feed on someone before the end of the night. If his hunger got too strong, he could end up drinking from some debutante on the ballroom floor.
Hell, the ton thought it had scandals. They had no idea what he could give them. Not just juicy stories, but abject terror.
This was humor that didn’t make him smile. He was a duke who had to avoid mortals lest he kill them. He was a beast who had hungers he could barely satisfy. He was a dragon slayer who had committed his soul to protecting England from dragons. All in all, he was in a hell of a situation. He had to get James back, but James carried dragon blood in him, which meant the boy was in danger from other dragon slayers. It meant he had to ensure Lucy believed he would never hurt her.
He was finding it damned hard to imagine slaying Lucy.
Damned hard.
Sinjin paced up and down on the sidewalk. Stepping out of the carriage had been idiocy. The street was filled with people, and he could smell their blood. His fangs had pushed forth and now overlapped his lower lip. He kept his face hidden from the elegant members of the ton and entourages of servants passing by him.
He thought about Lady Lucy instead. Would she get the information he needed from her butler? What was his next step, if she—
Something moved in the air. Sinjin sensed the slight rumble of a preternatural being moving behind him. Cold rolled over him. He turned, leaning on his walking stick. With his vampiric vision he could see the “prince”—as the man was called by other dragon slayers. The prince was moving so quickly, he was invisible to the rest of the world. The dragon slayer’s pale blond hair shone beneath a beaver hat, and his eyes were two silver circles of reflected moonlight.
Coming to a stop, the man became visible at once. A couple walking on the other side of the street stopped and stared in astonishment. But they quickly looked away and strolled on. No doubt they had assumed the prince had just stepped out of the shadows. No one would believe the impossible: that a man had been walking so fast he was invisible to their naked and inferior eyes. No one would believe vampires and dragons existed, and dragon slayers were not just men of myth.
“Greystone, what in hell are you doing?” the prince grumbled. “You are going to spare a dragon?”
He didn’t answer. His answer was supposed to be no.
The prince’s gleaming eyes narrowed. “You know the punishment.”
Sinjin glowered. The prince was a powerful being. Reputedly he had fought battles on high snow-covered peaks of the Carpathian Mountains, five hundred years before. He had protected his small principality from the Turks, from other Europeans, from his neighbors. Reputedly the prince had made a pact with a strong evil being to acquire his power—some said Lucifer, some spoke of a powerful warlock, some claimed he sold his soul to an ancient vampire. He gained immortality, and the price was to become a dragon slayer for eternity.
But then, given that the prince had lost his family to dragons, just as Sinjin had, Sinjin imagined the prince had not considered it a “price” to become a slayer.
“I won’t kill her,” Sinjin growled, “until I have my nephew.”
“Your nephew is a dragon, Greystone.”
“And I had your word you would not touch him, as long as I removed the dragon clan of Drago for you. The father is dead. I will deal with the son and the other children. As I promised to do, in return for my nephew’s safety.”
The prince, who was thought in England to be a prince of a small principality near Transylvania, curled his lip. “I sense you do not want to hurt this female.”
Sinjin flattened his lips and knew his eyes were cold and glittering, betraying no emotion. “I know what the females are capable of. I have seen female dragons fight and destroy mortals. I have no sentiment here.”
The prince cocked his head, his silvery eyes filled with disbelief. “Do you not?”
“No.”
The prince
Hell, the ton thought it had scandals. They had no idea what he could give them. Not just juicy stories, but abject terror.
This was humor that didn’t make him smile. He was a duke who had to avoid mortals lest he kill them. He was a beast who had hungers he could barely satisfy. He was a dragon slayer who had committed his soul to protecting England from dragons. All in all, he was in a hell of a situation. He had to get James back, but James carried dragon blood in him, which meant the boy was in danger from other dragon slayers. It meant he had to ensure Lucy believed he would never hurt her.
He was finding it damned hard to imagine slaying Lucy.
Damned hard.
Sinjin paced up and down on the sidewalk. Stepping out of the carriage had been idiocy. The street was filled with people, and he could smell their blood. His fangs had pushed forth and now overlapped his lower lip. He kept his face hidden from the elegant members of the ton and entourages of servants passing by him.
He thought about Lady Lucy instead. Would she get the information he needed from her butler? What was his next step, if she—
Something moved in the air. Sinjin sensed the slight rumble of a preternatural being moving behind him. Cold rolled over him. He turned, leaning on his walking stick. With his vampiric vision he could see the “prince”—as the man was called by other dragon slayers. The prince was moving so quickly, he was invisible to the rest of the world. The dragon slayer’s pale blond hair shone beneath a beaver hat, and his eyes were two silver circles of reflected moonlight.
Coming to a stop, the man became visible at once. A couple walking on the other side of the street stopped and stared in astonishment. But they quickly looked away and strolled on. No doubt they had assumed the prince had just stepped out of the shadows. No one would believe the impossible: that a man had been walking so fast he was invisible to their naked and inferior eyes. No one would believe vampires and dragons existed, and dragon slayers were not just men of myth.
“Greystone, what in hell are you doing?” the prince grumbled. “You are going to spare a dragon?”
He didn’t answer. His answer was supposed to be no.
The prince’s gleaming eyes narrowed. “You know the punishment.”
Sinjin glowered. The prince was a powerful being. Reputedly he had fought battles on high snow-covered peaks of the Carpathian Mountains, five hundred years before. He had protected his small principality from the Turks, from other Europeans, from his neighbors. Reputedly the prince had made a pact with a strong evil being to acquire his power—some said Lucifer, some spoke of a powerful warlock, some claimed he sold his soul to an ancient vampire. He gained immortality, and the price was to become a dragon slayer for eternity.
But then, given that the prince had lost his family to dragons, just as Sinjin had, Sinjin imagined the prince had not considered it a “price” to become a slayer.
“I won’t kill her,” Sinjin growled, “until I have my nephew.”
“Your nephew is a dragon, Greystone.”
“And I had your word you would not touch him, as long as I removed the dragon clan of Drago for you. The father is dead. I will deal with the son and the other children. As I promised to do, in return for my nephew’s safety.”
The prince, who was thought in England to be a prince of a small principality near Transylvania, curled his lip. “I sense you do not want to hurt this female.”
Sinjin flattened his lips and knew his eyes were cold and glittering, betraying no emotion. “I know what the females are capable of. I have seen female dragons fight and destroy mortals. I have no sentiment here.”
The prince cocked his head, his silvery eyes filled with disbelief. “Do you not?”
“No.”
The prince
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