Blood Rose by Sharon Page Read Free Book Online

it.
    He knew exactly what service the Society would require of him when they decided Miss Lark was no longer of value. Once she transformed and gained her power, she would be too dangerous.
    He would have to stake her.

    Blood Rose ©Sharon Page 2007 Email: [email protected] 20

Chapter Four
Enslaved

    Serena reached the bottom of the stone steps and held her candle up to illuminate the dark tunnel. It stank. There would be rats. A cold drop splattered on her neck, and she gave a smothered cry.
    In front of her, Mr. Swift turned. His mask hid most of his face, shadows hid his eyes, but his lush lips cranked down in a grimace. “Smells like piss.”
    Before she could agree, he caught hold of her waist and lifted her. “The floor is mud, Miss Lark.” He juggled her with ease so he was carrying her in his arms, one solid arm beneath the crooks of her knees, the other around her waist. His gloved hand splayed over her bottom.
    He grinned, revealing a dimple in his right cheek—she could see the shadow of it, half-hidden by the exotic mask.
    “Are you truly so concerned about saving my slippers, Mr. Swift?” she asked.
    “Of course, Miss Lark. Don’t ask me to put you down—I won’t. I’m enjoying this too much.”
    She had to laugh at that. Just a small giggle that only he could hear before the blackness swallowed it up. She held out a candle, but it did little to fight the dark. Lord Sommersby strode ahead—she could see his light a few feet ahead of them, hear the reassuring slap of his boots in the mud. The walls of the tunnel were too dirty, too covered in sludge to reflect much light. They were curved and gave the strangest sense of enveloping, like demonic arms.
    The light played on the arched stone ceiling above them. At once Serena saw her research had been correct—the tunnel ended a few yards to the left, narrowing and closing to a wall of dirt and stone. It stretched into blackness in the other direction, and there was no sound but their breathing and the splatter of drips on mud.
    Mr. Swift gave her bottom a squeeze, but he lifted her also, as though he’d only intended to improve his grip. She should protest, but she liked the pressure of his hand there. She hooked one hand around his neck. Even carrying her, Mr. Swift strode confidently into the dark.
    Daringly, she let her bare fingertips brush his hair. So soft. So remarkably pale blond. He caught her gaze, his green eyes glittered in the faint light, and she saw wicked desire there.
    Lord Sommersby stopped abruptly, his candle held in front. “Ahead,” he whispered. “I see the outline of the door.” His light twinkled on the gold painted stars on his rich midnight-blue mask.
    Serena glanced from his masked face to Mr. Swift’s. Both the Venetian masks sported strange long noses—noses with a downward curve at the end, like vicious beaks. They looked like creatures of fantasy, masked and swathed in black silk capes.
    Twisting in Mr. Swift’s arms, Serena saw nothing but shadow, until the glow of Lord Sommersby’s candle touched a padlock, open and hanging off the hasp.
    Serena’s heart leapt—there was nothing to stop them getting into the brothel.
    “Remember, little lark—” The nose of Drake Swift’s mask bumped her lips. His voice held dangerous promise, as he set her on her feet. “You are our courtesan—our lover. You must play the part to keep us alive.”

    Around her, dozens of people—vampires, courtesans, gentlemen—were having sex. Serena Blood Rose ©Sharon Page 2007 Email: [email protected] 21

    tried not to stare. She truly did. But the groans made her legs ache, and each time a woman cried out, it was as though a bolt of lightning struck her quim.
    She remembered her confident answer to Mr. Swift. Yes, I can play the part .
    Now, she wasn’t so certain.
    Her hand on Lord Sommersby’s arm, Serena gaped at one vampire, his trousers down around his ankles, his tight, muscular derriere exposed. A woman’s bare white