Page 46 of Enchant the Dawn

Raoul had followed the couple when they left the house but found no opportunity to take the vampire because there were always other people around. Now, he waited by the tree again, watching as the vampire kissed the woman good night, then turned away, whistling as he descended the porch steps.

With his sword in one hand and a rope dipped in silver in the other, Raoul raced across the lawn, threw off his cloak, and sprang at the vampire. He had intended to drive the blade into the vampire’s shoulder, then capture him with the noose, knowing the silver blade and the noose would negate some of his powers, but the vampire moved faster than lightning. The blade meant for his shoulder sliced across his left arm, just above his elbow as he dodged the rope, and Raoul found himself staring into a pair of angry eyes as red as hellfire.

In one swift move, Raoul dropped the noose, donned his cloak, and vanished from sight, relieved that he would live to fight another day.

Dominic pressed his hand to the wound, cursing mightily as the hunter disappeared. Damn, it hurt. He glanced at the gash, which should have been healing. Instead, the flesh around the edges of the cut was turning black.

Pain lanced down the length of his arm, gradually turning to agony as it reached his hand.

Poison, he thought. The Knight had dipped the blade in poison.

Chapter 20

“The good news is, it won’t kill you,” Ava said as she examined the ugly wound. “The bad news is, it’ll hurt like hell until I can concoct an antidote.”

Dominic groaned low in his throat as he tried to get comfortable. The poison had spread up and down his arm and now burned beneath his skin on his whole left side. “How long will that take?”

“I’m not sure, perhaps a day or two. I’ve never seen anything like this before.” She pulled the covers over him. “Try to get some rest.”

With a faint nod, he closed his eyes and let the darkness carry him away.

Ava brushed a lock of hair from his brow. He looked just like his father—tall, handsome, rugged. But not yet as strong. Or as wise. It grieved her to see him in pain. She knew she should call Callie and let her know what was going on, just as she knew Dominic would resent it if she did.

Bending down, she kissed his forehead. He was burning up. Turning off the light, she tiptoed out of the room and quietly closed the door behind her.

Gliding into the den, she turned on the light. She had made this room her own. A long table held a black cauldron, a silver-bladed knife with a gold handle, a pentagram, her wand, and an ancient grimoire. The book was old and heavy, and she lifted it with care, then settled into the easy chair in the corner. As she’d told Dom, she had never encountered a poison spell like the one that was burning through him, but if there was a cure to be found, it would be in this ancient tome.

Blowing out a sigh, she ran her hand over the cover. Eyes closed, she murmured a prayer before she opened the book. A whisper of power flooded the room as she carefully turned the pages. The answer must be in here, she thought. It simply must.

Because there was nowhere else to look.

* * *

Claret strolled along Bourbon Street, eyes and ears attuned to every sight, every sound, yet try as she might, she could find no sign of Dominic Falconer. Had he left the city?

She turned the corner at the end of the street and caught the scent of a hunter. Shielding her presence, she followed it to a small nightclub frequented by those who did not wish to be found.

He sat alone at a small, round table for two in the back of the room, head bowed, shoulders hunched.

Dropping her shield, she slipped into the chair across from his.

He looked up sharply, his eyes narrowing. “Who are you?”

“I am Claret. Who are you?”

“Raoul.” His gaze moved over her, and then he hissed, “Vampire.”

“Hunter.” She smiled with a flash of fang. “I hope you’re not hunting me.”

“Not at the moment. I’m here for the one they call Falconer.”

“Indeed? Have you found him?”

“I’ve found the next best thing.”

She leaned forward. “What might that be?”

“That’s for me to know, not you.”

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