his hand. He held out the object, palm up. Damien looked down
almost against his will and immediately recognized the dagger in Nigel’s hand. It was
identical to the one he himself carried except for the flourishing J scrawled into the hilt.
Nigel could tell he recognized it. “This dagger was used to kill Olen.”

Damien could no longer refute the Counsel’s claim. His brother had obviously had

Olen murdered, but why? It was true that Jebediah was a Rogue, but he’d never been
known to be a particularly dangerous vampyre. He was a hermit, choosing to reside in the
mountains of Siberia rather than the native England of his human birth. What had
happened to make Jebediah command a rebellion? The question barely popped into his
thoughts before his attention turned toward Yasmine. As his brother’s ex-lover, she
would have the most insight. “Do you believe my brother guilty of this act?”

Yasmine bowed her head, her dark hair obscuring her face. “Most assuredly.”
Intense pain flooded Damien’s skull, nearly bringing him to his knees. He would not

allow anyone to get their hands on the Scrolls, but neither could he bring himself to agree
to his brother’s destruction. He raked his hands across his face, tenuously keeping
himself calm. “Is there no other way?”

Lionel’s face filled with pity. “No, there is not. We could capture him, but vampyres

do not deal well with captivity. He would go mad within the week and there’s no telling
what he would try to do then.”

Sensing that he was weakening, Nigel continued the discussion. “I hope you know

we would never ask this of you had we not thought it imperative.”

“I know,” Damien sighed. He straightened his posture and prepared himself to face

his destiny. “I will protect the Scrolls at any cost.”

“Even if it means your brother’s life?” Yasmine asked. Pain and empathy flashed in

her eyes, but she kept her tone carefully neutral.

Damien lowered his eyes. “Even then.”

* * * *

It was nearly morning when Damien came to her.
Charisse paced by the window, dressed in an old nightgown of Yasmine’s, when he

suddenly appeared. She jumped nearly a foot when the door opened. “Damien! You
frightened me.”

He smiled, but she was pleased to note that his fangs were not on display. After

fearing for her life since Joslyn had left room, those were the last thing she wanted to see.
She gripped the windowsill to keep from running to him and throwing her arms around
him like a frightened child.

He moved toward her, frowning when she instinctively shrank away from him. The

hand, which he’d lifted, dropped back to his side. “You must not fear me, Charisse. I
mean you no harm.”

She searched his face for any sign that he knew he was being recruited to destroy his

own brother. “What did the Counsel wish to speak to you about?”

She thought he’d deflect the question, but he surprised her by answering truthfully.

“My brother; he has become a threat and must be stopped.” He dropped into the room’s
only chair and stretched his legs toward the fire, even though she knew temperature had
no effect on him. He stared at the fire, while she watched the glow of the flames dancing
upon his face.

She began to creep forward. “Are you very close?”
“Once upon a time, we were.”
She reached his chair and glanced about for a place to sit. He patted his knee, but she

eyed it doubtfully. “I prefer to stand.”

He turned his face up to hers and she was struck dumb by the handsomeness of his

features. With the light from the fire flickering across his face, he resembled a fallen
angel. A dangerous angel that she would be a fool to get involved with. Her father had
always warned her that her curiosity would get her in trouble and it had, just not the way
either of them had expected.

Damien grasped her waist and tugged her across his lap. “I’ve told you I will not

harm you. Do not be afraid to be near me.”

She struggled with her billowing nightgown and gave him an exasperated look. “I

am not afraid of you. I declined your lap because it is improper.”

His face mirrored disbelief and then amusement. “Charisse, my dear. You are

prisoner to a vampyre coven, which believes you to be my mistress. Propriety hardly
seems to matter at the moment.”

“You are probably right, but I still prefer to stand.” She slid off his knee and climbed

to her feet. She stood with her back to the fire, unaware that the light made her gown
nearly transparent. “What are you going to do about your brother?”

He put his head against the back of the chair and refused to meet her eyes. “I don’t

know yet.”

She wet her lips nervously. Her next question would surely anger him, but she had to

know. “How do you destroy a vampyre?”

His eyes, dark as obsidian, slid to hers. “There are many ways. Do you plan to use

the knowledge against me?”

If it became necessary perhaps, but Charisse couldn’t foresee such an event

happening. “Of course not,” she reassured him.

He studied her briefly. With a fatalistic shrug, he motioned her forward. “I don’t see

how it matters anyway. Considering what I’ve been asked to do to my own brother, death
might be an enviable state.” He waited until she stood at his knee and then he reached out
and traced the area above her heart. “A wooden stake in the heart will only work on the
younger vampyres. For the elders, you must use silver.”

So that particular myth was true. Charisse cataloged it in her mind for future

reference. “What about garlic and holy water?”

Damien shook his head. “Pure rubbish.”
“And sunlight?”
Damien glanced toward the window, which was just beginning to show streaks of

dawn. “Regretfully true, but some vampyres can withstand it.”

She followed his gaze. “Can you withstand it?”
“Sometimes, but it weakens me.” He squinted at the sunlight, mentally judging the

time he had left. “I should go.”

Recognizing the cause for his worry, she nodded. “Of course.”
She stepped back as he stood, raising her chin to keep her gaze on his face. He held

out his hand, amused by the way her eyes widened. “Come.”

“Why?” She was clearly distrustful of him.
He smiled, enjoying her discomfort. “I cannot allow you to roam about unprotected

while we sleep. You must join me.”

She visibly recoiled. “Absolutely not. I am not spending my daylight hours in a

coffin!”

Damien laughed and took her hand. “Once again, a myth.” He tugged her toward a

hidden passageway on the opposite of the room. “I will show you.” He pulled down the
candelabra and a door swung open. He swept her through the opening before closing the
door behind them. Pitch dark enclosed upon them. She stumbled, so he tightened his arm
about her waist. “Careful. A few stones are loose.”

He led them to the bottom of the stairs where they ended up at a miniature replica of

her chambers. Soft light spilled from a candle that had been thoughtfully provided. She
looked around her in awe. “It’s just like my room upstairs!”

Damien did not answer. He continued moving, towing her relentlessly to the bed in

the center of the room. He swept back the covers and gestured for her to climb in. She
lifted an eyebrow at him. “I most certainly am not getting in bed with you.”

She could tell he was exhausted. His eyes were sunken and his face paler than

normal. “Charisse, do not make this difficult. I will chain you to my side if I must.”

He was completely serious. She had no desire to wear manacles, so she kicked off

her slippers and climbed between the cool, fresh smelling linens. She was exhausted
herself, actually. Her head sank into the pillow and she let out a pleased sigh. She perked
up when Damien’s hands moved toward the ties holding his cape in place. She’d never
seen a naked vampyre. Or a naked man, for that matter. She was to be disappointed. He
undid the laces of his cape and the red silk slithered to the floor, followed by his jacket
and cravat. He removed his boots, but kept on his shirt and breeches as he climbed in
beside her.

The mattress shifted and she rolled toward him. She caught herself at the last

moment and scrambled back to her side of the bed. Damien lifted up onto his elbows to
blow out the candle and the whole room went black.

She lay beside him, stiff as a board, listening for any sounds that said he was asleep.

How long did it take a vampyre to fall asleep? She tried to listen for his breathing, but
realized it was pointless since he didn’t require oxygen. There were so many things she
wanted to ask him, but she didn’t want to wait until morning. Well, until evening she
supposed.

She abandoned patience and turned on her side to face him. She couldn’t see him,

but she could sense that his eyes were on her. “Damien, are you asleep?”

The bed sheets rustled as he turned on his side also. His leg brushed against hers and

she felt the tickle of his fingers against her ribs. The bed was small, so there was really no
way for the two of them to maintain their distance. “Not yet.”

She pillowed her head on her left arm and reached out to touch him. She couldn’t be

sure, but she believed her hand rested against his chest. “Do you mind if I ask you a few
questions?”

He chuckled. “Always so curious, little Charisse.” Then he sighed. “Ask away.”
“How old are you?”
She could hear the grin in his voice as he answered. “Over seven hundred.”
She was with a seven hundred year old vampyre. In bed with a seven hundred year

old vampyre, to be exact. “How did you come to be a vampyre?”

His voice became labored, as if the memories were painful to recall. “Jebediah and I

were returning from the Crusades when we were set upon by a coven of younglings. We
were near death when an ancient vampyre appeared and scared them off. He took pity on
us and turned us into what we are today.”

“How did he do it?”
She felt something brush against her neck and realized it was his lips. He sucked

lightly on the tender skin there before laving it with his tongue. “In much the same way
you imagine. He drank our blood and then gave his vampyre blood back to us.”

Her heart was racing from his touch and the horrific tale he described. “Was it

painful?”

He chuckled and the raspy sound of his amusement made her shiver. “Not really

pain. More like a bombardment on all your senses at once.”

She was enthralled by his story. He’d seen so many things in his life. Known such

excitement, such danger, such sorrow. “Who was the vampyre?”

“Olen.”
Her eyes widened in the dark. Olen, the previous Counsel leader who’d been

assassinated by Jebediah. It was almost like patricide.

Damien continued speaking. “He taught us the ways of the Vampyre. When we were

ready, we were brought here to the Counsel, who saw to it our training was completed. It
was where we first met Yasmine. She and Jebediah fell in love instantly.”

Charisse gasped. Jebediah and Yasmine were lovers? The tale was growing even

more dramatic. “What happened to them?”

Damien’s fingers again brushed her ribs, so she reached down and linked their hands

together. She gave him a comforting squeeze.

“Jebediah resented his immortality and wanted to become human again. The

transformation is detailed in the Scrolls. One night, he tried to steal them, but Yasmine
prevented him from doing so. They argued and the next morning, Jebediah disappeared.”

She was silent as she absorbed the information. A vampyre could become mortal

again? Tucker had alluded to the transformation in his pamphlet, but she hadn’t believed

him. “Has anyone ever attempted to become mortal?”

Damien slid his hand from hers. “A few. None have yet succeeded.”
“Have you tried it?”
“No.”
She frowned at him, even though she knew he could not see her disappointment.

“Why not?”

She could sense the tension in the room before he even spoke. “If you were

immortal, would you want to give up eternity for the miseries of human life?”

Put that way, she could see his point. “But isn’t it lonely? Spending an eternity by

yourself with no friends and family?”

“I have friends,” he answered. “They just don’t live as long as I do.”
“And you still have a family,” she pointed out.
“For now,” was his cryptic answer.
She shivered at the darkness in his tone. How horrible it must be for him to face the

probable destruction of his brother at his own hands. For once, her common sense
overruled her curiosity and she dropped the remainder of her questioning. She was not
yet as prepared to face the truth of what was about to happen as she’d thought she was.

* * * *

Damien lay beside Charisse, listening as her breathing slowed and became the deep

respirations characteristic of a mortal’s sleep. His own sleep was not as peaceful. He
tossed and turned, even though exhaustion was in every part of his body. His mind would
not let him rest. Memories of Jebediah as a boy kept running through his thoughts. The
dark haired lad who’d followed him everywhere, even to the Crusades. Damien had tried
to make him stay in England, but sixteen-year-old Jebediah was determined to join him in
the fight. Barely twenty himself, Damien tried to shield his younger brother from the
horrors of war. Eight years later, they’d returned changed men. Their youth was gone,
replaced by the battle weary souls of old soldiers. When the younglings attacked them,
Damien fought like a demon to protect Jebediah, but to no avail. Their mortality was
stolen and replaced by the ancient blood of the damned.

At first, Damien had resisted Olen’s teachings. He didn’t care to learn the ways of

the Vampyre, but as Jebediah sank deeper and deeper into darkness, he knew he must
learn all he could if he was to ever save his brother. Jebediah did not adjust well to
immortality. He rebelled every chance he got and when he’d tried to take the Scrolls,
only Olen’s powerful influence had kept him from being put to trial by the Counsel.

Damien clenched his hands into fists. He would not fail his brother now. If Jebediah

was innocent, he would discover the truth. If he was guilty of the charges put forth by the
Counsel, Damien would do all he could to save him from madness. With that last
thought, exhaustion finally overtook him and he allowed himself to fall into a deep sleep.

He awoke several hours later to the sound of moaning. He turned his head to glance

at Charisse. Her red hair was tangled about her face. Her lips parted and a keening sound
escaped her lips. She was having a nightmare and no wonder. Being kidnapped by
vampyres had to be a traumatic experience for her.

“Kiss me, Damien,” she whispered. He’d lifted his hand to wake her, but he paused

at the sound of her quiet plea. Was she awake? He glanced again at her face, but her eyes
remained closed. He felt a rush of desire. She was dreaming about kissing him. How in

the hell was he supposed to remain unaffected by her now?

He dropped his head back against his own pillow and groaned. This was surely the

most impossible situation he’d ever found himself in: in bed with his supposed mistress
and unable to touch her. Charisse called his name again in her sweet, lilting voice. He put
a pillow over his face and cursed violently.

He forced himself to remember why he didn’t consort with mortals. A vampyre’s

sensual nature was sometimes violent. He didn’t want to inadvertently hurt Charisse in
the throes of his passion. She called his name a third time and he could feel his resistance
weakening. Damn Yasmine for bringing her here.

* * * *

Charisse dreamed she was being kissed by a handsome rogue.
She felt the tickle of his hair against her cheek and then the velvety softness of his

tongue as it traced the seam of her lips. She opened her mouth to invite his invasion while
her hands slipped into his silky hair and held him in place. She stroked her tongue against
her dream lover’s and murmured his name.

“Charisse,” he said and his hands smoothed across her hips, bringing her flush

against his body. A hard cock pressed against her belly. She wondered how a dream
could seem so real. A hand settled on her bottom and pressed her even tighter against a
body corded with muscle. She arched against him even while she struggled to
wakefulness.

In slow degrees, she came to her senses. She promptly lost them again. Damien, not

some imaginary lover, was kissing her senseless while his hands stroked her body and
tempted the flames of desire burning in her belly. He lifted her leg and draped it over his
hip. Her nightgown rode up as he pressed a knee against her throbbing center. She
moaned his name again and tightened the grip of her leg about his waist.

She felt cool air against her body as he tossed aside the covers and inched her

nightgown past her waist. His fingers skimmed the sides of her breasts as he continued to
move her nightgown higher. Then she was naked and his hands traced the contours of her
body, surely relying on his sense of his touch since the room was still plunged in
darkness.

His hands left a trail of fire wherever they touched. When his hand moved between

her legs to touch her clit, she moaned and the sound echoed through the room. He
silenced her with another blistering kiss as one finger touched the hidden folds of flesh
between her legs. She opened her legs wider, silently imploring him to continue. He
scraped his fingernail against her fevered skin and she started shaking uncontrollably.
She wondered if her overwhelming response was merely the result of knowing he was
forbidden, or because of some deeper emotion. Would having a mortal man touch her in
the same way cause the same reaction?

Damien’s hand stilled, one finger still buried against her warmth. “You will not seek

the answer to that question.”

Her eyes flew open. She had not realized she’d spoken aloud. In fact, she was quite

sure of it. “What question?”

He withdrew his hand and she gasped at the acute sensation of loss. She heard a snap

and light suddenly appeared from the candle on the bedside table. Damien’s face was cast
in the shadows, lending him a false appearance of evil. He lowered his hand and she

realized the snap she’d heard had been his fingers. He could light a candle by snapping
his fingers. How extraordinary! What else could he do?

“Do not try to change the subject, Charisse.”
This time, she was completely sure she’d not spoken aloud. He was reading her

mind! The thought horrified her as she thought of all the secret fantasies she’d had
surrounding him. Had he known all along how much she desired him?

His lips curled with amusement. “Yes.”
The rogue! She balled up her fist and punched him on the shoulder. “Stop doing

that!”

He caught her hand and brought her fingers to his lips. “I was flattered by your

admiration, Charisse.”

She reached for the sheet to cover her nakedness. She wrapped it around her body

and slid off the bed. “Those were my private thoughts. You had no right, Damien.”

He lunged for her, capturing her about the waist easily and tugging her forward until

her knees hit the bed. “You think I asked for the gift? You’ve no idea what kind of
secrets I am privy to, all against my will.” He tilted his head back and studied her
mutinous face. “It doesn’t happen all the time. Only when the mortal is open to my
thoughts.”

Which was about ninety-nine percent of the time in her case. She crossed her arms

and glared down at him. “You should have told me.”

“Told you what?” He rose up on his knees, putting their faces on an even level. “I

was a vampyre? I can read your mind?” He shook his head. “I couldn’t take that chance.”

“I thought you were my friend. You should’ve trusted me.” She was hurt that he’d

not confided in her.

“I am your friend. I do trust you.” He drew her forward and pressed a kiss against her

unresisting lips. “But I don’t want to see you harmed.”

“You would never harm me.” She leaned against him, silently begging for more.
“Not intentionally, but a vampyre’s lust sometimes overcomes his willpower.”
Her voice was shaky. “Lust for blood?”
His hands tightened about her waist an instant before she found herself lifted and

placed in his lap. “Any sort of lust, Charisse, but most especially this kind.” He took her
lips in a savage kiss. A kiss meant to silence her questioning and put an end to her
curiosity. Instead, it only served to make her more determined to learn his secrets.

She balanced herself on her knees and reached for the hem of his shirt. She tugged it

from his breeches, lifting the shirt over his head and exposing his chest. Her fingers
traced a path across his sternum and moved lower. She bent forward and pressed her lips
to his nipple, smiling against his skin when he gave a harsh moan in response.

He tugged on her hair, lifting her eyes to his heated gaze. “You are playing with fire,

Charisse.”

She licked her lips in anticipation. “Then let us burn together.”
He was weakening. She could tell it from the languid look that crossed his face. His

eyes roamed her body before returning to meet her gaze. “Not now.”

Her disappointment was plainly visible. “Then when?”
He gently set her aside and moved away from the bed. “After I’ve eaten and met

with the Counsel.”

“Can I join you?”

He gave her an odd look. “While I feed?”
She nodded excitedly. “Yes. Can I?”
“You are a bloodthirsty little wench, aren’t you?” he teased.
“Not really. I’m just curious.” She waited for him to say whether she could

accompany him.

“It is not a good idea, Charisse. Until the rebel Rogues are captured, you are safer

here.”

She pouted, but he had a point. Besides, his absence would give her a chance to

search for the Scrolls.

Chapter Four

“Can he be trusted?”
Yasmine glanced at the vampyre walking at her side. Lionel was the wisest of their

kind, having lived fifty-seven mortal years before becoming immortal. He stroked his
beard and pondered her question.

“Damien has never given us cause to doubt his sincerity. Honor and integrity are still

important to him, probably the result of his years as a Crusader.”

Yasmine, whose father had been killed at the hands of a Crusader, did not argue.

When she’d been mortal, she’d blamed all Englanders for her father’s death. After
becoming immortal and meeting Damien and his brother, her hate had disappeared as she
formed a fast friendship with the two English vampyres. “What of her? She knows too
much now to ever be released.”

Lionel’s pale eyes scanned the street for their prey. “We could cleanse her memory

after this is finished.”

“It is too dangerous. Her brain could easily be damaged. Damien will never allow it.”
Lionel’s fangs glistened in the moonlight. “If he disagrees, we’ll take matters into

our own hands.”

Yasmine did not like the dark tone in Lionel’s voice. She, like Damien, chose not to

harm innocent humans. She’d disliked dragging Charisse into this mess, but Damien had
left her no choice. If he’d come willingly, his lover could’ve been spared. Her lips tilted
in dark amusement. Not his lover. Charisse was still a virgin. Yasmine would bet her
immortal life on it. But for reasons beyond her comprehension, Damien was protective of
the girl. If he wanted to pretend she was his mistress, so be it. She would not divulge his
secret.

Lionel lifted his nose and sniffed. Yasmine did the same as her other senses went on

full-scale alert. “A Rogue,” she said and prepared to face a possible enemy. She and
Lionel moved down the street, keeping their eyes open for an ambush. They heard a
scream followed by deep-throated laughter. In unison, they turned to each other.
“Mikhail.”

Mikhail was Jebediah’s right hand man, a vampyre known for his cruel depravities.

The sound of ripping cloth spurred Yasmine forward, dagger drawn. Lionel was quick on
her heels as she took off at a run. Moments later, she careened into a square, deserted
except for a couple locked in a deadly embrace. She growled low in her throat and the
other vampyre lifted his head to bare his fangs at her. Mikhail’s eyes gleamed red with
hatred as he dropped the now dead flower girl to the cobblestones and turned to face her.

“Where is Jebediah?” she commanded, her voice strong and clear.
Mikhail wiped the blood from his mouth and spat at her feet. “Somewhere the

Counsel can never touch him.”

She made an aggressive move toward him, but Lionel stopped her with a touch.

“Now is not the time, Yasmine. Jebediah sent Mikhail to draw you into a fight, hoping to
wound you and weaken the strength of the Counsel.”

She despised letting Mikhail escape and said so. Lionel gave the evil vampyre a

malicious look. “Tell Jebediah we are looking for him. This time, we will not be so

lenient.” Before Mikhail could react, Lionel drew back and tossed his dagger at his
shoulder. The blade sank into his left shoulder, right above his heart.

Mikhail let loose a howl to shake the rafters. He jerked the dagger from his shoulder

and tossed it aside. “Your aim is off, old man.”

Lionel stepped forward and resolutely stared him down. “If I’d meant to kill you, I

would have. This was only a warning.” He flicked his fingers dismissively. “Go to
Jebediah and tell him what I said.”

Mikhail wanted to stay and fight, but common sense prevailed. He would be no

match for two of the strongest vampyres on the Counsel. In a swirl of fog and light, he
disappeared.

Lionel bent to retrieve his dagger and casually wiped the blood on his cape. “We

should feed and return. The others need to know that the rebels are preparing to attack.”

* * * *

Damien entered the Counsel room and all conversation drew to a halt. Twelve pairs

of eyes watched him as he strode toward the head of the table and took the seat next to
Yasmine. She alone seemed to approve of his appearance.

“Welcome, Damien,” she said and slid over to make room for him at the table.
He drew his chair forward and glanced at the Counsel members. “What is being

planned?”

Omar, previously reluctant to include him, pounded his fist on the table. “I say we

attack now. If we wait, we lose our advantage.”

Yasmine briefly considered his suggestion and then disregarded it. “We mustn’t

underestimate Jebediah. Until we have an idea of how large an army he’s gathered, we
are not going to rush into battle.” She glanced around the table. “We need a spy.
Someone who can sneak into Jebediah’s lair without being noticed.”

All eyes turned to Samantha, who regarded them with a lifted eyebrow. “Why do I

get the feeling I’m not going to like this?” she drawled in an accent that was distinctly
American.

Nigel, who sat beside her, answered first. “You’re the only one of us who has

perfected the ability to become invisible. We cannot risk sending in a vampyre who
might reveal himself inadvertently.”

Damien glanced at Samantha with newfound appreciation. As far as he knew, she

was the youngest vampyre to ever learn to become invisible. He was over seven hundred
years old and he could only remain invisible for a couple of minutes. She was barely
twenty. “I can give you directions to Jebediah’s lair.” As he said the words, he felt like
the worst sort of villain for plotting against his own brother.

Yasmine nodded to signify the matter was settled. She gestured to Lionel, who got to

his feet. “Mikhail was in the square tonight. Yasmine and I happened upon him as he was
feeding. We warned him away, but it will not be much longer until the rebels begin their
attack.”

Murmuring met this announcement as the Counsel digested the information. Damien

felt rooted to his chair. Jebediah was in league with Mikhail? How had his brother ended
up befriending a vampyre well known for his cruel mischief?

Joslyn, who looked so out of place in her pink dress and matching bows, put her

fingertips to her forehead. Everyone’s attention turned to her as they waited to hear her

premonition. Joslyn’s eyes closed and she lowered her hands to the table.

“What did you see?” Lionel asked.
Joslyn’s childlike face displayed sorrow. “One of the Counsel will die during the

attacks.”

“Just one,” Omar sneered. “That’s a relief.”
“Who, Joslyn?” Lionel asked.
She shook her head. “I’m not sure. My vision was murky.”
The room fell silent as everyone contemplated the threat they could possibly face.

Nigel seemed resigned to battle. Samantha and Yasmine kept their expressions carefully
serene. Omar was clearly spoiling for a fight, while Lionel was the only one that
appeared concerned.

“When they attack,” Lionel said, “we must ensure that the Scrolls are protected at all

times.” He turned toward Joslyn. “In case of war, you become responsible for the
Scrolls.”

Joslyn disliked being treated like a child. She drew back her small shoulders and

glared at Lionel. “I am not a Keeper. Guarding the Scrolls is not my duty.”

Yasmine intervened. “Joslyn, we need one of the Counsel to stay with the Keepers in

case they decided to turn traitor. With your premonitions, you are the most practical
choice.”

Damien listened to every word carefully. The Crusades had taught him much about

fighting, so the imminent war did not frighten him. He was a skilled soldier and did not
doubt his own abilities. But in the Holy Land, there’d only been his brother to worry
about keeping safe. Here, he had the Counsel members to watch after and Charisse, a
mere mortal who no doubt would end up in the thick of the fighting with her penchant for
trouble.

* * * *

Charisse waited several minutes after Damien was gone before rushing to the door.

While he’d been dressing, she stuffed a piece of her petticoat in the door so that it would
not lock behind him. She crossed the room and touched the knob, relieved when the door
swung open.

She stuck her head out in the hallway, glancing left and then right. It seemed

deserted. She entered the hallway and headed for the stairs she remembered climbing the
night before. The stairs were made of stone, so at least she didn’t have to worry about a
creaky step. In the hall, she turned around in a circle. There were two gaping doorways
on either side of the hall. Which way should she go? She could hear the rumble of voices
coming from the left, so she decided to take the right.

She headed down a long hallway lined with portraits of various individuals. Some

she recognized from the Counsel, others were strangers. She came to a sudden stop when
she saw a portrait of Damien. She frowned and leaned closer. No, not Damien; this
vampyre’s eyes were colder, the line of his chin not as strong. It had to be Jebediah. She
fought back a shiver. It was unnerving that someone who so closely resembled Damien
could make her skin crawl.

Turning her back on the portrait, she hurried to the end of the hall and came upon

another set of doors. She chose the one that seemed to lead toward the back of the house.
The door opened onto another long hallway, this one lined with a dozen doors, all leading

Lord knew where.

She rolled her eyes with exasperation. “This house is a damned maze.”
Her voice echoed in the hall, bouncing off stone walls and seeming to grow in

volume. She heard the creak of a door and she spun around quickly. “Who is there?”

She heard a rustle of cloth and then felt the brush of a hand against her skirts. She

tilted her head and sighed with relief. It was only a child. She put her hands on her knees
and bent down to the young lad’s level. “Hello, little one. What is your name?”

He responded with an evil hiss and she careened backwards. She bumped into

another body and felt strong arms close about her waist. She was lifted easily off her feet
by a hulking giant, who eyed her as if she were his last meal. She refused to be cowed.
“Put me down!”

The giant smiled, showing a cracked front tooth and two protruding fangs. He sniffed

her neck and his smile widened. “A virgin.”

She quickly became aware of the threat to her safety. Yasmine had warned her about

this, but she’d not listened. Of course, it was not like being a virgin was her choice. She’d
tried to lose her virginity just that night to Damien. She lifted her chin and gave the giant
vampyre a fierce glare. “I am the mistress of Damien, Earl of Valencourt. I order you to
release me.”

The giant either did not hear her or chose to ignore her threat. Charisse swallowed

nervously. Dozens of other vampyres had wandered into the hall and all were eagerly
waiting for the giant to give some sort of signal. She felt a tiny nip against her ankle and
she kicked out. Glancing down, she saw that she’d kicked the young lad. She almost
apologized until she saw the bit of blood spotting her satin slipper. “Why you little
bloodthirsty fiend!” She began to struggle in earnest then. Her knee connected with the
giant’s belly and she took advantage of his surprise to wriggle out of his arms. She
dropped to a crouch, prepared to flee.

All at once, the vampyres crowded her. She was backed into a corner and it was then

she realized she couldn’t escape. It went against her nature, but she had to admit defeat.

Throwing back her head, she let out a bloodcurdling scream. “Damien!”

* * * *

Damien lifted his head, his fangs bared and eyes glittering. Charisse needed him.
He pushed away from the table, ignoring the startled expression on some of the

Counsel members’ faces. Yasmine got to her feet also and sent him a worried look.
“She’s with the younglings.”

He wasted no time in reaching her. The younglings were not yet trained to respect

the property of another vampyre. It was one of the reasons they were brought there to be
trained before they were let loose on the world. They would not hesitate to harm Charisse
if they considered her a threat.

He careened into the younglings’ dorm and his gaze drew immediately to Charisse.

She was backed into a corner, but still putting up a valiant fight. As he watched, Derrick,
a toddling vampyre, buried his fangs in her arm. Charisse tossed him aside easily.

“Shame on you,” she said and pointed her finger in the young vampyre’s face.
Damien would have been amused had he not been so worried about her. He strode

into the hall. “Back, all of you!”

The younglings hissed at him, not recognizing him as one of their kind. He bared his

fangs and several of the younger ones slunk away. Charisse turned her face to his and he
saw the frightened uncertainty warring with curiosity in her eyes. He stepped past Derrick
and a giant to gather her against his chest. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, but her body trembled against his. “It’s just a few scratches.”

She said this while glaring at Derrick. “You have been a very bad boy.”

Derrick stuck out his tongue at her before toddling away. The giant lingered, but

Damien glared at him until he moved away also. He lifted Charisse into his arms and
turned to leave.

“What are they?” she asked. Her wide, green eyes locked with his.
“Younglings,” he answered. “Don’t come here again. Until they’re trained,

younglings can be unpredictable.”

She laughed softly. “Don’t worry. I won’t be so curious next time.”
He glanced down at her, so soft and pale in his arms and once again felt the terror

that had come over him when she’d called. How had she escaped their room?

She lifted the end of her skirt and pressed it against the scratch on her arm. “I used a

piece of my petticoat to wedge the door open,” she answered distractedly as she
continued to wipe the blood from her skin.

His footsteps faltered. She read his thoughts just as he could read hers. It was

inconceivable. No human had ever been able to reach inside the mind of a vampyre.
Maybe it had just been a fluke. He released the tension in his body and asked another
silent question.

She dropped the end of her skirt and fixed him with a stern look. “Chain me up,

Damien, and I swear I’ll never forgive you.” After a moment, she realized that he had not
asked the question aloud. Her mouth fell open. “Am I reading your mind?”

“It would appear so,” he answered even as he willed his thoughts away from her. She

realized what he was doing and glared at him.

“That is not fair,” she pouted. They reached the hall of portraits and she ordered him

to put her down.

“Absolutely not.” He tightened his arms around her.
“I can walk,” she argued.
He ignored her protest and continued to carry her. Upstairs, he placed her in the

center of the bed and refused to let her rise. “Stay there,” he commanded as he went to
fetch water and towels. He returned and pressed a damp towel against her arm. “Hold this
in place.”

She did as he asked while he lifted her ankle and gently cleansed away the blood

there. Her leg felt warm to the touch and he marveled at the delicate pink flush of her
skin. The sight of fang marks brought out the beast in him. She was his. The next
vampyre to harm her would not escape unscathed, youngling or not.

“He knew I was a virgin.”
Damien’s hand stilled at her softly spoken words. “Who?” he asked as he resumed

his task.

She turned her heel to grant him easier access to her ankle. “The giant.”
Her ankle was clean. Damien tossed aside the towel and sat back on his heels to

regard her. She lay back amid the pillows, calmly watching him as if she had no care in
the world. Why wasn’t she like the others of her kind? The debutantes who would faint
dead away at the sight of blood, especially their own. If what she said was true, then he

would have to keep a better watch over her.

“Do not concern yourself unnecessarily, Charisse. I won’t let them harm you.”
“I do not doubt your protection.” She slid forward and captured his hand. She placed

it against her left breast and he could feel her heart thumping underneath his palm. “Make
me yours in truth, Damien.”

Dear Lord, the things she asked of him. He wanted nothing more than to lay her

against the sheets and bring her to a screaming release, but other demands occupied his
thoughts. With his mind in upheaval, he did not trust himself not to harm her. He
disentangled his fingers from hers and moved from the bed. “I must return to the
Counsel. There are many things to be discussed.”

She gave him a seductive smile. “What if I promise a fast romp?” She got to her

knees, her hair loose about her shoulders, and put her hand against the front of his
breeches. “Show me, Damien. Show me what it is like to love a vampyre.”

The Counsel be damned. There was no way he was leaving this room without giving

himself a glimpse of the heaven to be found in her arms.

* * * *

Damien fell upon her and his lips latched onto her neck.
She tilted her head to one side and felt the scrape of his teeth against her skin. For a

moment she feared he would bite her like the younglings had, but he only gave her a
teasing nip before moving his lips to her mouth.

“Charisse,” he breathed against her lips. “You will be my destruction.”
She ached to know more of him. She’d already had a glimpse inside his thoughts.

This time, she wanted to learn the secrets of his body. With that thought in mind, she
removed his shirt and ogled the chest she’d learned earlier. “You are beautiful.”

He reached for the ties of her gown. “So are you.”
They undressed each other quickly and feasted on the sight of each other’s nudity.

Their bodies were so different. Hers pink and flushed with heat. His, pale and cool to the
touch. One part of his body was not as cool. Her hands slipped past his waist and curled
around his jutting hardness. Her small fist traced the outline of his shape, bringing forth a
harsh groan from him.

She glanced up, worried that she hurt him, and noticed the raw desire on his face. His

head was thrown back, the muscles in his throat clenching spasmodically. He moved his
chin forward and their gazes caught. His eyes gleamed golden as he lowered her against
the sheets and covered her body with his.

Her hands were trapped between them, still wrapped tightly about his cock. He gave

her a hard kiss and she sensed the awakening passion in him. His penis jerked against her
palm and she felt an answering rush of moisture between her legs. She looked at him now
and caught a glimpse of the darkness he usually kept leashed.

His eyes glittered with desire, his fingers rough against her chin as he brought her

gaze back to his face. His fangs were evident as he spoke. “Is this what you want,
Charisse? To give yourself to someone little better than an animal?”

She felt a rush of tenderness. He was always trying to protect her, but the last thing

she wanted or needed was protection from him. “I want you, Damien, only you.”

He growled low and lifted onto his elbows. His hand moved between their legs and

captured her fingers, which were still wrapped around him. He showed her how to please

him, teaching her the way to stroke him properly. Once she’d learned, he moved his
hands to her breasts, teasing her with slow strokes of his tongue against her hardening
nipples.

Vampyres were said to be sensual creatures, almost violent in their seduction.

Charisse felt no hint of violence in the way Damien tenderly touched her. The wanton in
her rebelled against him holding back. To retaliate, she stopped stroking him and dropped
her hands to the bed.

Damien lifted his head and studied her carefully. “I know what you are doing,

Charisse. Don’t tempt me.”

She widened her legs to grip his hips, gratified by the sharp hiss he gave when her

clit brushed against his arousal. She gave him a look of mock confusion. “What do you
mean?”

His eyes darkened as they raked over her body. She could tell he debated the wisdom

of allowing his passion free reign. She lifted onto her elbows and glared at him. “I am no
weak miss, Damien. Let yourself go with me.”

He was tempted, she knew he was. Tiring of his hesitation, she pushed him onto his

back and straddled his hips. “I want all of you, Damien.” She did not give him a chance
to argue. Instead, she wrapped her hands around his penis and buried him to the hilt
inside her, giving a sharp gasp at the sensation.

Damien gripped the sheets tightly, his knuckles popped with the strain. Now that

she’d taken him inside her, she had no idea what came next. She rolled her hips
experimentally, wincing at the slight twinge of pain. Damien continued to remain
stubbornly motionless under her. She instinctively knew there was more to sex than this,
but damned if she knew what came next. She smacked Damien on the arm and he jerked
his eyes open. “Yes?”

His voice was gravelly, hinting that his control was tenuous at best. “Why aren’t you

doing anything?” she asked petulantly.

His lips tightened into a straight line. “I am waiting for you to adjust to me.”
“Oh,” she said. She straddled him for several moments, occasionally rolling her hips,

frowning when it hurt, moaning when it didn’t.

She grew tired of holding herself upon him so stiffly. She leaned forward and rested

the side of her face against his chest. The change in position caused him to slip partway
out of her body. He bent his knees so that her buttocks rested against his thighs and
buried himself even deeper. Her eyelids fluttered at the sensation. “Ooooh, I like that.”

He chuckled and the sound reverberated against her chest. He stroked the back of her

head and tangled his fingers in her hair. “I rather thought you would.” He lifted her face
to his and his dark eyes bored into hers. “Last chance to run, little Charisse.”

She lifted an eyebrow in challenge. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Damien lifted her hips and tossed her aside. She cried out at the loss of him inside

her as he stood and walked to the end of the room. He returned holding a pair of
manacles and she felt her stomach lurch. “I’ve already told you, Damien. I am not
allowing you to chain me.”

He tossed them on the bed beside her along with the small brass key. “They are not

for you.” He came to her, naked and fully aroused. “They are for me.”

She lifted the manacles and examined their heavy weight. He was still frightened that

he was going to hurt her. She was touched by his concern, but she didn’t want anything to

hold either of them down. She dropped the iron chains to the floor rebelliously. “No,
they’re not.”

Damien ignored her and clamped one of the manacles about his wrist. He threaded

the chain through a hook in the stone wall above their heads before closing the second
manacle about his other wrist. He tugged experimentally against his bounds, smiling
grimly when they held strong. He lay back on the bed and crooked a finger at her. “Come
here.”

She crossed her arms under her breasts and shook her head. “Not until you agree to

remove those ridiculous things.”

She’d misjudged the range of movement the manacles allowed him. His hand shot

out and wrapped around her waist, tugging her forward until she tumbled against his lap.
His finger traced the curve of her cheek. “With these, I cannot move past the bed. If you
change your mind, all you have to do is get up.”

“What if you won’t let me up?” she asked just to bedevil him.
“Then scream for Yasmine,” he answered, his expression deadly serious. His gaze

softened. “I will not hurt you intentionally, Charisse.”

She covered his hand with her own and turned to press a kiss against his knuckles. “I

know that.”

Her clit still throbbed with unfulfilled desire, but even so, it still pained to take him

inside her again. He spread her legs, wrapping her knees over his elbows, and thrust
forward. She could tell she was no longer the one in control and his movements were
designed to bring her pleasure. Unlike her novice attempts, the roll of his hips brought
forth a moan from her lips every time. She reached up and grasped the chains above his
head, needing something to hold onto so that she did not burst into a million pieces.

The chains rattled as Damien used his right hand to caress her mound. His fingers

unerringly found the nubbin that brought her such pleasure and she let out a choked sigh.
“Damien,” she breathed against his ear. Her inner muscles began to clench around his
stroking penis. “Oh my God!”

As tremors wracked her body, she found herself on her back with Damien’s hips

moving between her legs with increased vigor. She held on as best she could as he rode
her fast and hard. Her leg muscles began to tire and her body felt as if it was being ripped
open. This was what Damien had warned her about, this primitive need to bury himself in
her body without regard to her comfort.

As soon as she had the thought, his movements slowed. “I am hurting you,” he said.
She thought of lying, but knew she would never fool him. She put a hand against his

shoulder and nodded. “A little.”

He rolled to the side and covered his face with his arm. “I am sorry.”
She braced her upper body on an elbow and gazed down at his beautiful, masculine

form against the pale sheets. He was still hard. He’d gotten no pleasure from their mating,
but she knew he’d not seek solace in her body again that night. She reached out and
wrapped her slender fingers around the head of his penis. Damien moved his arm and
watched her through heated eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Shush,” she said and pressed a kiss on the tip. “Let me please you the way you’ve

pleased me.”

She took him into her mouth, using her lips and tongue to draw soft cries of pleasure

from him. Her hands encircled the base and teased the sacs hidden underneath. Damien’s

hands gripped the back of her head, subtly instructing her in the art of pleasing a man.
She felt him tense and heard him whisper her name as he jerked against her mouth and
exploded in a rush of heat.

As soon as his climax was finished, he put his hands underneath her arms and

dragged her up his body. His expression was stern. “Tonight’s lesson is finished.”

She snuggled against his body and let out a contented sigh. Fine, she silently

whispered to him, but just who is teaching whom?

She knew he’d heard her silent thoughts when he chuckled. “That remains to be

seen, my love.”

Chapter Five

Yasmine, engaged in a sensual battle of wills with Nigel, sensed something was

amiss. She stood, wrapping her robe about her slender body, and went to stand at the
window. It was nearly dawn. They would have to sleep soon, but something or someone
was calling to her.

She turned back to Nigel, who’d come to stand at her side. “What is it?” he asked as

he leaned forward to look out the window.

She gave a shake of her head, trying to dislodge the voice insistently calling to her.

“Nothing.” She held out her hand to the young vampyre who’d been spending his nights
in her bed for the past year. “Come, let’s retire.”

Nigel’s blue eyes raked over her with concern. “What do you hear, Yasmine?”
What she suspected she heard was too troubling to consider. It sounded as if

Jebediah was calling her, but she refused to believe that her ex-lover would be tempting
her to her death in such a manner. She could feel his longing, his desire to hold her again.
His silent plea promised her pleasures beyond her imagining. If it was truly Jebediah
calling to her, then his power had grown since she’d last seen him. It was a rare vampyre
indeed who could breech her mental walls.

She turned to Nigel and allowed her robe to casually fall open. “Come to bed,

Nigel.”

As she allowed the young, headstrong vampyre to pleasure her, she continued to hear

Jebediah calling to her. She tried to block out his voice, but he insistently continued. Stop
it, she cried out silently. She realized Nigel had paused in his lovemaking and she opened
her eyes. “Why did you quit?”

“You asked me to,” he said. His handsome face stared down at her with a worried

expression. “Is it Jebediah you hear?”

She nodded tightly. “Yes.” She shivered as if she were cold.
“Do not be frightened,” Nigel said. “The Counsel will protect you.”
The others had not spoken of it, but she knew the Counsel suspected she was the

reason for Jebediah’s planned rebellion. She’d been the one to prevent him from taking
the Scrolls and he blamed her for being banished from their fold. Even had she not been
the leader of the Counsel, she would be the first one he came after to exact his revenge.

There was a soft knock on her door. Nigel sighed and slid to the side to allow her to

get up and cross the room. She belted her robe about her waist as Nigel called out to the
intruder, “This had better be important.”

Yasmine shushed him before opening the door. No one knew of their involvement

and she planned on keeping it that way. Opening the door the tiniest bit, she recognized
Samantha’s scent before she even caught sight of the American. “What is it, Sam?”

Samantha glanced past Yasmine’s shoulder, her eyes widening when she took in the

sight of a naked Nigel indolently lounging on her bed. Yasmine moved to block the view.
“Is something wrong?”

Samantha snapped to attention, suddenly remembering the reason for coming there.

“It’s the younglings. They are very restless.”

Nigel appeared at the door and wrenched it open further, heedless of the avid gaze

Samantha turned on him. “What do you mean?”

Samantha shrugged helplessly. “They refuse to go to sleep. Lionel and Omar are

trying to settle them down, but they’re proving stubborn.”

Yasmine turned to Nigel, allowing him to see the suspicion in her eyes. Whoever

was calling to her was also reaching into the minds of the younglings, trying to turn them
against the Counsel. At this stage of life, the younglings were very susceptible to
manipulation. She thought of Lionel and Omar, alone with them, and her vampyre’s
blood ran cold. She did not waste time dressing. “We must get them out of there,” she
said to Nigel over her shoulder.

They ran downstairs and came to a halt inside the dormitory hallway. Sunlight was

just beginning to peek above the horizon. “Lionel?” she called out. “Omar?”

There was no answer. Yasmine turned to Samantha, who was anxiously dogging her

and Nigel’s heels. “Go to your chamber, Sam. You are not yet ready to face the sun.”

Samantha disliked abandoning them, but she was intelligent enough to know

Yasmine spoke the truth. She disappeared quickly, leaving Nigel and Yasmine to rescue
the others.

Nigel drew out his dagger and inched to her side. He spoke to her in a whisper.

“Should we get Damien?”

Yasmine shook her head. “No. It is too risky.”
He accepted her decision. “Where are they?”
Yasmine sensed a trap. She put out her hand and stopped Nigel from moving further.

“It is too quiet.”

Nigel’s blue eyes raked over the deserted hallway. A shadow moved past a door at

the end of the hallway and he caught her attention. She signaled to say she’d seen it also.
Together they moved as one down the hall, each guarding the other’s back. Nigel kicked
open the door, startling the youngling inside.

Derrick peered up at them, his chubby cheeks widening into a mischievous grin. He

held up the ball in his hands and tossed it at Nigel. “Catch,” he cried out and clapped his
hands together excitedly when Nigel reflexively did so.

Some of the tension left her body. “Where are Lionel and Omar?” she asked the lad.
Derrick frowned and pointed to the door across the hall. “Sleeping.”
Nigel cracked open the door Derrick pointed to and cautiously peered inside.

Yasmine could tell that everything was fine when he let out a sigh of relief. He stepped
back so she could see the scene inside. “Oh my,” she giggled. Lionel and Omar were on
the floor, surrounded by younglings of various shapes and sizes. The vampyre children
lay under tents made of sheets and blankets.

Yasmine closed the door softly and turned back to Nigel. “Forgive me for being

jumpy.”

Nigel waved aside her apology and took her in his arms. “You are right to worry.

Until we know what Jebediah is capable of, we must stay on our guard.”

* * * *

A slight weight was on his chest.
Damien opened his eyes, prepared to defend himself, only to see Charisse’s nude

body draped across him. He smiled and tenderly brushed the hair away from her face.
Charisse, the mortal who’d slipped past his guard and touched the part of him he’d buried

long ago. She was a weakness, but he wouldn’t give her up for anything. Having her in
his life was the only thing keeping his darkness at bay.

She stirred and her eyes fluttered open. He felt pierced by the light shining in her

green gaze. “Good morning,” she said.

He moved his hand to stroke her back and then lower. He needed to feed, but it could

wait. He heard the rattle of chains and glanced toward the ceiling. He was still chained to
the bed. She noticed the direction of his gaze and her lips curved into a satisfied smile.

“You are at my mercy now, my lord vampyre.”
He felt desire flood his limbs. She wanted him again. He could tell by the way her

eyes darkened and her voice grew thicker. His gaze dropped to her breasts and he saw the
key dangling from a chain around her neck. As he watched, she teasingly flicked it
toward him.

He made a halfhearted lunge for it, but she held it just out of reach. “Not so fast. You

must please me first.”

He lounged against the headboard and stubbornly crossed his arms. “Must I?” He

could easily break his bonds, but he’d put them on as a reminder of the passion he must
control. Charisse had been an innocent, unused to passion and most especially the passion
of a vampyre.

She put a foot on either side of him and stood. His nostrils flared as he caught scent

of her. Her clit was right in front of his face, tempting him with forbidden delights. He
tilted his head back and watched her. “You are a siren, tempting me to my doom.”

She placed her right foot against his shoulder, opening herself to his gaze. “And you

are Odysseus, strong enough to resist the call.” Her eyes cut to his face. “Are you,
Damien?” she taunted. “Strong enough to resist me?”

She pushed teasingly against his shoulder with her toes. He was nearly blinded with

lust. Resist her? Not a chance in hell. His hands came up and cupped her ass, slowly
bringing her closer. “Wrap your other foot over my shoulder,” he suggested.

She tottered unsteadily on the bed. She balanced herself by grabbing hold of the

chains and using them as leverage. He silently applauded her ingenuity. Charisse had
never been one to back down from a challenge.

With her legs wrapped around his shoulders and the chains supporting her, she was

virtually suspended in mid-air. He leaned forward and teasingly ran his tongue over her
swollen labia. She whimpered and tightened the grip of her legs. Were all mortals this
responsive or just Charisse? He’d forgotten.

“I can hear your thoughts,” Charisse reminded him.
He lifted his head and grinned. “I hear yours, also.”
She blushed demurely, but the seductive look remained on her face. “In that case,

you know what I want you to do next.”

His answer was to bury his face between her legs. He used his lips and tongue to

tease her to the breaking point. She thrashed about wildly. It was a miracle she didn’t
bring the roof down on their heads. Only when she was quivering and limp did he lift his
head. “Is that what you had in mind?”

She let go of the chains and fell back against the mattress. She threw her hands over

her head and sighed with contentment. “Oh, definitely yes, thank you.”

He leaned over and plucked the key from her neck. He unlocked the manacles and

tossed them aside. “You’re welcome.” He stroked one hand across her hip before getting

to his feet regretfully. “I must go.”

Charisse turned onto her stomach and propped her chin on one hand. “When can I

contact my father? He is probably worried to death about me.”

Damien cursed softly. He’d forgotten about the duke. He’d meant to send a letter,

reassuring him that his daughter would be returned safe and sound, but it’d slipped his
mind. “I will send a messenger.”

“Can I send a note with him?”
He nodded. “I don’t see why not. I’ll have to read it, though.”
She shrugged. “You already read my thoughts. My correspondence hardly seems

personal after that.”

As he dressed, he was aware of her silent regard. “Must you go?” she finally asked.
He tied the laces of his cape. “If I want to feed.”
“When will you return?”
“Soon,” he replied and strode toward the door. He could feel hunger clawing deep in

his belly. He must feed soon. “Do not leave this room,” he ordered her.

She gave him a tiny salute with two fingers. “Yes, sir.”
He lifted an eyebrow at her cockiness. “I mean it, Charisse. Do not disobey me in

this.”

She sat up on the bed and idly flexed her foot. “I won’t.” She stretched her leg out

and bent at the side. In that position, her clit was fully exposed. He stared at the dewy
curls between her legs until he couldn’t stand it anymore. One day, she would find a man
who could let himself go with her. Regretfully, it wouldn’t be him.

With his cock full near to bursting, he turned toward the door. He checked to make

sure it locked before he left. He couldn’t risk another of Charisse’s midnight strolls to the
younglings’ dorm. The experience last night would’ve given him a heart attack had he
still possessed a human organ.

He paused with his foot on the top step of the stairs. How had she known about the

younglings’ presence? Other than a brief reference to his and Jebediah’s stay at the
mansion, he’d made no mention of them. He turned back to the door with a considering
expression. Damn her, she was looking for the Scrolls. When he returned, he was going
to have a long talk with her about the dangers of poking her nose where it didn’t belong.

Joslyn was pacing in front of the door when he appeared. She glanced at him with a

question in her dark eyes. “I was afraid you were not coming.”

“Nonsense. We both must feed if we are to defeat the rebels.”
Since he’d arrived, Yasmine had ordered all vampyres to feed in pairs or groups. He

had chosen Joslyn as his partner. The others considered her a liability because she was so
small, but Damien knew from firsthand experience that she was a fierce fighter. With her
premonitions, she was a force to be reckoned with and one of the best to have at his side.

He set off at a brisk pace knowing that Joslyn was capable of keeping up. She

remained beside him, silent and thoughtful, as they headed into town. Like him, she
preferred to walk instead of ride. It gave them both time to clear their heads and shake
free of the cobwebs that cluttered their mind after sleeping.

Joslyn finally spoke again. “It was an interesting night.”
For a moment, he thought she was referring to his night with Charisse. He cut his

eyes to her face, but it was carefully neutral. “The younglings were restless,” Joslyn
explained. “Could you hear them?”

“No,” he said shortly. Of course he hadn’t. He’d been too busy seeking his pleasure

with Charisse. “What happened?”

Joslyn’s short curls bounced against her cheeks as she continued walking at a brisk

pace. “Omar and Lionel calmed them. Yasmine seems to think Jebediah is trying to turn
the younglings’ minds against us.”

It was something he’d not thought of, but entirely possible. “We should hide them.”
Joslyn nodded. “I agree. Yasmine has already called forth some of the Keepers to

take them to a safer place.”

They reached the outskirts of town and Joslyn found her prey quickly. He was a

wizened old man, sitting on a doorstep and clutching a whiskey bottle to his chest.
Damien glanced at the man pityingly. He was obviously ill, with pallid skin and sagging
shoulders. Joslyn was drawn to such miserable creatures. Her pretty face and kind words
were the last memory many of her victims had before she took their lives.

When she’d fed, Joslyn returned, daintily wiping her mouth on a monogrammed

handkerchief.

“A miniature angel of mercy,” Damien teased, same as he’d done for the past two

nights.

She stuffed the handkerchief in the pocket of her pinafore and refused to rise to his

bait. “Find your criminal and let’s get back to the mansion.” She glanced around
nervously. “It is dangerous to linger.”

Damien fed, the blood thundering in his ears and drowning out any other noise.

When he was finished, he felt invigorated. Joslyn took his hand, so that any mortal
watching them would assume they were a father and daughter out on a nightly stroll, and
turned toward the path leading to the mansion set high on a hill.

“She seeks the Scrolls.”
Damien did not refute Joslyn’s quiet claim. “I believe so.”
Joslyn sighed heavily. “You must prevent her doing so.” Her eyes met his and he

stilled at the threat in her childlike gaze. “None of us will be able to save her then.”

* * * *

Charisse washed her body and dressed in an old gown of Yasmine’s. The hem was

too short and the bodice tightly fitted, but it would serve until she could find her way
home.

Home. London seemed a thousand miles away, even though she knew they couldn’t

be far from its outskirts. The carriage ride here had been completed in under an hour, but
gazing out the window onto the moonlit garden, she had no clue where she was. She
missed her father and her pet, Plague, dreadfully, but she was reluctant to leave until she
knew Damien’s fate. She wanted to be there for him when he dealt with his brother, even
though the thought of war scared her.

“Are you homesick?”
Charisse turned at the sound of Yasmine’s voice. It was the first she’d seen of the

Counsel leader since the night she’d arrived. Yasmine seemed a creature of the shadows
as she moved into the room and perched upon the room’s only chair.

Charisse turned her back to the window, but remained standing there. “A little.”
Yasmine’s black hair gleamed as she tossed it over one shoulder and settled

comfortably into the chair. “It shouldn’t be much longer and then you can return to your

home.”

Damien had also referred to her return, but she was curious why they would let her

go. Her knowledge of them put the vampyres in a dangerous position. How could they
trust her to not tell their secrets? She asked the question and earned a soft chuckle from
Yasmine.

“Your mind will be cleansed before you are released.”
“What?” Charisse gasped. Over her dead body. She was not about to give up the

memory of being in Damien’s arms.

“It is not painful.” Yasmine reassured her.
“I don’t care about that,” Charisse snapped. “I refuse to have my mind cleansed.

Things happened here that I would like to remember.”

“Ah!” Yasmine said with a knowing smile. “You finally brought Damien to his

knees.”

Charisse’s cheeks flamed with angry color. “That is none of your concern.”
Yasmine smiled, her fangs flashing wickedly in the dim glow of moonlight

streaming through the open window. “I could help you. I am considered quite the expert
at sexual matters.”

Charisse gaped at her. “You are?”
Yasmine got to her feet and crossed the room toward her. “From the moment I was

twelve, I was taught all the ways to please my future husband. I studied the art of Kama
Sutra while I was a human. I was brought here before my marriage, but I have not
forgotten how it feels to be a mortal woman, nervously wondering if she was pleasing her
mate.”

Yasmine circled her, seducing her with soft words and echoes of her own private

fears. “Damien is afraid to let go with you. He’s frightened that his passion will harm
you. Am I right?”

Charisse was entranced. “Yes.”
Yasmine stopped moving and touched her shoulder. “Sit. I will explain all.”
Charisse did as she asked, unable to take her eyes off Yasmine, who settled at her

feet in a flurry of perfumed silk. Yasmine lifted her foot and pressed the palm of her hand
against Charisse’s heel. She’d had her feet massaged before, but her maid’s talent could
not even begin to compare with the touch of Yasmine’s strong, nimble fingers. “To
please your lover, you must be willing to give all of yourself.” Yasmine glanced up at
her. “I assume you have done that?”

“Yes,” Charisse answered.
Yasmine turned her attention back to the massage. “Damien does not have that

luxury. A vampyre’s passion can be dangerous if unleashed fully.” She gave Charisse a
warning look. “Do not tempt him beyond what he is able to give. Your frail body and
mind could never withstand it.”

For a moment, Charisse was tempted to reveal her ability to read Damien’s mind, but

decided to keep it to herself. The revelation could possibly undermine the authority he
carried with the other vampyres if they sensed it as a weakness. “But how can I please
him if I’m unable to give him what he desires?”

Yasmine’s fingers moved to her calves with long, sure strokes. “You make sure he is

satisfied in other ways. Use your hands and mouth to give him pleasure.”

Charisse bit her lip. “What if I’ve already done that?”

Yasmine glanced at her with approval. “An English lady who is not afraid to show

her wanton nature. I am impressed.”

Charisse was horrified, but the feel of Yasmine’s touch on her skin was fanning the

flames of desire so recently roused by Damien. She’d seen the way he’d stared at her
before he’d left and felt an answering need. Her head lolled back against the chair and
she allowed her legs to fall open.

Yasmine’s fingers moved higher, this time stroking the soft skin of her inner thigh.

Just a bit higher and she would be touching Charisse’s clit, which was swollen and tender
from her time with Damien. Charisse’s breath hitched as Yasmine teasingly inched her
way up her leg. “To please Damien, it will take a rare woman,” Yasmine paused and gave
her a meaningful look, “or Immortal.”

Charisse clamped her legs together, trapping Yasmine’s fingers between them.

“Have you…”

Yasmine freed her fingers and slid them back to Charisse’s calves. “Fucked Damien?

No, I have not.” She pushed Charisse’s borrowed skirt aside and gazed at the skin she
uncovered. “Not that I hadn’t wanted to, mind you. He is a skilled lover or so I’ve heard.”

“Very skilled,” Charisse said, just to rub it in. She tossed her skirt back down to

cover her legs.

Yasmine’s lips twitched with amusement. “To be a good lover, you must not be

afraid of your nudity.” Yasmine got to her feet and snapped her fingers. “Stand.”

Charisse did as she commanded, but she took her time doing so.
“Remove your gown.”
Charisse gave her an incredulous look. “What?”
Yasmine came forward and reached for the laces holding the front of her gown

together. “You must learn to revel in your naked form. Confidence in your own body will
inspire confidence in others.”

Charisse’s fingers shook as she untied the laces and pushed the gown past her waist.

It puddled onto the floor as she pushed it past her hips. Lifting her chin, she waited for
Yasmine to speak.

“Nice,” Yasmine said as she circled her. Her hands trailed across her ass. “Pert

bottom. Full breasts.” Her fingers traced over the sides of her breasts before moving to
her lips. “Pouty lips. You have a body made for sin.”

Charisse, unused to hands on her body, especially that of a female, licked her lips

nervously. “Thank you.”

Yasmine’s dark eyes flickered to her face. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”
Charisse was completely honest with her. “A little.”
Yasmine motioned toward her discarded gown. “Get dressed and follow me. I want

to show you something.”

Charisse did as she was asked, silently wondering what she had just gotten herself

into.

* * * *

“Now do you see the difference?”
Charisse stared wide eyed at the undulating pair of vampyres on Yasmine’s bed.

“I…I think so.”

“No,” Yasmine snapped. She paused in the rotation of her hips and gave Charisse a

fierce look. “Either you do or you don’t. Which is it?”

“Leave the poor girl alone. You are probably frightening her to death.” Nigel, who

was lying underneath Yasmine, gave her a soft whack on her bare ass.

“She must learn the difference,” Yasmine responded. She began to move again,

bringing forth a moan from Nigel as she bore down hard. “This is the human way.” She
bit her lip, tossed back her hair, and began a vicious clawing and riding. “And this is the
vampyre way.”

Charisse caught her breath at the unrestrained bucking of Nigel and Yasmine. There

was a difference. She could see it quite easily. When Nigel was pleased, he gave off a
faint shimmer of light. It was really quite extraordinary. Yasmine’s exotic face took on an
animalistic look in her ecstasy. Even with the roughness of their mating, Yasmine and
Nigel’s sensuous dance seemed beautiful and romantic. The paleness of her thighs around
his hips, the strength in his arms as he lifted her into position for a deeper thrust; this was
how she wanted it to be with Damien. Able to come together without one of them
worrying that they might hurt the other.

Charisse was slow to realize that they were no longer paying attention to her.

Yasmine’s black eyes were locked with Nigel’s blue ones and they seemed to be
speaking to each other silently. It was like a battle of wills, where neither one wanted to
be the first to surrender. This went on indefinitely until Nigel finally gave a harsh growl
and collapsed against the sheets. “Damn you, Yasmine. One day, I am going to make you
come first.”

Yasmine shivered with delight as she slipped off his hard body. She trailed her hand

over his ridged belly and down to cup his now flaccid penis. “I look forward to that day,
Nigel. Until then,” she sat up and reached for her robe, “you lose.”

Nigel propped a pillow behind his head and glanced at Charisse with limpid eyes. “I

bet I could make you come first.”

Charisse laughed nervously. I bet you could too, she thought to herself silently, but

she didn’t want anyone but Damien. Out loud, she teased, “You have enough on your
hands already.”

Nigel flicked his eyes to Yasmine. “Tell me about it. I’m impatient for the day she

finds her match.” He gave Charisse a knowing grin. “She won’t know what hit her.”

“Charisse!”
Yasmine belted her robe about her slender waist and made a face. “Must he be so

loud?”

Charisse, who’d leapt to her feet at the sound of Damien’s angry call, felt her heart

race. He was back. She couldn’t wait to continue her lesson. This time, she would be one
of the ones being pleasured.

“Looks like someone is in love,” Nigel teased as he got to his feet and crossed the

room to sling open the door. “She’s in here,” he called out.

Charisse groaned and covered her face with both hands. “Can you please get

dressed?”

“Why?” Nigel asked as he continued strolling about the room bare assed. “Damien’s

seen me naked before.”

“But he hasn’t seen me seeing you naked!” Charisse argued.
“Stop tormenting her,” Yasmine said. She tossed a pile of clothes at Nigel’s head.

“Get dressed.”

Moments later, Damien skidded to a halt inside the door. His cape swirled about his

lean body as he surveyed the room, his eyes immediately drawn to Charisse. “What are
you doing in here?”

Charisse opened her mouth to answer, then snapped it shut. What could she tell him?

She’d just watched Yasmine and Nigel have sex? Would he be angry?

Yasmine took the dilemma out of her hands. “Nigel and I gave her some lessons.”
Damien propped his shoulder against the door, looking perfectly cool and collected.

“What sort of lessons?”

Yasmine bit her lip, then tossed a flirtatious look at Nigel. “In seduction of course.”
Damien’s dark eyes slipped back to Charisse. “Is this true?”
Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. “Yes.”
He came to her and held out a hand to help her rise. “I hope you did not think I was

lacking and you were forced to look for others to fulfill your curiosity.”

She giggled at the look of pretend horror on his face. “No. You’re quite adequate.”
“Thank you,” he said with a grin. He turned back to Yasmine and Nigel. “Your help

is no longer necessary.” He glanced at Nigel with a lifted eyebrow. “Please put your
clothes on. You’ll scare the younglings.”

As Damien led her from the room, she couldn’t believe his calm acceptance of what

she’d been up to. Was this a normal occurrence for vampyres?

He sensed her thoughts and turned to her. “It is not unusual, but I’m surprised

Yasmine spared the time to teach you. The imminent battle must have her rattled more
than I thought.”

“I’m sure it’s hard for her to face the possible destruction of her ex-lover.” Charisse

snapped her mouth closed. Jebediah was also Damien’s brother. She should not remind
him of the choice he still had to make.

Chapter Six

“The rebels are moving closer.”
Damien stood next to Lionel at a second story window overlooking the gardens. The

moonlight shined down upon the rosebushes where Charisse and Joslyn were diligently
gathering blossoms for a bouquet. She’d been there for a week and he was surprised at
the way she was bonding with each of the Counsel members. Only Omar remained cool
toward her, but that was just his way. He turned toward Lionel, concerned by the drawn
look on his friend’s face. “Why do you say that?”

Lionel kept his steady gaze on the path leading to the mansion. “There have been

reports of mindless killings in the city. None of our kind would act in such a wasteful
manner.”

“The bodies in the Park?” Damien guessed.
Lionel nodded. “Among others.” He turned his gaze toward Charisse. “You should

get her to safety while you still can.”

Damien felt a lurch in the vicinity his heart used to be. Take Charisse away? She’d

become a part of him. He couldn’t imagine not waking from his sleep and seeing her
beside him, rousing her with skilled kisses and heated caresses. Even though he could not
give his passion free reign, he enjoyed their sensual interludes. Charisse was proving to
be very experimental in bed, even though she tended to test the limits of his patience. It
was becoming harder and harder to hold himself back. All he wanted to do was sink into
her warmth and allow his body to show her what his mind could not. “She will never
agree to a mind cleansing,” Damien remarked, partly to himself.

Lionel turned to him, his pale eyes watchful. “You must make her. If you cannot,

force it upon her.”

Damien turned back toward the window, the sound of Charisse’s laughter floating up

to him. He’d miss her when she returned to London. As he watched, she bent over and
plucked a white rose, adding it to the basket already overflowing with the fragrant
blooms. Joslyn, who was beside her, suddenly stilled as an undecipherable expression
crossed her face. When her premonition passed, she glanced up at them in alarm.

What is it? he mouthed to her.
Joslyn shrugged and glanced helplessly around the garden. I’m not sure, she

mouthed back.

Come inside now, Damien ordered. Without waiting to see if they followed his

command, he ran down the steps and threw open the front door. Joslyn rushed through it,
her hands wrapped stubbornly around Charisse’s upper arm.

Charisse was out of breath, her cheeks flushed rosy red. “I forgot my basket.” She

turned as if to go back outside, but Damien reached out to prevent her from stepping
through the door. “Leave it.”

Her brow furrowed with confusion. “What is going on?”
Joslyn slipped away to warn the other Counsel members, leaving Damien and

Charisse in the hall alone. He traced the curve of her cheek and cupped her chin in one
hand. “Listen to me, Charisse. I want you to go to my chamber. Bolt the door behind you
and allow no one inside.”

Her eyes widened with alarm. “Why? Where are you going to be?”
“Just do it, Charisse.”
She nodded, but he could tell she wanted to argue. Taking hold of his arms, she

leaned up and kissed him. “Be careful,” she whispered.

He wished he could stay with her, but his duty was to the Counsel. “I will.”
After she’d gone, he went to find the others. They were gathered in the Counsel

room, anxiously discussing Joslyn’s premonition. He touched Joslyn’s shoulder as he
passed, quietly asking her to go guard Charisse’s door.

“We should search the grounds,” Omar said as Damien joined them.
“No,” Yasmine said emphatically. “We should let them come to us. If we divide our

number, then the rebels will have the upper hand.”

Lionel, always the voice of reason in such a situation, called for silence. “We are not

even sure it is the rebels. Joslyn herself said that her premonition was only of danger, not
specifically an attack.”

“If they do attack us here, the younglings will be in danger. We must protect them.”

Omar was clearly intent on investigating the grounds.

“It is too bad Samantha already went to spy on Jebediah in Siberia. She could’ve

walked the perimeter without the rebels knowing,” Lionel mused.

Damien listened to their discussion, not quite sure how to respond. For years, he’d

lived a relatively peaceful life among humans while the Counsel had struggled with
power struggles. In this arena, he was far from knowledgeable. But one thing was sure.
He’d brought Charisse into this mess and he would see that she was protected from harm.

He strode toward the center of the room to stand beside Yasmine. “I agree with

Omar. If there is to be a fight, it should not happen here. Too many lives are at stake.”

Nigel chuckled, but the sound lacked any mirth. “As far as I know, there’s only one

person here with a life to save. Will you risk all our kind to save one miserable human?”

Damien had a dagger drawn and pressed to Nigel’s chest within an instant. “If

necessary. Would you like me to start with you?”

Nigel merely smiled at him. “Sorry, Damien, but I speak the truth. This situation

goes beyond your affection for a mortal. If the rebels capture the Scrolls, dying would be
a blessing for Charisse.”

Rage still hummed in his veins, but Damien lowered his dagger. Embarrassed by his

show of emotion, he re-sheathed the weapon. “I volunteer to search the grounds.”

Yasmine touched his arm and tried to turn his gaze to hers. “No. We need you if

Jebediah comes.” She turned to Omar and Nigel. “You two may go.”

Omar and Nigel left the room, leaving Damien and the remaining eight Counsel

members in limbo. Damien anxiously paced the room. What would he do if it was
Jebediah in Joslyn’s premonition? Would he be able to kill his own brother? He wanted
to scream with frustration for being in this position. Damn it, he never should have come
here.

Yasmine stepped in his way, blocking his path. “You have to stop remembering the

boy he was, Damien. Jebediah is a madman now. Treat him as you would any of your
victims.”

“He is still my brother,” he growled out.
Her hand lifted to touch him, but she let it fall to her side. “When you see him, you

will understand.”

Damien frowned at her words. “What do you mean? Have you seen him?”
She nodded. “Yes. A few years ago, I visited him. He was in a rage, claiming he

would not rest until he possessed the Scrolls.”

“What did you do?”
She shrugged, the silk of her gown rustling with the movement. “There was nothing I

could do. He was surrounded by his minions. I was lucky to make it out alive.”

Lionel joined them and heard her words. He bristled with anger. “You took a stupid

risk, Yasmine.”

“I know that,” she snapped. “But I had to see for myself if he’d become as bad as

he’s rumored to be.” She turned her gaze back to Damien. “I know it’s hard to accept, but
Jebediah is gone.”

Damien knew she spoke the truth. She knew Jebediah just as well, if not better, than

he himself did. If she said he was changed, he would accept it. Restless energy flowed
through his body. He needed to see Charisse one last time. If he was going to fight
Jebediah, he wanted the memory of her smile to help him through.

“I will be back.”
Yasmine tried to stop him. “No, Damien. We need you here.”
He ignored her command. He might be on their team now, but he still played by his

own rules. He had to touch Charisse, make sure she understood the importance of staying
hidden.

He climbed the stairs to his room. He could feel his body changing, gearing up for

the fight ahead. Despite the physical hardening of his resolve, the urge to touch Charisse
remained. Her skin was always so soft and warm beneath his hands. It reminded what it
felt like to be human. He wanted that feeling again.

Joslyn was standing like a miniature soldier at attention outside Charisse’s door. She

stepped aside to let him enter. The little minx even gave him a coy smile as he closed the
door.

“Damien!” Charisse rushed from the bed and enveloped him in her familiar scent.
He pressed his lips to her hair, inhaling the fragrance of life and sweetness. She

pulled away and gave him a worried look. “What is happening?”

He touched his palm to her cheek. “Nothing you should worry about.”
“Don’t coddle me. I want to know.”
He pulled her back against his body. “There may be an attack tonight. Joslyn had a

premonition.”

She stiffened in his embrace. “What are you doing here then? The Counsel needs

you.”

He cupped her chin and gently pressed his lips to hers. “And I need you.”
Recognizing his desire to be distracted, she inched her hands to the front of his

breeches. His cock was already straining against the material, longing to be deep inside
her. “If you die on me, Damien Valencourt, I swear I’ll never forgive you.”

“I won’t die,” he promised as her nimble fingers undid the flap of his breeches. He

was hard and aching, the tip glistening with moisture. There were so many things he
wanted to say. Things he couldn’t even begin to put into words, especially when her
fingers wrapped around him. “I had to see you.”

She bit her lip. Her eyes mirrored her anxiety even as they began to darken with

arousal. “I’m glad you came. I was worried.”

“Don’t be. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“It’s not my safety I’m worried about.” She let go of his cock and slid her hands up

his chest. “It’s yours.”

He growled with frustration when her hands left him. He didn’t have time for a slow

wooing, but his body cried out to join with hers. “Charisse, we don’t have much time.”

She licked her lips and glanced down at his erection. “I don’t mind.”
“I do. I don’t want to hurt you.”
It was the wrong thing to say to her. Her eyes flashed fire as she hooked her hand

around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. “I am bloody tired of you protecting me
all the time. I want all of you, Damien.”

“I can’t give you all of me,” he ground out.
Her hands moved back to his cock, testing his patience with a gentle tug. “You can

give me this.”

Oh, how he wanted to. Her breasts filled his palms as he cupped them. She sighed

and arched against him, her fingers tightening around his body. “Don’t hold back. I want
to be your lover in truth.”

If there was ever a mortal that could be, Charisse was her. Giving up his attempt at

chivalry, he swept her up and placed her on the bed. She scrambled to her knees and
rushed to undress. He did the same, his shirt and breeches falling into a heap on the floor.
He stood naked before her and crooked a finger. “Come here.”

A seductive smile tugged at her lips as she slid to the edge of the bed and wrapped

her legs around his waist. Still standing, he rubbed his cock against her tight opening. She
was already wet and the damp heat sent tingles along his body. Unable to restrain
himself, he thrust into her. Her eyes slid closed and she breathed his name as his hips
began to piston against her. Her slick muscles gloved him like a second skin.

Her hands cupped his ass and she gave him a hard pinch. “You’re holding back,” she

accused.

He slid partway out of her, deliberately prolonging his next thrust. “How can you

tell?”

She whimpered as he moved deeper. “You’re not glowing.”
“Excuse me?”
She moaned again and dropped onto the bed, her hips arching to meet his. “Nigel

glowed when he had sex.”

“Did he?” Damien asked curiously.
She propped on her elbows and gave him a curious look. “Is that not normal?”
He shook his head and concentrated on keeping his thrusts under control. “No.” He

moved his hands to her bottom and lifted her into his arms. She held onto his shoulders as
he lifted her and impaled her in one long, sure stroke.

“Damien, what are you thinking?”
He dropped his forehead against her breasts. “I’m thinking about how good you

feel.” He turned his head so that his tongue could touch one nipple. “About how good
you taste. What are you thinking?”

“I want us to be like Yasmine and Nigel.” She lifted his face to hers. “Show me,

Damien. Just one time, please.”

He cleared his mind. He’d never let himself go with a mortal. A part of him had

always held back for fear of hurting someone. Charisse was proving herself to be strong

willed, but he’d heard of some vampyres causing mortals to suffer brain damage. He
didn’t want that to happen to her. “Don’t ask that of me, Charisse. There are risks.”

“I don’t care. I’m willing to take them.”
He looked into her face, rosy with passion, and felt his resistance melting away. Just

once, he would show her what it was like to mate with a vampyre. Then he was never
taking the chance again. Muscles bunched in his thighs as he turned and pressed her
against the wall. He pressed into her fully, no longer controlling his movements. His
passion was rough as he took her against the wall. Her thighs trembled as he moved
deeper.

“Damien!” she moaned. He could hear her bottom slapping against the wall as he

moved against her. She threw back her head and let out a muffled scream.

“You are mine,” he growled as he took the lobe of her ear between his teeth and

lightly bit it. She came an instant before he did, her muscles milking his release, but he
still continued to pound against her. Within moments, he was hard again. He turned her
so that she faced the wall and cupped her bottom with both hands. He was still buried
deep inside her. She pressed her forehead against the wall, lifting her bottom so that he
could slide into her from behind. He whispered in her ear, delighting in the shiver she
gave. “Vampyres are like animals, Charisse. We’re never satisfied.”

Her hands pressed against the wall to balance herself. “Then take me like an animal.”
He did. When he was through, he let out a growl and poured his worthless seed

inside her. She slumped against the wall, panting and gasping for breath. She turned to
kiss the hand he’d placed beside hers and whisper his name.

That was when he realized he was wrong.
He was satisfied. The thought scared him more than it should.

* * * *

Damien could tell something was wrong the moment Nigel walked through the door.

Normally, the young vampyre was full of brash bravado. Now his lips were tightly drawn
and his blue eyes steely with determination. “Joslyn was right. The rebels are planning an
attack tonight.”

Yasmine got to her feet. “How do you know?”
“We encountered a couple of rebel scouts. Omar is bringing them in now.”
Omar entered, dragging two struggling vampyres behind him. They were

adolescents, probably made immortal in their early teens. He kept a hand on the scruff of
their necks as he spoke. “We found these two trying to scale the gates.”

Yasmine stepped up to the rebels, her beauty and mind tricks clearly working on the

novice vampyres. “Who sent you?”

One of the rebels, a redhead with pale freckles, glanced uneasily at his partner, a

skinhead with multiple piercings. “No one.”

Yasmine tutted softly. “Don’t make this difficult on yourself. If you cooperate, we

promise to take good care of you.”

Omar hissed angrily. “What say you? These two are rebels and should be destroyed.”
The young rebels cringed at his booming voice. Yasmine silenced him with an angry

chop of her hand. Her face, when she glanced back at the rebels, softened and cajoled.
“Tell me who sent you.”

“It’s a trick, Dexter,” the skinhead said. “Don’t listen to her.”

The redhead was clearly torn between his mission and his desire to be free. “If we

don’t tell them, we will be killed.”

The skinhead drew himself up proudly and spat at Yasmine’s feet. “I would rather

die than consort with the Counsel.”

A wooden stake appeared in Yasmine’s hand as if by magic. “Fine by me,” she said

right before plunging it into the skinhead’s heart. His face mirrored disbelief as he
crumpled to the floor. His remains turned black and then disintegrated into mere dust.
She casually brushed it from her skirts and turned back to the redhead. “Now, Dexter.
Are you going to cooperate or do you want to join your friend in hell?”

Dexter shook his head frantically. “I’ll tell you everything I know.”
Yasmine smiled. “I rather thought you would. Go on.”
“We were sent by the Coalition.”
“The Coalition?” Nigel questioned. “Who are they?”
“A group of elders who want to make the world a better place for vampyres.”
“By destroying humans, you mean?” Damien asked.
Dexter shrugged. “I’m not sure. Ray and I were instructed to steal the Scrolls. That is

all I know.”

“Coward,” Omar said. “Jebediah is sending boys to do his work.”
Damien felt anger at Omar’s words, but he pushed it back. Jebediah was no longer

his responsibility to defend. “Who asked you to steal the Scrolls?”

“A vampyre named Hadrian. He is the Coalition’s messenger.”
“So you’ve never met a member of this Coalition?” Damien asked.
Dexter shook his head. “Never. They are very secretive and prefer to hide themselves

away in Siberia.”

Yasmine glanced at him to see how he was taking the news. It was true. His brother

was plotting against the Counsel. It still hurt to accept the truth. He circled Dexter,
purposefully intimidating him with his size. “How many others are there?”

Dexter lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “A couple hundred. Maybe more.”
It would be a challenge, but not something the Counsel couldn’t handle. They’d had

worse odds before. “Is there to be an attack tonight?”

“Yes.” Dexter lowered his head as if he expected to be punished.
Yasmine stepped forward. “When?”
“Soon.”
Yasmine instructed Omar to lock Dexter in the wine cellar until something could be

done about him. She turned to the Counsel and spoke in a resounding voice. “Tonight is
the time, my friends. We’ve sworn to uphold the sanctity of the Scrolls. Tonight, make
good your pledge.”

The Counsel left the room, each member taking up the post he was assigned. Damien

was placed with Yasmine just outside the front door. Nigel and Lionel retreated into the
garden, while Omar circled around to the back of the house.

Senses on full-scale alert, Damien crouched on the front step and listened to the

sounds of the night. He heard crickets chirping and the rustle of wind through the trees.
Even lower, came the sound of footsteps. He tilted his head to one side and listened
intently.

“What do you hear?” Yasmine asked as she crouched beside him.
He held up a hand for silence. The wind carried voices and the scent of vampyres.

He grimaced and got to his feet. “There are three hundred rebels, at least.”

Yasmine reached for the bow slung across her slender back and notched a thin metal

stake against it. “Can you tell how far away?”

He shook his head. “They’re close.”
He gave a sharp whistle and waited for Nigel to turn to him. He made a signal with

his hand and held up his stake. It’s time, he mouthed.

Nigel nodded and readied his own weapon. As soon as he had, a rebel scaled the gate

and ran headlong into the garden. Yasmine made a choked sound as she watched her
lover drop to one knee and plunge a stake in the rebel’s heart. Vampyres began scaling
the gates and dropping into the garden in an alarming number. Damien ran down the
steps to assist Lionel and Nigel, who were diligently working to hold the rebels at bay.

During the fighting, Damien turned once to see that Yasmine had recovered her

momentum. Perched high on a railing, she was aiming her bow with deadly precision. He
felt the whistle of one of her stakes and turned in time to see it pierce the heart of a rebel
whose stake was aimed for his heart. He touched his fingertips to his forehead and gave
Yasmine a small salute. “Thank you!” he called to her.

“You’re welcome,” she called back. “Now go defeat some rebels!”
Stakes littered the ground around him. He scooped up several and stuck them in the

waist of his breeches. Lionel and Nigel seemed to have everything under control, so he
headed toward the back to see how Omar was faring.

The large African was surrounded by rebels. His four-foot long stake whipped out

and felled three vampyres with a single jab. Damien rushed into the fray, his stake
plunging and withdrawing. He slowly made his way to Omar so that they could stand
back to back to better defend each other.

“Nice of you to join me,” Omar grunted as he destroyed another rebel with a flick of

his stake.

“I grew bored,” Damien answered flippantly.
Some lesser members of the Counsel were managing to keep the rebels from making

it to the back terrace, but it was mainly up to Omar and Damien to destroy the ones who
made it past the gate. “Do you notice something odd about these vampyres?” Damien
asked.

Omar whirled around and jabbed. “Besides the fact that they all seem intent on

killing us?”

Damien glanced at the face of the rebel he’d just destroyed a moment before it

disintegrated. “They all seem young. In mortal years, I mean.”

Omar frowned and took a harder look, but there was barely a break in his fighting.

“You are right. These lads are barely sixteen.”

Damien felt chilled to his very marrow. These young rebels were the same age

Jebediah had been when he’d joined the Crusades. Was there more behind Jebediah’s
madness than just the Scrolls?

* * * *

“Come to me.”
Yasmine ignored the voice silently calling her and took aim with her bow. She pulled

the string back, feeling the tension in her fingers, and let the arrow fly. It plunged in the
heart of a rebel, who turned to dust instantly.

“Yasmine, my sweet love. Come to me and experience pleasures untold.”
“Get out of my head, Jebediah!” she whispered angrily. Her next aim was off and she

cursed loudly. Notching another arrow, she destroyed a vampyre just as he lept toward
Nigel. Her lover, his hair gleaming silver in the moonlight, blew her a kiss and pressed a
hand to his heart in gratitude. She smiled at his antics. Nigel was a good vampyre, strong
and loyal, amazing in bed, but there was just something missing. The spark that she’d
once had with Jebediah did not burn as brightly with her most recent lover.

Yasmine did not see the rebel until it was almost too late. He’d somehow made it

past the garden and was quickly approaching the front steps. She reached for an arrow,
but the other vampyre was quicker. He tossed a stake at her with deadly precision. She
screamed when the stake pierced her right hand, trapping it against a wooden column.
Her hand burned with pain.

She grimaced and ripped the stake out, tossing it aside angrily.
The vampyre grinned at her, his fangs glinting evilly in the moonlight. His dark eyes

were narrowed with malice, his handsome face contorted with the emotion.

“Jebediah,” she breathed his name, her entire being shocked to the core to be faced

with the vampyre she’d loved, and lost, so many centuries ago.

He heard her and he dipped his head in a mocking gesture. “Yes, my love. Have you

missed me?”

He came toward her, his boot heels making a soft tapping sound on the stone beneath

his feet.

She was frozen to her spot, trapped by the flare of heat that appeared in his eyes as

he scanned her body. Against her will, her body trembled at his nearness. She seemed
destined to never wipe him from her memory.

He stretched out his hand, his gaze cajoling. “Give me your hand, Yasmine.”
She did as he asked. Her gaze dropped to her own hand, surprised by the jagged hole

there. Even as she watched, the hole began to heal, the blood drying and disappearing
before her very eyes. She felt Jebediah’s cool fingers slide around her wrist and then he
jerked her to him. She fell from her perch, landing in his arms. Her bow clattered to the
floor, along with the meager stakes she had left.

“Yasmine!”
Hearing a loud cry, she turned her head to see Nigel staring at her with dismay. His

lips were making sounds, but she couldn’t hear them over the low, rumbling murmur of
Jebediah’s voice.

“I can make you forget him,” Jebediah said. His fingers brushed her cheek and

tangled in a strand of her dark hair. “Close your eyes.”

She closed her eyes and began to feel a strange weightlessness. Her skirts billowed

out and she felt as if she was flying. Opening her eyes, she glanced around and let out a
small sound of alarm. She was flying! Clutching her arms around Jebediah’s waist, she
glanced down at the battle still raging in the garden. Nigel watched them, his head thrown
back and his mouth opened on a silent scream.

“Don’t worry about me,” she silently whispered to him. “I’m safe now.”

Chapter Seven

Charisse paced the confines of Damien’s bedroom, alternately raging and worrying.

Damn him for keeping her here! Damn him for fighting without her at his side! She
nearly wore a hole in the carpet as she stalked from one side of the room to the other.

Unable to take it any longer, she walked to the door and banged on it.
Joslyn cracked it open, her tiny face an inscrutable mask. “Yes?”
“What is going on?” Charisse demanded.
Joslyn’s composure slipped just the tiniest bit. “They are fighting.”
Charisse clamped a hand to her mouth to prevent a scream. “How do you know?”

she mumbled through her fingers.

Joslyn turned her face to the window. “I hear them.”
Worry lodged in Charisse’s belly. She had to see Damien. Had to reassure herself

that he was safe. “Can I see?”

Joslyn gave her a stern look. “Damien was quite insistent that you stay hidden.”
Charisse pressed her hands together and pleaded. “Please, Joslyn. I have to see if

he’s alright.”

Joslyn sighed. “Fine, but only for a moment.”
Charisse rushed past her and threw back the curtain. Her breath caught in the back of

her throat at the vicious sight in front of her. Nigel and Lionel were fighting dozens of
vampyres that seemed to be coming from all directions. She pressed her face against the
glass. “Where is Damien?”

Joslyn tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to a second window. Charisse

stumbled across the room and glanced out. At the back of the house, Damien and Omar
also had their hands full. As she watched, a rebel leapt at Damien, but he fought him back
easily. She gave a small cheer, which earned a chuckle from Joslyn. “You really are a
bloodthirsty fiend, aren’t you? You would make a great vampyre.”

Charisse considered that the highest praise. She gave Joslyn a bright smile. “Thank

you.” Her smile faded as she turned back to the window and watched Damien take a
vicious stab in the left side of his chest. He crumpled to his knees, his hands coming up to
encircle the stake plunged into his heart. Watching from the window, Charisse felt her
blood run cold.

“Damien!” she screamed. Without waiting for Joslyn, she turned and fled the room.
Outside, she could hear the wails of the dying as she careened onto the terrace and

skidded to a stop mere inches from Damien’s prone body. She crouched beside him and
reached for his hand. It was as cold as death.

Omar saw her and growled a warning. “Get back into the house!”
Through wet eyes, she saw him toss something at her. She caught it instinctively and

looked down at the gleaming silver in her palm. A stake.

Fury rushed through her veins. Damien was dead and it was all these rebels’ fault.

By God, someone was going to pay for this. Howling with rage, she got to her feet and
tightened her grip on the stake. A rebel came at her, his weapon poised above her head,
but she caught him off guard with a kick to his solar plexus. While he was stunned, she
lunged forward and pierced his heart. She stepped back, shaking uncontrollably, as the

vampyre writhed in agony before disintegrating into a pile of dust.

“Charisse!” Omar yelled a warning. Her head came up in time to see a couple more

vampyres headed her way. She dodged their blows, somehow managing to kill both of
them and only receiving a scratch herself.

She could tell the battle was winding down. The Counsel was slowly but surely

beating the rebel army. For what seemed like hours, but was probably only minutes, she
fought at Omar’s side. Her arms ached, her muscled screamed in agony, but she
continued to fight. When it was finally over, she was covered in sweat from head to toe.
Her gown was ripped and dusty and she bled from a long scratch on her left arm.
Otherwise, she was unharmed.

Wiping the dirt from his face, Omar glanced down at Damien’s body. His relief at

finding the battle over slowly faded.

“Oh, God. Damien!” Charisse dropped her weapon and collapsed beside him. Her

hands visibly shook as she rolled him onto his back. She gave Omar a puzzled look.
“Why didn’t he turn to dust?”

Omar raised his hands helplessly, his bloody stake still clutched between his fingers.
“Tired of me already?” Damien asked.
She tumbled onto her bottom in surprise at the sound of his voice. She quickly

scrambled back to his side. “Damien? You’re alive?”

He sat up, clutching the area above his heart in pain. “Yes, but I’m bloody well in

pain.” He oomphed as pulled out the stake and tossed it aside. “Damned rebels used a
wooden stake on me. They should’ve known better.”

“Lucky for us they didn’t,” Charisse snapped.
He looked at her, finally realizing she was outside and not locked up as she should

be. His face hardened. “What are you doing out here?”

She licked her lips nervously. Damien mad was one thing. Damien mad and injured

was quite another. “Helping you?”

Omar clamped a heavy hand on her shoulder and helped her rise. “Your lady is quite

a fighter, Damien. You should’ve seen the way she handled those rebels.” He glanced at
her. “How many did you take down? Fifteen? Sixteen?”

“Twenty-four, actually,” Charisse said. She knew because she’d counted every one.

With each stab of her stake, she’d whispered Damien’s name.

Damien struggled to his feet, still clutching his chest. “I told you to stay inside.

Where is Joslyn?”

“It was not her fault,” Charisse said. “Don’t take it out on her. She’s just a child.”
Damien glared at her. “She’s a vampyre. You’re not. You shouldn’t have come out

here.”

He began walking to the house, ignoring the protests she made. She watched him

leave, her mouth hanging open in amazement. She’d just helped win the war and he was
angry with her? Omar patted her back in commiseration.

“Just give him a little while. He’ll come around in his own time,” Omar said.
Charisse sniffed and wiped the blood from her arm on her skirt. “His time? I might

not live long enough to see the day.”

* * * *

“He took her.”

Damien’s hand dropped from his chest and he glanced at Nigel in confusion. “Took

whom?”

“Yasmine,” Nigel answered. “Jebediah took her.”
Jebediah had been there and he’d not sensed his presence? “How do you know it was

him?”

Nigel cleared his throat nervously. “He looked just like you.”
Damien remained quiet as the information soaked in. Yasmine abducted. He’d been

wounded. And Charisse had played the hero. All in all, it was turning out to be a shitty
night. “We must go after her.”

Lionel looked at the hall clock. “It is late. We’d never find a safe place to sleep

before morning.”

Damien looked out the open front door and saw the sun peeking over the horizon.

Lionel was right. He nodded tightly. “We rest and head out in the evening.”

Nigel was clearly antsy. “I don’t want to wait.”
Lionel laid a hand upon his shoulder. “You must. There is nothing we can do for

Yasmine tonight.”

“What if she is hurt?” Nigel fired back.
“We’ve got to hope she won’t be.”
Damien turned to go upstairs. Charisse was waiting for him and he could tell by her

expression she’d heard every word.

“We should try to find her,” Charisse said.
Damien did not have time for this. He was exhausted, his chest hurt like hell, and he

had a feeling the war was just beginning. He took her hand and motioned toward the top
of the stairs. “Come, let’s go to bed.”

She jerked away from him and stood her ground. “I’m not the least bit sleepy.

Yasmine is at the mercy of that madman and I won’t be able to rest until she is safe.”

Two weeks ago, Yasmine would’ve been content to have Charisse for breakfast and

she wanted to rescue her? The human mind truly boggled. “That madman you refer to
just happens to be my brother.”

Charisse realized her mistake and her cheeks turned red, but she lifted her chin

mutinously. “I volunteer to go after her. I’m human. I can withstand the sun.”

He bent forward, attempting to intimidate her with his height. “No.”
“Damien, listen to me. I promise not to put myself in danger.”
He interrupted her. “Absolutely not!”
She crossed her arms and glared at him. “I’ve proven I can fight. I don’t see what the

problem is.”

“The problem,” Damien ground out, “is that you’re a mortal. You cannot go up

against one of the strongest vampyres ever created.”

“That’s just ridiculous,” Charisse sniffed. “He’ll be sleeping. I can sneak in and

destroy him easily.”

He had to admit her idea had merit, but the thought of sending her after Jebediah sent

chills across his spine. “No, Charisse. In case you didn’t notice, Jebediah can fly. There is
no telling how far he may have gotten before he went to sleep.”

“Oh.” Charisse’s face fell at his revelation. She looked so crestfallen, he was unable

to prevent himself from running a finger across her dusty cheek. She glanced up at him,
her green eyes haunted by what she’d seen that day. He remembered how she’d fought

for him, to revenge his presumed death and felt a wealth of emotion well up inside him.
He adored her, this mortal who’d snuck into his thoughts and bed. When this was all
over, he would lose her and as much as he wanted the war to end, he dreaded that day.

“I appreciate your help, Charisse. I really do, but you have no place in this war.” He

put his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward the stairs. “It’s my fault you’re here.
I’m not going to involve you any more than necessary.”

She pushed against him. “I want to be involved. You need my help.”
He tried not to laugh at her earnest expression. A vampyre needing a mortal’s help?

Not likely. The only thing a mortal could give him was blood. As well as, in Charisse’s
case, a body. “You will not involve yourself further. As soon as I can, I’m taking you
home.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” She plopped her hands on her hips and glared at him.

“Until you’re finished with Jebediah, I am staying here.”

He did laugh this time. “You plan on comforting me?”
“Absolutely,” she nodded. “Vampyres should not have human emotions, but you

do.” She jabbed a finger in his side accusingly. “I’m not leaving you alone during your
time of need.”

“Stop being ridiculous, Charisse. I can get through this on my own. You don’t have

to worry about me.”

She lifted her chin and turned back toward the stairs. “It’s time somebody did.”
He watched as she ascended the stairs, refusing to look at him again. Squashing a

groan, he followed her.

* * * *

“Wake up, my sweet.”
Yasmine opened her eyes, bolting straight up when she saw Jebediah’s familiar face

in front of her. She glanced around in confusion, mixed with a bit of trepidation. “Where
am I?”

Jebediah spread his arms wide. The room they were in was lavishly decorated in red

and black. It reeked of wealth and splendor, but it lacked warmth. “Welcome to my
humble abode.”

Slowly, the events of the night before came rushing back to her. The fighting,

Jebediah taking her on a midnight flight. She shook her head, trying to clear it of the
cobwebs still cluttering her fuzzy memory. “What did you do to me?”

He laughed and the insane amusement sent shivers down her spine. “Nothing you

didn’t ask me to do.”

She knew he hadn’t touched her, so his attempt at humor failed. “You brainwashed

me.”

He looked proud of his accomplishment. “Yes. Don’t tell me you thought you were

the only one with that particular capability?”

“Of course not,” she snapped. “Why did you bring me here?”
He came to her side and touched her face. He laughed when she jerked away. “As

bait, of course. I’ve no doubt your friends will come rushing to rescue you. When they
do, my followers will destroy them.”

It was as she’d expected, but it still pained her to hear him put his scheme into

words. “You won’t succeed, Jebediah. You’re not strong enough to defeat the Counsel.”

“Ah, but I have their leader, don’t I? Through you, it will be a simple enough matter

to get my hands on the Scrolls.”

She watched him through narrowed eyes. Even though he’d been a young man when

he’d become immortal, his demeanor was that of a petulant child. A child desiring
something he knew he couldn’t have and having a fit when it was denied to him.
“Damien will see you in hell before he lets you touch the Scrolls.”

Jebediah’s smile froze. “What did you say?”
She felt a spurt of satisfaction at his surprise. “Didn’t you know? Your brother is

siding with the Counsel in this fight.”

It was brief, but Yasmine saw the pained look in his eyes. Jebediah had idolized his

older brother while he was alive. It couldn’t be much different now, regardless of the
separate paths they’d taken. She pressed her point. “Would you destroy your own brother
in this ridiculous quest of yours?”

He spoke confidently. “Damien is weak. He won’t be able to stop me.”
Yasmine laughed outright at his blatant lie. “Damien is the strongest vampyre I

know. You don’t stand a chance against him.”

Jebediah raised his hand, but not so much as a finger touched her. Nevertheless, she

felt a stabbing pain shoot across her skull. She clamped a hand to her forehead and willed
the pain away. He was strong, much stronger than even she’d guessed. To cause pain to
another vampyre mentally was a rare gift. Suddenly the pain disappeared and she lowered
her hands.

Jebediah’s face took on a mask of politeness. “Are you hungry?”
Of course, she was. “What do you think?”
He snapped his fingers. An ornate wooden door swung open and a handsome youth

walked in. “Yes, master?”

“Her highness is famished, Talon. Please see to it that she is fed.”
Talon nodded and disappeared. Minutes later, he returned with an elderly mortal in

tow. The human looked dazed, but at Talon’s prod walked straight up to Yasmine and
tilted his head in offering. Yasmine studied the exposed neck, eyeing the throbbing vein
underneath his age-spotted skin.

“Eat,” Jebediah commanded.
Yasmine hated to follow his orders, but she was hungry. She needed her strength if

she was ever going to escape. Fangs appearing, she put her mouth to his neck. Blood
burst into her mouth and she groaned with ecstasy at the sweet taste. As she fed, Jebediah
laid his hand upon her shoulder. His fingers traced downwards to the curve of her breast.
“A tempting morsel, isn’t he?”

She ignored his question and continued to feed. When she was done, she tossed aside

the limp body and glared at Jebediah. “Touch me again and I will destroy you myself.”

“Still feisty, I see. I shall have to break you of that habit.”
She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and then hissed, “Try it if you dare.”
He lifted his hand from her breast, his lips curving into a smirk. “Maybe later. I find

I am tiring of your company.”

He turned to leave, but she stopped him with a pointed rejoinder. “Still running

away, Jebediah?”

He swirled around, the black robe he wore falling open to reveal a leanly muscled

chest. The memory came to her of stroking that chest lovingly, letting him be the first to

introduce her to the joys of passion. She’d been a young vampyre then, still clinging to
the emotions of a girl on the brink of womanhood. The sight of his chest now didn’t have
the draw it once did.

“I never ran,” he bit off angrily. “The Counsel forced me to leave.”
She got to her feet, her own robe falling open to reveal the pale skin of her thighs.

Jebediah’s gaze dropped and she noticed that he still remained affected by the passion
they’d once shared. Drawing forth all the feminine wiles she’d learned, she arched her
back seductively and made a purring sound. “You left me without saying goodbye.”

His gaze slowly moved back to her face. She rejoiced at the wary uncertainty on his

face. “The Counsel made it impossible for me to see anyone before I left.”

“Before you ran, you mean,” she corrected.
“Before I left.” He came to her and took her hand. His thumb lightly caressed the

back of her knuckles. For a moment, she thought she’d broken through Jebediah’s
madness, but all too soon his expression hardened and he turned away from her. “You
tempt me to my death.”

It was the truth, so she saw no reason to deny it. “My first loyalty is to the Counsel.”
“Just as mine is to my cause.”
“Your cause leads to the destruction of all we hold dear,” Yasmine exploded. “It’s

not too late to change your mind. I promise the Counsel will grant you leniency.”

His voice echoed off the stone walls of the chamber as he spoke. “I will never trust

the word of the Counsel. They betrayed me!”

“You betrayed yourself!” she shot back. “You knew the rules when you tried to steal

the Scrolls. A youngling is not allowed access to them.”

“I want to become human again!”
His words continued echoing long after he’d shouted them. The pain in his voice

would’ve pulled at her heartstrings, had she had them. “You would give up all this,” she
gestured at the room, “To become mortal again?”

“Gladly,” he answered with a grim smile. “I never wanted to be a vampyre.”
“None of us did, Jebediah, but it’s what we are. Revel in it. Enjoy the unfettered

freedom you have. Why go back to the trials of human life?”

His expression was bleak. “Eternity is a long time, Yasmine.”
It was disheartening the way he slipped between madness and coherence so easily.

Just when she thought she could destroy him without hesitation, a hint of the lad he’d
been would appear. She crossed the room and laid her hand upon his chest. “You can end
it all, Jebediah. If death is what you want, you can achieve it easily enough.”

“It’s not death I desire.” His dark eyes bored into hers. “It’s the things I knew as a

human that I miss. The beat of blood in my veins when I was scared, or,” he paused to
smile seductively, “when I was aroused.”

His hand slid around her waist and brought her flush against his body. This time, she

didn’t resist. She could tell herself he’d brainwashed her, but this Jebediah was the one
she’d loved and she craved his closeness. Just for a moment, she told herself. She wanted
one last time to touch him.

“I miss the feel of a woman’s heartbeat underneath my fingers.” He lifted his hand

and touched her left breast. Even though she had no heartbeat, she was entranced. His
fingers curved around the soft, supple weight and her body responded. Her nipple pressed
against his palm and he glanced at her face to see how she was dealing with her obvious

arousal. “Touch me, Yasmine.”

She did as he asked. Her hands cupped his shoulders, then slid down his muscular

arms, sliding his robe off as she did. Her fingers moved to his chest and she laid the flat
of her palm against his nipples. Without looking down, she knew his cock was standing
at stiff attention. His body was beautiful, smooth and unblemished. She traced an
invisible line to his taut abdomen, rejoicing in the slight hiss he made as she moved
lower. Closing her eyes, she attempted to touch his mind. At first, he resisted, but she
could feel him weakening.

“Do you want me to touch you?”
Jebediah’s thoughts came to her faintly. “Yes.”
She brushed a fleeting touch against the head of his penis. “Which do you want to

touch you more? My hands or my lips?”

“Both,” he responded. “What of you? Do you want me to use my tongue to pleasure

you?”

Her knees felt like jelly. “As I recall, your tongue was quite talented.”
He chuckled as he moved his hands between her legs. At the touch of his knuckles

against her swollen nether lips she almost came. Jebediah was the only one she knew who
could make her come first. None of the others had even come close. Not even Nigel, who
was an expert lover, could connect with her the way Jebediah did. She was weakening,
craving Jebediah’s touch in a way she could never understand.

“Widen your legs, Yasmine. I want to feel all of you.”
She did as he asked. At once, his fingers delved deeper into her tight clit. She’d been

a virgin when she’d become a vampyre, so regardless of how many lovers she took,
physically she stayed the same. She bit her lip to hold back a moan.

“I want to fuck you.”
Her eyes, which had closed as he stroked her, flew open. Did she dare? His hand

stopped moving against her and she knew if she refused, he would leave her unsated. She
was too far gone for that to happen. “Then fuck me, Jebediah.”

He glanced around the room, as if debating the best place for a bout of sex. Once

he’d decided, she found herself lifted in mid-air and placed in the center of a low-sitting
divan. She felt invisible hands pushing her thighs apart and then the flick of a phantom
tongue against her clit. She used her hands to brace herself against the divan and moaned
helplessly. “Damn you, Jebediah. Quit your mind tricks and get over here!”

He crossed his arms and ignored her command. His eyes remained centered on her

exposed clit and she knew he was thinking of more ways to pleasure her without
touching. She smiled to herself. Two could play that game.

She licked her lips in a come-hither manner and moved her hands to her navel. She

easily traced the curve of her lower belly before placing her fingers against her hairless
mound. As a young girl she’d been trained for the harem, so the night before her wedding
she’d been shaved of all body hair as the way of her people dictated.

She touched her clit with one finger. “Don’t you want to touch me, Jebediah? Feel

how wet I am for you?”

Phantom hands trapped her fingers and pushed them aside. She was shoved onto her

back and her hips lifted to meet the thrust of an invisible cock. She cried out at the filling
sensation. Hips she could not see, only feel, pistoned between her legs. It was extremely
exciting to know Jebediah was doing all this with only his mind.

“More?” Jebediah asked.
“More,” she whispered. Her strength to communicate mentally was overtaxed. Her

legs were lifted higher and she felt the phantom cock bury even deeper inside her. She
could feel the slide of his invisible skin against her tender flesh, the steady in and out
motion that nearly drove her insane. The head of the penis he gave her was thick, the
shaft long and hard. Her legs started trembling and then she was crying out her release.
Her body collapsed upon the divan, arms flinging wide. Yet, her phantom lover continued
to fuck her.

“Open your eyes, Yasmine.”
She did and saw that Jebediah had finally replaced the imaginary lover he’d made for

her in his mind. Lust swamped her again. This time, she could feel skin, the tickle of his
leg hair against her bottom. Off in the distance, she heard the rumble of thunder. Being
with Jebediah was like facing a thunderstorm. It was dangerous, but nevertheless
exciting.

Jebediah pounded her hard, his desire overcoming his concern, but that was fine.

Yasmine liked sex rough. With that thought, she came up on her elbows and captured his
flat nipple between her teeth. She tugged sharply and sucked to soothe it. Jebediah
wrapped his fingers in her hair and tugged her head back. His dark eyes glittered with
desire, his lips clamped into a firm line. “Are you ready to come?”

He was still communicating mentally. She nodded and focused on his handsome

face. “After you.”

He recognized the challenge in her words. His movements between her legs became

purposefully controlled to give her the most pleasure. She was determined for him to
peak first. Gripping him with her slender legs, she utilized the techniques she’d been
taught as a young mortal. Her inner muscles gloved him, milking him for all they were
worth. She knew he was close. His cock twitched inside her as he gave one last thrust.

Howling with his release, Jebediah poured himself into her. She came an instant after

him. Their bodies clung to each other as they suffered the aftershocks of their mating.
She recovered enough to push his hair out of his eyes and press a tender kiss against the
cool skin of his forehead. “I love you, Jebediah.”

Either he was too weak to hear her silent declaration or he chose to ignore it. She

was probably deluding herself, but Yasmine preferred to believe in the first option.

Chapter Eight

A clap of thunder woke her.
Bolting upright, Charisse reached for Damien, but he wasn’t there. She scrambled to

light a candle and saw that the bed was empty. There was a note propped on his pillow
with her name written on the front.

She unfolded it and scanned the words he’d written. He’d gone with the Counsel to

rescue Yasmine. She was to stay behind with only Joslyn for company. She crumpled the
note into a ball and tossed it aside with frustration. She could help him. Why couldn’t he
see that?

She reached for her robe and pulled it on as she walked to the door. It was unlocked,

which was surprising.

“Good evening, Charisse.”
Charisse glanced down and gave Joslyn a tired nod. “When did they leave?”
“About thirty minutes ago.”
She mentally calculated the lead they would have on her. She opened her mouth, but

Joslyn spoke first. “You can’t catch them. And even if you could, I won’t let you leave.”

Charisse looked at the child vampyre in front of her and smiled wryly. Although she

was taller and heavier, Charisse was no match for a vampyre, regardless of Joslyn’s petite
size.

Joslyn put her fingertips to her forehead and Charisse braced herself for another of

her premonitions.

“We have a visitor,” Joslyn said a moment before they heard a loud banging on the

front door. She turned to go answer it and Charisse followed at her heels.

“Who is it?” Charisse asked.
“A mortal,” Joslyn answered.
“Who would come here?”
Joslyn shrugged and continued down the stairs. “We’ll go see.”
“What if he’s dangerous?”
Joslyn stopped mid-step and gave Charisse a brief look. “We get rid of him.”
“We?” Charisse asked.
“Me,” Joslyn corrected. “Stay here.”
“No way,” Charisse argued. “I’m coming with you.”
Joslyn opened the door to reveal a tall, slender stranger with dark blond hair and

piercing blue eyes. “May I help you?”

The stranger doffed his strange looking hat. “Good evening, ladies. I’m here to see

the Counsel.”

“Who?” Joslyn asked with a blank look.
“The Counsel.” The stranger’s eyes met Charisse’s over Joslyn’s head. “Are they

here?”

“We’re the only ones here,” Charisse hedged. She didn’t know this man. He could

pose a threat to the Counsel. If that was true, she was not about to let him know he’d
come to the right place. “What is your business here?

He smiled crookedly, transforming his face from a vague handsomeness to

breathtaking. “Forgive me, ma’am. Where are my manners?” He sketched a small bow.
“I’m Jake Tucker and…”

Charisse gasped. “Jake Tucker?”
Joslyn gave her a suspicious look. “Who is he?”
Jake asked a simultaneous question. “You’ve heard of me?”
Charisse’s cheeks flamed. She answered Joslyn first. “I’ve read some of his

writings.”

Joslyn’s look grew even more suspicious. “On what?”
“On vampyres,” Jake answered. His smile grew broader. “I’m the world’s premier

vampyreologist.”

Joslyn lifted her eyebrow haughtily. “What could the world’s leading vampyreologist

have to do with us?”

Jake flicked another gaze to Charisse. She saw the indecision in his eyes as he

glanced back at Joslyn. She understood his unease. It was hard to reconcile such a sweet
looking little girl into a bloodsucker. “I want to meet with the Counsel. My sources tell
me this is their headquarters.”

“Your sources tell you wrong,” Joslyn snapped and reached out to shut the door in

his face.

Jake stopped her by placing the heel of his boot in the doorjamb. The door bounced

open as Joslyn hissed a warning. “You are not welcome here, Tucker.”

He stepped boldly inside, his impressive height dwarfing the both of them. His gaze

leisurely roamed around the foyer. “Tasteful and elegant. Very nice for a coven of
bloodsuckers.”

Looking closely, Charisse could see the lines of tension in his body. Although he

tried to act unconcerned, there was a hardness in his gaze. She wondered what secrets this
man carried and why they made him so dedicated to researching vampyres.

Joslyn was bristling at her side, nearly vibrating in her anger. Charisse laid a hand

upon Jake’s shoulder in warning and he flinched. She apologized and lifted her hand
away immediately, but he grabbed it and pressed his fingers against the pulse in her wrist.
“You are mortal.”

“Of course I am,” she replied. Had he thought her a vampyre? She rejoiced silently

to herself. Maybe it was enough to keep Damien at her side if others saw her as one of his
kind.

She glanced down at the hand holding hers and noticed a gold band on his third

finger. She’d heard his wife had died a few years ago, so it was odd he was still wearing
his wedding ring. Unless he’d remarried, of course. Jake let go and turned to Joslyn, who
was still watching him carefully. “Show me to the Counsel.”

Joslyn’s round chin poked forward in an obstinate manner. “I cannot.”
Realizing he’d made an enemy in Joslyn, Jake turned back to Charisse. “Are they

truly not here? You’ve read my writings, so you must know this is important to me.”

Charisse bit her lip in indecision. If ever there was a mortal man she could trust, Jake

Tucker was probably him. He’d spent half his life researching vampyres. Surely he could
mean them no harm. “There is no one here but Joslyn and myself.”

“Is it true that the Scrolls are housed here?”
Joslyn hissed in warning, baring her small fangs at Jake. “Touch them and die,

Tucker.”

Charisse stepped between the two of them before Joslyn could do real harm. “It is

true, but you’ll never be able to get your hands on them. They are guarded at all times.”

Jake’s cool gaze slid dispassionately around the room again. “That’s fine. The

Scrolls are not what I’m after anyway.”

Charisse cleared her throat. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are you after?”
“Something much larger,” he replied cryptically. He still held his hat in his hands.

His fingers twisted it until his knuckles turned almost white. Charisse studied the hat. It
reminded her of the ones she’d seen sketched in penny novels of the American west.

“You’re American,” she stated.
Jake nodded. “Yes. I came here all the way from Savannah, Georgia.”
“Just to study vampyres?”
His blue eyes lit upon her face and she shivered at the dark emotion in their clear

depths. “Revenge brought me here.”

“Revenge for what?” Joslyn asked.
Jake put the hat back on, the brim shielding his hypnotic eyes. “For the murder of my

family.”

Charisse frowned. “And you believe the Counsel is responsible?”
“No, but they can help me locate the scum who is.”
Joslyn seemed to be slowly warming to Jake. She invited him to take a seat in the

library. She and Charisse sat on opposite sides of him, both curious about his story.
Spreading her pink skirts about her, Joslyn leaned forward. “I’m a member of the
Counsel. Who is it you seek?”

Jake’s voice grew hard with anger. “He’s tall, with hair as black as night, and eyes

like the devil himself.”

Joslyn nodded slowly. “Mikhail.”
“Mikhail?” Charisse repeated. “Who is he?”
“Jebediah’s right hand man,” Joslyn explained. “He’s a Rogue whose depravities

know no bounds.”

“Where can he be found?” Jake questioned.
“Most likely in Siberia. Jebediah has a mansion there, deep in the northern hills.”
Jake got to his feet and doffed his hat again. “Thank you for your help.”
Charisse leapt to her feet. “Wait!”
Jake did a half turn. “Yes?”
“If you take me with you, I can show you where he lives.”
“How do you know where he lives?” Joslyn asked.
Charisse glanced away in shame. “I eavesdropped on Damien when he gave

directions to Samantha.”

Jake appeared to be considering her suggestion. “Why are you so eager to join me?”
Joslyn motioned to the couch again. “Please sit, Mr. Tucker. If you’re going to hear

it, you might as well get the complete story.”

* * * *

Deep inside a cave in northern Siberia, Damien woke to the sound of low murmurs.

He opened his eyes and peered at Nigel and Samantha, who’d recently come upon them
as they prepared to storm Jebediah’s stronghold. She’d had little to offer in the way of
information, other than the fact that Jebediah was the one behind the attack on the

Counsel. She’d left before Yasmine arrived, so she could not say if their friend and leader
was unharmed.

“It was a mistake, Sam. It’ll never happen again.”
Damien lay still, hating himself for eavesdropping, but curious to know what the two

young vampyres were discussing.

Samantha rose up on her knees, her thin shirt nearly transparent in the flickering light

of a fire they’d laid the morning before. She was lushly curved, which was something
he’d not realized earlier since she preferred to wear men’s loose clothing. Instead of a
cute tomboy, she took on the guise of a siren as she reached for Nigel. “Forget her, Nigel.
She only uses you for her pleasure.”

“You know not what you speak of, Sam.” Nigel gently pushed her hands away. “I

will remain faithful as long as she will have me.”

Sam’s full lips grew pouty. “If you refuse me now, I’ll never forgive you.”
“Lower your voice, Sam. Do you want to wake everyone and allow them to bear

witness to your humiliating attempt to seduce me?”

The sound of her hand across his cheek bounced off the stone walls. Damien winced

with sympathy for Nigel. He knew all about handling a hot-tempered female. He was
suddenly overcome with the desire to see Charisse. He did not like sleeping alone. He
hated waking up alone even worse. For a professed loner, it was an unusual feeling to
have.

“You didn’t think it was so humiliating last time,” Samantha whispered angrily.
“You were leaving on a dangerous mission,” Nigel explained. “You asked me to

distract you, which I did. I didn’t mean for things to get so out of hand.”

“Are you saying you regret having sex with me?” Samantha’s voice was strained.
Nigel’s clothes rustled as he crawled to her side. She turned her head away from him,

but he traced the curve of her cheek with one hand until she glanced back at him. “No, I
don’t. I’m glad you allowed me to be your first lover.” He lay down beside her and
nuzzled her neck.

Samantha arched her neck, silently inviting him to continue his kisses. Her hand slid

across his hip and rested on the small of his back. “Why do you tempt me so?”

Nigel lifted his head and grinned at her. “Because I’m the forbidden fruit.”
Samantha moved her hand to his ass and pinched teasingly. “But I’ve already tasted

you.”

Nigel flipped her onto her back and leaned over her. “Yes, you have.” He lowered

his head and pressed a kiss against the nipples clearly pressing against the front of her
shirt. He shoved the material aside, baring her lush breasts to the light. Damien glanced
away, uncomfortable at seeing Samantha in such a manner. It seemed like a betrayal to
Charisse to look upon another female.

He raised his gaze to the ceiling of the cave, mentally counting to a thousand and

then starting again. He could hear murmurs and small cries of pleasure. He was quite sure
Nigel and Samantha were not having sex, but Nigel was clearly pleasing her in his own
manner. The sounds Samantha made reminded him of Charisse, bringing to mind the last
night he’d held her in his arms. She’d been so responsive, so giving. Now that he’d let
himself go with her, his pleasure was nearly doubled. There were no boundaries between
them and so far Charisse seemed to suffer no ill effects.

He was relieved when he heard Omar stir. Nigel and Samantha separated quickly,

each retreating to their own pallet. Damien sat up and stretched his arms. He only did it
out of habit since his muscles seldom needed stretching. “Good evening,” he murmured.

“Good evening,” Nigel and Samantha answered. Their voices were irritatingly

cheerful. The sound grated on his nerves. He wanted to be the one freshly rising from the
arms of his lover.

Damien got to his feet and brushed dirt from his cape and breeches. He gave

Samantha a brief look. “Has Jebediah risen yet?”

She’d been given the task of sneaking into Jebediah’s chambers as soon as night fell.

“Nearly two hours ago.”

“Two hours?” Omar echoed. “It was still dusk then.”
“He knows we’re coming for Yasmine,” Damien remarked calmly. “He won’t rest

until we do.”

“Then let’s go.” Nigel stood and held out his hand to help Samantha. “We wouldn’t

want to disappoint him.”

They made their way to the front of the cave and emerged into the cold night air of

Siberia. Across a valley, Jebediah’s mansion was hidden among the hills. Damien could
detect the curve of a wall by focusing intently on the stone. Somewhere inside that house,
he would face his brother again. He stood there, mentally preparing himself to fight. This
was it; the moment where he truly gave himself over to the darkness in his soul. He’d
fought against it so long, but to protect Charisse he would battle the hounds of hell
themselves.

“Let’s go,” he said. The Counsel fell in line behind him, each of them keeping their

eyes open for an attack.

A full moon lit their way. As they walked, snow crunched underneath their feet.

Damien was grateful he couldn’t feel the cold. Siberia was a dismal place. Why had
Jebediah chosen to live there? As a boy, he’d always hated the snow. Damien put a halt
to his thoughts. If he began to recall the brother he’d lost, he would lose his resolve.

They drew close to the mansion. Damien held up a hand and signaled for the others

to stop. “Sam.” He motioned toward her and she obediently came forward. “What is the
best way in?”

She pointed toward a door carved into the side of the hill. “That entrance is loosely

guarded.”

“Go see if anyone is there,” Damien ordered.
Sam began to shimmer, then disappeared completely. The look of amazement must

have shown on his face, because Nigel nudged him. “She’s something, isn’t she?”

“Yes, she is,” Damien agreed. He didn’t say anything further, but he had a hunch that

his young friend cared more about Sam than he let on.

They waited for her to return. Damien heard a sound behind them. He turned, stake

in hand, expecting to see one of the Rogues. Instead, he saw a slight figure garbed in
black trousers walking beside a tall man. His eyes narrowed at the sight. He knew that
walk.

Charisse pulled back the hood of her cape and looked at him. Before he could speak,

she opened her mouth. “Don’t be angry. I had to come.”

He reached for her arm and pulled her to him. “I’m way beyond angry. How did you

get here?”

She had the grace to look ashamed. “We caught the first ship out of England. Since

then, we’ve been riding night and day to catch up with you.”

He glanced at the man beside her. “Who is he?”
“Jake Tucker.”
“The vampyreologist?” he asked incredulously.
The man’s lips quirked into a smile as he tipped his hat. “One and the same.”
Damien glared at Charisse. “What is he doing here?”
Charisse looked toward Jake, as if asking for his permission to explain. He nodded in

answer to her silent question. “He’s looking for the vampyre who killed his family.”

Damien groaned silently. The last thing they needed was a revenge-seeking mortal

and a meddling woman. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“I had to see if you were alright,” she argued. “And Jake has a right to avenge his

family.”

Nigel walked over to him. His blue eyes surveyed their small group. “What do you

want to do, Damien?”

Damien rubbed his forehead. If he were mortal, he would have a splitting headache

by now. “Someone needs to stay behind to make sure these two don’t get into trouble.”

“I’m going with you,” Charisse said stubbornly.
“Same here,” Jake added. He gave Damien a hard look. “Nothing short of dying is

keeping me here.”

“We’ll be happy to oblige,” Nigel said and bared his fangs in warning.
Jake only laughed at Nigel’s attempt at intimidation. “I’m going with you. Mikhail

murdered my family and I want to make sure he pays.”

“Mikhail?” Damien asked. “You’ll never be able to defeat him.”
Jake motioned to the stakes slung across his back. “I can try.”
Damien admired the man’s determination, but this was not the time to let emotions

rule his head. They’d come to put an end to the rebellion and he couldn’t fight if he
feared for Charisse’s safety.

Sam reappeared. She was surprised to see Charisse there, but it was nothing

compared to her reaction to Jake. Her eyes widened and her hand went to her mouth, then
fell back to her side. Jake stared at her in equal fascination. “Samantha?” he croaked.

She took a cautious step forward. “Jacob?”
“You two know each other?” Nigel asked.
Samantha nodded. “Yes.”
“Care to explain further?” Nigel prodded.
Jake still looked as if he’d seen a ghost. Samantha reached out and touched his

shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Neither can I,” Jake said. “I thought you’d died.”
A flash of emotion crossed Samantha’s face. “Not exactly.”
“You’re a vampyre?” Jake asked.
Nigel had remained quiet, but he cursed softly. “Would someone care to explain?”
Samantha’s hand slid to grasp Jake’s as she turned to face Nigel. “He’s my brother.”
“He’s your what?” Charisse, Damien and Nigel echoed simultaneously.
Omar threw back his head and laughed softly. “Never a dull moment, eh?”

* * * *

“You’re leaving.”

Charisse plopped her hands on her hips and glared at Damien. “No, I’m not.”
He stepped forward until their noses were almost touching. “Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
Damien put his hand around her neck and brought her ear to his mouth. “If you care

about me at all, you’ll leave.”

“Caring about you is the reason I’m staying,” Charisse stated.
He drew back, clearly surprised by her admission. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“And I don’t want to see you hurt either. Let me stay.”
“If you die, it’ll be on my conscience.”
“Vampyres don’t have consciences.”
“This vampyre does,” Damien answered. His hand tangled in her hair as he

massaged the back of her neck. “Please go.”

“No.” She shook her head again.
“For Christ’s sake, Damien, we don’t have much time,” Nigel snapped. “Just let her

stay. If she gets herself killed, it’ll be her own fault.”

Damien’s hand dropped from her neck. She sighed in relief when she saw he’d given

up. “Did you come prepared?”

She pulled back the edges of her cloak and motioned to the stakes strapped to a

makeshift belt. “Of course.”

“Stay with Nigel,” he ordered and strode away.
“I’m coming with you!” she yelled at his departing back.
Nigel grabbed the back of her cloak when she would’ve followed Damien. She shot

him a look. “Let me go.”

“It’ll be too dangerous for you to stay with him. You’ll go with me.”
“What about Jake?” Charisse asked.
“He can stick with Sam since they’re related.”
She didn’t like it, but Charisse gave up the fight. At least they were allowing her to

fight. That was better than nothing at all. If she couldn’t be at Damien’s side, she could
console herself with the knowledge that she was fighting on his side.

They entered the mansion by scaling the walls and slipping through a partially

hidden door on the second floor. Charisse, even in trousers, was unable to complete the
task without Nigel’s assistance. She felt a breeze and then a rush of air lifted her off her
feet and into Nigel’s arm. She clung to him, amazed by his show of power. At the top, he
set her down and flashed a cocky grin.

“Thank you.”
Nigel’s grin grew even broader. “You’re welcome.”
Once she was enveloped by the icy coolness of the stone room, Charisse realized the

danger of the situation. Her concern for Damien had overridden her fear, but looking at
the bleakness of the house it returned full force. She started shivering and Nigel inched
close to her.

Are you cold? he mouthed.
I’m fine, she mouthed back and drew the edges of her cloak tightly together. Damien

and Omar were way ahead of them. Sam and Jake were trailing them by a few feet. The
other Counsel members dispersed in various positions. That left Nigel and her to bring up
the rear. She jumped at every sound that was made, then she realized she was being
ridiculous. She’d begged to be included. It was only the mortal part of her that was

causing her to act this way.

Damien glanced back once. She inclined her head to signal that everything was fine.

They entered a large foyer and Damien held up a hand for them to stop. Using silent hand
motions, he instructed everyone to split into groups. According to Sam, the rebels were
gathered in a meeting room at the back of the house, so Damien, Omar, and several other
Counsel members headed in that direction. Charisse and Nigel were to go upstairs and
look for Yasmine. It was the least dangerous mission, but Charisse was glad she did not
have to face a roomful of angry rebels. Damien did though. She stopped walking and
pressed a hand to her heart. Damien!

Turning on her heel, she ran back down the steps. Nigel tried to stop her, but she

shoved him aside and raced after Damien. Even though he couldn’t possibly see or hear
her, Damien stopped walking and turned to face her. He opened his arms as she launched
herself at him, pressing fevered kisses against his cheek. He angled his head so that his
lips could settle fully against hers. The kiss was tender, full of all the things she wanted to
say to him, but couldn’t.

I love you.
Charisse heard a silent voice in her head. She pulled back and gazed at his beloved

face. This strong, sexy immortal loved her? It seemed unlikely, but she knew it to be true.
Damien’s dark eyes remained locked on hers as he bent his head and gave her another
slow kiss. He set her back on her feet and stepped away from her.

Be careful, he ordered silently.
You, too, she said back. She was still stunned by his declaration of love. He turned

and hurried to catch back up with the other Counsel members. Before he turned a corner
and disappeared out of sight, she mentally called his name. She had to tell him how she
felt before he left. I love you, too.

He turned to give her a seductive smile and warmth shot through her veins. He was

hers. Damien Valencourt, quite possibly the strongest vampyre in the world, was in love
with her. She didn’t know how it had happened, but she, the awkward daughter of a duke
who never fit in, had finally found her place. And it was at Damien’s side.

“Come. We have to go find Yasmine.”
Nigel appeared at her side and forcibly turned her back to the stairs. She glanced

back, but Damien was gone. Her happiness slowly faded, to be replaced by a strange
feeling of farewell. Why did she feel like she had just said goodbye?

* * * *

“Where is he?”
Damien asked the question to the rebel whose heart he was currently holding a stake

against. The rebel was barely more than nineteen, but the look of hatred in his eyes
proclaimed the Counsel would never be able to save him. Damien shook him by the
scruff of the neck and repeated the question.

The young rebel remained silent. Damien cursed softly and plunged his stake into his

heart. The body slumped to the floor and then disintegrated. Damien turned to survey the
room. The Counsel appeared to be winning. The rebels in the meeting room were young
and untrained, and neither Mikhail nor Jebediah was present.

Omar was battling a trio of youngsters. Damien rushed over to help him, killing one

just as he lifted a stake to Omar’s back. The large African glanced at the body Damien

had felled and arched an eyebrow. “My thanks.”

Damien shrugged aside his gratitude and continued battling the rebels that seemed to

come at them from all sides. There were hundreds of them, but they were no match for
the Counsel. Once it appeared that the fighting was almost over, Damien stepped close to
Omar. “I’m going to look for Jebediah.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”
“No,” Damien said. “Stay here and keep the others safe.” Omar was the best fighter

they had. He couldn’t afford to let him leave the Counsel.

“Damien,” Omar called softly. “Don’t forget. He’s not your brother anymore.”
Damien saluted him by placing his fingers against his forehead and hurried back

down the hallway where he’d professed his love for Charisse. He’d never said those three
words to any woman and for him to do so now, with this woman, spoke highly of his
feelings. It was damnable timing, but he wanted her to know how he’d felt. He’d been
fighting his feelings for her since he’d met her, but he’d finally surrendered. Once this
thing with Jebediah was finished, he was tying her to his bed and refusing to let her up
for a week. They’d had far too short of a time together.

Clearing his mind of anything but Charisse, he attempted to connect with her

mentally. She couldn’t yet hear his call, but he’d snuck into her thoughts. He could feel
her trepidation. Wherever she was, she was cold. He tried harder to call her.

Damien? was her tentative reply.
Where are you?
In Jebediah’s chambers.
Have you found Yasmine?
She took so long to answer, he began to imagine she wasn’t going to. Finally, he

heard. Yes. She is safe.

Where is Nigel?
He’s unchaining her now.
Damien gritted his teeth with anger. How dare Jebediah treat Yasmine in such a

manner! Stay there. I’m coming to you.

He would find Jebediah, but first he had to make sure Yasmine and Charisse were

taken care of. He could send Nigel back to their cave until the fighting was finished. He
was halfway up the steps when he heard a scream. At first he thought it was still in his
thoughts, but then he realized it was Charisse. Her scream of alarm bounced off the stone
walls and drummed in his head. Then he heard her silent cry. Damien!

Chapter Nine

“Let her go!” Nigel ordered.
Charisse struggled against the iron hard arms clamped around her waist. She’d not

seen much of the vampyre before he’d grabbed her, but she knew it had to be Mikhail,
the one who’d murdered Jake’s family. He had black hair and his eyes gleamed a dull
red. She felt his hand touch the underside of her breast and she struggled even more
furiously. He just laughed at her attempts to escape. The sound of his laughter rumbled
through her back. Charisse lifted her foot and slammed the hard part of her boot heel into
his toe. He howled, but didn’t let go of her.

“You little bitch!” he muttered and grabbed a handful of her hair. She let out a cry of

pain when he jerked her head to one side and pressed his sharp teeth against her neck.

“Stop!” Nigel yelled and launched himself at Mikhail. Charisse was shoved out of

the way. She watched the unfolding tableau with horror. Mikhail was stronger than Nigel,
but Nigel was more agile. Charisse scrambled onto the bed where Yasmine lay dazed. For
some reason, they couldn’t get her to respond. She simply lay there with an odd smile on
her face. With trembling fingers, Charisse lifted the key that Nigel had found earlier and
unlocked the manacles around Yasmine’s wrists and ankles.

“You’re free, Yasmine,” Charisse whispered. She glanced over her shoulder and saw

that Nigel was still managing to avoid the deathly thrusts of Mikhail’s stake. “We have to
go.”

Yasmine opened her dark eyes and stared blankly at Charisse. She opened her arms

and smiled in a come-hither manner. “Come to me, Jebediah.”

Charisse’s mouth opened with silent understanding. Obviously, Jebediah had put

some sort of spell on his ex-lover. She looked more closely at the Counsel leader. Her
lips were swollen and there were marks on her neck and thighs. Charisse covered her
mouth with one hand. Dear Lord, Yasmine had slept with Jebediah. And judging from
her expression, Yasmine had enjoyed it. Had Nigel realized what had happened?
Instinctively knowing that the Counsel would not be pleased to learn their leader had
slept with their enemy, Charisse put her arms under Yasmine and lifted her to a sitting
position. “We have to go now, Yasmine.”

Charisse managed to get Yasmine to her feet and they started a slow, shuffling walk

toward the door. They’d almost made it when Charisse felt the press of cold steel against
her back. “Not so fast, my lady.”

The voice in her ear was cultured and deep. She knew without turning that it was

Jebediah. When Yasmine’s face brightened, Charisse knew she’d been right. She was
nearly knocked over again when Yasmine turned and threw her arms around Jebediah.
Charisse found herself pressed between two vampyres as they exchanged, from the
sounds of it, an extremely passionate kiss. Charisse angled her head so that she could
look upon Jebediah. Her heart nearly stopped beating. He looked so much like his brother
that it almost seemed she was watching Damien kiss Yasmine. She thought they’d
forgotten her, but when she tried to creep away, Jebediah’s hand shot out and wrapped
around her wrist.

She was tugged back to his side as he lifted his head away from Yasmine. With a

growl, he shoved Yasmine away and gathered Charisse against his chest. She gazed into
his eyes, so like Damien’s, but crazed with determination. He leaned down and sniffed
her. When he lifted his head again, he was smiling. The gesture was not reassuring.

“You are Damien’s lover.”
It was not a question, but Charisse answered anyway. “That is none of your

business.”

Jebediah lifted a dark brow. “You have his smell. Tell me, my darling mortal, do you

enjoy fucking vampyres?”

She narrowed her eyes and refused to answer. Jebediah looked amused by her anger.

He threw back his head and laughed. “I thought my brother had given up mortal women.
I wonder what it is about you that changed his mind. What makes you so special?” He
traced her cheek with one hand and she felt revulsion at the simple touch. “Maybe I
should find out?”

“Try it and you’ll soon regret it,” Charisse bit off through clenched teeth.
In an instant, she was lifted off her feet and brought nose to nose with him.

Jebediah’s eyes flashed with irritation. “You try my patience, my little mortal.”

“I am not your little anything,” Charisse snapped.
“No,” Jebediah admitted. “But you are my brother’s. He won’t mind if we share.”
Charisse highly doubted that. One look at Nigel told her that she would have no help

from that quarter. He and Mikhail were still in a standoff. It would be up to her to escape.
“What about Yasmine?” Even though it repulsed her, she kept an even expression.

Jebediah smiled slowly. “You’re a greedy mortal, aren’t you?”
Charisse licked her lips and nodded. “Yes.”
Jebediah hauled Yasmine to his other side. Before she could think, Charisse found

herself dragged through a side door and into a darkened chamber. There was the smell of
incense and something else. Charisse sniffed the air experimentally. It was the smell of
sex and death. She stumbled over something and glanced down at her feet. She screamed
when she saw a dead body slumped on the floor. The sound echoed in the room.

“Don’t be alarmed, my dear,” Jebediah murmured. “Yasmine and I shared a feast

earlier.”

Charisse glanced around the room and saw several other bodies. Good Lord, what

did she do now? He probably had the strength of ten men judging from all the
nourishment he’d received earlier that night. Jebediah ushered her further into the room,
helping her pick her way over the corpses. At the bed, he motioned for her and Yasmine
to undress. Charisse’s hands went to the front of her gown. There was no way she was
undressing for this madman.

Yasmine showed no hesitation. The simple gown she wore disappeared easily.

Charisse averted her eyes from the sight of Yasmine’s pale limbs. Jebediah came around
her and cupped her shoulders. Bringing her flush against his body, he whispered into her
ear. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she? Look at her breasts. The perfect size.” His hands came up
to cup Charisse’s breasts. She tried to move away, but he tightened his grip on her. She
cried out as her dress was ripped down the front, exposing her breasts to his gaze. “Very
nice,” he murmured as his fingers traced the curve of her nipple. She didn’t want to
respond, but her nipples were sensitive and she was unable to keep them from puckering
against his palms.

“Tell me, my mortal, is Damien the only one to have touched you thus?” He turned

her and his dark gaze remained locked on her heaving chest.

“Yes,” her voice was shaky.
Jebediah snapped his fingers and Charisse felt Yasmine press against her back. Her

hair lifted away from one side of her neck and brushed over the opposite shoulder. She
felt the nip of Yasmine’s small teeth at the same time that Jebediah lowered his head and
placed his mouth against her breast. She cried out when she felt two pairs of fangs pierce
her skin. Gathering her last shreds of sanity, she silently called, “Damien!”

Her fear was soon replaced by a sensuous fog and then she felt nothing.

* * * *

Damien reached Jebediah’s bedchamber just as Nigel came barreling through the

door.

“Where did he go?” Nigel asked.
“Who?”
“Mikhail,” Nigel answered. His eyes darted around the hall. “Damn coward. He ran

away like a dog with his tail between his legs.”

“Go find him,” Damien said. If they wanted the rebellion to end, they had to stop

Jebediah and Mikhail. “Where is Charisse?”

Nigel stilled suddenly. He glanced back into the room with a puzzled expression on

his face. “She was in there with Yasmine just a moment ago.”

Damien shoved past him into the room. “Go find Mikhail. I will find Yasmine and

Charisse.” Nigel hurried away. Damien surveyed the room, his eyes landing on a side
door. They had to be in there. He opened the door and peered inside. Immediately his
gaze was drawn to the corpses littering the floor. Then his eyes lit upon the sight of his
brother. Jebediah was slowly lowering a body to the floor. Yasmine was crouched against
the bed with her hand against her mouth. Damien noticed the bloodstains on her mouth
first.

He glanced back at the body, already knowing what he would find. He felt a bellow

of rage build in his throat at the sight of Charisse’s lifeless body. With a hoarse cry, he
launched himself at his brother with his fangs bared. Jebediah looked up at him and
smiled evilly.

“I’ve been expecting you, Damien.”
Damien felt the press of steel in his hands and knew Charisse’s fate rested in how

long this battle took. He might still be able to save her if he got to her quickly enough.
Yasmine lowered her hands and stared at him in horror. “I’m so sorry, Damien. I didn’t
mean…”

Damien ignored Yasmine’s apologies. He didn’t need it. He’d seen the way she’d

looked when he came into the room. She’d clearly been brainwashed by Jebediah. His
eyes remained locked on Jebediah. This was it, the moment he allowed his love of
immortality triumph over the love for his brother.

“You can’t do it. Can you?” Jebediah taunted. He bounced on his heels and deftly

twisted a steel dagger from hand to hand. “You always did let your heart rule your mind.”

Damien found it hard to reconcile this monster with the memory of his brother.

“You’re wrong, Jebediah. I can destroy you.”

Jebediah stopped bouncing and his lips twisted into a mockery of a smile. “Then do

it, Damien, if you can. But how will you be able to face eternity knowing that you killed

your own flesh and blood?”

“I think I’ll be able to live with myself. You’ve killed her, damn you!”
Jebediah glanced at the body lying at his feet. “Oh, dear. Was she important to you?

So sorry, dear brother.”

Damien growled low in his throat. He began to advance on Jebediah, keeping his

eyes on the dagger in his hand. He felt Yasmine’s gaze on his back and he hoped she had
the common sense to stay out of the way. She’d clearly recovered from her daze, but
there was no telling if Jebediah would scramble her mind again. If she turned on him,
Damien would be at a great disadvantage.

Jebediah nimbly stepped over Charisse’s body and came at him in a rush, dagger

raised and poised for Damien’s heart. Damien met him more than halfway. The steel of
the weapons clashed as they each tried to stab the other. Jebediah leapt out of harm’s way
and mockingly saluted him. “When this is over and I have the Scrolls, I will dance on
your ashes.”

Damien glared at him. “Over my ashes is the only way you’ll get your hands on the

Scrolls.”

Jebediah rushed him again. This time, Damien received a small scratch on his

forearm, but it quickly healed. He succeeded in nicking Jebediah’s neck. This cat and
mouse game they were playing was wasting the few precious moments Charisse had left.
If he wanted to save her, he had to do it now. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw
Yasmine crouch at Charisse’s side and lift her head from the floor. She glanced up at
him, gave him a sad shake of her head and then lowered Charisse again. He saw the
question in her eyes. Without stopping to think, he nodded in agreement. He turned his
head just as Yasmine’s fangs ripped through the arteries in her wrist and placed it against
Charisse’s lips. Jebediah came at him again so he wasn’t able to see if Charisse
responded.

As he fought, Damien saw the maniacal look in his brother’s eyes. Jebediah’s thrusts

and parries became more frenzied and it was all Damien could do to battle him back. He
knew his concern for Charisse hampered his ability to fight. He stepped wrong and fell to
one knee. Jebediah took advantage of his clumsiness and leapt at him. The weight of his
brother’s body sent both of them sprawling. Damien’s stake rolled away as Jebediah
pressed his dagger against his heart. “I always knew I was the stronger vampyre.”

Damien tried to reason with his brother. “Is that what this is about, Jebediah? Are

you jealous of me?”

“Of course not,” Jebediah spat out. “You’re weak. Your love of humans keeps you

from reaching your full potential. Just think of what we could accomplish together. Join
me, Damien, and I’ll let you live.”

Damien steeled himself against his brother’s plea. “I would rather die than follow

your plan, Jebediah.”

“So be it,” Jebediah said with a shrug. He began to press his dagger into Damien’s

heart. Before he could do much more than pierce the skin, Damien heard a harsh cry. A
shadow loomed over Jebediah and Damien caught the gleam of light on a silver dagger
an instant before it plunged into Jebediah’s back. Jebediah let out a harsh cry and gazed
in wonder at the blade sticking out of his chest. It was a clean shot, directly piercing his
heart.

Jebediah rolled to the side, clutching at his chest and moaning piteously. Damien

tried not to be affected by the sight, but it pained him to watch his brother die. In the end,
he got to his knees and clasped his brother’s hand. “Goodbye, Jebediah.”

Jebediah’s face relaxed in death and then he was gone. When all that was left was

ashes, Damien felt a hand touch his shoulder. He turned and was struck speechless by the
sight of Charisse. She tossed aside the dagger she’d used to destroy Jebediah and reached
for his hand. “Come, Damien. It is over.”

He stood, amazed by the changes in her. Her pretty face was pale. Her hair stark red

against the pallor of her skin. Her green eyes were lit with an inner fire. There was no
mistaking the fact that she was now a vampyre. He glanced at Yasmine, who stared at
Jebediah’s ashes with a wistful expression. She had to be hurting just as much as he did.
He beckoned to her and she crossed the room to his side. He folded her into his embrace
and pressed a chaste kiss against her forehead. “Thank you, Yasmine, for saving
Charisse.”

Yasmine’s dark eyes seemed lost as they focused on his face. “It was the least I

could do. I will go find the others.”

“Be careful,” Damien warned. “Mikhail escaped.”
Yasmine’s back straightened into its usual posture. “Then it is not over.”
“No,” Damien answered regretfully. “It is not.”
Yasmine nodded in understanding. “I’ll be careful.”
As she left, Damien turned back to Charisse. “I’m sorry, Charisse.”
“For what?” Her eyes beckoned him and he began to feel the stirrings of desire. He

couldn’t wait to lay with her as a vampyre.

“For not being able to save you.”
“But you did,” she stroked his arm lightly. “You saved me the first time you kissed

me.”

He took her hands and drew her closer. “Is this what you wanted, Charisse. Can you

be happy as a vampyre?”

She placed her palm against his chest and moved it temptingly down his belly. “Is it

true that I will live forever?”

“Yes,” he answered.
She lowered her head and peeked at him from underneath her lashes. “With you?”
“Of course. If that is what you want?”
She moved her hand lower and cupped him between the legs. “Oh, I can think of

many things I want.”

He swept her into his arms and headed for the door. “Anything you want, Charisse.

You can have it all.”

She linked her arms around his neck as he carried her downstairs. Yasmine had

already assembled the other Counsel members. As he reached them, they moved as one to
the door. Nigel appeared in the hallway and Damien could tell from the look on his face
that he’d been unable to find Mikhail.

“He’s gone,” Nigel said.
“Leave it,” Damien said. “We did what we came here to do. Mikhail will show up

again. When he does, we will be prepared.”

Nigel noticed Charisse and his brows drew together in a frown. “Is she…?”
Charisse lifted her head. Her small fangs gleamed as she smiled. “I’m one of you

now.”

“She defeated Jebediah,” Damien added.
Everyone’s head turned toward her. Charisse lifted her eyebrows into a puzzled

expression. “What?”

Omar shook his head and chuckled. “There’ll be no living with her now.”
Several of the Counsel members echoed his laughter.
“What did I do?” Charisse asked Damien.
He pressed a kiss against her lips. “When a vampyre kills another, he takes all his

victim’s powers into himself.”

Charisse’s eyes widened. “Really? What does that make me now?”
“One of the strongest vampyres alive,” Nigel answered with an amused look.
“And finally a worthy mate of Damien,” Sam teased.
Charisse glanced up at him. Her eyes gleamed with good humor. “Is this true? Am I

finally a worthy mate?”

“My love,” Damien said, “you always were.”

Epilogue

Two vampires stood outside the Duke of Eddington’s London mansion. The female

bit her lip nervously. “Do you think he’ll refuse to accept a vampyre as a daughter?”

Damien chuckled. “I believe your father is used to you being unusual.”
Charisse teasingly bared her fangs. “Unusual?”
“Did I forget to mention beautiful, unique and highly intelligent?”
Charisse leaned into Damien as he draped an arm around her shoulder. “Much

better.”

She turned toward the door and hesitated just for a moment before knocking. It felt

odd to knock on the door to the house she’d spent most her life, but it didn’t feel like
home anymore. Not since she’d met Damien and finally felt she belonged.

It was her father, not the butler, to answer the door. He looked disheveled and tired,

as if he’d not slept in days. He took one look at her standing on the doorstep and his
mouth dropped. “Charisse? Is that really you?”

Charisse stepped into his embrace, relishing the feel of her beloved parent’s arms

around her. “It’s me.”

Ralph gave her a quick once-over. “What have you been doing? I’ve been worried

out of my mind!”

“I’ve been with Damien.”
Ralph immediately gave Damien a hard frown. “You better have a good explanation,

Valencourt.”

“I doubt you’d believe me if I told you,” Damien muttered wryly.
“Try me.”
“Perhaps it’ll be better if we take this inside,” Charisse suggested. Once seated, she

and Damien explained the entire story to her father, whose look spoke volumes of his
disbelief.

“So you’re vampyres? Both of you?”
“Yes,” Charisse nodded.
Damien returned Ralph’s look with a bland one of his own. “It’s true.”
He was hard to convince. Only by showing a select few vampyre tricks were they

able to make her father believe them. Sitting back in his chair, he shook his head slowly.
“Bloody hell, Charisse. What sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?”

Used to her father’s bluster, Charisse touched his hand comfortingly. “I’m happy,

Papa. For the first time in my life, I found a place I belong.”

“You already had a place to belong. You belong here with me.”
Charisse felt her heart lurch. “Oh, Papa. You know I love you, but I have to be with

Damien now. You will come visit though, won’t you?”

“A coven of vampyres?”
Damien straightened. “I can promise you that you will be unharmed.”
Ralph nodded. “Of course I will visit. But what will I tell the ton?”
“Anything you like, as long as it’s not the truth.”
Damien and Charisse took their leave after fetching her pet snake, Plague. Locked

away in his traveling cage, they set him on the opposite seat of the carriage and cuddled

together.

“Will you miss your life?”
Charisse, with her head on Damien’s chest, briefly considered his question. “No.

Other than my father, there is nothing for me here.”

“So you don’t regret becoming a vampyre?”
“Spending centuries with you? I can think of no better way to spend eternity.”
“I can.” Damien turned her and placed her in his lap as his lips claimed hers in a

hard, demanding kiss. His hands boldly traveled her body, undressing her and himself
with ease. He’d refused to have sex with her until she’d acclimated to being a vampyre.
That had been days ago and the yearning she felt for him sometimes frightened her. Even
now, her body instinctively melded into his, longing for more of his touch.

Her nimble fingers encircled the head of his cock. “Show me, Damien. Show me

what it’s like to be a vampyre.”

He lifted her and placed her so that the tip of his cock slid inside. She moved

forward, eagerly impaling herself fully on him. The rocking motion of the carriage
assisted her movements. This time, Damien did not hold back. His thrusts were hard and
furious, strong enough to hurt a lesser creature. Charisse’s body fit like a glove, as if
she’d been made just for him. She felt like she was floating, her body curiously
weightless.

“You’re mine,” Damien growled as he flipped her so that she was beneath him.
“As long as you remain mine, you’ll have no argument.” She arched against him, her

legs widening to grip his hips. Damien moved faster, bringing a moan to her lips. As they
climaxed, she opened her eyes and studied his face. “You still don’t glow.”

Damien’s lips curved into a slow smile. “No. But you do.”
She lifted her hand and stared in amazement. A pink light radiated beneath her skin.

“I wonder what causes it?”

“I’m not sure, but the fact that only you and Nigel experience it is deuced odd.”
Charisse’s mind careened to her newly acquired powers. There was so much she

wanted to do. There was still the threat of rebellion and she fully intended on using her
talents to suppress it. She laughed with true happiness. She had all she could ask for. A
man wonderful beyond belief and the thrill of an immortal life. “I wonder what will
happen next.”

Damien flexed his hips, his cock hard and ready for a second round. “I, for one, can’t

wait to find out.”

The End

About the Author:

Robin credits her grandmother with first introducing her to the world of romantic

fiction. She grew up reading her grandmother's dog-eared Barbara Cartland novels and
Harlequins, all the while dreaming of the day her sultan/prince/knight would rescue her
from the doldrums of day to day living.

Since then, Robin has learned that there is still more fun to be had in a book than real

life, so she turned her hobby into something a bit more productive and began writing her

own happily ever afters. The Game of Desire was her first foray into sensual romance and
she hopes it did her grandmother proud.

Robin is currently dreaming up her next hero, but her readers can contact her at

[e-mail] or through her website, www.robindanner.com

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