daughter, it will mean she will have to drink my blood. Are you willing to let me do that?”
“N-no. That’s preposterous—” She stopped. Doctors had come and had bled Sarah. And it had done nothing. “You licked my wound and it went away. Is that what would happen if Sarah drinks your blood?”
“It’s not as simple as that. I can’t feed her enough at one time to banish whatever this illness is. Not without taking the risk that I turn her into a vampire. I assume that’s not the future you envision for your daughter?”
“No!”
“Then we start slowly. A little at a time. She will build a tolerance. We should know in a few days if it is working.”
A few days. “And do you intend to keep me a prisoner all that time?”
“I intend to keep you with me, Miss Dare. Until we find my brother.”
He might call himself a vampire, but he was as pigheaded aman as any of her protectors had been. But she couldn’t fight now. Or even protest her innocence. If believing she knew his brother kept him here to help Sarah, she’d hold her tongue. “That name you called me. Succubus. What does it mean?”
She had prided herself on the library she built, for she wanted Sarah to be well read. But none of her books defined that word.
He had been studying Sarah. He looked at Vivienne. “There is a way to prove what you are, Miss Dare. But it will mean you won’t be making love to anyone—in your dreams or out.”
“Your dream can’t have been the same as mine,” she challenged. “That’s impossible.”
A slow grin spread. “You dropped to your knees before me in Hyde Park.” He spoke softly so Sarah could not hear. “You sucked my cock until I was on the brink of climax. And what did I do then?”
She flushed. “You lifted me up to my feet and knelt before me and—”
“You see. The same dream. Was your climax as good in your dream as it was in mine?”
But he had left her then and drawn a blade out of the waistband of his trousers. A long, thin knife. He drew it along his wrist, leaving a dribble of blood.
The sight of it brought back vile memories. Her mother’s—Rose’s—blood dripping from her nose after she had taken a man’s blow. Vivienne shivered. Every maternal instinct screamed for her to protect Sarah. And to resist this man who had invaded her house, who was battering her defenses with something far stronger than violence.
Hope
.
With shaky fingers she touched her healed cheek. She had to try this. Was his promise any more far fetched than the crone’s medicine? Yet Sarah looked so small and defenseless. Was she betraying her daughter? With a heart heavy as lead, she asked quietly, “Should I wake her?”
He shook his head. He tipped his hand to smooth the line of his wrist and send the blood oozing faster. “No. All I need to do is touch the blood to her lips. She will take over from there.” Another rueful smile played over his mouth. “Like a babe at the breast.”
But as he lowered his powerful body to sit on the edge of her daughter’s bed and flicked back his sleeve, Vivienne ran to the fireplace and grasped the poker. In her mind’s eye, she could see the leather apron–clad butcher flying through the alley. This would hardly stop Heath.
But it was something.
Heath murmured to Sarah. Vivienne couldn’t hear the words, but his tone was soothing. She found her grip loosening on her weapon. She shook sense into her head and held it hard. There had been
gentlemen
—cads and scoundrels who had pursued her to get close to Sarah. She was not naive.
Heath held his wrist to Sarah’s lips. “N—” Vivienne began in protest, but to her amazement, Sarah fastened her lips to his wound. Her daughter’s eyes were still shut, but she drank fiercely. Suddenly Sarah’s hand shot out from the covers and gripped Heath’s arm to hold him there.
Heath motioned Vivienne to come to him. Holding the poker, she did.
“See how strong her grip is. Is it always like
“N-no. That’s preposterous—” She stopped. Doctors had come and had bled Sarah. And it had done nothing. “You licked my wound and it went away. Is that what would happen if Sarah drinks your blood?”
“It’s not as simple as that. I can’t feed her enough at one time to banish whatever this illness is. Not without taking the risk that I turn her into a vampire. I assume that’s not the future you envision for your daughter?”
“No!”
“Then we start slowly. A little at a time. She will build a tolerance. We should know in a few days if it is working.”
A few days. “And do you intend to keep me a prisoner all that time?”
“I intend to keep you with me, Miss Dare. Until we find my brother.”
He might call himself a vampire, but he was as pigheaded aman as any of her protectors had been. But she couldn’t fight now. Or even protest her innocence. If believing she knew his brother kept him here to help Sarah, she’d hold her tongue. “That name you called me. Succubus. What does it mean?”
She had prided herself on the library she built, for she wanted Sarah to be well read. But none of her books defined that word.
He had been studying Sarah. He looked at Vivienne. “There is a way to prove what you are, Miss Dare. But it will mean you won’t be making love to anyone—in your dreams or out.”
“Your dream can’t have been the same as mine,” she challenged. “That’s impossible.”
A slow grin spread. “You dropped to your knees before me in Hyde Park.” He spoke softly so Sarah could not hear. “You sucked my cock until I was on the brink of climax. And what did I do then?”
She flushed. “You lifted me up to my feet and knelt before me and—”
“You see. The same dream. Was your climax as good in your dream as it was in mine?”
But he had left her then and drawn a blade out of the waistband of his trousers. A long, thin knife. He drew it along his wrist, leaving a dribble of blood.
The sight of it brought back vile memories. Her mother’s—Rose’s—blood dripping from her nose after she had taken a man’s blow. Vivienne shivered. Every maternal instinct screamed for her to protect Sarah. And to resist this man who had invaded her house, who was battering her defenses with something far stronger than violence.
Hope
.
With shaky fingers she touched her healed cheek. She had to try this. Was his promise any more far fetched than the crone’s medicine? Yet Sarah looked so small and defenseless. Was she betraying her daughter? With a heart heavy as lead, she asked quietly, “Should I wake her?”
He shook his head. He tipped his hand to smooth the line of his wrist and send the blood oozing faster. “No. All I need to do is touch the blood to her lips. She will take over from there.” Another rueful smile played over his mouth. “Like a babe at the breast.”
But as he lowered his powerful body to sit on the edge of her daughter’s bed and flicked back his sleeve, Vivienne ran to the fireplace and grasped the poker. In her mind’s eye, she could see the leather apron–clad butcher flying through the alley. This would hardly stop Heath.
But it was something.
Heath murmured to Sarah. Vivienne couldn’t hear the words, but his tone was soothing. She found her grip loosening on her weapon. She shook sense into her head and held it hard. There had been
gentlemen
—cads and scoundrels who had pursued her to get close to Sarah. She was not naive.
Heath held his wrist to Sarah’s lips. “N—” Vivienne began in protest, but to her amazement, Sarah fastened her lips to his wound. Her daughter’s eyes were still shut, but she drank fiercely. Suddenly Sarah’s hand shot out from the covers and gripped Heath’s arm to hold him there.
Heath motioned Vivienne to come to him. Holding the poker, she did.
“See how strong her grip is. Is it always like
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