Jane shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant as her knees trembled beneath her skirts. "It is a fine heritage," she argued.
Blixen hissed again, this time revealing three-inch fangs.
"Herr Blixen disagrees. Your grandfather marked him with holy water over fifty years ago. He is quite pleased to find you as my guest tonight. What delights we have in store," the count warned in a mocking tone.
At these words, a lady in a bloodred gown entered the room. Jane gasped and stared. It was Lady Veronique, who turned to her and smiled, her fangs showing.
"So this is Jane Van Helsing-Asher," Lady Veronique remarked, licking her lips, her red tongue darting out. "I am hungry, my lord. May I snack upon her a bit?"
Count Dracul laughed harshly. "No, my pet. Jane is for me."
Lady Veronique pouted prettily. "But I am hungry."
"Rudolph will take you out to London later tonight. More tasty prostitutes await in White Chapel." Dracul added, "As I said, Jane is solely for me."
Chin held high, Jane drew on her inner strength. She would be brave to save her love. "Enough of your boasts. I came here to find my husband," she demanded, if her voice was barely a squeak. I should be on the stage, she thought vaguely. No one would know that right at this moment, she was about to pass out with fear.
Dracul motioned his butler to the upstairs room. "Bring down our other guest, O'Hara. If he is unable to walk, carry him."
The butler moved to obey.
Subconsciously, Jane clenched her fists and sucked in her breath. Asher had to be all right. At least she knew that her husband was still alive—well, as alive as the walking dead could be.
Dracul turned to the taller of his two guests. "Rudolph, go help O'Hara bring down our friend the earl."
The taller vampire complied with the prince's demand, exiting the room as silently as a ghost. Even from where Jane stood, she could smell a touch of the grave about him.
"Now, my dear," the count began, turning his attention back to her. "Did you come to rescue Asher?" He moved closer. "And remember, anything you say can and will be held against you. I plan to hold quite a few things against you."
"I came to see if I could bargain for my husband," Jane lied, hiding her anxiety under a streak of bravado. Silently, she quoted, He whose ranks are united in purpose will be victorious.
"You aren't afraid I will destroy you as Asher destroyed my bride?"
"You can try," Jane retorted bravely—and stupidly, she decided. He could squash her like a fly.
The count laughed. "Such courage. But don't push me, or I won't compare you to a summer night," he mocked. He clearly intended to insult her. "The least Asher could have done was marry a beauty."
Jane's eyes narrowed. "I've been insulted by better vampires than you," she replied. She and her family could not fail in this, their greatest mission. She would get Asher out of here alive. She swore it.
Ignoring her courageous but useless words, Dracul examined Jane from the top of her head all the way to her feet. "No, you are not Asher's usual type of woman," he said, trailing one long finger down her cheek. Jane shivered, repulsed by his touch. She felt her blood run cold. The thought cheered her up. Maybe if her blood got too cold, the Count of Nasty would be too disgusted to drink it. Did he prefer hot blood?
"No, not his usual style at all," Dracul continued, slowly studying her. "Yet, I can see the attraction. Such lovely eyes… and that neck." He paused and leaned closer to lay a kiss on her pale skin. She shuddered in horror at the icy touch of death. She felt the wet damp of the graveyard in his kiss. Terror filled her veins.
Jane drew back rigidly, returning Dracul's gaze with one of loathing. He stiffened as he tried to mesmerize her with his stare. Then, ungracious in defeat, he snarled, "So it is true. I had heard it, but did not believe. Van Helsings do not fall wholly under our spell. But that is because shape-shifters are immune to our vampiric gaze."
Stepping back, he circled Jane like a stalking cat. "Very dangerous to our kind. Don't you agree, Asher?"
Jane gasped as she spotted the bloody figure of her husband being dragged into the room, supported by Rudolph and O'Hara. She was just in the neck of time.
Her husband was wrapped in silver chains that had burned partially into his chest and arms. His face was whiter than a sheet, blood covering his jacket and the left side of his face. Jane darted forward to reach him, but was jerked back by Dracul's grip on her arm.
"No, Jane. You don't belong at his side anymore. Now you are mine—my war trophy, so to speak." Dracul taunted both his captives, his eyes glowing with unholy fire. "You will become my third bride tonight with Asher as our witness." The count laughed cruelly, while Jane's husband struggled in vain to break free of the tall vampire and the butler.
Asher's cry of rage filled the air. He felt as if his heart was ripped from his chest. Dracul had Jane, his Jane. Dracul would make her his immortal bride, and Jane would be tied through eternity to a monster of unequaled depravity and cruelty. Her kind, courageous heart would be destroyed by living with such a monster.
Jane tried wrenching her arm free, needing to place as much distance between herself and the Prince of Evil as possible. But his grip was like a vise, holding her in place.
Lady Veronique was gazing at Dracul. "I want to be your bride," she snarled.
Dracul quickly backhanded her with his free arm. "Quiet, Veronique! You are to be Rudolph's consort—as well you know."
Lady Veronique cringed at the anger in the count's eyes. She submitted with a small tremor. "As you say, my master."
Asher's vision was blurred; he had lost too much blood to have any strength, yet still he struggled, trying to reach his wife. He had always had a weakness for lost causes. Staring at Jane, he realized that he was ashamed. This woman had come to him in his greatest hour of need, risking her life. All this after he had treated her with barely concealed contempt, humiliating her in front of society and ignoring her in private.
Suddenly Asher despised himself for his misplaced affections and liaisons. For hundreds of years he had been searching for true love, a special woman to be his eternal bride, and Jane had been placed right in front of him. Perhaps he had been living in dirt so long that he couldn't understand anything above it, but true devotion was before him now: his wife in Dracul's cunning clutches, a shining example of beauty, kindness and true good. She was one of the few in the world who listened to her heart and followed through, no matter the odds stacked against her.
The tall vampire slammed Asher against the wall, causing stars to appear before his closed eyes. Sharp pain stabbed him. He hurt, and he knew he was wounded badly. They had kept him chained and thirsty to keep him from healing.
"Jane," he whispered sadly. Why had she come? Why had she risked her life and soul? The answer hit him straight in the heart like a bolt from Cupid's quiver: His calamity-ridden wife loved him.
Asher felt bloodred tears well up in his eyes. His wife loved him! He had never felt more depressed or happier, in his whole life. Blinking back sorrow, his determination to live to see another night with Jane at his side grew and expanded within him. Nothing could happen to his wife. He wouldn't let Jane be Dracul's eternal consort. She would be his own consort, and his alone. Somehow he would get them out of this dreadful debacle, and spend eternity by her side. Although things had never looked worse, things also had never looked better, because he was in love with his wife.
If he hadn't been so stubborn and idiotic, he would have recognized that the lust he felt for Jane was much more than that. The hunger he felt for her whenever he was in her presence, or out of it, was not only a hunger for blood and to lose himself in her body, but also for conversation, for the way she cocked her head when she was troubled. He loved how she played with her big bird and spoke to Spot, and the all-aglow smile she wore after he made love to her—a smile that said she had just discovered the secrets of the universe.