Wynter's Bite | Historical Paranormal Romance: Vampires (Scandals With Bite Book 5) by Brooklyn Ann

Author:Brooklyn Ann [Ann, Brooklyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Vampire Romance, Regency Romance, Paranormal Romance, Historical Romance, Vampires
Publisher: Broken Angels
Published: 2017-02-13T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Justus clenched his teeth so hard his jaw made a cracking sound as Bethany was hauled away screaming. He wanted to rip the bars out of this accursed window and slaughter everyone who’d made her cry out like that. But this rescue demanded a degree of discretion. If he burst through an eighth story window with his eyes glowing and fangs flashing, he’d have more than the Manchester vampires to be concerned with.

Suddenly, a realization struck that made his lips peel back in a savage grin. As long as he didn’t present himself as a vampire, perhaps he wouldn’t have to be so discreet.

Mind turning with countless plans, Justus scrambled down the side of the building and dashed back to the ramshackle village where he took his daytime refuge. First, he visited the crypt and gathered up his meager possessions, stopping to cover his hair with a dark woolen cap and hide the lower half of his face with a scarf, then he left the shelter without a backward glance. He had no affinity for the cold, barren shelter.

His next destination was the home of the unscrupulous vicar. The man was asleep, but he’d left his window open. Justus made his way through, crept through the house, and found the vicar in a drunken slumber in his bedroom. Striding across the carpeted rug to the bed, Justus seized the vicar’s shoulders and captured his gaze to place him in a trance. He then sank his fangs in his throat and drank until he was full, not giving a tinker’s damn whether the cretin lived or died. After healing the puncture wounds, he then left the room and grabbed an old blunderbuss hanging over the hearth and loaded it. Lord knew whether or not the antique would fire or not, but it would suit his purpose.

Keeping his senses open for the Manchester vampires, Justus returned to the asylum twice as fast, the strength from his feeding pulsing through his being. Strength he would need to break Bethany out of this horrid place and get them far away from here.

Instead of climbing up the side of the red brick monstrosity, Justus strode down the gravel drive, up the stone steps and to the thick oak front door. With a swift, hard kick, the door cracked and toppled inward from broken hinges. The ensuing thud echoed through the high vaulted ceilings. Immediately, shouts and footsteps hurtled down the long staircase towards him, but Justus did not mind. The more people who were away from Bethany, the better.

Four hulking men dashed into the foyer, two of them in their sleeping gowns. A wiry man with graying hair and wearing a tweed suit followed them, eyeing Justus with a puzzled frown. From the black satchel he carried, Justus surmised that he was the doctor. The one who’d ordered Bethany hauled away somewhere. The one who’d made her scream.

Ignoring the guards, he trained the blunderbuss at the doctor. “Halt, or the good doctor will be missing the top of his skull.

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