My Lord Immortality Read online

  Praise for New York Times bestselling author

  Alexandra Ivy and her

  Guardians of Eternity series!

  DARKNESS UNLEASHED

  “Darkness Unleashed is oh, so hot and wonderfully dangerous. I can’t wait for the next installment!”

  Gena Showalter, New York Times bestselling author

  DARKNESS REVEALED

  “A darkly erotic adventure with a vampire hero who can bite me anytime! Readers will adore Cezar’s deliciously romantic craving for feisty, idealistic Anna Randal.”

  Angela Knight, New York Times bestselling author

  DARKNESS EVERLASTING

  “Ivy again provides vast quantities of adventure, danger and sizzling passion, ensuring her place on the list of rising paranormal stars.”

  Romantic Times

  EMBRACE THE DARKNESS

  “Delivers plenty of atmosphere and hot-blooded seduction.”

  Publishers Weekly

  WHEN DARKNESS COMES

  “Hot author Ivy bursts onto the paranormal scene and her vampire trilogy launch is not to be missed. Ivy is definitely an author with huge potential in the paranormal genre.”

  Romantic Times (Top Pick!)

  Books by Alexandra Ivy

  WHEN DARKNESS COMES

  EMBRACE THE DARKNESS

  DARKNESS EVERLASTING

  DARKNESS REVEALED

  DARKNESS UNLEASHED

  BEYOND THE DARKNESS

  DEVOURED BY DARKNESS

  BOUND BY DARKNESS

  FEAR THE DARKNESS

  MY LORD VAMPIRE

  MY LORD ETERNITY

  MY LORD IMMORTALITY

  And don’t miss these Guardians of Eternity novellas

  TAKEN BY DARKNESS in YOURS FOR ETERNITY

  DARKNESS ETERNAL in SUPERNATURAL

  WHERE DARKNESS LIVES in

  THE REAL WEREWIVES OF VAMPIRE COUNTY

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  My Lord Immortality

  IMMORTAL ROGUES

  ALEXANDRA IVY

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Praise for New York Times bestselling author

  Books by Alexandra Ivy

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  Teaser chapter

  Copyright Page

  Prologue

  The cottage set in the thick copse of trees was a dark, cramped affair. Abandoned years before, it had been forgotten by all but the spiders and an occasional rat. Even the air was stale with a thick dust that threatened to choke the unwary.

  On this moonless night, however, the rats and spiders had been driven from the darkness. Not even those shadowy creatures could dare the cold mist of fog that slowly, ruthlessly seeped through the door.

  Drake Ramone suppressed a delicate shudder as he watched the mist swirl ever closer. As a vampire of considerable power, he feared nothing. Why should he?

  He was destined for greatness. Both upon this dreary mortal plane and behind the Veil that currently protected the vampires from his wrath. It was his undoubted birthright.

  Still, he discovered a vague sense of unease as the fog thickened. His power was not as formidable as this ancient vampire. Not yet. Until he held the Medallion in his hands he would have to remain an unwilling servant to his master.

  “Drake,” the mist whispered in steely tones.

  “Welcome, Master,” he murmured with a low bow. “You honor me with your presence.”

  There was a grating laugh that echoed eerily through the barren cottage. “Honor? Do you believe me a fool? You honor no one, Drake,” the vampire sneered.

  “Perhaps not.” Drake gave an indifferent shrug. “But I have always honored power.”

  “No, you lust after power.”

  “Surely it is one and the same?”

  “To honor implies you possess a measure of principles. A tedious weakness that has never troubled you.”

  Drake offered a tight smile. “Certainly not.”

  “Which is precisely why you were chosen. Only one with your arrogant ambition would be willing to steal the Medallion and bring an end to the Veil.”

  “It is our mutual ambition, I believe.”

  “Yes.” There was a pause, as if the elder were searching Drake’s black heart. And perhaps he was, as he gave a dry rasp. “But do not allow that ambition to be your downfall. I sense your burning desires. If you betray me I will crush you beneath my heel.”

  Drake restrained his temper with an effort. When the vampire had first approached him behind the Veil he had been reluctant to agree to his scheme. He was an Immortal. A true blood. He took commands from no one. But as he pondered the rewards that could be his, his reluctance had faded.

  It had been nearly two hundred years ago that the greatest of all vampires, Nefri, had created the Veil. She had commanded that the vampires live apart from humans. It was for the good of all, she had claimed, that the vampires exist in seclusion to ponder the great truths and philosophies. They were abruptly separated from the mortal world. The bloodlust that had once made them vulnerable to sunlight and fire had been wrenched from their souls.

  Without human blood, however, they had also lost the desire, the lust and hungers, of humans. They forgot their fierce need to hunt.

  For Drake it was an unbearable existence. He was no cold, passionless scholar who desired to devote an eternity to seeking a higher existence. He did not wish the knowledge of the elders.

  What he wanted was to compel others to his command. He wanted to crush and enslave the humans, and to feast upon their blood. He wanted the other vampires to bend to his will.

  An impossible task as long as Nefri held the ancient Medallion that kept the Veil in place.

  So, along with Tristan and Amadeus, he had allowed himself to be secretly slipped through the Veil. They had returned to the world of mortals to discover Nefri and take the Medallion from her grasp.

  None of them could have suspected that the wily old vampire would choose to separate the Medallion into three amulets, or that she would soul-bind them to mortal women.

  Suddenly the Medallion could not be taken by force or even death. The mortals must give the amulets of their free will, or the power within them would be destroyed.

  It had been a clever ploy. Even Drake had to admit that much. But that did not halt his seething determination. He would have the Medallion. No matter what he must do.

  And once he did, all would suffer beneath his power.

  Including this arrogant, treacherous vampire who chided him as if he were a hapless minion.

  “I seek only to retrieve the Medallion as you requested, Master,” he forced himself to retort, his thin countenance wreathed with a chilled smile. “No more.”

  The mist swirled. “We shall see. Have you discovered the wench?”

  “Yes. I managed to rent a town house within the same block as Miss Hadwell. I have even managed to make contact with her brother, a rather pathetic half-wit. I hope to use the boy to get closer to the maiden.”

  “And Sebastian?”

  Drake curled his lips at the mention of the vampire who had been sent by the Great Council to force him to re
turn to the Veil.

  “The fool has taken a house a few blocks away. He poses no threat, however. As usual, he is impervious to all but his musty books and ancient studies. He has not even made an attempt to seek me out. When he does, I shall kill him and be done.”

  There was a dry hiss of disapproval at his flippant tone. “He is there because I swayed the Council to choose him. Just as I chose that tediously noble Gideon and that vain fool Lucien. I presumed that they would easily be defeated. Just as I chose my servants because I presumed they possessed the necessary intelligence and lust to conquer. A miscalculation that I now must rue.”

  Drake frowned. “What are you implying?”

  “Tristan has been destroyed, along with Amadeus. You alone are left.”

  Drake felt the chill seep to his bones. While he considered the two vampires who had joined him in the battle to destroy the Veil beneath contempt, he could not deny a vague sense of shock.

  “How?”

  “In their arrogance they thought they could not be defeated. The same arrogance that you carry about you, Drake.”

  The handsome features surrounded by a short crop of golden curls hardened at the insult. Tristan and Amadeus were pathetic idiots when compared to him.

  “Sebastian is no match for me.”

  “He possesses the dagger.”

  Drake shrugged. Although the dagger given to Sebastian had been blessed with ancient power to destroy a vampire, he remained unimpressed. The reclusive scholar was no threat. Not to a vampire destined to rule all.

  “Sebastian will soon be at an end. And once I have the amulet from Miss Hadwell, I will seek out the others. Soon enough, the Medallion will be mine.”

  “I believe you mean ours,” that rasping voice reminded him.

  “Ah, yes. Of course.”

  Without warning, the mist struck out, cutting a thin wound along Drake’s cheek. Just as swiftly, it wrapped about the vampire’s feet and with a thrust had him tumbling to the dust-covered floor.

  “You seek to rise above yourself, Drake. A deadly mistake,” the elder warned. “I will have the Medallion. You can rule beneath me or join Tristan and Amadeus in oblivion. The choice is yours.”

  Wisely remaining upon the hard floor despite the fury that raged through him, Drake patiently waited for the mist to slowly swirl toward the door. It was only then that he raised a hand to touch the blood freely flowing down his face.

  Soon, he reassured his savaged pride. Soon he would have the Medallion. Then he would crush all those who had dared to stand in his way.

  Beginning with Sebastian St. Ives.

  Chapter 1

  The old Gypsy was huddled upon the filthy street like a bundle of forgotten rags. Amelia had nearly passed her by when the woman had abruptly held out her hand in a desperate motion.

  “Please, kind lady, will you help me?”

  Amelia hesitated. The streets near St. Giles were littered with such pathetic outcasts. Thieves, whores, and the dredges of society waged a daily battle with survival. It was an impossible task to help them all.

  The sensible choice was to be about her business so she could return to the comfort of her home. To linger would only invite danger. Especially to a young woman on her own.

  Amelia’s heart, however, was never sensible. Reaching into her basket, she pulled out the apples and cheese that she had so recently purchased and gently placed them beside the old woman.

  “Here you are. Fresh from the market.”

  “Bless you,” the Gypsy murmured. “Bless you.”

  “And here is a guinea. Sleep well tonight, my dear.”

  “Ah, so kind.” The woman reached for the coin, and then, without warning, she pressed a heavy object into Amelia’s hand. “Such generosity must be rewarded.”

  “Oh . . .” Startled, Amelia regarded the golden amulet that sparkled in the palm of her hand. It was oddly designed with faint words scratched upon the metal. “No, you cannot part with such a lovely piece of jewelry. It must be worth a great deal.”

  The Gypsy slowly smiled. “It is beyond price. As is the blessing that has been placed upon it.”

  “Then certainly you must keep it. You have more need than I.”

  “No.” A sadness touched the wrinkled countenance. “Darkness will soon stalk you, my dear. A terrible darkness. This amulet will protect you and bring a Guardian to your side. Wear it always and, above all, never give it to another.”

  Amelia gave a shake of her head. The poor woman was obviously daft. “I cannot keep such a gift.”

  A gnarled hand reached out to firmly fold Amelia’s fingers over the amulet. At the same moment, a strange warmth flared between them.

  “It is now bound to you. Protect it well. Only you can halt the danger that threatens all of London. A danger that is drawing ever closer.”

  Amelia frowned as a chill spread through her body. Daft or not, the old woman was beginning to frighten her.

  “Danger? What danger?”

  “Keep the amulet close. And trust in your heart. Love is always the light that will hold back the darkness.”

  “I do not understand.” Amelia stepped closer, but even as she did, the old woman was fading into a shimmering mist. A sense of panic clutched at Amelia’s heart. “Wait. You must tell me. What danger? Tell me. . . .”

  A sharp noise echoed through the silent house.

  With a sudden wrench, Amelia sat upright in her bed and glanced about the dark chamber. What was it?

  Something had awakened her, she realized, as her hand instinctively went to the Medallion on a chain about her neck. Something other than the dream. A dream that had plagued her since the peculiar encounter with the old Gypsy nearly a month ago.

  For a moment she hesitated. It was late. Very late. Then, with a resigned sigh she slipped from the bed and pulled a wrap over her nightrail. There was little use in giving in to the desire to lie back and curl up beneath her covers. She would not be able to sleep until she had assured herself that all was well. It was her duty now that she was mistress of her own household.

  A faint smile touched her delicate features as she left the bedchamber and moved down the narrow hall. It was not much of a household to boast of. The house was a modest establishment perched upon the shabby fringes of London’s more elegant neighborhoods. The rooms were cramped with well-worn furnishings and the garden so small that the handful of roses she had planted threatened to overwhelm it.

  Still, it was ample for her and her younger brother, William. Together with their housekeeper, Mrs. Benson, they rubbed along reasonably well.

  Pausing at the end of the hall, Amelia fumbled to light a candle before continuing down the stairs and toward the back of the house. A heavy silence shrouded her as she peered into the shadows. In the flickering candlelight everything appeared to be in order, but she instinctively continued her search into the kitchen.

  Something had awakened her. A noise that had warned her that someone was stirring despite the late hour.

  Refusing to consider the notion that the noise might have been a rat or some other vile creature, she skirted the large table and moved toward the laundry room. It was then that a movement outside the window suddenly caught her attention. William, she realized as she watched the shadowed form crossing the garden. With a hurried movement she rushed toward the door and threw it open.

  As swift as she was, however, she was too late to halt her brother as he dashed from the back of the garden in obvious pursuit of his recently acquired cat.

  “Bloody hell,” Amelia muttered beneath her breath.

  What the devil was William thinking? She had specifically warned him not to leave the house without her or Mrs. Benson at his side. She had even made him pledge in words that not even he could fail to understand.

  Certainly he knew better than to go out in the middle of the night.

  Amelia pushed her hands impatiently through the heavy strands of her raven hair. Calm yourself, she commanded as she sucked in a
deep breath. Becoming rattled would serve nothing. William was not attempting to defy her wishes; he simply did not understand.

  And why should he? Since she had taken the small house, she had allowed her brother to come and go as he pleased. For the first time in his eighteen years he was not hidden in his chamber nor treated as a source of embarrassment to be tucked away. She had encouraged him to seek out friends among the neighbors and to spend his days among those unfortunate children in the stews who had swiftly learned to love his simple kindness and, perhaps more important, the numerous treats he would bring with him.

  It was little wonder he found it difficult to return to his life of being treated as a prisoner. He could not comprehend the danger that suddenly stalked the streets of St. Giles. To him the sudden deaths of the prostitutes were a source of deep sadness, but not a direct threat. His heart was far too tender and without guile to ever consider the notion of someone desiring to harm him.

  Once again in command of her nerves, Amelia reached for a cloak that hung by the door and wrapped it tightly about her. There was simply nothing to do but go after William. She certainly could not allow him to wander the streets when there was a madman on the loose.

  Ignoring the stones that dug into her bare feet, she stepped into the garden and hurried toward the back gate. The heaviness in the air warned that soon a thick fog would be rolling in, and she grimaced. There were few things more unpleasant than London streets at night.

  Wrapping the cloak tighter, she heaved a small sigh. It was not that she regretted leaving her parents’ grand town house in the center of Mayfair. Nor giving up the lavish lifestyle that had been her birthright. Oh, granted she enjoyed frivolous entertainments and the flirtations of handsome dandies as much as the next young maiden, but it was a shallow pleasure when placed next to the happiness of her brother. And after learning of her mother’s determination to have poor William secretly placed in Bedlam, she had known she had to take matters into her own hands.