Lost to the Night (The Brotherhood 1)
“But I watched him change before my eyes. How can that be?”
Lord Markham stood and walked over to the table, pulling the stopper from the flagon and filling the mug. He took a large swig and winced. “Good heavens, I’ve never tasted anything so sour. No wonder he’s trying to get rid of the stuff.”
“No doubt he saw your fine clothes and charged you double. But you’re avoiding my question, my lord.”
The corners of his mouth curved up. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
“The story is not fit for the ears of an innocent lady.”
Innocent? She’d given her virginity to her lover. She’d been kidnapped by a madman, was now sitting in a private room with an unmarried gentleman. Her reputation was beyond saving. Indeed, her broken heart cared for nothing but easing the pain.
Lifting her chin, she said, “Perhaps I am not as innocent as you would believe.”
His gaze drifted over her. “Perhaps. But why should I tell you?”
Because she wanted to understand what had happened to Alexander. Because her heart still ached for him. “Because I love him. I think I deserve an explanation.”
“Ah, love. Is it not just a fairy tale for the weak-minded?” He went to take another swig of cider but changed his mind and placed the mug on the table. “I think the events of the evening have proved that love is nothing but torture and pain.”
“That’s not true,” she said, drawing on the love she felt for Alexander. She recalled the way his touch ignited her soul, the way his words eased her fears, the way his body took her beyond this mundane world to a distant magical plane. “Love cannot be defined. It is God’s greatest gift. Sustenance for the soul. Love is caring for another so deeply—”
“Caring?” Lord Markham scoffed. “Where is your love now, Miss Bromwell? I shall tell you. He is wallowing in his grief, lost to the night that has claimed him as his own. He is hurting, and he is alone. Forsaken.”
The blunt words caused her tears to fall.
She imagined Alexander sitting on the bench by the fountain, weeds curling up around his boots, a ghostly mist clawing at his shoulders. In her vision, he looked so sad and tortured as he begged for the Lord to release him from the Devil’s curse.
Pain turned to anger and resentment. “Do you think I want it to be this way?” she cried, jumping to her feet. “Do you think my heart is not crying out in pain?”
They stared at each other for a moment before Lord Markham bowed his head and said, “Sit. Sit down and I will tell you.”
Evelyn flopped down into the chair and tried to calm her ragged breathing. “Help me to understand, my lord. That is all I ask of you.”
Lord Markham sat opposite her, stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles. “There is a woman in Bavaria. A woman beautiful enough to send a thousand legions into battle to fight for the right to possess her. But her heart is tainted, her body plagued by a demon. One bite from such a woman brings about a devastating change that can never be undone.”
Evelyn sat forward. “Are you saying Alexander received such a bite?”
Was this the terrible event Alexander referred to?
“Not just Alexander. There are a few of us.”
Us!
Evelyn tried to swallow down the solid lump in her throat. She scanned the gentleman before her, aware that her eyes had grown wide. “You … you mean that you are one of these creatures? You have also been a recipient?”
Lord Markham smiled. “Yes, Miss Bromwell. I do not fear Alexander because I understand his torment … because I suffer from the same horrifying affliction.”
Her heart missed a beat.
“So, you are able to make your eyes turn black?” she said digging her nails into the wooden arms of the chair. “You’re able to grow teeth sharp enough to kill a man?”
“I am,” he nodded. “But there is more to it than that. We cannot go out in the daylight. Our skin is too sensitive to the sun. We cannot eat and drink as you do, but must supplement our diet with blood.”
“Blood!” She shot out of the chair.
“Calm yourself. We drink animal blood. I am not about to sink my teeth into your vein and drain the life from you.”