Free Blood Curse by Sharon Page Page A

have to marry me. Just be my lover, and then you can be free.”
    She bit her lip. In the gesture, he saw how uncertain she was. She wanted freedom, but for a gently bred maiden, the price was frightening and high.
    He had to take it slower.
Seduction, damn it. Remember?
    He should sit beside her, and slowly, carefully, make her more receptive to him. But it would be damned impossible to be so close to her and hang on to his control. He was fighting hard inside to not drink from her. In the small confines of his carriage, he couldn’t escape her alluring smell. He could hear the thunder of her blood. Her heart had been pumping hard ever since he’d said those ill-chosen words to her about making love to her. It was like an echoing drumbeat in his head. On its rhythm, his head filled in words:
Drink. You are so hungry. Take her.
    Raven managed to give her a seductive smile. When what he wanted was to jump across the carriage to her, sink his fangs into her neck, and pleasure her lovely breasts and her creamy, hot cunny while he savored her blood.
    Can’t do that. Get command of yourself.
    “This is a fool’s errand,” she said coldly. “Even if you convince me this crazy tale is true, I won’t—”
    “Freedom always comes at a price.” He bit off the words so he softened his voice. “I promise you’ll also enjoy it.”
    “But how could it work? It makes no sense. Anyway, how do you know all of these things?” Her gaze narrowed. “Who are you?”
    He was astounded she hadn’t yet guessed he was a vampire. Given how much he wanted her beautiful blood, he was amazed he’d hidden it so well. “I know about the preternatural beings that live in London.”
    “How? Do you know Mrs. Darkwell? Is that how you know about me?”
    “It doesn’t matter how I know about you. All that matters is that I can change you. I can free you, if you let me. Now, no more questions. I will lead you tonight. Then you can make your decision.”
    Watching her turn to the window and stare out, he felt a strange pang in his chest. The light from street flares caressed her face as they passed them. She had a sweet face. An upturned nose, plump lips. Large, guileless indigo-blue eyes.
    She wore a cloak he had loaned her. The night was cool. The hood engulfed her, the hems trailed below her feet. He never bothered with a coach, and he kept no servants. He had needed the hackney to bring her. He knew the Royal Society would have spies watching the house—it had been easy to enter the minds of their weak sentry, to make those young, stupid men believe they were seeing nothing, then he had walked Lady Ophelia out, right under their noses.
    She had a core of strength, but she was vulnerable. He could sense it about her. Normally, as a vampire, he would prey on weaknesses in mortals. But because he admired her courage and strength, her susceptibility provoked his sympathy.
    He didn’t want to hurt her. He couldn’t understand why the thought of taking her power and taking her life was hurting him so much. He’d had to kill as a soldier and as a vampire. He had to do this to protect his sister. Why did the thought of taking her life fill him with so much guilt?
    It hurt in his gut. That was something he’d never experienced before.
     
    “A bookshop in Charing Cross? This is where your experts reside?” Ophelia held on to the hood of Ravenhunt’s cloak as she surveyed the front of the shop. The cloak trailed behind her, and the hood dipped over her eyes.
    The store looked well weathered. Paint on the once-elegant sign was faded. The glass in the front was dusty.
    “This is one,” he answered. “The others, whom you will meet soon, reside in far more interesting places.”
    She couldn’t understand him. He had come up with this strange tale that she had to make love to him, yet in the hackney he had sat back in the shadow and had acted as if he wanted to avoid her. On the other hand, she had done the same, determined to avoid him.
    He