The Vampire Who Loved Me by Teresa Medeiros Read Free Book Online Page A

seductive powers, you didn’t stumble across anything else of interest, did you? Like, for instance, your immortal soul?”
    He rested the goblet on the table, then patted the pockets of his waistcoat, as if the one thing that held the power to restore him to humanity was of no more import than a lost riding glove or a misplaced cravat. “Damn thing’s proved to be devilishly slippery. I haven’t had a single vampire stroll up to me and offer to let me tear out their throat so I can suck my stolen soul out of them.”
    “So you never even found the vampire who sired Duvalier, the one who inherited your soul after Duvalier was destroyed?”
    “I’m afraid not. Unless they’re feeding, vampires are a notoriously close-mouthed lot, even amongst themselves.”
    Portia frowned. Something in his tone made her suspect that he wasn’t being completely forthcoming. “So you didn’t find your soul, but you did find time to prove yourself a hero on the battlefields of Burma?”
    He lifted one shoulder in an indifferent shrug. “How difficult is it to be a hero when you can’t die? Why shouldn’t I volunteer to lead everycharge? Sneak behind enemy lines and rescue every fallen soldier? I had nothing to lose.”
    “Unless the sun came out.”
    His lips slanted in a mocking smile. “It was monsoon season.”
    “Since he bestowed a knighthood upon you, I gather the king was more impressed with your efforts than you were.”
    “The dreamers of this world are always looking for a hero. I suppose the king is no different from any other man.”
    “Or woman,” she remarked, meeting his gaze boldly.
    He straightened, folding his arms over his chest. “Perhaps it’s time you told me exactly what you’re looking for, Portia. Because if it’s a hero, you’ve come to the wrong place.”
    Unnerved by his unblinking stare, she rose from the chair and strolled over to the window. Easing aside the veil of crepe, she peered into the dimly lit alley below. Every shadow seemed to hide some faceless menace, yet none of them was more dangerous to her than the man waiting—not so patiently—for her reply.
    She traded a bracing glance with her reflection in the glass, then let the crepe fall andturned to face him. “I’m looking for a murderer.”
    The grim words hung in the air between them until Julian threw back his head with a hearty laugh and said, “Then I suppose you have come to the right place after all, haven’t you?”

Four
    Portia felt the blood drain from her face. “So it’s true,” she breathed, her fingers biting into the sleek satin of her reticule.
    “That I’m a murderer? That I’ve taken human life in order to survive? I hate to crush the last of your girlhood illusions about me, sweetheart, but in that respect I’m no different from any other soldier in His Majesty’s Army.”
    She drew in a deep breath to steady her voice. “I wasn’t talking about battle. I was talking about those women in Charing Cross and Whitechapel.”
    The sparkle of amusement in his eyes faded. He frowned. “What women?”
    “The four women who have died since you returned to London. The four women who were drained of every last drop of their blood by some merciless fiend.”
    Julian’s frown deepened. He turned away from her, toward the brick fireplace. “Just when did these murders take place?”
    “The first was a fortnight ago, just before Adrian received word that you’d been spotted in London. The next two followed shortly thereafter. Then just three nights ago, a fourth woman was found in an alley behind the Blessed Mary church, her corpse still warm.”
    He gazed into the cold hearth, locking his hands at the small of his back. “Are you absolutely certain they were killed by a vampire?”
    “Beyond any shadow of a doubt,” Portia informed him, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion. “And I can assure you that these women were not willing victims eager to surrender themselves to the vampire’s kiss.