Hugo unb.u.t.toned the first two b.u.t.tons of his shirt, then yanked it over his head. "Time to pay the piper," he growled. "You're free of him, like I promised."

So that's what it was. He'd told her she'd be free of her sire. He'd taken her away to hurt me, without explaining the consequences. And she'd gone.

He's lying, I whispered.

Eleanor jumped slightly. She'd heard me. Hugo hadn't noticed, though, too busy unfastening his britches. Casually, Eleanor let her gaze wander around the room.

I haven't released you. You're mine. Hugo can't interfere with our bond.

The chill of her precarious position must've reached her because she crossed her arms as though warding off the cold, hard truth.

Hugo, naked now, reached across the bed and tangled his fingers in the front of Eleanor 's robe. "Get out of this," he ordered, dragging her across the sheets toward him. In one smooth motion she was naked and on her belly. Standing behind her like a stallion in rut, Hugo fumbled around between her legs, then drove his c.o.c.k into her.

Where is he taking you? I asked. I...don't...know, she answered in cadence as Hugo pounded into her. Then out loud she gasped and gritted her teeth as he clamped his hands around her waist and pulled her upward to drive deeper. With powerful strokes Hugo grunted toward release like a dog with no consideration for his b.i.t.c.h.

As he came, he tightened his grip and bit her savagely on the top of her shoulder. Eleanor moaned in pain as he sucked and bit again-not to feed but to subdue. After what seemed like an eternity, even to me, she sighed in relief as Hugo, done for the moment, withdrew and allowed both of them to fall back onto the bed. But instead of letting her go he shifted one heavy thigh to hold her down until he was ready for her again. Eleanor, lying with her face pressed into the pillow, stayed perfectly still.

"Now everyone he loves belongs to me," Hugo said. His fingers twisted Eleanor's hair, forcing her to face him. When she only stared at him, he twisted tighter until she winced and tears sparkled in her eyes. "What do you think of that?" he asked.

"I think that means you win," Eleanor panted. Then to me and the room in general she silently added, I was angry. I'm sorry.

Nineteen.

William I felt the sh.e.l.ls shift and begin to reel me in like a kite blown too high into the wind. When I opened my eyes, Melaphia was sitting on the stone bench next to me, her expression colder than the winter wind.

"Where is my baby?" she asked, never doubting that I'd found Renee.

I sat up as the sh.e.l.ls rattled back into their box of bone. There was no sense trying to make the news better, no room for anything but the truth.

"She's halfway across the Atlantic," I answered. "With Will and the rest."

Melaphia's hands curled tighter in her lap. "Is she all right? Have they-"

"She's fine, having a grand adventure so far." I pushed to my feet, choosing my words. "Right now her loyalty is to Will. She loves him."

Only then did Melaphia allow the tears she'd been holding back to flow. Recovering, she raised her chin, looking very like the queen she might have been but for her family's connection to me. "You brought him to this house, to us." She held me with her sparkling gaze. "What are you going to do to get her back?"

"Whatever it requires."

"Do you swear it? Even if it means Will must die?"

I kneeled and took her cold hands into mine. "I swear." I bowed my head and kissed both hands to seal the bargain.

Please read on for an excerpt from The Vampire's Kiss the next book in Raven Hart's thrilling series William I stared across the frozen landscape and watched the flames lick at the mansion I had just set on fire, consuming it bit by bit, much as I had consumed its inhabitants. I've never been much of a flesh eater, preferring instead to drink a creature's blood, as I am a man of refinement. But I can make an exception now and then.

My offspring Jack has been known to run down a buck from time to time, wrestling it by its antlers and delivering a killing bite to the jugular before feasting on its flesh. Only in season, of course. I believe it has as much to do with his ideas of southern machismo as it does with a sincere craving for the flesh of a living creature. Still, for decades it has kept at bay his l.u.s.t for the human kill to which all we vampires are born.

Ultimately, my Jack is a civilized blood drinker who knows how to keep his baser needs in check. As do I, for the most part.

But tonight is different. Tonight is special. I indulged in a kind of savagery I had not allowed myself in centuries. One by one I ripped out the throats of the vampires inside the now-burning manse, sampling the blood and flesh of each one in turn. And I enjoyed it.

My fangs to their throats, I bade each of them tell me the whereabouts of their leader. I heard the names of several cities, but I could smell the lies on the their lips, so I ripped out their throats. I severed the heads of some, and I even staked one with a spindle ripped from a wooden chair. I knew I would discover the truth before the night was done.

It was pleasing to vent my wrath on the small band of blood drinkers, especially since I'd been forced to come all the way to this wildest and most frigid part of Russia to find Renee. The ones who fled with her had not returned to their home, however. Hugo and his clan would not have wished to lead me to the rest of their "family," or to expose them to the rotting disease they might all now be carrying.

Ironic that the pox had been developed on this very site as a form of biological warfare against we peaceful vampires of the New World. But the plague had escaped Hugo's control, and one of their own-my son, Will-had been stricken half a world away.

As I reflected on these matters, one of the mansion's magnificent domes collapsed upon itself in a shower of sparks, making a sound like the hinges on the gates of h.e.l.l creaking open to collect its due. A figure scrambled out of the burning sh.e.l.l of what had an hour ago been an impressive example of Russian baroque architecture.

I had smelled a lone survivor of the carnage before I left the mansion, but it would have been too tiresome to ferret him out of the ma.s.sive building with its surely inexhaustible variety of hiding places. I simply torched the place and waited for the rat to desert the burning ship.

I stood in the shadow of a giant fir tree and watched him run, half -staggering from the structure, beating at his burning hair with his bare hands. He looked so comical that I briefly thought of letting him live; there were certain advantages in leaving an individual to tell the cautionary tale to others.

But I wasn't feeling particularly charitable tonight.

I was on him in an instant, dragging him down to the snow-covered ground. I forced his head around to face me, nearly breaking his neck in the process, and let him see my fangs, which still held shredded bits of his comrades' flesh.

"What is your name?" I asked.

"Vanya."

"Where is your master, Vanya?" I asked him. "Where has he gone?"

"I don't know," he whimpered. "I swear it." "What good is the oath of the d.a.m.ned to me? Besides, you do know where Hugo and his mate are. I can smell it on you like I can smell your terror."

"You'll just kill me anyway."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Know one thing for certain. If you don't tell me you'll be dead sooner than if you start speaking the truth."

I saw the decision in his eyes. "London," he said.

A less powerful vampire would not have known if he was lying. But I knew in my blood and in my bones that this was the truth.

Tightening my grip on him, I pressed his throat to my mouth almost like a lover and delivered a killing bite that half severed his head.

I left him staring sightless at the stars.

"London," I breathed, feeling myself smile for the first time since my beloved Renee had been kidnapped.

It would almost be like going home again.

Jack "Ta-dah!" Werm stretched out his skinny arms and twirled around the abandoned sh.e.l.l of a room as if he were showing off the Taj-ma-freakin'-hal. The one bare lightbulb overhead illuminated a dingy, dirty hovel with peeling wallpaper and rat 's nests in the corners. I didn't need my super-duper vampire sense of smell to tell me that some of the homeless people of the city had been making it their home. Or at least their toilet.

I looked at my little fledgling vampire friend in his usual getup of black leather and silver bling. His hair was an inky black, thanks to the modern miracle of Miss Clairol. "This is where you want to start your own goth bar?" I asked. "With my money?"

"It's perfect!" He gestured to one side of the room. "We'll have the bar over here, and back behind me we can have the stage."

"Stage?" I wondered just what kind of shows Werm's weird friends could come up with. Probably something like those crazy performance art pieces you hear about coming out of New York. I could see in my mind's eye one of Werm's little pals stuffing dimes up his nose while he recited the Gettysburg Address.

"Yeah, we can get some bands, some spoken word artists-"

"Whattaya mean 'we,' white boy?" I was planning to be a silent partner only. Silent as in never setting foot in the joint if I could help it. I had only agreed to the loan to help Werm get on his feet financially and keep out of trouble. In the movies, vampires never seem to have to make a living. Welcome to the real world. Besides, idle hands are the devil 's workshop, as my poor sainted mother used to say. And when the idle hands belong to a bloodsucking demon to begin with, well...

"C'mon, Jack," Werm wheedled. "You're gonna love this place once we get it fixed up."

"There's that 'we' thing again."

Werm continued to ignore my skepticism and splayed out his hands in front of him. "This is going to be the most happening place in town. Everybody who's anybody is going to want to hang out here. I've hired a decorator who knows just what I want."

Being a country music fan, I thought about that song, "I'm Going to Hire a Wino to Redecorate Our Home." I wondered what a bar would look like after Werm's goth friends got finished with the decorating. A funeral parlor, most likely. Not altogether inappropriate for a vampire, I reckoned. After all, Werm would be settling his coffin in the cellar of this place if this was where he wound up. His society parents were on the verge of kicking him out of the house.

"Aren't you getting the cart before the hea.r.s.e?" I asked him. "You've got to get the thing built out before you decorate. Did you get bids from that list of contractors I gave you?"

"I did better than that." Werm beamed. "I have a great idea about how to get the work done around here and save money at the same time."

Werm and "great idea" were not exactly two things that went together hand in hand. "Lay it on me," I said. "I'm keen to hear this."

"I'm going to hire Eleanor's wh.o.r.es to do the work. Think about it. They've been unemployed for weeks, and this will let them make some money and help keep them off the streets."

"That's the craziest d.a.m.n fool idea I ever heard! They 're used to being on the streets. They're wh.o.r.es. If they could do carpentry and drywall, they wouldn't have to be wh.o.r.es." I wasn't expecting an awesome display of brain power from Werm, but dang.

"Just because they're wh.o.r.es doesn't mean they can't learn. If they ever decide to go legit, they'll need to know a practical trade. If they applied themselves they might even learn to do something high cla.s.s."

"You can lead a wh.o.r.e to culture," I told him. "but you can't make her think."

"I know what your problem is. You're thinking of stealing them away from Eleanor. Maybe I should call you 'Jack, the Killer Pimp.'" Werm busted out laughing. "I can just see you in a purple suit and a hat with a big feather in it."

"Laugh it up, fang boy," I said. "Babysitting a bunch of homeless hos is not as much fun as it sounds." I'd had to find temporary accommodations for five working girls while Eleanor's house was being rebuilt at William's expense.

Reedreck had torched the cla.s.sy brothel just for the sake of meanness. I 'd financed the prost.i.tutes' new housewares and wardrobes, held their hands and listened to their troubles. h.e.l.l, I'd even painted toenails and braided hair.

"It sure looks like fun," Werm said. "I'll bet the girls are offering you all kinds of perks for being nice enough to help them out, you lucky dog." He punched me weakly on the shoulder.

Truthfully, they'd all offered to show me their appreciation in various ways, but I 'd decided to keep things on a professional level. "I've got enough stress right now without having jealous catfights break out."

"Cheryl says you're the best-built and best-looking man in town. She says she wants to run her toes through your wavy, black hair. I think they are all in love with you."

"Stop it," I said.

"And Souxi says she wants to paint her new room the exact shade of blue as your eyes."

"I'm going to bite you if you don't hush up," I said.

"They follow you around like little ducklings."

I gritted my fangs. Herding wh.o.r.es. This is what I had come to. I wasn't going to look too tough to the other bada.s.ses in this city when they started challenging me for dominance over the territory-especially now that William wasn't around to back me up.

"Seriously, Jack. I think the bar would be the perfect place for them to work until Eleanor gets back."

If Eleanor got back. I'm not sure the seriousness of her situation had fully dawned on Werm. Her decision to leave her sire so soon after she was made was a dangerous one.

Unless William released Eleanor formally and in person from the mystical, two -hundred-year bond of sire and offspring, she would start to physically "deteriorate," as William put it. In other words, she would rot on her feet, return to being the dead thing she was. I only hoped William made it to her in time.

And as a fledgling without her sire's protection, she was vulnerable to all kinds of predatory vamps. There was no telling what Hugo had promised her to get her to agree to go to Europe with him and the others. But if she chose to trust Hugo instead of William, that might well prove to be a fatal mistake.

"Maybe you're right about them learning a trade," I said. "Once the place is finished, I think they'd be better off as c.o.c.ktail waitresses than carpenters, though. I just doubt if their skills extend to the finer points of construction. Maybe they might be able to s.p.a.ckle the ceiling if they can do it laying on their backs."

"I can hang wallpaper," a little voice behind me said. "And I do it standing on my own two feet."

I turned to see Ginger, one of Eleanor's wh.o.r.es, standing there in a pair of pink overalls with a sample book under one arm. Oh, man, did I ever feel like a heel.

"I'm sorry, darlin'," I said. "I just meant-"

"I know what you meant, Jack. But just because I'm a wh.o.r.e doesn't mean that's all I know how to do." She thrust out a pouty, painted lip and sniffed. "I took a correspondence course in interior design."

I started to ask her if she had to copy a picture off a matchbook cover to qualify, but I bit my tongue in time to stop myself.

Ginger was actually one of the brighter of the prost.i.tutes in Eleanor's employ. Unfortunately, that wasn't saying much.

"You're the new decorator?" I scratched the back of my head. So the decor would run more toward contemporary wh.o.r.ehouse than gothic dungeon. I guess that might be an improvement. Either way, this was going to be the craziest drinking establishment in town. In fact, I wanted to get good and drunk just thinking about it. "I'm sure you'll do a dandy job, darlin'," I told her.

She smiled a little before her girlish face broke out in a sad look. Werm took the sample book from her. "Listen, Jack didn't mean-"

"It's not that," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm worried about Sally."

"What about her?" I asked. I'd noticed that Sally, the youngest of the prost.i.tutes, had been a bit nervous and standoffish lately, and her skin didn't look like healthy living human skin should look. I figured she was just stressed out by losing her belongings to the fire, as well as losing her mentor, Eleanor.

"Promise not to get mad?" Ginger said, looking up at me between fanlike false eyelashes.

I started to make the sign of the cross on my chest in a cross-my-heart gesture before I remembered what I was. You'd think that after a hundred and fifty years I'd remember I was d.a.m.ned. "I promise," I said.

"She's on crystal meth," Ginger said.

"Oh, geez," Werm exlaimed. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Marlee saw her with a pipe. The kind they make from a lightbulb with the metal end sawed off and the guts taken out.

Plus, she's not eating and she's letting herself go. Her skin looks terrible. She's even getting speed b.u.mps."

"That's what formication will do," Werm said, shaking his head.

"It's not from fornication. If it was from that, all us wh.o.r.es would have it," Ginger said.