Free Blood Curse by Sharon Page Page B

had saved her life.
    She kept remembering that. He had come to her rescue, and he was offering to give her the one thing she wanted in the world—freedom from her wretched power. The freedom to be among people. To go home. What did she have to lose, really, by believing in him? She couldn’t go on living alone.
    But could she be
intimate
with him? A small voice inside whispered this might be her only chance to ever know what it was like to hold a man. To make love . . .
    Ravenhunt held the door open to the shop, waiting for her. Books were stacked up against the bow window, hinting that there were so many inside it would be impossible to move between them.
    She stood at the door but didn’t go in. “I really do not see how a bookseller can prove I will be ‘cured’ of my cursed power by—by doing things with you.”
    “Come in, Lady Ophelia,” was all he said.
    She didn’t. “Who are these experts? I think I have the right to know. Where are these interesting places? I’m not going to take one more step until you tell me.”
    “Trust me.”
    Gah.
It was an impasse, yet he was in control, and she knew he knew it.
    She hated to give in, but she would learn more if she went inside. She would learn nothing if she stayed on the threshold. Glaring at Ravenhunt, she let him win this round, and she went in.
    The dust on some of the books tickled her nose. Ophelia sneezed. But she didn’t care about the slightly musty smell. She liked it. She had always
dreamed
of being able to walk into a bookstore again. After she had come into her power, she was never allowed to go out. She’d dreamed of going to places—to stores, Hyde Park, museums and galleries, Gunter’s for treats, to balls and parties. And to bookstores. She had so longed to go to a bookstore again.
    Then she realized something strange. “It is late at night. Why is the store open?”
    “The owner works late. He is a historian as well as a merchant.”
    She was surprised. For once Ravenhunt gave her an answer. She couldn’t resist examining the books on the shelves. Moonlight spilled in through the window and illuminated them. A glow of candlelight came from the back of the shop.
    She ran her gloved fingers over the row right in front of her eyes. Gilt lettering on the spines gleamed at her. “I could spend a lifetime in here,” she mused.
    “A bluestocking?”
    She blushed. That was a term for bookish ladies, but
ordinary
ladies. “I’ve always wanted to come to a bookshop. And go to a modiste, a milliner’s, a confectionary . . . I’ve never been able to do any of those things.”
    “I am sure Guidon would be happy to part with as many books as you desire.”
    Ophelia assumed Mr. Guidon owned the shop. “I have no money.”
    “They will be a gift from me,” Ravenhunt said. “After all, I’ve kidnapped you. Buying books is one more way to make amends, I hope.”
    Ophelia saw one in front of her.
The Elgin Marbles
, it was titled, and she tugged it out and opened it. Pen-and-ink drawings greeted her eyes, rich with detail. Oh, she was almost willing to say yes to his offer, just to hug this book to her chest and never let it go.
    But she didn’t want to take gifts from him.
    Though he saw the longing in her eyes as she gazed at the pictures, Raven knew it was going to take much more than books to make amends. A lot more than that to seduce her. “Let’s go to the back of the shop and you can meet Guidon.”
    The narrow space forced her to bump against his chest. Blood. Sweet skin. Beautiful feminine smells.
    A shock of desire went through him. Pain ran through his jaw, and he felt the bones of it grind and shift.
    His fangs erupted.
    He had to keep his face turned away, his lips covering them. Ophelia’s scent was even more dominant to him here than it had been in the carriage.
    Her scent was a temptation that made his jaws ache with hunger and desire. She was walking in front of him to the back of the shop. She’d pushed back her hood.