"No, you idiot," Amadeus gritted out. "What do you see? What truths do you behold?"
The dandy shook his head from side to side, spittle foaming at his mouth.
"Servant of hell, begone."
"Fah."
Thoroughly disgusted by the ridiculous buffoon, Amadeus leaned downward and sank his fangs deep within the fat throat. In moments the man below him was arched in the throes of death, and the vampire slowly glutted himself in the delights of blood lust.
And why not?
It had obviously been a vexing waste of time to attempt to learn anything from the wretched human. Like all the rest, he was weak and unable to concentrate when faced with the ultimate wonder. He had provided him nothing. Nodiing but the usual babblings.
Wiping the blood from his lips with a handkerchief, Amadeus slowly regained control of his icy fury.
There were endless mortals to experiment upon, he silently consoled himself. And once the Medallion was in his grasp, he would no longer need to conceal himself in such squalid surroundings with only the dregs of humanity to choose from.
The Medallion.
The pale eyes glittered in the thick darkness.
His desire for the powerful amulet was becoming nearly overwhelming. He could feel it in the distance. A shimmering temptation that taunted him by remaining just out of reach.
"Master."
Amadeus turned to discover his most recent servant shuffling into the dark room.
"What is it?"
"I have brought the glove."
"Ah, yes." Moving forward, the vampire plucked the glove from the man's outstretched hand.
Earlier in the day he had commanded the servant to slip into Miss Kingly's home and procure a piece of her clothing. He grew weary of the woman's stubborn refusal to accept his generous offer of friendship. And even more weary of Lucien's unwelcome interference. Tomorrow evening he would attempt a more direct means of acquiring the Medallion. But first... "I must hunt another mortal for my experiments. Have this body tossed in the river."
Even for a summer day it was hot.
Golden sunshine bathed the remote meadow in a brilliant afternoon light, the faint breeze spiced by the scent of wildflowers.
But it was not the cloudless sky or the unfamiliar heat that was causing the faint moistness that trickled down Jocelyn's back.
Oh, she might adamantly tell herself that the rapid pace of her heart and unmistakable fever in her blood came from the sun overhead. And that her mouth was dry from the heat. Unfortunately she could not quite make the thought ring true.
Instead, she very much feared it was the tall, lean gentleman who was currently pressed behind her with his arms around her. Although he was officially attempting to teach her how to shoot the bow and arrow she currently held in her hands, very little of her mind was upon the lesson. How could she possibly concentrate upon anything beyond the delicious curls of excitement that were running rampant through her?
It was indecent; she attempted to chide her wayward reaction to his proximity. She knew nothing of this gentleman who had so swiftly invaded her home and her life. He was as much a mystery as the day he had first walked into her study.
And yet, with every passing hour she discovered herself more and more drawn to his dazzling presence. In just a few days he had awakened within her all those unpredictable passions and thirst for life she had thought safely put behind her. And worse, she was uncertain whether to curse him or bless him.
All she did know was that when she was with him she forgot all the pain and darkness that had marred her life. She did not think of the scandal that had ruined her future among society.
She did not think of her parents, who had turned her out of their home. She did not even think of the danger that suddenly shrouded her in fear.
There was nothing but Lucien and the gentleness of his smile that could reach her very soul.
Seemingly unaware of her growing weakness, Lucien leaned closer, his breath brushing her cheek as he pressed her arms higher.
"Now pull back slowly," he commanded, waiting until she had pulled the bow tight. "Yes.