Free Let the Night Begin by Kathryn Smith Page A

that they are wealthy, fairly powerful, and extremely lucky.”
    â€œLucky?” Interesting. “How so?”
    Clarke shrugged. “Horses. Political favor. Business. Either the men are very savvy or they’re extremely fortunate in their choices.”
    â€œOr they have many friends willing to pullstrings in their favors. Perhaps James stepped on the wrong toes? What of Olivia?”
    Another glance at the book. “She keeps a quiet existence wherever she goes. As of late she’s been living in the south, in Clovelly.”
    Reign closed his eyes and drew a breath. Clovelly. Yes, he should have known. He opened his eyes to find Clarke watching him. “Do you know it?” the other man asked.
    â€œYes.” They had taken a house there for a while. A little secret getaway where they didn’t have to worry about gossip and society’s rules. Olivia loved the shore, the smell and call of the ocean. At night they’d swim naked and make love on the beach, with the surf crashing around them. Stupid things Clarke didn’t need to know. Fucking stupid things Reign didn’t want to say aloud. “What else?”
    â€œWell, of course I wasn’t able to go there and talk to anyone, but my contacts didn’t unearth anything. The only thing of interest is that Clovelly and its neighbors seem to have an awful lot of young men who go missing.”
    Damn. Reign raised a brow. “Dead–and-there-is-no-body missing, or ‘Oh dear, we’ve misplaced Harold’ missing?”
    Clarke chuckled. “Disappear-at-night-and-wake-up-in-a-strange-place-with-no-memory-of-how-they-got-there missing.”
    â€œYou think it’s Olivia feeding?”
    â€œI do.”
    â€œBut only from young men?” Was that jealousy in his voice?
    Clarke looked far too smug for a mortal. “I thought to ask if the young men had anything in common. Turns out that the majority of them were rugged young men with dark brown or black hair and gray or green eyes. Were she to have killed them, I’d say she was acting out her fantasies of you.”
    Reign looked away, his heart clenching too tightly in his chest for him to speak. He couldn’t explain this feeling even if he wanted. An exchange of blood between lovers was so deeply intimate. He and Olivia had never had the chance to share such an experience. He knew what it was to pierce her flesh, but not the sublime pleasure of having her bite him. He thought of what that would be like often. To have her sink her fangs into his flesh rather than simply taking the flow of blood he offered.
    He thought of her licking the blood from his lips in Mrs. Willet’s parlor when they shared their first kiss in three decades. He had wanted her more than he could ever remember wanting her before. She had wanted him as well. Of course, sex had never been an issue between them. Sex had led to them falling in love.
    Were Olivia’s hunting choices revenge fantasies as Clarke suggested, or fantasies of another kind? And if she kept her word and gave her body to him,was there a chance that he might win her heart once more? Did he want to?
    â€œOh, and word came from the hospital,” his friend remarked, his expression darkening. “The priest—Father Abberley is dead.”
    â€œDead?” Christ, how was he going to tell Olivia? “Is that all?”
    Clarke was watching him, his expression carefully blank. “For now. Shall I continue my investigation while you are gone?”
    â€œYes. Dig as deep as you have to. And quickly. I want to know what I’m up against.”
    His wording, and his timing, couldn’t have been any more perfect, for at that exact moment, there came a knock upon the door and his housekeeper informed him that Mrs. Gavin had arrived.
    â€œWe’ll be at the Edinburgh house before dawn,” he remarked needlessly as he rose to his feet. Clarke was well aware of his schedule, having