Page 183 of Eternal Craving

Archer grabbed my shirt. “And your kind will die with them.” He let go and wiped off the droplets of sweat from his upper lip.

My stare lingered on his mouth, and then rose to his deep, brown irises.

He turned away. “No.” His breathing increased, his chest rising and falling, and he gazed at me with those soulful eyes, seemingly affected by that familiar pull, the promise of what my blood bestowed. His lips formed words, but he didn’t speak them.

Archer’s grip on his desires weakened, and I sensed him yielding. If I had wanted to, I could have seduced him merely with the power of my presence, entrancing him to the point of bondage.

And he knew it.

Retracting my supernatural hold, I gave Archer’s arm a squeeze. He straightened up and tried to conceal his arousal.

I rested my hand on his shoulder. “London must be rescued. This is wrong.”

“Wrong, like taking a life night after night. Wrong, like saving thousands of lives by sacrificing a few. Immortality has affected your brain.”

“So I take it there’s no invitation into the old boys’ club?” I handed him back the wooden stake that I’d just picked from his pocket.

“All your exits are blocked.” Archer clutched the end of the stake. His knuckles were white.

“You personally plan on starting another fire, don’t you?”

Archer’s face flushed with misery.

“No one would suspect.” I sighed.

“You once asked me about my father.”

I gave a nod.

“He inspired me,” he whispered, staring out the window. “He served the cause. Gave his life for it.”

“What happened to him?”

He tried to close his mind.

I rifled through his thoughts. “You won’t neglect your own son.”

Archer looked dazed. “I can’t let you go this time.”

“Do this thing and you’ll bring down the wrath of our kind on your family.”

“Perhaps if you agree to share your knowledge, they won’t torture you.”

I gave him an incredulous smile.

“You are a vampire, after all.” Archer pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. “The chess piece that you gave me, the rook, it has a meaning?”

I studied my broken spectacles, symbolic perhaps for everything that I touched, though here, now, I would do something good. My desire to save London was evidence that I still had the ability to care.

Archer was staring at me.

“You’ll make a fine father to your son,” I said, holding his gaze. “Don’t do this thing.”

He let out a long sigh. “I’ll make sure that your death is quick.”

Archer turned away in response to the insistent rapping on the door. By the time the echo of the knock had faded, I was gone.

Chapter Fifty-Eight