Read Online Let the Night Begin by Kathryn Smith - Free Book Online Page A

aggravating than the behavior itself. Why could he not hate her? It had been easy for her to hate him. Apparently not easy enough, though, given that she felt more than a little guilt for leading him to whatever peril awaited him in Scotland.
    Reign would survive. He always did. If she, a vampiress in the throes of fury, couldn’t harm him, what chance did a few humans have? James, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as robust. James and his safety were all that mattered—more than Olivia’s own life and more than Reign’s. The two of them had both lived full lives. Hell, Reign had easily lived a dozen. James deserved the chance to live one. Olivia had tried her best to give him the best chance of that full life. If it hadn’t been for her inability to travel during the day, Rosemary never would have died, and James wouldn’t be held in exchange for the man responsible for Olivia’s condition.
    Was it unfair of her to blame Reign for so much? Probably. Did owning that ease any of her anger? Not one bit.
    It had been twenty minutes since his departure and dawn was still safely tucked on the other sideof the horizon. She had time to go out and feed—“hunt” as Reign liked to call it. She added heartless to the list of her husband’s attributes.
    Still, it was difficult to excuse her own actions as anything but hunting. She left her room and the hotel with the utmost speed and stealth, careful not to be detected. It would raise brows, her going out at such an hour, looking as she did, with her hair mussed and bloodstains on her pelisse. No one would care about her appearance where she was going. Or rather, when she found the person she was looking for, he wouldn’t care.
    The club on St. James’s Street was less than a mile from Claridge’s. Hiking her skirts, Olivia scampered over the tops of buildings and down dark side streets to get there in a matter of minutes. Reign was right about flying, it was too risky, and sometimes running was easier.
    She was perched on the roof of the club—she didn’t know if it was White’s or Boodle’s or some other bastion of manly pursuits—when three drunken young men staggered outside. Two of them climbed into a waiting carriage. The other continued around the building, obviously continuing onward to another haunt.
    As quietly as a cat, she dropped to the shadows behind the club and waited. A few moments later the young man staggered into her line of sight. He might have been four and twenty, and had dark hair and a rugged face that would be handsomeonce he reached full manhood. She could overlook that. It was the attitude that drew her in. He had that same kind of presence that made a person notice; a silent strength that pulled her closer. He was confident, perhaps even arrogant, this boy. Yes, he’d do.
    He looked up as she came close, his eyes—they were light green—widening at the sight of her. This was St. James’s after all, and women weren’t terribly welcome on this historically male street.
    â€œAre you lost, madam?” he asked. Oh, yes, he’d do. A nice low voice—not as gravelly as she liked, but delicious all the same.
    â€œNo,” she replied, sliding her hand up his arm. She could feel the solid muscle beneath the dark fabric of his coat. “I’ve found what I was looking for.”
    It wasn’t right, her stalking him this way, toying with him. But she wasn’t thinking as a person at this moment. She was thinking with her hunger and her anger and her lust. She was hunting with all the shame that overtook her whenever she went looking for a man who suited her specifications.
    â€œCome here,” she murmured with a gentle tug. Drunk and unbalanced, he fell into her arms. She caught him—held him like a child. “Close your eyes.”
    He did so with a smile. “Are you going to ravish me?”
    â€œYes,” she replied against the