Sweetblood 02.5 - Enchanted by Blood Page 9

  “I want you to keep those shoes on. And the corset. Did you have any difficulty getting it laced up on your own? I’d have offered to help, but I’m afraid it would’ve made us much too late.”

  “I managed it fine.” Actually, it had been a royal pain in the ass, but she wasn’t about to complain.

  He tilted her chin up and for a split second, she thought he was going to kiss her. His lips parted and he dipped his head to hers. Then, far below them, the doorbell sounded, and he hesitated.

  Probably a good thing, she realized and she took that opportunity to duck under his arm. He needed to be downstairs greeting his guests, not up here with her. No matter how much fun this was.

  “If I thought I was having a hard time keeping my hands off you before,” he growled, “tonight is going to be an utter nightmare.”

  She liked the swooshing sound the gown made as she walked. “Then don’t even try.”

  TRACE STOOD NEAR the large Christmas tree in the main living room, listening to the hushed whispers of a few Council members about what was going on with Darkbloods in a small village near Prague. Evidently, there’d been a few vampire sightings—otherwise known as vampires behaving badly—and the locals were scared. Events like this happened periodically before Guardians were sent in to take care of things.

  “Shall we continue this conversation in the library where things are more private?” Trace asked.

  As he navigated the small group through the crowd and past one of the buffet tables, he looked for Char but didn’t see her anywhere. Focusing on her heartbeat, he could feel her presence nearby, a side effect of having taken so much of her blood recently, and he couldn’t help smiling to himself. He loved that she gave it to him freely, but he really should learn to pace himself. For both their sakes. But when he thought about the corset she wore right now, he rather doubted his pledge for self-restraint would start tonight.

  “And that’s not all,” Rodderick Tjorval said once they were in the library, the door safely shut behind him. “One of the old European families is suspected of having ties with the Darkblood Alliance.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” someone said.

  “No kidding?” asked someone else.

  “Yes,” Tjorval continued. “There’s an ongoing investigation into their activities over the past several decades and things aren’t looking good.”

  Trace opened the humidor and offered his guests cigars.

  “What will happen if those suspicions turn out to be true?” Nicklaus Mercada asked.

  “They’ll lose their seat on the Council.” Tjorval chose one of the Cohiba cigars and held it to his nose. “And if the charges are serious, they’ll go before the court to plead their case and await judgment.”

  Trace had never heard of such a thing happening before. “What constitutes serious?” He handed the man a cutter. He snipped off the end and held the cigar out for Trace to light.

  “Any number of things. One of the foremost would be if they participated in or funded activities which led to the killing of humans for blood sport.”

  Trace suddenly got uncomfortable. These people did not need to be reminded of this a few weeks before they voted on his fate. Then again, it might not matter at all when they found out about Charlotte. However, he’d prefer to have his future decided by actions he took himself, rather than by the actions of a family member that had nothing to do with him.

  “That’s not necessarily true.” He hadn’t heard Sebastian come in. Without waiting to be offered a cigar, his cousin grabbed a Montecristo from the humidor and snipped off the end. “Another branch of the family can petition the Council for the seat, make the case why they should have it instead, right, cuz?”

  Trace stiffened. He wasn’t sure he liked where this was going.

  “Didn’t that happen to your family, Trace?” Henry DeGraff asked.

  The lingering taste of the cigar suddenly turned bitter on the back of his tongue. “Yes, that’s my understanding. Something happened all those years ago and the seat changed hands.”

  Sebastian laughed, smoke streaming out of his mouth like a dragon. “My great-grandfather fell in love with a human woman—that’s what happened. It didn’t seem to matter that they had plans for her to become a changeling. At that time, relationships with humans simply weren’t done. Lucky for Trace here, those rules have loosened considerably.”

  WITH A WINE BOTTLE in each hand, Charlotte returned to the main floor and headed into the kitchen. The catering staff had needed more white wine, and given that Marcel was already frazzled, she’d offered to run down to the cellar. Once there, she’d eyed the storage room door at the end of the long hallway. Not allowing herself to dwell on what she must’ve seen last year, she quickly grabbed the bottles and headed back upstairs.

  After dropping them off in the kitchen, she headed to the ballroom to look for Vik. The quartet was playing a melodic tango and a few people were dancing, but she didn’t see the woman anywhere. Maybe she was in the—

  A hand came around her waist, and she bristled. She knew instantly it wasn’t Trace.

  “Looking for a dance partner?” With his dark hair lightly slicked back and those perfectly white teeth, Sebastian was seductively charming. Like a cobra. Before she could answer or protest, he swept her onto the dance floor.

  Since Sebastian and his girlfriend had been here, she hadn’t seen them at all. Thank God the mansion was huge. They took all their meals in their quarters in the guest wing. It was as if they were living in a hotel. She’d wondered if Trace had talked to him, told him to stay away.

  He held her much too close now, his hand spanning her rib cage. It dawned on her that he could probably feel the boning of her corset, which was disconcerting. That should be a secret for Trace only.

  “So it seems the two of you have reached some sort of agreement with this tenuous relationship of yours.”

  “I wouldn’t call it tenuous.”

  He twirled her around then pulled her close again, his mouth against her ear. All she could think about were his fangs, hidden now, but inches from her jugular. A barely there memory hung just out of reach.

  “Then what would you call a relationship between a vampire and a human?” His voice was saccharine smooth.

  “We are simply a man and a woman. In love.”

  He laughed softly and a forgotten dream tugged at her thoughts. Faint recollections and hardly perceptible sensations. Dreadful sensations.

  Drops of something dark on a white dress. Blood? The curve of a woman’s neck and shoulders. Lifeless eyes. Razor-sharp fangs.

  Oh, God, the woman from last year. Panic knotted around her gut as the images became less murky. He hadn’t just fed from her, as Trace had thought. He’d killed her. That was what Charlotte had seen.

  She tried to pull away from Sebastian, but he held her tightly against him. Although the room was stifling hot, her fingers and toes went numb.

  “Ah, and you are so naive. Like most humans. Trace is a man—yes—but with very inhuman needs.”

  With a sudden detached curiosity, she looked at her hand in his, aware of a strange prickly feeling moving down her arm. Out of her body and into his.

  “Those inhuman needs might one day become too powerful to control. And if anything were to happen to you, he’d be the first to be blamed. Charlotte, did you know that most murders are perpetrated by a loved one? That is why they are called crimes of passion.”

  His voice was soft. Lulling.

  “And with the Council rules being what they are, his seat would revert back to me and my family.”

  She held back a yawn. Her eyelids felt heavy. So tired.

  She needed to tell…to tell…someone about something.

  Trouble was, she couldn’t quite remember who or what.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE DRUMBEAT INSIDE Trace’s head became almost unbearable. He really should s
tay and listen to these Council members discuss policies and politics, but he just couldn’t take it any longer. The walls felt as if they were closing in on him.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen. I should circulate, make sure my other guests are comfortable.” He quickly exited the room.

  The last time he’d felt this way was when Charlotte had been in danger outside that club. Where the hell was she?

  He strode through the main rooms, looking for the tell-tale silver sparkle of that dress. Groups of people were laughing and eating, but no Charlotte. A few guests tried to strike up a conversation with him, but he didn’t pay any attention. A quick check of the kitchen showed she wasn’t there, either.

  He sprinted through the gallery and into the ballroom. The string quartet was playing a holiday classic and dozens of couples were dancing. Above the music, the sound in his head became an incessant roar.

  Find me. Find me. Find me.

  Jackson, who’d been flirting with a different woman every time Trace had seen him this evening, suddenly appeared right in front of him. “Dude, are you all right?”

  “It’s Charlotte. Something’s happened. I can feel it.”

  His friend wasted no time going into full Guardian mode. He unbuttoned his jacket to make his weapons more accessible and punched a code into his phone. “When did you last see her? Is she on the premises?”

  “It’s been more than an hour.” Trace reached inside, centered himself. “She’s not far away, but I can’t tell if she’s inside or not.”

  “Dom’s gonna be pissed he left early. He’d be all over this.”

  “Yeah, I know he would,” Trace answered. “But if there is something going on, maybe it’s best that Mackenzie and the baby aren’t here.” If only Charlotte was also somewhere safe….

  “We’ll find her, man. Don’t worry.” Jackson headed for the stairs. “I’ll check up here. You take downstairs. Meet you back in five.”

  Trace wrenched open the double doors and took the steps two at a time. Although it was faint, he could almost smell the vanilla scent of her skin. She’d been down here at some point recently.

  If something happened to her, he didn’t know what he would do. Whether it was the seat on the Council or his status among his peers…none of that mattered if he didn’t have Charlotte in his life.

  It had taken losing her, then finding her again for him to come to that realization. He wasn’t about to lose her again.

  The wine cellar was empty. He was about to head back upstairs when his gaze landed on the storage room door. When he wrenched it open, all he saw was were a few empty boxes of Christmas decorations.

  No Charlotte.

  And yet…

  His cousin’s face flashed in his mind. The hungry, wolfish grin. His disregard for the rule of law.

  Trace got the distinct feeling that Sebastian was behind this somehow. He’d left the library soon after dropping the bombshell about his family and Trace hadn’t seen him since.

  By the time Trace got to the foyer again, Jackson was coming down one of the twin staircases.

  “She’s not up there,” Jackson said. “And I checked all the rooms. Including the occupied ones. Do we search the exterior premises or could she have left by vehicle? Can you tell?”

  Trace focused inward, but heard nothing from her. He shook his head.

  “Come on,” Jackson said. “Let’s go out and see if you pick up anything there.”

  “I’ll be right there.” A moment later Trace was in his bedchamber, where he pocketed his scorpion blade and a few other weapons. He was not going to lose Charlotte without a fight.

  Back downstairs, just as he was about to head outside, the wrought-iron door to the elevator opened. His grandmother was sitting on the small bench inside.

  “Have you found her yet? When your friend burst in on me and said—”

  “No, Grandmother.” He didn’t have time for—

  “I last saw her dancing with Sebastian. About twenty minutes ago. I remember thinking it seemed a little odd, but didn’t think more about it until that young man, the Guardian with the red-streaked hair, came into my room, looking for her.”

  Sebastian. He’d been right to suspect his cousin’s involvement.

  He bolted outside and quickly located Jackson. “My cousin—he’s driving a black Escalade. He took her.”

  The valet he’d hired stepped out from his station. “Sir, a black Escalade left the party about fifteen minutes ago.”

  Jackson palmed his keys. “Then let’s go.”

  They climbed into the Guardian’s jacked-up truck and careened down the long driveway. But just as they were about to turn onto the main road, a strange feeling came over Trace. The mental pull seemed to be lessening. He was almost certain Charlotte hadn’t come this way. She…she…was behind him somewhere.

  “Let me out,” he demanded.

  “But—”

  Trace opened the door and Jackson slammed on the brakes, spinning the truck in a one-eighty.

  “Follow up on the Escalade, but it could be Sebastian’s girlfriend leading us on a wild-goose chase. I’ll be in touch.” Before the car came to a complete halt, Trace was on the ground, running.

  DRIFTS OF SNOW had blown in under the trees, blanketing the forest in silence. All Trace could hear was the muffled sound of his footsteps and his own even breathing.

  He’d forgotten about the guesthouse on the back of the property. It had been a favorite hangout of Sebastian’s when he’d visited as a kid. If he had Charlotte, he may have taken her there.

  The lights from the main house didn’t extend to where the cottage stood at the edge of the forest, dark and forgotten. Years ago, his mother had used it as a potting shed, but now, it was rarely occupied. The mansion was more than big enough to accommodate any guests.

  The closer he got, the more certain he was that Charlotte was somewhere inside. He could feel the pull of her blood. Whipping out his phone, he sent a quick text to Jackson then stuffed the thing back into his pocket just as he reached the white picket fence.

  He knew he should circle the cottage to assess the situation and wait for backup, but fury clouded his judgment. He couldn’t stand to have Charlotte spend another moment inside.

  In three strides he was on the porch. Then with one mighty kick, he brought the front door down.

  Charlotte was slumped in a wooden chair in the center of the room with Sebastian leaning over her. He snapped his head up when Trace crashed into the room, surprise registering on his face. Fangs hung from his mouth and blood—Charlotte’s blood—trickled down his chin.

  A burning rage shot through Trace’s system, ringing in his ears.

  “Motherfucker!” Trace launched himself at his cousin.

  His right hook made contact with the side of the guy’s head, while his left hook got him in the belly. Sebastian doubled over, but he didn’t go down.

  “A relationship…with a human…can’t work, Trace. You of all people should know that.” Sebastian groaned as he straightened up and flashed a weak-assed smile. “In fact, did you know…those were the exact words…your grandfather said to mine…the day he stole the Council seat…from us?”

  “But why would you go after Charlotte? She’s innocent.”

  “I was thirsty, what can I say?” Sebastian touched the corner of his mouth where Trace had hit him.

  “That’s bullshit. You’re a coward, that’s what you are. I’m the one you should’ve come after, not her.”

  “Who says I didn’t? I kill Charlotte, but you take the blame because they assume you fucked up and took too much of her blood. You lose your seat on the Council, and it shifts back to the Tafts, where it rightfully belongs.”

  The next punch knocked his cousin all the way down and Trace jumped to Charlotte’s side. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” But she didn’t answer. Gently, his cradled her face in his hands. Her
normally rosy lips were tinged blue and her skin was cold. Sebastian had taken too much from her.

  Without thinking, Trace pulled out his scorpion blade and drew it across his wrist. As the blood welled up, he held it to her mouth.

  “Drink,” he commanded her.

  But she remained still, lifeless in his arms.

  Clutching her body to his, he yelled to the heavens. The only time in his life he’d ignored his duty, forgotten his promise to his father and dared to love the forbidden had resulted in this unspeakable tragedy.

  The woman he loved was gone.

  HUSHED VOICES CAME from somewhere faraway. Charlotte knew she should open her eyes but the effort was just too much. She was so tired. So cold. All she wanted to do was sleep.

  Strong arms lifted her up and her face pressed into the hard, warm plane of someone’s chest. He smelled of sandalwood and Christmas trees. Trace.

  If only she could hold him one more time. Tell him how much she loved him before she had to go. As her life force ebbed out, faint memories flashed before her, including the first time she and Trace had been together.

  Just as she’d suspected, she’d loved him then, as well.

  More jostling, more voices, then something warm touched her lips.

  If only she could tell him just one more time….

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “JUST BE PATIENT,” his grandmother said. “These things can take time.”

  It had been twenty-four hours since he’d first found Charlotte in the cottage with Sebastian, her body nearly drained of blood.

  As Guardians took care of Sebastian, he ministered to Charlotte.

  Desperately, he’d given her some of his own blood, but she was too far gone for it to do any good. It was only when he rushed her back to the house that his grandmother suggested her one hope was to become a changeling.

  He knew these things required approval by the Council after a lengthy waiting period. But Charlotte didn’t have that kind of time.

  His grandmother hadn’t hesitated. She’d grabbed the scorpion blade from Trace and drawn it across her wrist, then held it to Charlotte’s lips.