The Vampire Dimitri

“Angelica has been abducted,” Dimitri said without preamble. Accepting the drink, he sat at the table with them.

“Voss?” Chas spat, rising to his feet. If he were a Dracule, his eyes would be blazing red and orange. “If he caused it—”

“No,” Dimitri said, taking a healthy swallow of whiskey, and then tersely explained what had happened. “We’re going to have to search the city and then to Dover if we don’t catch them.”

Chas settled back into his chair and nodded. His eyes were fierce and his jaw moved slightly as if being clenched. “We’ll have to split up.”

They’d just finished determining the most likely places Belial would have taken Angelica, and the best routes, dividing up the locations, when the door opened.

Voss stood there on the threshold, gripping the arm of a cloaked and hooded figure.

Dimitri started up, reaching for the stake in his inside pocket just as Chas whirled in his seat to look.

“Don’t be a fool,” Voss said sharply, flipping open his coat to expose a large ruby in the center of his neckcloth. “Did you think I would be so foolish as to come unprepared?”

Dimitri remained standing, settling his hand onto the table in a pool of spilled whiskey as he fixed Voss with a dark glare. The ruby was far enough away that its potency was weak, but certainly he couldn’t get much closer. Bastard. A smart, sneaky bastard.

Reluctantly he glanced at the figure next to Voss. It was obviously a woman, and Dimitri had a sudden, ugly feeling he knew who it was.

Impossible. Even she wouldn’t be so foolish.

But he couldn’t talk himself out of the certainty, and when she yanked off her hood and he saw Miss Woodmore’s accusing eyes and mussed golden-chestnut hair, he couldn’t hold back his exclamation of annoyance. “You.” He turned his glare onto her.

“Of course I wouldn’t come unprotected, knowing just how you feel about me,” Voss was saying to Chas, who had withdrawn his stake and had it ready in his hand. “Keep your distance, and no one will get hurt.”

“Maia,” Chas said, “are you all right?”

“Other than worried to illness for the safety of my sister, while the rest of you sit about and play games at your club?

Yes, I am fine. If it weren’t for Lord Dewhurst, I would still be standing at the door, arguing with the butler. It was he who helped me gain entrance.”

“How convenient,” Dimitri replied from between his teeth. He sank back into his seat, but he couldn’t control the blaze in his eyes as he returned his gaze to Voss. Meddling arse.

And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Miss Wood more stiffen. She was looking right at him and he saw sudden shock and recognition in her eyes when she noticed the glow in his gaze.

She’d figured it out. At least he wouldn’t have to hide his fangs from her any longer, but that was small comfort. Naturally she’d rush off to tell Mirabella at the first opportunity.

He snarled under his breath. Damnation. He’d have to enthrall her and clear her mind of the knowledge if he was to have any peace.

“I cannot believe your incompetence, Dimitri. I sent you the warning,” Voss said flatly, drawing Dimitri’s attention from his misery. “And you, Woodmore. Another disappearing and then reappearing act? Are you here to take care of your sisters or not?”

Fury propelled Dimitri to his feet again, his eyes fairly burning with the heat of anger. “Oh, aye, I got your message—along with the pair of bloody ruby earbobs, you sneaky bastard.” He would have lunged across the room if Chas hadn’t thrust an arm out in front of him.

“Easy,” Woodmore said under his breath, holding his stake at a lethal angle. “He’s mine.”

Voss flashed his fangs, holding Dimitri’s glare. “It was a jest, nothing more. I warned her not to wear them in your presence.”

Like hell you did, you bastard.

“Damn your soul to Lucifer, it’s your bloody fault Angelica’s been taken,” Chas interrupted. Dimitri could feel the man gathering up next to him like a spring, even though his expression didn’t change and nary a muscle moved. “You and your cursed jests and games, Voss.”

Before Voss could respond, Chas leaped, tossing a chair out of his way and bounding up and over a table to slam the man into the wall. He was fast, but Dimitri was faster, fairly flying across the room to grab Miss Woodmore, snatching her out of the way just as the two men tumbled to the floor.

She weighed no more than a pin, just as she had three years ago and of course a few nights ago, as well. And, unlike the other night at the masquerade, she didn’t have yards of skirts and fabric bunching up and around them as he scooped her up out of the way, slamming her quickly against his torso to avoid being smashed by a flying chair.

It was probably best if she didn’t see what was about to happen to Voss Dewhurst.

“Release me, you idiot man!” She slammed an elbow that was as sharp as her tongue into his gut and Dimitri grunted, shifting her so that she didn’t have another chance at him. But she tried to kick at him and to yank away, even as chairs flew and tables upended. Chess pieces scattered. The bottle of whiskey crashed to the floor.

Addled woman. Do you want to get yourself killed? He whipped her out of the way just in time to keep from being crashed into by Chas and Voss, who were putting on a damned good show. If Dimitri weren’t so furious with the latter, he’d be watching the fight with interest. For being mortal, and not as strong or fast as a Dracule, Chas Woodmore was brilliant. One would never know that he was overmatched.

And perhaps he wasn’t overmatched with the vampires. Perhaps he was made that way—to hunt them. After all, God would have some sort of defense against the malignance of Lucifer’s makes.

Chas whipped Voss into the wall, following him with his stake raised. They crashed against the brick, and Dimitri stuck out his foot and sent Voss staggering away. Chas leaped, the stake in hand, ready to deliver the death blow as Miss Woodmore screamed. “Don’t! Chas!” she shrieked, burying her face in Dimitri’s shirt.

Naturally Woodmore ignored her as he plunged the stake toward Voss’s heart. The powerful blow fell, and Dimitri watched as the stake fairly bounced off Voss’s torso. What in the bloody hell…?

Some sort of armor, blast him.

Everything fell silent for a moment, except for the sounds of labored breathing from the two fighting men. And then, with a muttered curse, Chas pulled up and away from where he’d landed on his target, a splintered stake in his hand.

As the action waned, Dimitri was no longer able to ignore the bundle of femininity clutching his shirt with two fists, and her warm breath burning through the linen to his skin. Not to mention the very evident press of breasts against his belly. A rush of heat swarmed through him and he made the mistake of drawing in a breath, getting a good sniff of her hair. Lemon and jasmine, and an undernote of cardamom-vanilla. Flowers and spice.

He forced himself to release her slender arms and made his own fall to his sides. “I do hope you aren’t wiping your nose on my shirt, Miss Woodmore.” He had to work hard to make certain his tones were laden with disdain.

Miss Woodmore jerked back as if she’d been stung, and he saw very pink cheeks just before she spun away.

“Armor?” Chas was saying to Voss as he brushed off his shirt. He looked bloody annoyed.

“After a fashion. I warned you I’d come prepared—for all of you.” He glanced pointedly at Dimitri and Giordan, as well. “Now, if you would cease attacking me, I would appreciate the opportunity to assist you in retrieving Angelica.”

“Your assistance is neither wanted nor needed,” Chas told him. “Aside of that, I want you in no vicinity to any of my sisters. A different country would be preferable. Just because you were prepared this time doesn’t always mean that you’ll escape my stake.”

Voss’s laugh was short and sharp. “I didn’t believe you were that foolish, Woodmore. In fact, I’m the only one who can assist you in saving Angelica.”

Dimitri smothered a snort of disbelief and walked over to pour a new glass of whiskey. “Not bloody likely.”