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understand, my lord. I need to know who—what—killed my parents.”
    You should understand. The familiar coldness touched his heart. The hell of it was that he couldn’t summon a memory of Lilianne’s face. He wanted vengeance for her death because it had become a mission to him, but his anger, his hatred, the pain of lost love had long since died. All he had left was cold guilt.
    “I do know what it feels like,” he said. “And that’s the very reason, my dear, I can’t let you wander around a vampires’ brothel.”
    “How can you walk away from a treasure trove of vampires’ books?” Miss Lark asked. “I know you’ve spent a lifetime studying the creatures, my lord. The entire history of vampires will be in those books. You are a man of science—how can you resist finding the truth?”
    Jonathon held back an ironic laugh. Serena Lark thought she could appeal to the noble scientist in him. She had no idea, the poor sweet.
    He took a deep breath, inhaled more of the drugs the demons had used—they had been burned earlier in another room and allowed to seep in through holes made in the wall. They must have left Serena alone with it. Solange and another drug—one he hadn’t recognized, though he could guess at its purpose. It must be an aphrodisiac. How much Miss Lark had inhaled, or how long it would affect her, he couldn’t speculate.
    Having finished the job of decapitating the destroyed vampires, stuffing the mouths with garlic, and stowing the remains out of sight, Drake Swift stepped behind her. Jonathon saw her become immediately aware of Swift. He gritted his teeth as he saw her stiffen in tension—in appreciative tension, not fear. Her pretty tongue licked her lower lip, her fingers played against the silk of the robe. Miss Lark kept flicking glances at Swift beneath demurely lowered lashes. Lashes that tempted Jonathon to touch with his lips—to catch her by surprise with a kiss.
    Of course Drake Swift was definitely aware of her. Swift let his fingers lightly graze her tumbled hair. Jonathon noted Swift’s breathing was quicker, his trousers tenting in an obvious display of his notorious sexual appetite.
    “We should hunt down the vampires—find out from them about this master.” Swift glanced up Blood Rose ©Sharon Page 2007 Email: [email protected] 18

    at him. “And let Miss Lark find her books.”
    The one advantage of large hands is they would fit easily around Swift’s bloody neck.
    “Surely you want to see that library, Lord Sommersby,” Miss Lark insisted. “Every answer you’ve ever sought could be in those books.”
    Jonathon grimaced. She was holding out the juicy apple of knowledge—begging him to take a bite.
    Swift nodded, encouraging her. “It’s easy enough to infiltrate the place. Grab a couple of masks and pose as clients to our lovely Miss Lark. The tunnels likely lead two ways—next door and to safety.”
    “We have to go through the brothel,” Miss Lark added. “We can only get to the tunnel that leads to the library through it.” She crossed her arms over her chest, which made the silk gape and gave a view of shadowed cleavage.
    “Then you, Miss Lark, are going to have to pose as a jade.” Swift gave a wink. “You must convincingly convey that you intend to share your bed with both of us.”
    “Shut it, Swift,” he warned. “It’s utter bloody madness to waltz through a vampires’ brothel.”
    He scrubbed a hand over his chin. “How do you know about these tunnels, Miss Lark?” he asked sharply. “Have you been in them?”
    Spots of color came to her cheeks. “Not yet—I merely did research! These tunnels connect to the underground rivers. The ones covered over by the city—the Fleet and the Tyburn.”
    “Research? How is it no other hunters have unearthed this knowledge?” His hair prickled at the back of his neck. Was Ashcroft wrong—did Serena Lark know of her destiny? Was she leading them into a trap?
    “Because no other hunters are