Blood Curse

the brim.

On a seat, he placed a stack of soft, folded towels—they were his, as he had no spare for guests—and set out a bar of his sandalwood soap. Then he gave her privacy, closing the door as she walked into the steam-filled room.

Returning to his room, he dressed carelessly in trousers, a shirt, a hastily tied cravat and coat. This would allow him to blend in with passersby, while he observed who was watching his house. Raven left by the kitchen entrance into complete darkness, locking the door behind him.

Men surrounded the house. Well hidden, but he could easily see them. For him it was like seeing them in daylight.

These were Royal Society men watching the house. From what Ophelia had told him, he knew there was a splinter group of the Royal Society—men who objected to having vampires in their midst, and who wanted to destroy all monsters, who believed “demons” could never walk among the mortals.

Whether the men watching this house were part of that group, or were men loyal to the Society, Raven didn’t know. Now he knew the situation, he went back inside, moving so quickly the world blurred around him. But he couldn’t go to Ophelia in her bath.

He had to read that book.

Ophelia was in the bath, naked, while he was stuck in his dark and dusty study, reading Guidon’s mouldering book.

Raven could picture her in the bath. Steam rising around her, shielding her lovely body like a veil, giving him only tantalizing glances of pearlescent skin. Her hair would be wet, sticking to her damp skin. Her nipples would be hard, with diamond-like drops of water dripping from the sweet, pink tips—

He was as hard as a brick, and he couldn’t take the pain anymore. But he had no choice. He had to deal with the book.

He had read it over and over, and knew the four lines of the spell that would free her from her power and send it to him.

The more he read, the more Raven wondered why she had this power. If she had been born with it, how could he remove it by using a spell? Had she been cursed with it? Why? It would have to have been when she was very young, before her menstrual courses began. Who would have done such a thing to a child?

Guidon had told him to read the part that explained how her power could be taken from her. He was to read it until he found the truth in the words.

Hell, he’d read them for an hour while she soaked sensually in a bathtub. He could smell the sandalwood soap—it was his soap and the thought of that normally masculine aroma on her feminine curves was driving him mad. His ears detected the faint splash of water. That brought to mind images of the lucky water hugging her curves, lapping at her breasts.

The book told him what Guidon had said—the only way for Ophelia to give up power and survive was through love. A shared love opened a conduit that allowed magical power to flow back and forth. It had to be true, deep romantic love.

The book was written in Latin, and while he’d studied Latin at Eton, he could not have cared less about languages and hadn’t paid much attention. His translation to English was clumsy, he knew, but he hoped it was good enough. He’d scrawled it over a bunch of sheets of notepaper.

Translated, the book’s title read: The Demonica, volume XI.

Raven read the passage about love again.

A special love is needed to break this curse. A love with the strength to endure for all time. It must be built upon complete honesty. It must be proven that this love can withstand the great blows that would destroy any lesser love. It must be able to survive the storms of betrayal and heartbreak.

How in Hades were you supposed to know if you loved someone that strongly? How could Ophelia know if she felt that way about him? Wasn’t the only way to prove love could withstand those things to have it last a lifetime? Wouldn’t they only know when one of them died?

The spell that released her from her power looked innocent enough, but spells and incantations were evil things. There was always a catch. This one had to be spoken after he’d given her several orgasms. He had to admit he liked the sound of that.

Raven leaned back in the chair—dust flew up when he did. Guidon, he called in his thoughts, I’ve read the passage. How do I prove Ophelia’s love can endure betrayal and heartbreak? I do not intend to do any of those things to her.

He waited, cursing the time it took Guidon to answer. He would miss Ophelia’s bath time. And he wanted to join her.

There is one great blow that you could give her—finally, Guidon answered. It would shake her love to the very core. It would make it almost impossible for her to love you. If her love for you were to survive that, it would be proof your love is true.

What in hell are you talking about? Raven snapped. What great blow? Never would I hurt her.

Another damned long pause, then Guidon spoke primly in his head, You don’t know, do you? I thought you knew, my lord. Think of the men you hunted for Jade and you will have your answer.

Don’t be so damned cryptic. I don’t have time for this.

You have to solve it for yourself, Ravenhunt. There is nothing I can do.

He sensed his connection with the vampire librarian disappearing. Damn it, Guidon, answer this. If she loves me so deeply, what happens after I take her power? Do I survive, or do I break her heart then? If I survive, what can I do? I can’t accept her love—I’m a vampire. Without her power, she will have the chance for a normal life—to have love and children.

You can provide those for her.

I cannot go out in daylight. I drink blood. I have to skulk through London, hiding in shadows. She deserves better.

You could transform her, Guidon answered. Give her eternal life. Then you would be together forever.

No, I couldn’t do that to her—condemn her to be like me—when all she has wanted is to be free of her cursed power.

That proves you are falling in love with her, Ravenhunt.

Raven felt the connection vanish in his head—it was as if a door had closed. Damn, he had more questions and no answers. Was the only answer to their love heartbreak? Even if they both survived this, he would have to let her go forever. He would never curse her to be a vampire.

How could he take her power unless he could fulfill the requirements of the book—that their love had to be strong and enduring?

Guidon, listen to me. He yelled it through his thoughts. If I can’t prove it, what happens to her?

The vampire librarian responded. I believe she will survive, Ravenhunt, because she loves you and I believe her love is strong. As the one who could cause her pain, the full price for taking her power will land on you.

So I don’t survive.

You may not.

Raven growled in his head, If I knew for certain she would be all right, it is a risk I could take. I don’t care about me, as long as she will be safe.

Ophelia opened her eyes, dozy from the heat of the bath, and gasped in surprise. Ravenhunt sat by the tub, on a stool. Fully dressed, he held a towel for her.

“I’ve soaked in this tub for hours, and I never thought you might want to bathe, too,” she said.

“I washed off with a basin and cold water.”