Blood Curse Read Online Free PDF Page B

tailcoat, breeches, and boots.
    The air had felt charged—as if it might burst into storm. But there was no storm threatening. It had been mutual awareness, mutual desire.
    He had known the invitation to touch was there when he’d gazed into Simon’s blue eyes. He cupped the lad’s cheek. Ran his thumb over those full, tempting lips. Velvety and more fascinating than any woman’s, for they were as plump as a female’s but firm and slightly rough because they belonged to a man.
    He’d slid his hand around Simon’s strong neck. Drew the lad close to him.
    Breathless moment. God, so arousing and breathless.
    His mouth had touched Simon’s lips.
    It had been like coming to life. Hot desire ran through his body. His staff had gone stiff as a brick, pushing hungrily at his trousers.
    Kissing Simon like an eager swain, Valde had recognized the young man of twenty-two was a virgin when it came to the matter of two men making love.
    Slowly, he had undone the cravat that held Simon’s shirt points against the golden stubble of his throat and jaw. He’d kissed the exposed neck, loving the scratch of stubble, the scent of cologne on the young man’s dewy skin.
    He caressed Lord Simon’s broad chest. One mere pass of his hand had the lad’s nipples pointy and erect. Then he’d undone Simon’s trousers. There had been one murmur of protest from the innocent young man, but he’d silenced that with a passionate kiss.
    Then his hand had slid into Simon’s small clothes and had wrapped around a thick, straining, vein-covered cock . . .
    Valde touched the coffin, closing his eyes to fight grief.
    He could not open the coffin. Simon was not undead. There was no beautiful, un-aged face for him to caress. No perfect vampire or demon lips to kiss.
    They had taken the man he had loved and had killed him before he had immortal life.
    The damned vampire assassin who had taken Simon, who had been working for one of the evil vampire queens, had left him with a decaying corpse.
    He hated them—the vampires and the queens.
    Hated the Royal Society, even though that group of vampire slayers believed he was one of them.
    He knew what he wanted. He was the bastard son of a demi-goddess, and he was denied the power of a god. For a short time, as a child, he had been possessed of the magical powers of a god, with the ability to change weather, to move things with mere thought, and to make mere mortals fall in love with him and do whatever he asked. But as punishment for being the bastard son of a mortal, all of his power vanished when he reached the age of eight. When he had finally become just old enough to understand that his power could let him rule the mortal world, it was taken away from him.
    Then he was taken from his beautiful mother, Mrs. Darkwell, who was the daughter of the goddess Aphrodite.
    He knew the gods and goddesses of old legends did exist—but they could interact no longer with the human world. The only time they could intervene was when one of their own came into the mortal world.
    Aphrodite’s daughter had done that. She had fallen in love with a mortal.
    And he, as her son, had paid the price.
    He had been forced to live as a mortal boy, working like a servant on the farm of an angry and brutal mortal man.
    What he wanted was power.
    He wanted his chance to rule.
    Valde wanted revenge.
    And he knew there was a woman who had the power to kill with just her touch. If he had that power, he could have all the vengeance he wanted.
    He knew where she was—with that damned vampire assassin. The one who had taken Simon from him.
    It was going to be a pleasure to begin his reign of terror—starting with the destruction of the vampire Ravenhunt.

3
Jade
    T wilight had settled on London, blanketing the town with a purple-gray gloom. Raven walked through the streets, using his preternatural powers to move so quickly he was invisible to mortals. He walked in the center of the road, dodging carriages. Horses whinnied and reared