Silken Rapture: Princes of the Underground, Book 2 Read Online Free

“It provides more vitessence than blood. It won’t take Morshiel long to recover from his wound and decide to reclaim it.”
    “And the woman?” Aubrey asked.
    “She has my protection.”
    Aubrey nodded. Michael gave the woman one last glance of incredulous longing before he stared once again at his reddened palm.
    “Fool,” Blaise muttered under his breath.
    He walked down the platform toward the dark tunnel in the distance, refusing to look into his captive’s face. If he did, he’d turn into as much a fool as Michael.
    If he did, he might never look away.

Chapter Two
    Margaret Turrow, his human housekeeper, turned when he entered the bedroom.
    “Keep your voice down,” she warned with a glare.
    Blaise curled the side of his upper lip in a menacing gesture. It didn’t mean anything. It was just a habit. He still snarled at Margaret, even after she’d been in his service twenty-eight years. True, a quarter of a century was nothing to him, but sometimes it seemed he’d known Margaret as long as he’d known Aubrey. The woman deserved his respect, if only for the fact that she’d put up with him for all that time. The Literati had good reason to be wary of Blaise’s dark moods, but Margaret knew for a fact she could do nearly whatever she pleased in Sanctuary and Blaise would only bark at her for her impertinence before he let her do whatever she wanted.
    Most of the time, anyway.
    He walked around the four-poster bed where Margaret sat. He hadn’t seen the woman when he entered because the posts were draped in a white diaphanous fabric, blocking his vision. She lay on the amber silk sheets completely nude with the exception of the two elbow-length black gloves.
    He came to a halt as if he’d just realized he was about to walk off a cliff.
    “She still hasn’t awakened,” Margaret said as she raised a sponge from a basin of water and squeezed. The sound of the trickling liquid barely penetrated his consciousness. He followed the glistening trail of dampness as it swept along the curve of a hip to a narrow waist, and then along the woman’s ribs. The sponge whisked against the smooth skin of a small, perfectly shaped breast before Margaret withdrew it and dipped it again in her bowl of water. The contrast between pale skin and the dark hair between her thighs was electrifying. The pink, relaxed nipples also stood out markedly atop creamy flesh.
    No wonder Morshiel wanted her so much. It was like staring at life distilled. For a full five seconds Blaise sensed her blood zooming through her veins, thousands upon thousands of rich rivers nourishing sweet flesh. Her heartbeat throbbed in the center of his brain, calling him, pulling him.
    For a stretched moment, he couldn’t breathe.
    With extreme effort, he jerked his gaze off her. He blinked in disbelief when he realized his incisors were extended. Sweat had gathered on his upper lip.
    And he was harder than stone. Thankfully, Margaret was still turned away.
    “Why the gloves?” he asked.
    Margaret threw an admonishing glance over her shoulder, still washing the girl’s belly. Apparently he’d spoken too loudly for a sickbed.
    “She becomes restless when I remove them,” Margaret said. “Worse than restless—agitated—although she still doesn’t awaken. Do you have any idea why that might be?”
    Blaise kept his gaze on Margaret. He didn’t look at the woman again for the entire meeting.
    “No idea,” he said.
    Margaret’s blue eyes sharpened on him. “She is powerful, though. Isn’t she?”
    He quirked up one brow. “When did you start to sense vitessence?” he asked wryly, referring to the life force that surrounded all living beings. The woman who lay naked on the bed had the most powerful vitessence he’d ever seen in his five hundred and fifty plus years on the planet. Her energy was even more powerful than Elysse’s had been.
    He could see vitessence with his physical eyes, although a human like Margaret could not. This woman’s