most brutal of vampires—one who created true soulless drones. She had become a monster.
And when he’d staked that vampire—that nameless, inhuman beast—he’d found that getting vengeance hadn’t given him peace.
Lord Ashcroft shook his head. “Lady Brookshire lusts for blood and she has the power to kill.
Even though she helps the Royal Society, we cannot forget that. I have kept it hidden from Serena Lark that her ladyship is a vampiress—you must not reveal the truth.” Ashcroft’s face was grim.
“A vampire can never be trusted. How can we allow them to flourish? They are stronger than we are—we are mere prey to them. Serena Lark is the key to saving human souls, Jonathon.”
Jonathon’s heart tightened. He was running out of time. “I’m going to need the time in the laboratory, sir—to try to save her. And I want to hunt Lukos.”
Ashcroft shook his head. “I’m afraid that won’t do, Sommersby. I have assigned other hunters to destroy Lukos. I want you to let Miss Lark hunt with you—”
“And how the bloody hell will that keep her safe?”
Ashcroft held up a quelling hand. His eyes gleamed. “You will make her believe she is helping you pursue Lukos, but you will keep her away from Lukos. You will keep her under your protection. In ten days she will turn…and we will learn how a vampire is made. We will be able to study her power.”
Then his mentor flashed the autocratic look of a father. “This is your duty, Sommersby. I expect you to carry it out.”
Moonlight filtered through the trees, casting puddles of blue-silver light on the path ahead of her. She was running, her chest heaving, her heart pumping hard enough to burst. Her hair flew out behind her; her skirts flapped around her, trapping her legs.
Serena tripped over a root and fell to her knees. Sharp rocks bit through the wool of her skirts.
The stake ripped against her bare palm, tearing her skin, releasing blood, and she heard the howls behind her as her scent was carried back on the wind.
Two large hands gripped her shoulders, lifting her. Sheer horror tore through her. Lukos. It must be Lukos—she jerked her head up to see…Lord Sommersby. He towered over her, dressed to perfection, a cloak swirling around him.
“I know what you are,” he said, “and I desire you in a way that is completely unholy. You have bewitched me.”
His mouth lowered and she lifted hers, breathless—how long did they have before the vampires caught them? Minutes? Or mere seconds? Sommersby pressed her back against a tree; the rough bark bit into her. His mouth, hot and demanding, claimed hers. He cast a spell on her again, and she hauled up her skirt, tangling her tongue with his.
His fingers filled her cunny, thrusting into her, and she sobbed with need and pleasure into his mouth. She was going to die this way.
Another man. She sensed him at her side. Out of the corner of her eye, Serena glimpsed pale silver-blond hair. Drake Swift.
His hand slid up her exposed inner thigh, brushed Sommersby’s, and found her derriere.
Delicately, his finger toyed at her anus, touching until she began to melt with pleasure.
The need to orgasm took her. She began rocking on their fingers. Sommersby freed her mouth, and she panted with hunger and fierce desire. Yes, yes, more. She didn’t care about death. Didn’t care about anything but coming, now, here, on the thick, skilled fingers of the men she desired—
Oh yes! The orgasm slammed into her and she screamed with it. The vampires would hear her, they would come—
Blood Rose ©Sharon Page 2007 Email: [email protected] 44
She looked helplessly to Drake Swift as she shuddered and shook in ecstasy. He grinned and bent close, his breath heating the tingling rim of her ear. “We are going to make love to you together, little lark.”
And before she could gasp, she felt the delicious pressure of Lord Sommersby’s enormous cock against her drenched cunny—
Fangs. She felt fangs
And when he’d staked that vampire—that nameless, inhuman beast—he’d found that getting vengeance hadn’t given him peace.
Lord Ashcroft shook his head. “Lady Brookshire lusts for blood and she has the power to kill.
Even though she helps the Royal Society, we cannot forget that. I have kept it hidden from Serena Lark that her ladyship is a vampiress—you must not reveal the truth.” Ashcroft’s face was grim.
“A vampire can never be trusted. How can we allow them to flourish? They are stronger than we are—we are mere prey to them. Serena Lark is the key to saving human souls, Jonathon.”
Jonathon’s heart tightened. He was running out of time. “I’m going to need the time in the laboratory, sir—to try to save her. And I want to hunt Lukos.”
Ashcroft shook his head. “I’m afraid that won’t do, Sommersby. I have assigned other hunters to destroy Lukos. I want you to let Miss Lark hunt with you—”
“And how the bloody hell will that keep her safe?”
Ashcroft held up a quelling hand. His eyes gleamed. “You will make her believe she is helping you pursue Lukos, but you will keep her away from Lukos. You will keep her under your protection. In ten days she will turn…and we will learn how a vampire is made. We will be able to study her power.”
Then his mentor flashed the autocratic look of a father. “This is your duty, Sommersby. I expect you to carry it out.”
Moonlight filtered through the trees, casting puddles of blue-silver light on the path ahead of her. She was running, her chest heaving, her heart pumping hard enough to burst. Her hair flew out behind her; her skirts flapped around her, trapping her legs.
Serena tripped over a root and fell to her knees. Sharp rocks bit through the wool of her skirts.
The stake ripped against her bare palm, tearing her skin, releasing blood, and she heard the howls behind her as her scent was carried back on the wind.
Two large hands gripped her shoulders, lifting her. Sheer horror tore through her. Lukos. It must be Lukos—she jerked her head up to see…Lord Sommersby. He towered over her, dressed to perfection, a cloak swirling around him.
“I know what you are,” he said, “and I desire you in a way that is completely unholy. You have bewitched me.”
His mouth lowered and she lifted hers, breathless—how long did they have before the vampires caught them? Minutes? Or mere seconds? Sommersby pressed her back against a tree; the rough bark bit into her. His mouth, hot and demanding, claimed hers. He cast a spell on her again, and she hauled up her skirt, tangling her tongue with his.
His fingers filled her cunny, thrusting into her, and she sobbed with need and pleasure into his mouth. She was going to die this way.
Another man. She sensed him at her side. Out of the corner of her eye, Serena glimpsed pale silver-blond hair. Drake Swift.
His hand slid up her exposed inner thigh, brushed Sommersby’s, and found her derriere.
Delicately, his finger toyed at her anus, touching until she began to melt with pleasure.
The need to orgasm took her. She began rocking on their fingers. Sommersby freed her mouth, and she panted with hunger and fierce desire. Yes, yes, more. She didn’t care about death. Didn’t care about anything but coming, now, here, on the thick, skilled fingers of the men she desired—
Oh yes! The orgasm slammed into her and she screamed with it. The vampires would hear her, they would come—
Blood Rose ©Sharon Page 2007 Email: [email protected] 44
She looked helplessly to Drake Swift as she shuddered and shook in ecstasy. He grinned and bent close, his breath heating the tingling rim of her ear. “We are going to make love to you together, little lark.”
And before she could gasp, she felt the delicious pressure of Lord Sommersby’s enormous cock against her drenched cunny—
Fangs. She felt fangs
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