“Drusilla,” the name rolled off Nicolau’s tongue as if tasting a rare wine. Anticipation hit like a gathering storm. After all of this time she had to cross his path here and now.
He saw Isobel’s eyes go wide with recognition. Drusilla’s name was well known to them both. A look of fury took over her soft features, Isobel’s mouth tightening at the realization that they were not dealing with some nameless minion. “Drusilla here in Sunnydale? The timing is suspect, my love.”
“I remember well her raven hair, a black sheath of midnight against her pale skin,” Nicolau mused over the memory. “She favored black lace and red velvet.”
Curiosity prompted Anton to ask, “A former lover?”
Nicolau shares a look of amusement with his childe. “Hardly. Her sire was never one to share.”
“Angelus,” the name purred from Isobel’s lips. Even Anton recognized the name. The glory days of Angelus were way before his time. Just the mention of these vampires had aroused his master and mistress.
What he knew of Isobel, she was too young to have met the Scourge of Europe in his glory days. “We never met,” Isobel admitted woefully. A pout settled across her pretty lips.
The tales of the bloodshed and horror wrought by Angelus left her shuddering with lustful admiration. There were other more personal accounts revealed by Darla. “I met his sire once in the early 1900s,” Isobel’s revelation stirred up her temper. It showed in her cold blue eyes. “Bitch.”
Darla was always boastful of her favorite’s prowess, yet she spoke of him as if she hated him. Seemed angry with herself for desiring him despite his absence. Isobel had been intrigued, but Darla refused to tell her more.
Isobel’s curiosity had garnered nothing but rumor. It was as if Angelus had simply disappeared. She had been intrigued to discover that her own sire knew Angelus. While she had been entertaining Darla, trying to seduce her into telling her more about her vicious childe, Nicolau had been away. If only he had been there. He was far more Darla’s type.
As it was, Isobel had to settle for a little sport and sharing the innkeeper’s son. The whole experience had been rather unsatisfying. Nicolau had not been very interested in Darla when she told him of her interlude with Angelus’ sire. “The whore doesn’t move me,” he’d said. He had been much more eager to learn about any companions traveling with her.
That was the first time Isobel had heard Drusilla’s name on her sire’s lips. It stirred anger and jealousy within her now as it had then. Not so much because he’d hoped to seduce the other vampiress, but because Drusilla had been subject to Angelus’ will, forced to his bidding, fucked by him, the legendary Scourge of Europe.
Isobel licked her lips at the thought. It was not that Nicolau did not measure up to any vampire she’d ever met. He was her sire, after all, powerful, beautiful and deadly. He was her everything. There was only one thing that kept Angelus in her fantasies.
Nicolau was too refined. He was not vicious, or as ruthless as she knew herself to be. Angelus had those traits according to the many stories she’d heard over the years. If Drusilla’s presence here suggested any possibility that her sire was also present, then this trip America was not going to be half as boring as she imagined.
“Tell me again, Nicolau,” begged Isobel. “You met Angelus once in Venice, I believe, accompanied by his sire and childe.”
“Yes,” Nicolau was quite aware of Isobel’s desires. It amused him the way she put Angelus on a pedestal. He preferred to talk about Dru instead. “I planned to seduce Drusilla anyway. There was something so innocent about her despite her lineage, an oddity. As if there was a place deep inside that her sire had not touched. I wanted to claim that.”
What little Anton knew about Angelus suggested he would not take kindly to another vampire touching what was his. The Aurelius line was very possessive about what belonged to them. “You did this knowing how Angelus would react.”
With a shrug, Nicolau admitted, “That made her all the more tempting.”
Rapt with attention, Anton had to ask, “What happened, master?” having never known Nicolau’s seductions to be unsuccessful.
“Drusilla,” he murmured the name, thoughts turning inward trying to call upon the memory of that night long ago. “She said something. It disturbed me.”
Rather than sharing the details, Nicolau walked away to stand with his back to them, his face darkening into a scowl. He faced the thin veil of curtains now closed across the Venetian blinds. The curtains flashed open with a short pull of the string.
Reaching up, he took hold of the rod controlling the blinds and began to turn it. A beam of sunlight hit low across the windowpane shining directly through the open slat. Anton scampered back into the shadows on the other side of the bed as the light shone into the room.
The sunbeam hit the floor only inches away. Nicolau ran his hand through its warmth noting the way the light bounced off his signet ring.
“Close the blinds,” Isobel pressed herself against Nicolau’s back. She covered his hand, enjoying the momentary warmth against her skin. “It has been a long night. Drusilla must have a lair somewhere in town. All those who would possess the knowledge of its location have already taken to their beds.”
Nicolau lifted her hand to his lips kissing her fingertips. He flipped the blinds closed again and turned to take her fully into his arms. “Drusilla has something I want. It cannot be a coincidence that she is involved. When we find Drusilla and after I take back what is mine to possess, I will enjoy renewing our acquaintance.”