Page 73 of Wynter's Bite

The bottle of laudanum felt heavy in his pocket. He prayed that she wouldn’t ask for it too soon, for he didn’t know if he’d have the strength to refuse her after witnessing her suffering.

Bethany’s eyes fluttered open and she favored him with a smile that made his heart ache. “Where is our gracious host?”

“Rhys already departed for Blackpool.” Gratitude welled within for the rogue’s aid and generosity even as he worried about the highwayman. Once more he felt ashamed of his previous scorn for rogue vampires, thinking them all to be evil and violent. And though there were indeed plenty of rogues of that ilk, there had been others whose kindness had been instrumental in Justus’s and Bethany’s survival. He only hoped Rhys would find similar help. Justus knew what tangling with a Lord Vampire on their own territory entailed. Rhys would be lucky to survive. He shook off the concern and focused on his own situation.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, determined to focus on the present.

“Much better.” She stretched, her delectable body grazing his before she twined her arms around his neck. “I haven’t slept this well in ages. I had the most wonderful dream that you and I were choosing chairs for our library.”

Justus smiled at the enchanting mental picture. “There is nothing better than a dream that will come to pass.” Though even if the Lord of Cornwall agreed to make them citizens, their accommodations would be meager until Justus found profitable employment. Thankfully, once he Changed Bethany, they would have many years to save their coppers.

Bethany hugged him tight. “I do not know what I’d do without your reassurance. How far did we travel?”

“We’re in Devon.” Justus fought back the memory of carrying Bethany as she’d shivered and moaned in a delirious sleep. “We could be in Cornwall tonight, though we’d best hurry since Ridley’s third in command heard me blurt out our destination.”

“Thank heavens,” Bethany said. “I pray the Lord Vampire takes us in. And if he doesn’t, that he will allow us to pass.”

“The Lord of Rochester tells me that Deveril is eccentric, but soft-hearted.” He did his best to ease her worry.

“Deveril?” Bethany’s brows rose. “The Lord Vampire of Cornwall is the Mad Earl of Deveril? My father ranted about his proxy vote on the Corn Laws and my mother was always trying to invite him to her parties in London when she was on her relentless quest to see me married off. He never came, since he was reputed to be a reclusive madman. Him being a vampire makes sense.”

Justus cursed under his breath. “I was not supposed to tell you until we met the man.”

“Why not?” Bethany shrugged. “I would know his crest the moment we arrived at his doorstep. I can feign ignorance until then. And while we’re on the subject, who is the Lord of Rochester? Much of what you told me implies that he is a noble as well.” She gasped as Justus looked at his boots in apparent evasion. “He is, isn’t he? How many vampires are there in the nobility?” she asked.

“Twelve, I think,” Justus said. “Though it can be difficult to keep track, as some relinquish their titles and others reclaim theirs if their family line is in danger of dying off.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “We should set off. The sooner we are in Cornwall, the sooner I can make you privy to my world.” When he pulled her to her feet, he frowned at the lingering shadows under her eyes. “I intend to Mark you as soon as we pass the county border.”

Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth, then closed it and nodded.

“Are you frightened?” Worry speared his heart. What if she was still wary of being tied to him?

“A little.” Bethany fidgeted with the sleeve of her dress. “What if your Marking me lands you in trouble? Or if things go unfavorably in Cornwall and the vampires there use me to get to you?”

He hated himself for being relieved even as he was touched that her concern was for him. “If things go unfavorably in Cornwall, I’ll need to know how to find you, or at least if you are well. Deveril may imprison me and banish your memories.” Not to mention that Justus would also know if she was suffering from opium sickness on their way to Castle Deveril in time to abate her suffering. He never wanted to see her go through that again.

“Why don’t you Mark me now?” she said softly.

Justus hesitated. It could be a risk if he was taken by the Devon vampires, but then again, every cell of his being cried out to make her his. The savage instinct was alarming. He’d never Marked a mortal before. “All right,” he said and bit his finger.

As Bethany drank his blood, Justus brought forth his power and recited the words. “I, Justus de Wynter, of... nowhere... Mark you, Bethany Mead as mine, and mine alone. With this Mark, I offer you my undying protection. Let all others, moral and immoral alike, who cross your path sense this Mark and know that to act against you is to act against me and thus invoke my wrath, as I will avenge what is mine.”

Magic jolted through them like lightning. For a moment Justus could feel every thought and emotion swirling in her mind and he was breathless at her inner beauty. He bent to kiss her and was lost in her embrace.

Bethany moaned and pressed herself against him, tugging at his falls of his trousers even as he pulled up her skirt. He lifted her and impaled her on his hard length. They made love fast and fervent, the Mark between them pulsing in time to the beating of their hearts. Bethany cried out and shuddered, her climax bringing his own like shattering a floodgate.

“Heavens,” Bethany breathed, resting her head against his chest. “May I now consider myself Marked?”

He chuckled and set her down. “Thoroughly. But now we’ve delayed too long. We must go now if we hope to reach Cornwall before dawn.”

When they left the cave, a stroke of luck came Justus’s way as he spied a fisherman pulling his boat to shore. He was on him in a flash and returned to Bethany, well fed. Scooping her up, he ran faster than he had in several nights.

After only a brief stop in a fishing village for a bowl of chowder and roasted potatoes for Bethany, they arrived at the Cornish border in a little over three hours.

Justus took a deep breath as he surveyed the rolling green hills and jagged seaside cliffs. It was time for them to find out if damnation or salvation awaited them. “We must do what we can to not look hostile. To appear as supplicants.”

Bethany reached up beneath her skirts and tore a strip of muslin from her petticoat.

Justus’s brows rose. “What in the heavens are you about?”

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