Silken Rapture: Princes of the Underground, Book 2 by Beth Kery Read Free Book Online

sharply when she heard Isabel snort in disbelief. “Thousands of mortals owe him their lives, though most are ignorant of that fact. Forgive me for my bluntness, Miss, but you don’t know much of anything. Not about his world, you don’t. He has suffered more than we humans could wrap our minds around. He could easily have become as cruel as his clone, but he has endured. His suffering has been so great, the friction and fires of it have made him more human than any mortal I know. You’re a child when it comes to these matters, trust me. I was once in your shoes.” She glanced down in humorous apology at Isabel’s bare feet. “I was just as naïve,” she added gently.
    “I amnot naïve.”
    “Up there, perhaps not,” Margaret said with a shrewd look as she pointed to the ceiling. “Down here, you’re as witless as a baby.”
    “Down here . What? Are we in the basement?” She glanced curiously toward the heavily draped windows. She’d noticed there was a strange, opaque piece of glass in the panes when she’d tried to escape earlier, but she hadn’t considered she might be underground.
    “You might say that,” Margaret said breezily as she picked up the last item of clothing and headed toward the closet. Isabel dogged her footsteps. “But then, every room in this building is in the basement, in a manner of speaking. You’re currently about a thousand feet below the earth’s surface, my dear. Sanctuary is an underground highrise—or lowrise, as the case may be. Sixty stories, straight down into the ground. It’s like an inverted pyramid. Sanctuary not only houses Lord Delraven’s home, but his textile factory as well, although Silk takes up the floors just below the surface. The workers there find the access straight off the Tube to be a major employment benefit. We’re a good deal farther underground here in the residence, though.”
    Margaret ignored Isabel’s stunned expression as she walked out of the closet. She called out a warm greeting when a pale, anxious-looking young man entered the room carrying a tray. “Ah, perfect. Come in, Jessie, come in. Lay out the things over at the table there. Stop gawking. It’s rude. She’s just a woman,” Margaret admonished under her breath when she noticed Jessie gaping at Isabel, his mouth slack. Isabel smoothed her wrinkled dress self-consciously. She must look a mess.
    Not that she cared how she appeared to these people.
    Margaret beckoned her toward the table. “You may not have the morning sun to welcome the new day in Sanctuary, but you’ll have the finest breakfast in all of England.”
    Isabel hesitated. She certainly didn’t want to give the impression she in any way planned to comply with her imprisonment.
    Jessie removed the metal domed cover and the scent of fried potatoes and eggs reached her nose. Her traitorous stomach growled. Her gaze narrowed on Margaret’s eager face as the woman pulled back a chair, ready to seat her at the table. The older woman was right about one thing—Isabel had no idea how to maneuver around this strange place or what to expect from the man who kept her prisoner, Lord Delraven. She needed information and Margaret could provide it.
    Are you an actress, or what? a voice in her head asked scathingly.
    She bit her lower lip in a show of hesitation and glanced entreatingly at Margaret.
    “You must understand…waking up to find myself in such a strange place—and…and I think I saw…”
    “What, dear?” Margaret asked, her forehead wrinkled in concern.
    “Vampires,” Isabel whispered. Jessie shifted on his feet uneasily.
    “Don’t be frightened. I know it seems strange—I recall how shocked I was when I first discovered Lord Delraven’s and the Literatis’ unusual natures. They’re not vampires like in tales. Or like Morshiel and his revenants are,” she added under her breath. “Delraven and his followers never kill to sustain themselves. Never. It’s anathema to them. They take only enough