“Touch me,” he ordered. He pressed her hands against his chest, forcing her palms flat against his skin. He stole traces of her warmth everywhere they touched, and suddenly she wondered what it would feel like to have the cool steel of his c**k embedded between her thighs.

That way danger lay…

A whimper sounded, deep in her throat. She was uncertain now. The avalanche of feeling was starting to roll over her, threatening to steal her feet. “Let me go,” she said. But she didn’t mean it. And that was what scared her the most.

Blade stole a kiss. Another. Nipping at her mouth, pressing at her to open. She was helpless not to respond. He dragged her hands down, over the ripple of muscle at his abdomen. Through the tangle of hair that arrowed down, the sensation acutely new to her.

The taste of him. Oh, lord, the taste. His tongue met hers in a heated tangle, hot and hungry. His lips were cool, tracing hers, tempting her to kiss him back. And she did.

It started innocently. A curiosity, really. Just a little taste…But she grew hungry for more. Her blood was thick and warm, like molten honey pounding through her veins. She didn’t know what was happening. His hands dragged hers lower, over the edge of his leather breeches, over the sudden, raging strength of his cock-stand.

Honoria’s eyes went wide.

“This is what you do to me,” he whispered. “Every god-damned time I see you.” Heat flared in his eyes.

She tore her hands free, but he caught them, pressed them against the familiar, less-unsettling feel of his chest. A pulse pounded between her thighs, a tribal drumbeat of need. She found her hands sliding over his chest, learning the feel of him. And this time when their mouths met, she was the aggressor.

Blade shuddered, then flinched. Honoria followed his mouth, taking a step forward. He drew back, avoiding her. “Easy now, luv.” He frowned. A tiny smear of blood marred his pale skin.

For a moment she didn’t understand. Did he not want her? Then she saw his eyes blink, as though to shake off something. He staggered. Honoria caught him under the shoulders, his weight almost driving her back into the wall.

“What’d you do to me?” he slurred.

Oh no. The ring. She glanced at the tiny needle. Somehow she’d scratched him with it.

He was too heavy for her. Honoria staggered toward the bed, hoping to get him on it. “One more step!”

They both went down. Honoria landed atop him, breathing hard, her arms caught beneath him. If he hadn’t been incapacitated, she was certain he would have taken advantage, but one of the side effects of the toxin was partial paralysis for several minutes. He would be aware of everything that happened, but he wouldn’t be able to move.

She leaned up on her elbows, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Blade glared up at her. He looked like there were a dozen things he wanted to say to her right now. It was probably for the best that he couldn’t speak for a little while.

“This is your own fault,” she said, sitting up and straddling him. Her eyes widened. It seemed there was one other part of his body that was currently paralyzed too.

Clearing her throat, she climbed off the bed and brushed her skirts down. “You won’t be able to move for ten minutes or so. Then you’ll recover completely. You might feel a touch light-headed or nauseous, but that should pass.”

“Grrhvf.”

“There’s no point trying to speak,” she said nervously. “I didn’t mean to do this.” A slight frown. “Well, I did at first, but it was an accident how it occurred. Honestly, it was the last thing I was thinking of at the time…” With his hands and mouth doing wicked things to her body, it was amazing that she’d had any rational thoughts at all.

Blade was motionless, but his eyes tracked her. Honoria snatched a pillow from the bed and tucked it beneath his head.

“Don’t give me that look. I’ve not injured you in the least. I simply want my diaries back.”

His eyes were eloquent enough. When he could move—when he got his hands on her—there was going to be trouble. Far better for her not to be here when the paralysis wore off.

Honoria looked around. His armoire hung open, revealing his clothes. She rifled through them, disturbing an array of velvets and leathers. His tastes truly ran to the gaudy. Everything was almost…touchable. She couldn’t help rubbing her fingers down the butter-soft leather of a pair of breeches. Imagine if he were wearing them.

She jerked her hand away, heat spearing through her cheeks. That was enough of that. She’d given him his kiss. There was nothing owed between them. Nothing except the consequences of this new set of actions.

The thought spurred her to haste. He’d been down for almost two minutes. The toxin’s effects depended on a lot of things: the victim’s body weight, how long since he’d drunk blood, his CV count, and myriad other factors. But in general it would knock a blue blood out for almost ten minutes. No time to spare.

She started hunting furiously for the diaries. Through his drawers, under discarded clothes, behind the curtains. Even in the bathroom, with the events of last night running fresh through her mind. The blackguard. Brushing her hair. Stroking the silk of her robe. Pretending he had nothing more on his mind than seduction. Probably plotting to steal her diaries the whole time.

She tugged a drawer open and frowned. It was full of little packets. Though they looked nothing like a diary, she couldn’t stop herself from reaching for one curiously. But when she opened it, she almost dropped it. French letters. Dozens of them. Just how many bloody thralls did he take to his bed anyway? He must think her a fool.

Slamming the drawer shut, she stalked back out into the bedroom. Blade watched her, his eyes shouting their accusation.

“I know they’re here somewhere.” There were more drawers near the bed. She tugged one open and paused. A set of steel manacles gleamed within, with padded cuffs. “Really?” She dangled the cuff off her finger and shot him a look. “Only two thralls whom you take to bed? I think not. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

A growl sounded.

Honoria jumped, but Blade was still motionless. She discarded the manacles and reached for a leather roll. Slinging it open on top of the chest revealed a half dozen fléchettes. What he would use on her when he deemed her well enough to donate.

She was running out of places to look. Pausing, she closed her eyes and thought furiously. If she were a devious blue blood, where would she hide something?

A strangled sound came from the bed. He was starting to move. It shouldn’t be possible. He’d barely been down for five minutes.

Blade managed to roll onto his side, glaring at her. Retribution gleamed in his green eyes. Oh God. If she wasn’t gone by the time he recovered, she was going to have to pay the devil his dues. Unless…Honoria’s gaze lit on the manacles.

His gaze locked on them at the same time with an expression like murder.

“Just until you catch your temper,” she said nervously, scooping them up and crossing toward him.

His shoulders heaved. He was struggling to sit up. Honoria planted the palm of her hand against his chest and shoved. He tumbled back onto the bed, a warning growl erupting from his throat. Her mouth went dry. This was insane. Not only had she entered the ring with the bull, but now she was deliberately waving the red flag in his face.

“This is your fault,” she told him, closing one steel cuff over his wrist. “You don’t understand. I need those diaries. I nearly put myself into Vickers’s hands for those diaries.” The second cuff locked tight. The veins in Blade’s wrists distended, his hands clenching. “Where are they?”

“Pay,” he said.

Her face paled. “Aye. I suppose I will. But if you just tell me where they are, I’ll go away for the day and…and come back tonight. I’m certain we can come to some sort of agreement about my punishment.” Her voice trailed off. “I could kiss you again.”

Blade gave her a withering glance.

“Maybe…maybe more?”

He wrapped his fists around the chain, still ignoring her. Honoria licked her lips. “Don’t hurt yourself. You won’t be able to break them.”

He gave a sudden wrench on the steel loops. Honoria squealed and grabbed for his hands. “You shouldn’t exert yourself so soon! The toxin takes awhile to wear off!”

Another wrench. One of the steel chains looked almost as though it had stretched a little. Honoria scrambled off the bed. Damn him! Where were the diaries? She checked under the bed, even running her hand beneath the mattress. With 170 pounds of enraged, half-naked male atop it. If she didn’t get out of here soon…

“Not even you can break steel links,” she blurted, scurrying about.

Blade shuffled his grip on the chain, watching as she tossed clothes and furniture aside. She could feel his gaze on her back like a hot pinpoint of fury.

“Ain’t…got…to.”

Honoria stopped dead in her tracks. Her gaze shot to the timber slats she had linked the chain through. He hadn’t been planning on breaking the cuffs at all. “Oh.”

As she watched, he gave one final wrench. The slats splintered and the cuffs came free, though they were still around his wrists, thank heavens.

Blade rolled into a sitting position, slinging his legs off the bed. He swayed and caught himself.

Honoria took a step back. Then another. “Don’t stand. You won’t be able to control your body for…for a little while.” How had he shaken off the toxin so swiftly?

All of her father’s studies had been on the newly infected at the Institute. Oh, dear. Blade’s age or his CV levels must have played a new hand into the deal. What would his CV levels be? He was over half a century old, more than enough time for the virus to colonize. For a moment fear curdled in her stomach.

“What poison did you give me?” He somehow found his feet.

Honoria didn’t trust the look in his eye. She stepped back, her heels hitting the door. Her palms were sweaty. She brushed them on her skirts. “It’s hemlock. A small dose has unusual effects on a blue blood. My father discovered it.”

He took a lurching step toward her. “Feels like me ’ead’s wrapped in wool.”

Honoria felt around behind her for the door handle. She didn’t dare take her eyes off him. “Yes, well. You’ll feel strange for—well, I’m not quite sure. Studies show that it takes about ten minutes for the paralysis to wear off. But there you are, right as a trivet, and it’s probably been only six minutes now.” Her hand closed over the knob. “You should rest for a while. Let it wear off. I shouldn’t want you to fall flat on your face.”

“Ain’t got time to bleedin’ rest,” he snarled. “Do you know what you done? I got the Ech’lon arrivin’ within the ’our. I can’t greet ’em like this.”

Her hand paused on the doorknob. “The Echelon?”

“The duke of Caine’s brat. Per’aps you ’eard of ’im? Leo Barrons? And a full score from the Guild o’ Hunters.”

The heat washed out of her face, down her throat, and lower, stealing her breath. For a moment she thought she was going to faint. “Guild of H-hunters?” The infamous Nighthawks who worked the city.

“We’re ’eadin’ out after the vampire. They’re workin’ with me on this. I can’t take it by meself. Why? Got a problem with it, Honor? That’s right. The guild’s got a warrant with your name on it.”

His hand hit the door beside her head. The manacle clinked. The door slammed shut.

“I just want my diaries back and then I’ll go.”

“I never ’ad ’em. I tole you that.”

She shook her head. “Then who—?”

“Esme.” Blade said. “She’s the only one that reads ’ere. Stirrin’ trouble between us. But she didn’t force your hand. You were the one as poisoned me.”

“I didn’t…” She pressed her lips firmly together. “I’m sorry.”

“Aye, well, an apology ain’t enough.” He held out his wrists. “This time you got to earn it, Honor. I need your blood to get me back on me feet.”

Chapter 16

The key to the manacles was in Honoria’s pocket, burning a hole through her skirts. “I thought you wished to wait.”

“Circumstances bein’ what they are,” Blade replied. “I can’t afford to.”

“I could fetch Esme.”

“Already fed from ’er this week. And Will. The only thrall within a ’alf hour is Mrs. Faggety, and I need more than she can afford to give.” He pressed his finger between her br**sts. “You’re the only one as I can safely take, and there’s a certain sense o’ justice.”

She swallowed, looking down at the firm finger pressed against her breastbone. She barely dared to breathe. But he was right. If he appeared before the Echelon—even Leo—looking like this, they’d be circling like sharks. And it had been her fault.

She let out a shuddering breath. “I’ll do it.”

It was only what she had agreed to anyway. Why not get it over and done with now rather than drag out the inevitable?

“Oh, I know, Honor. I weren’t askin’.” A hint of anger still stirred in his green eyes. “Come ’ere.”

He gestured toward the bed.

“I don’t think so,” she said. The bed was entirely too intimate. And she was nervous enough as it was. “Why not the chair?”

“Honor.” There was no disagreeing with that voice. “The bed. Lie down.”