toward her place in Knightsbridge, her blood-soaked
clothing cloaked in the night mist. Her courtyard townhouse was in the perfect location.
Close enough to shopping—if Kaderin was ever moved to that—but it also backed into
narrow and murky mews, which allowed her to enter the residence unseen. From the back,
she bounded over her courtyard wall, let herself in, then dashed up the stairs.
Kaderin yanked off the clothes she’d filched from Myst, took an appraising glance, and
tossed them onto the do-not-resuscitate laundry pile. She hopped into the shower,
washing away all the blood.
As she lathered her hair, she didn’t think about the vampire. At all. She ignored questions
about why he’d been in that castle and what exactly had made him want to end his forlorn
existence. All that information, such as where he had been a warrior, was incidental.
After she won the Hie, and when she was ready, she’d return to finish him.
In the meantime, he would be searching for her. Vampires who’d found their... their
Brides didn’t tolerate losing them. But he wouldn’t be able to find her, knowing nothing
but her first name. The villagers would scurry away in fear before each sunset, staying
away at night until she could return—or they would face her promised wrath.
And anyone else from the Lore who could reveal that information would run from the
sight of him simply because he was a vampire. He was an outsider everywhere, with
everyone, whether human or Lore creature. And while she competed in the Hie, he
certainly wouldn’t be able to locate her. In the coming weeks, she’d never sleep in the
same place twice and would be racing to the farthest reaches of the earth, obtaining prizes,
jewels, and amulets.
She’d face him when she chose, and on her terms. Yes, everything was under control.
6
I n the last three days, Sebastian had found it hellish to be around so many humans—a
blood drinker, a predator, walking among them as if he were still one of them. Especially
since women had begun gazing at him longingly, and even following him, to his
consternation.
But he reminded himself what was at stake and completed task after task in anticipation of
finding Kaderin, even as he had no idea how to do so. The villagers, his only lead, had
disappeared, at least during the nights. Of course, she’d warned them.
After all this time away, he’d finally returned to Blachmount, and he’d been awed as ever
by the old manor, even if it was as decrepit as his own holding. He’d dug up gold from his
chests, then sold the coins in Saint Petersburg . Cash in hand, he’d bought clothing at the
only place he knew wealthy men acquired clothing—Savile Row in London . He’d been to
the port of London once when he’d been mortal and remembered it only vaguely. Yet one
mental picturing of it put him there.
Money got him tailoring appointments after sunset, and each night before he set out in that
city, he forced himself to buy and drink blood from the butcher.
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com ) He’d done these tasks because he wanted to become a man she could want. But he was
also desperate for anything to keep his mind occupied. At every turn, he wondered where
she was at that moment and if she was safe. She’d cried that morning, had doubled over in
pain.
And he couldn’t find her.
Her accent had a tinge of a drawl, but that helped little in determining her place of origin.
He couldn’t trace to her home country to begin a search, because he didn’t even know
what continent she lived on. Besides, his brothers had told him that vampires could only
trace to places they’d already been. If she wasn’t in Europe or Russia , then he couldn’t
reach her.
Again and again, he’d thought, If only I could trace directly to her.
The idea that a vampire didn’t need to know how to get to a destination, only to envision
it,
clothing cloaked in the night mist. Her courtyard townhouse was in the perfect location.
Close enough to shopping—if Kaderin was ever moved to that—but it also backed into
narrow and murky mews, which allowed her to enter the residence unseen. From the back,
she bounded over her courtyard wall, let herself in, then dashed up the stairs.
Kaderin yanked off the clothes she’d filched from Myst, took an appraising glance, and
tossed them onto the do-not-resuscitate laundry pile. She hopped into the shower,
washing away all the blood.
As she lathered her hair, she didn’t think about the vampire. At all. She ignored questions
about why he’d been in that castle and what exactly had made him want to end his forlorn
existence. All that information, such as where he had been a warrior, was incidental.
After she won the Hie, and when she was ready, she’d return to finish him.
In the meantime, he would be searching for her. Vampires who’d found their... their
Brides didn’t tolerate losing them. But he wouldn’t be able to find her, knowing nothing
but her first name. The villagers would scurry away in fear before each sunset, staying
away at night until she could return—or they would face her promised wrath.
And anyone else from the Lore who could reveal that information would run from the
sight of him simply because he was a vampire. He was an outsider everywhere, with
everyone, whether human or Lore creature. And while she competed in the Hie, he
certainly wouldn’t be able to locate her. In the coming weeks, she’d never sleep in the
same place twice and would be racing to the farthest reaches of the earth, obtaining prizes,
jewels, and amulets.
She’d face him when she chose, and on her terms. Yes, everything was under control.
6
I n the last three days, Sebastian had found it hellish to be around so many humans—a
blood drinker, a predator, walking among them as if he were still one of them. Especially
since women had begun gazing at him longingly, and even following him, to his
consternation.
But he reminded himself what was at stake and completed task after task in anticipation of
finding Kaderin, even as he had no idea how to do so. The villagers, his only lead, had
disappeared, at least during the nights. Of course, she’d warned them.
After all this time away, he’d finally returned to Blachmount, and he’d been awed as ever
by the old manor, even if it was as decrepit as his own holding. He’d dug up gold from his
chests, then sold the coins in Saint Petersburg . Cash in hand, he’d bought clothing at the
only place he knew wealthy men acquired clothing—Savile Row in London . He’d been to
the port of London once when he’d been mortal and remembered it only vaguely. Yet one
mental picturing of it put him there.
Money got him tailoring appointments after sunset, and each night before he set out in that
city, he forced himself to buy and drink blood from the butcher.
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com ) He’d done these tasks because he wanted to become a man she could want. But he was
also desperate for anything to keep his mind occupied. At every turn, he wondered where
she was at that moment and if she was safe. She’d cried that morning, had doubled over in
pain.
And he couldn’t find her.
Her accent had a tinge of a drawl, but that helped little in determining her place of origin.
He couldn’t trace to her home country to begin a search, because he didn’t even know
what continent she lived on. Besides, his brothers had told him that vampires could only
trace to places they’d already been. If she wasn’t in Europe or Russia , then he couldn’t
reach her.
Again and again, he’d thought, If only I could trace directly to her.
The idea that a vampire didn’t need to know how to get to a destination, only to envision
it,
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