Blood Secret. Sharon PageЧитать онлайн книгу.
“I—” Her muscles jerked. Sitting up, she hugged her bare chest tightly, as though she was trying to keep her body from flying apart. He read the strain in the face, in the way her muscles shuddered and jerked beneath her hands. Valiantly, she was trying to fight the shift, but it was obvious she couldn’t.
Sinjin’s nostrils flared as he scented the change in her smell. His entire body tensed, and his brain was hammering one message at him: Do your duty and destroy her when she becomes a dragon. You cannot suffer a dragon to live.
His hands clenched against his will, yearning to be wrapped around the hilt of a sword. He had vowed to slay dragons—it was not a vow he could walk away from... .
But he couldn’t hurt Lady Lucy Drake tonight. He had to let her go and wait for her to come back. Once she returned, and had agreed to spend a fortnight under his control, then he would start questioning her about his nephew.
“I will give you some privacy,” he said casually. He turned his back on her deliberately, for he saw how she was perspiring, and how her jaw was twitching and her muscles were popping under her smooth, satiny skin. He put his back to her as much for himself as for her.
He left and closed the secret door in the wall paneling. Using his preternatural hearing, he detected a smothered scream. It signaled that her body had changed—when the body transformed from mortal shape into the larger form of a dragon, it caused a great deal of physical pain.
Right now, he had a dragon in his house. By the code of his clan, he was obligated to slay her. But that would condemn his nephew to death.
Sinjin walked away feeling the crushing sensation at his throat. It felt as though his windpipe could collapse. It was the punishment for not doing his duty—but only a warning. It would ease.
What if Lady Lucy did not return to his house?
Sinjin stalked over to the dressing table in his bedchamber. A decanter stood on it, beside a large tumbler. Other men drank brandy—he had his servants bring him blood. He poured a glass and the aroma sent his fangs launching forward. He drained all the blood from the glass in an instant while he wondered what Lady Lucy would do.
She had made love with him when she was frightened of men and intimacy. She was a remarkably strong woman, and determined to protect her family. He knew what lengths a person would go to when their family was at risk.
Sinjin licked his lips, gathering up the last, tangy droplets of blood with his tongue. It was entertaining to think of the carnal games he would play with her. For he was certain Lady Lucy would come back.
Changing her shape was agonizing.
Lucy had sunk to the floor beside the bed and she clutched the bedpost as spasms of pain rocked her body. Why couldn’t she stop it from happening?
Others could. Her father had been able to, and he had tried to teach her how to do it. Most of the time, she was able to keep her body from transforming, but there had been times, like this instant, where she lost control of her body.
She closed her eyes, bit her lips to contain any screams or sobs. And just tried to endure the hateful process.
She didn’t want to be a dragon. She yearned to be normal. To be just a mortal. To have worries like the other human, ordinary young ladies she knew: such as snaring a husband, becoming mistress of a house, and being a grand hostess within the ton.
She had just given up her virginity and she could even end up pregnant.
All in all, her life was a disastrous mess.
Her arms and legs twitched and grew. Her skin rippled, changing by some mystical, awful process into scales. Heat swamped her, and Lucy fell dizzily back against the bed.
She couldn’t stop it. She couldn’t help but scream with the pain as her muscles popped, tore, heated, and re-formed.
Within minutes, she was no longer human, she was a dragon, and she was curled up on the floor beside the bed, with her tail tucked in around her. Firelight glinted off her scales. She took up the entire room.
If the duke were to come back, how would she explain this?
Lucy turned her sleek, dragon’s head toward the secret panel in the wall and gazed at it with her large eyes. A small lick of flame came from her mouth.
She prayed the panel did not open.
4
Lies and Vows
“What are you doing, Lucy? Why are you packing?”
Lucy whirled to find Helena standing in the doorway of her bedroom. Her sister was tearing at a piece of embroidery, nervously shredding it. With her pale gold hair and enormous blue eyes, Helena was a beauty, and at nineteen, she was also old enough to understand what their brother’s stupid gambling had done to the family. In fact, Helena understood all too well—Lucy knew her lovely sister was noble enough to agree to a wretched marriage to save them all.
Lucy let the blue silk gown in her arms fall into her open trunk. She was still shaking. It had been draining to face her fear and painful memories and go to bed with the duke. It had stunned her to actually like it. She’d been wild with terror when she’d started to shift into dragon form.
It had been a miracle she hadn’t been caught. At least she had been alone in his bedroom when she had shifted shape, but as a dragon, her head had brushed the high ceiling and her tail had been curled and pressing against the wall. Then she’d managed to regain control of her body and change back. Trembling, exhausted, disheveled, and itchy with dried perspiration, she had summoned his maid, dressed, and come home.
In her carriage, she had concocted a story. Now she faced the elder of her two sisters and used it. “I have an invitation to a house party.”
Helena frowned. “Lucy, it is the beginning to the Season. Who on earth would be having a house party? Everyone is in London.”
“Not all the Drakes,” she said, amazed at how smoothly she was able to lie. “Since we can’t shop for our prospective husbands on the marriage mart, many of the dragon clans do not bother to attend Society events. There will be eligible men in this house party, Helena. Drago men. Men who are dragons, like we are. If I can snare one and marry well, then I can rescue us.”
Helena crossed her arms, sighed heavily. Lucy flinched as her sister’s perceptive gaze searched her face. She tried to give no hint that all this was a complete fabrication.
“Lucy,” Helena said. “You said you would never think of marrying—”
“I am ready to marry now,” Lucy broke in. “I’ve recovered from Allan Ferrars.” She went to her wardrobe so Helena could not see her face. The more impassive and natural she tried to make her expression appear, the more Lucy was certain she wore an enormous sign on her head that read LIAR.
“Are you certain?” Helena came over to her, and touched her arm. Doubt furrowed her sister’s smooth, pretty forehead. Helena knew her far too well.
Bother. Lucy had never lied to any member of her family before... .
Well, that was not true. Neither of her two sisters knew exactly what Ferrars had done or what she had seen when she had yanked open the bedroom door. They did not know he had battled with Jack and that their brother had been forced to kill him. Not telling them why had not been a direct falsehood. It had more been a lie by omission.
She didn’t want Helena to know what she was doing. And anyway, she had no choice now: She had already done it. She had given up her virginity, and she certainly couldn’t retrieve it. The problem—losing her virginity made her feel different. She felt more world-wise and experienced, older, and more ... more aware of everything around her. The lavender sprinkled on her underclothes smelled more sweet and intense, like a field of wildflowers. She was aware of the touch of things—the caress of her muslin petticoats as they brushed her thighs. The tug of her garters on the sensitive skin of her legs. The