me ground.”
Wonderful. There was no point sending any of her servants out to deal with him. He was obviously accustomed to cracking heads.
Fuming, she stalked to the back of the house. Another enormous man stood there, smoking a cheroot. Within minutes, shelearned “his lordship” had positioned men all around her house.
She stomped up the stairs, but quieted her footsteps as she retreated to Sarah’s room. Warm spring sunlight spilled in and a soft breeze batted lacy curtains. Her daughter was still sleeping. Vivienne settled onto the chair she kept always at the bedside.
How had this happened? A dozen years of pain and submission and saving and enduring, and she was back in a man’s power
again
.
At dusk, rain, soot, and fog all conspired to turn the East End sky black as coal, making it safe for a vampire to emerge. Especially one in a heavy, hooded cloak. Heath stopped in front of the apothecary and held up his hand as Julian, also cloaked, headed for the door. “Wait,” he warned.
He wanted to take a few moments and take in all the details of this place he’d ignored before.
Yesterday, his attention had all been on Vivienne. He had observed the apothecary only in his peripheral vision. Now, through the window, he saw dust, grime, and a jumble of ancient bottles.
He stepped back from the sidewalk. Fog billowed down the lane; the cobbles were slick and shining from the mist. Clopping hooves echoed from another street. The store was a narrow one, squashed between an empty building and a cobbler’s shop.
Julian rattled the door. “Locked again.”
“You expected otherwise?”
“It was open last night, when we came with the courtesan.”
“Miss Dare,” Heath corrected. “She’s no longer a courtesan.” He drew out a slim lockpick and had the lock sprung in a second.
“I did it faster.”
“And clumsier. You left scratches on the plate. Scratcheswhich may or may not have been noticed. We have to be careful about this, Julian. And quiet.”
“Why? If there are demons here, they don’t need sound to know they’re being invaded.”
“True. But the place smells empty.”
“I can’t smell anything but the stink of chamber pots and rot. Same as yesterday.”
“That’s how I know there’s no one—mortal or not—inside.” The door gave a soft groan. Heath moved through the dark to the counter. Behind it Mrs. Holt had dispensed Vivienne’s needed drug. On the wooden shelves, bottles were crammed in.
“I’ve already searched through here. What exactly are we looking for this time?”
Heath glanced up. Julian frowned at the counter, his lip curled in distaste.
“I want to know what Mrs. Holt is. What she wants. And who really is making magic potions in this chemist’s. There have got to be some answers to be found here. Let’s go to the back.”
Vivienne had been instructed to seduce him.
Why?
If he kept thinking about the mystery behind it, he wouldn’t slip and think about letting Vivienne kiss him, touch him, then finally, when he was about to howl with desire, mount him—
Hades.
A dingy curtain concealed a set of narrow, crooked stairs. Heath moved up them so swiftly, the steps had no time to creak. He found himself in the room in which the apothecary prepared medicines. On one side, a wooden counter ran the length of the tight space. Bowls and pestles littered the work-table. Faint light crept around the curtains and glistened on the surface, revealing stains, powder residue, and slick things that had long dried. Astringent scents filled Heath’s nose, along with the heavy smell of rotting flesh. There were barrels along the wall beneath the lowest shelves.
“Body parts,” he muttered.
“Christ Jesus!” Julian’s shout had Heath spinning on his heel. “They weren’t there before.”
As he spat out the words, Julian jumped back. A stack of enormous jars swayed, tottered, and Heath jumped over the table to reach them—
His hand caught them and steadied the
Wonderful. There was no point sending any of her servants out to deal with him. He was obviously accustomed to cracking heads.
Fuming, she stalked to the back of the house. Another enormous man stood there, smoking a cheroot. Within minutes, shelearned “his lordship” had positioned men all around her house.
She stomped up the stairs, but quieted her footsteps as she retreated to Sarah’s room. Warm spring sunlight spilled in and a soft breeze batted lacy curtains. Her daughter was still sleeping. Vivienne settled onto the chair she kept always at the bedside.
How had this happened? A dozen years of pain and submission and saving and enduring, and she was back in a man’s power
again
.
At dusk, rain, soot, and fog all conspired to turn the East End sky black as coal, making it safe for a vampire to emerge. Especially one in a heavy, hooded cloak. Heath stopped in front of the apothecary and held up his hand as Julian, also cloaked, headed for the door. “Wait,” he warned.
He wanted to take a few moments and take in all the details of this place he’d ignored before.
Yesterday, his attention had all been on Vivienne. He had observed the apothecary only in his peripheral vision. Now, through the window, he saw dust, grime, and a jumble of ancient bottles.
He stepped back from the sidewalk. Fog billowed down the lane; the cobbles were slick and shining from the mist. Clopping hooves echoed from another street. The store was a narrow one, squashed between an empty building and a cobbler’s shop.
Julian rattled the door. “Locked again.”
“You expected otherwise?”
“It was open last night, when we came with the courtesan.”
“Miss Dare,” Heath corrected. “She’s no longer a courtesan.” He drew out a slim lockpick and had the lock sprung in a second.
“I did it faster.”
“And clumsier. You left scratches on the plate. Scratcheswhich may or may not have been noticed. We have to be careful about this, Julian. And quiet.”
“Why? If there are demons here, they don’t need sound to know they’re being invaded.”
“True. But the place smells empty.”
“I can’t smell anything but the stink of chamber pots and rot. Same as yesterday.”
“That’s how I know there’s no one—mortal or not—inside.” The door gave a soft groan. Heath moved through the dark to the counter. Behind it Mrs. Holt had dispensed Vivienne’s needed drug. On the wooden shelves, bottles were crammed in.
“I’ve already searched through here. What exactly are we looking for this time?”
Heath glanced up. Julian frowned at the counter, his lip curled in distaste.
“I want to know what Mrs. Holt is. What she wants. And who really is making magic potions in this chemist’s. There have got to be some answers to be found here. Let’s go to the back.”
Vivienne had been instructed to seduce him.
Why?
If he kept thinking about the mystery behind it, he wouldn’t slip and think about letting Vivienne kiss him, touch him, then finally, when he was about to howl with desire, mount him—
Hades.
A dingy curtain concealed a set of narrow, crooked stairs. Heath moved up them so swiftly, the steps had no time to creak. He found himself in the room in which the apothecary prepared medicines. On one side, a wooden counter ran the length of the tight space. Bowls and pestles littered the work-table. Faint light crept around the curtains and glistened on the surface, revealing stains, powder residue, and slick things that had long dried. Astringent scents filled Heath’s nose, along with the heavy smell of rotting flesh. There were barrels along the wall beneath the lowest shelves.
“Body parts,” he muttered.
“Christ Jesus!” Julian’s shout had Heath spinning on his heel. “They weren’t there before.”
As he spat out the words, Julian jumped back. A stack of enormous jars swayed, tottered, and Heath jumped over the table to reach them—
His hand caught them and steadied the
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