A Vampire's Claim

Page 75

Faith, you know so little of our world, for having been in it for nearly two centuries. That’s why I’m Region Master, and it took you so long, and with female trickery at that, to win a simple poor overlordship. Which I warrant will be taken from you before the year is over. I will not apologize for it.” When he took another step closer, Danny forced herself not to move, not even twitch, as his breath touched her face.
“You may complain to the Council”—he bared his teeth—“but only after I’ve had you bound in stocks in one of my barns, buggered in every orifice you have. I’ll roll you in manure and cattle urine, staple a tag in your ear so you finally know your place.
Then you may crawl off to them. If I am merciful.”
Force and fear were the only way he could get a hard-on anymore, she realized. He probably viewed seduction as too close to begging. Ruskin only took now. What wasn’t given to him freely got his blood up. And strewth, on his home turf, he wasn’t even pretending at civility. Pushing down an uneasy reaction to that, she arched a brow, swept an unimpressed look over his face, over the grounds around her.
“You’re king of a tiny, inconsequential kingdom, Lord Charles. Despite all your pretensions, you know you are Region Master here because the Council doesn’t care what vampires do in Australia. We can be as savage as we wish, ruling with our brutality instead of our brains, because it’s in the more important areas of the world they need vampires who can manage affairs with intelligence and skill. Here, you can be as ham-fisted as you wish.”
She was ready for the blow, could have ducked it easily, but she took it, knowing he would be doing it as a chastisement, a humiliation, not to knock her down. Even so, it knocked her head back, shoved her into the car door, denting it, and broke open her lip. She straightened, wiping the back of her hand over it, taking in his angry eyes, the hope for fear to flare in her eyes. She laughed instead. “And obviously too thick to understand the irony of that response.” Stepping forward again, she threw down the gauntlet. “The Council may not care about the vampires in Australia, but I do. I’m here to challenge you to a duel, Lord Charles Ruskin. Fencing. I win, I become Region Master. You win . . . you get to treat me like a cow, if that’s your best idea of what being a vampire leader is all about.”
“And how will you treat me if you win? Relegate me to a pathetic station like yours, out in the middle of nowhere?” She didn’t blink. “If I win, Lord Charles, you will be dead.”
“And why wouldn’t I take your life?”
“Because you want to punish me for being what I am. That’s too tempting for you to pass up.” Retreating enough to manage a mocking bow, she raised a brow. “So, blades until one yields or the other is dead? As I’ve said before, Huntington’s rules are a little too modern and civilized for two such old souls as ourselves, I think.” Charles studied her a long moment, then inclined his head. “Done, Lady D. I will look forward to driving your mockery from your eyes, replacing it with fear.”
“You will never have that satisfaction, no matter the outcome of our duel.”
“That’s the important difference in our ages, my dear,” he said. “I know all things come with time.” She noticed his dangerous cordiality had returned, as if the anger he’d displayed had never existed, as if he’d produced it simply to see how she would react.
The four stockmen who’d been standing off to the side were moving closer, and as they approached, Danny realized she was wrong. They weren’t stockmen. Not human ones. Four adult male vampires, likely Ruskin’s spawn.
“My sons, so to speak,” he confirmed it. “The best wealth a man can have in this country, to help him work his land, manage his interests. It’s almost dawn now. You shall have your duel at dusk tomorrow, after you’ve had a good day’s rest and a chance to feed. I am nothing if not fair.”
Fairness was becoming an elusive hope, she knew, and quelled the frisson of uneasiness again. He had to be stopped. This was just more proof of it. A vampire had to have Council permission to make a vampire, and she doubted he had that for any of these. He thought himself outside of all rules.
“I would prefer to be done with it now,” she said. “I expect it to go quickly.”
“So do I, more’s the pity, but I do not prefer it now.” When he shifted his glance to the silent, still group of vampires, four pairs of eyes fixed on Danny in a manner that made her skin crawl, though she managed an indifferent stance. “We prepared quarters for you. With the children. They are looking forward to seeing you again.”
As she turned toward him, he gave her a mocking bow. “I wouldn’t suggest resisting us, Lady D. You are heavily outnumbered, and you will need all your energy to keep my darling tykes entertained through the long hours. Being penned up so much, they don’t sleep much during the daylight hours. And if you can keep them from feeding on you, you’re welcome to try and steal a sip from them.” As he jerked his head toward the barn, the males closed around her.
Lyssa had reckoned that no matter Danny’s strategy, based on her flight plan, it would be tonight before she and Ruskin got into it.
Dev had to appreciate Alistair and Lyssa’s willingness to fly during daylight, with heavily draped windows and backseat, such that there was almost no air back there at all in the stifling heat, the plane bouncing erratically over the thermals rising up from the Outback. Thank God that Alistair also had his own private plane that could carry up to ten, so there’d been no need to wait for a charter. Dev rode in the copilot chair, and Nina and Thomas sat in the row of seats behind them. Nina was unruffled, humming to herself as she gazed out at the view, holding on to the strap to buffer the jostling. Thomas tried hard not to get airsick as he watched over her.
Dev tried to doze, knowing he might need the sleep, but he had a hard time of it, not only because of the cramped quarters and loud roar of the engine, but because of that nagging sense of urgency. He’d had the desire, every other second it seemed, to reach out to Danny, speak to her, tell her he was coming. He didn’t know if it was pride, residual awkwardness or intuition that made him hold off. Or if knowledge of what was happening to her might drive him mad.
Elisa had surprised him with her candor when he’d managed to connect with her by radio. “She’s gone, sir,” she’d reported unhappily. “We think she’s going to challenge him to a duel, for she was practicing with her swords. We couldn’t get her to pay attention to anything else. Left me and Willis this sealed envelope, I’m sure with instructions of what to do if she doesn’t return. Oh, Mr. Dev . . .”
“You did fine, Elisa,” he said. “We’re going after her. You hold tight. Light a candle for us. And it’s just Dev.” Hell, light a whole bonfire, because he was sure they were going to need it. He had the same feeling Elisa did. He stifled a curse.
Challenge Ruskin to a duel, as if they were at some kind of fucking court event with king and country looking on. But following Danny’s savvy mind, he figured that was what she was counting on. She was playing on the old bastard’s pretensions at being a bloody noble. But she was also underestimating the sick underlayer, the one that would trump all that if he thought she had a shot.
To Ruskin, to vampires as a whole, it seemed honor lay in winning, not necessarily in being honorable. And from watching her fence, Dev knew she had a hell of a good shot of winning.
Sitting in the plane, he’d gone over that first duel in his head a million times, every step she’d made, down to the one that had cost her the match. The subtle shift when she lost her balance and Ruskin cut under her guard, barely. Another second left or right and she would have avoided it. It had looked purely like a mistake, caused by his interruption in her mind, something she’d never taken him to task about, oddly. Because she’d intended to lose. She’d been gauging his strengths, setting Ruskin up to be overconfident.
With Ian, until the actual decapitation, she’d been dispassionate about her feelings for him. Such that Ruskin was as astounded as anyone in the room with the vicious decisiveness of her attack.
Yeah, his vampire had a bit of the sociopath in her, she did. The planning and patience required for Ian’s death would have been admired by any soldier who’d had to lay motionless for an ambush. Hour after hour, as mosquitoes settled on flesh burned by the sun and flies crawled up your nose until you thought you’d go mad with it. And maybe she had, because she certainly hadn’t put that kind of planning into her confrontation with Ruskin. Maybe because of Dev. She knew he wouldn’t wait forever, because he’d said so, and she didn’t want him involved. To protect him. Christ.
They still had an hour to go before reaching Darwin. And night was closing in.
Lord Charles could have sent his men to retrieve her, bring her to the practice courtyard where he would complete his exercise in domination. However, he couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of seeing his guest, normally so well put together and remote, reduced to rags and blood, carrying the exhaustion that would have come from fighting for her life until dusk. It was unlikely the children had killed her, of course. Not only did none of them have access to a stake or cutting tool, they’d be more interested in draining her rich vampire blood. And the more blood she lost, the harder she fought them, the weaker she would be.
As they slid back the door to the outbuilding where the cages were kept, as well as the communal pen where they’d released them last night, his gaze went to the latter area.
He didn’t see her at first. He’d brought the original pack numbers up with another handful, but he wasn’t surprised to see some of the newer ones dead. They weren’t properly seasoned yet. He was impressed, regardless. She’d killed about six.
No matter. The orphan service was good about sending replacements whenever he asked for more, citing the growth of his interests and more placement opportunities. Particularly when he coupled it with donations to their cause and requests for more school materials because of his desire to educate them. His lips twisted. His money and position made it easy for them to accept it, the bleeding heart fools. He told them he’d found the children various homes with remote station families, to learn the trades of shearing and cattle. Forged happy letters from the tykes. The white ones, because, of course, aboriginal children were no problem at all, their parents having no rights to reclaim or locate their snatched children anyway.