Free The King's Vampire by Brenda Stinnett

vampire with hair whiter than his skin spoke up. “It would be of more use to us if you’d turn King Charles into an immortal vampire. That way we might rule the entire world, and have all the humans as our slaves.”
    “Now there’s an idea, Your Ladyship,” Godfrey said with a nervous twitch of his mouth. “Whyn’t you turn Old Rowley into one of us?”
    “Who’s Old Rowley?” Elizabeth asked.
    Godfrey laughed. “It’s the name of one of Charles’s racehorses and that’s what some call the king.”
    She looked around in desperation. Nobody appeared to be stirring in this part of town.
    The others drew closer, leaving her unable to breathe, while her heart pounded against her ribcage. She watched Godfrey’s colorless lips part, as he bent her neck back to get a better angle at her throat.
    Elizabeth wasn’t going to let the little brute feed on her, but the more she struggled, the tighter he held her in his grip. A fury built inside her, and she focused on that rage. She managed to raise her leg, and in spite of billowing petticoats, she kneed him in the groin with all her strength, then giving him a swift kick with her high heel. She shoved another vampire so hard with the square toe of her shoe he tumbled to the ground.
    Not wasting another second, she lowered her head and streaked away from them, moving so fast her feet barely touched the ground. At last, she saw the lights and heard music playing in full force at the Boar’s Head Inn. Her dress torn, face streaked with tears and dirt, she must have looked like a crazy person when she burst through the door. The men sitting around the fire looked in stupefied amazement, their mouths dropping open at sight of her.
    The mistress of the inn came into the great room. “Is Your Ladyship, all right?” Taking in Elizabeth’s bedraggled appearance at one glance, she led her into another room where she kept her records of the inn.
    Choking back a sob, Elizabeth said, “I’ll be fine, Beth. Have you heard from Darius yet?”
    A dark look flitted over Beth’s olive, round face. “Not yet, but we’ll hear from him soon, I promise you. Are you all right, Your Ladyship?”
    “I’m fine, Beth, it’s just that—” Elizabeth collapsed to her knees.
    The older woman pulled her to her feet and led her to her rooms, gently stripping the ragged clothes from her body, washing the dirt from her face, putting ointment on the scrapes and cuts, and then helping her pull a white linen nightgown over her head. “You get a good rest, Your Ladyship. Things always look brighter in the morning.”
    Elizabeth sunk her head down on the pillow. “I hope so. I certainly hope so.” But her heart cried out for Darius, even while she tossed and turned. What would happen if the demons killed him? It was too horrible to imagine trying to go on forever without him. She knew she’d have to wait for nightfall if she were to be of any help to him. If only she hadn’t had to waste time on feeding.
    “Darius,” she whispered, and a soft burst of warm air brushed across her lips. At last, she could sleep.

Chapter 6
    Darius lay on a cold block of stone, trying to slow his heartbeat while waiting for his tormentor to return. The scent of mold and dampness, pervaded by an even darker, more sinister smell, perhaps the scent of dead corpses, surrounded him and crept into his lungs, threatening to suffocate him. He stared up, seeing nothing except the rough undersurface of a stone lid, probably one of the empty sarcophagi in the crypt at St. Paul’s.
    He struggled to push the stone away, but it barely moved an inch. He tried to recollect what had happened between him and the demons, but the only memory he had was of John pushing the women out of St. Paul’s, while he’d been engulfed by Julian’s giant jaws.
    Although the situation appeared desperate, he’d been in far worse conditions when going into battle in the name of Charlemagne, and he’d always managed to escape. He recalled