Dark Rapture (48 page)

“In-born. True blood. How interesting.” Rico touched the edge of a candle, running his fingernail around the soft wax.

Vince nodded. He would find his father some day. But hell, it was no rush, he had an eternity to look for him.

“Well!” Rico clapped his hands together. His voice was a comforting whisper. “It is getting close to sunrise. You can stay here if you like.”

Walls of polished steel reflected the candle flame in fierce waves of oranges and scarlet. As if they gave off a heat of their own, Vince’s body warmed and he relaxed. He was comfortable here.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

***

Scarlet stood in the dining room, lighting the candles queued down the long glossy table. A table never used save for Sebastian spreading his sheet music across it. Certainly they never shared a meal here.

Though tonight, she did have plans for consuming elicit delights. She ran a finger around the rim of the crystal bowl filled with red Jell-O. One eccentricity of Sebastian’s that Scarlet adored. He liked the color. He could sit for long minutes toying with the gelatinous substance, watching the light refract and reflect. Then he’d suck it through his teeth like a little kid.

She was surprised from behind by Sebastian’s embrace.

“And what is this? Preparing a meal?”

“Lover.” She pushed her hands through Sebastian’s hair, kissing him so passionately he stumbled backward and caught himself against the table.

“I see you missed me as much as I you,
chèrie
.” Sebastian ran his hands down Scarlet’s back and cupped her bottom. “I can not stand for one minute to be away from your lips or your bewitching eyes or your delicious soul.”

“I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Does it involve you and me and not a single strip of clothing?”
“It could.” She reached around him and slipped her fingers into the bowl of cool Jell-O. A square chunk jiggled on her palm as she held it between them. “I made it myself.”

“
Chèrie
, such a domestic vixen you’ve become. And tempting me with the food of the gods.” He pulled her hand up to his mouth and sucked the squishy red glob between his lips.

Scarlet giggled, dropping the gelatin on the floor. “You’re tickling me!”

Suddenly his smile disappeared and he was all seriousness. “You dropped the sacred food of the gods, woman. You are aware of what happens to those who blaspheme the Jell-O gods?” He reached back and produced his own handful of dessert.

It was too hard to keep a straight face. Scarlet let loose her laughter as she tried to fend off Sebastian’s approach. His jaw was set, his hand full of Jell-O, and his mouth desperately trying to hold a straight line.

“Torture to those who would desanctify this most holy substance!”

The two of them tumbled to the floor amidst a spew of flying red gelatin. A flick of Sebastian’s fingers released the glass buttons on her silk shirt. A shiver ran over Scarlet’s breasts as her body was exposed. Cool slime slipped and oozed between his hand and her breasts as he began to paint her flesh.

“I am guilty. Torture me as you see fit. But please, please don’t eat the Jell-O!”

He pulled back, his dark eyes dancing. A wodge of gelatin clung to his hair. “Don’t eat it, eh? The woman is afraid of this foul torture?”

“Oh, yes, monsieur. Please have mercy on me. Anything but that!”

“You have committed a most heinous crime. I am sorry but you must be punished to the furthest extent of the law!”

Thrilled she would receive the maximum punishment, Scarlet guided her torturer from one breast to the other. Sebastian’s tongue lapped greedily, nipping and sucking and bringing her to the edge of release. She wasn’t sure if it was the Frenchman in him, or just his centuries of life experience, but the man had a way of igniting every nerve ending with a delicious fire.

Candleglow glinted in Sebastian’s dark hair, and changed little chunks of stray Jell-O into precious rubies. The room smelled of cherries and spice, and the need for fulfillment.

Her fingers stained red with cherry flavored gelatin, Scarlet touched them to Sebastian’s lips. He sucked languorously as she shimmied her torso close to his until she was able to wrap her legs about his hips

“I see the woman succumbs to torture well,” he whispered in a mock devilish voice. “Could it be she will now cooperate?”

Scarlet reached down and pulled the top button on Sebastian’s jeans open. “If that is what I must do.” He was hot and hard in her hand. “Than I suppose I have no choice.”

Chapter Eight

Spain, 13
^th
century

The ascent from the bowels of the castle seemed to become shorter and shorter as the days passed. Leaving his wooden coffin behind in the darkened recesses of the castle, Adriano sprung up the hundreds of narrow steps en route for the tower room where his beloved waited his touch.

But would she suffice with only his touch? What about the kiss she craved so dearly and had begged so innocently for him to grant her. A kiss. The single most passionate act of love. An act Adriano had foresworn decades earlier. For with the kiss came his downfall. Love.

But oh, the temptation Esmarelda’s rose-petal lips offered!

He pushed her chamber door wide and burst into the room only to find no one standing there with open arms.

“Esmarelda?”

He knew immediately. The garden. That was the one refuge she retreated to when he was not around. Paquita would not allow her to do chores or begin a routine as chatelaine. Adriano knew why. Paquita had never let any of his previous wives do the same. She knew as well as he it would not do to start something that would only last a mere month or so.

What was it about this woman that captured his heart so? A heart hardened with rusting armor. Was it because she may have finally, after all these decades, discovered that there is a man behind the monster? A true man who was once mortal and had feelings like all others?

“Ah, Esmarelda. If only I knew what it was, deep inside, that warms my soul in such a way I wish always to be with you. To touch your soft skin and to smooth my hands along your silken hair. Could it be?”

Adriano’s shoulder jarred against the castle wall as he fell against it. He pressed his hand over his heart.

Love?

“Impossible,” he whispered. “I vowed years ago I would never allow a woman into my heart again. For I can not bare to watch a loved one die by my own hands.”

He stepped quickly down the spiraling stairs, his suede boots scruffing across the stones in echoing spurts. But he could not dispel the uneasy quavering that resounded inside his chest.

A feeling not all together unlikeable. In fact, it even felt good.

***

You must ask him. You need to know.

Esmarelda twisted the band about her finger, wondering for perhaps the thousandth time today just how many women before her had worn it. She knew in her heart it was not jealousy that prompted her uneasiness. No, it was a partial fear, a sadness for the victims of Adriano’s unfortunate curse.

How many times had he been forced to watch his wife die? Of course, he had said he did not feel anything toward any of them. He had steeled himself to think of them only as sustenance. Food. But if so, did he not feel anything toward her? He had to. Her gut instinct told her he did.

For if he did not, how could he be so loving in their bed chamber?

A wave of sulfur whispered past Esmarelda’s nose as the garden torch was tormented by the increasing wind. She was the only one sitting in the garden this evening. She had come to notice that most of the castle inhabitants kept inside during the hours of the evening when the sky was at its darkest. They were all simply afraid.

So why did they remain? Why did they not leave the castle and venture out on their own? It wasn’t as if there wasn’t enough of them to start up their own village. Paquita was constantly putting her master down. But she never once mentioned leaving. Did he have a hold over them? Some power that held them enchanted in his grasp? Did he have the same hold over her?

Is he making me fall in love with him?

No. He had told her love would only complicate things. Perhaps he hadn’t any powers beyond the few simple tricks he had shown her. But that still did not explain why the castle inhabitants remained.

A dark shadow crossed over her face, startling her. “Adriano.”

“Forgive me, my lady. It looks as if I’ve pulled you from heavy thoughts.”

“Oh, well…” Could he know? Esmarelda plunged into her husband’s arms. His touch was cool, though a comfort. The feel of his strong embrace, a seductive temptation.

“Is something amiss, my lady?” He tilted her chin up.

Esmarelda gazed into his eyes, red with the torch’s fire, hot with desire and the need to be satiated by her blood. “Nay, er… I have been thinking. It is terrible really.”

“What is it?” He gestured toward the stone bench and they both sat. Esmarelda smoothed her black skirts out over her legs as a means of preoccupying her worried thoughts. She turned her forefinger in the thick gold link of the chain that hung loosely about her hips.

Could she ask him? It wasn’t really her concern. What the husband had done before she came into the marriage was not her business. Her wifely duties included the here and now and the future…

A future that was to be cut short.

“Adriano,” she burst out. “How many…I mean…am I the—” She could not help but twist the silver band on her finger. It had developed into an unconscious yet vexing habit. “What I mean is…”

“You wish to know how many others there were?” He nodded and looked to the ground, seeming to know this question would arise sooner or later.

As Esmarelda took his hand he said in his deep voice, so low she barely heard. “You are the forty-third. They have never lasted longer than a month, maybe two if they are strong. But you are different…” he said suddenly. He gazed upon her face, lit warmly by the torch. “I shall be very sad when you die.”

***

Scarlet jerked herself awake from the gentle sleep she’d dozed into. Gentle, yet strangely visited by dreams that featured two very familiar people.

“Oh, my god.” She pushed up on the velvet settee where she’d fallen asleep while browsing through the new diary Vince had given her. The leather book lay flat on her stomach, closed. She traced her fingers over it. “Forty three wives before Esmarelda. But…I didn’t read that. Did I?”

She carefully opened the diary and fingered the yellowing page as she mouthed the French-written script. “I shall be very sad when you die.”

Quickly she thumbed back a few pages. “This is where I last finished reading. But how could I have dreamed the exact words that are in here?”

A sudden clicking against the windowpane had Scarlet on her feet in seconds. It was only a raven perched outside, tapping at stray seeds tossed about by the wind. The bird took flight as Scarlet started toward the window.

The leather diary was cool and musty, yet it burned like fire in her hands.

“I dreamed the next part of the diary,” she said incredulously. “How did I do that?”

“
Chèrie
?”

“Sebastian.” Scarlet hugged the diary to her breast. “I didn’t notice you come in.”

“Of course not, you’re breathing the life out of that damned book.”

Had he woke up on the wrong side of the coffin this afternoon, or what? “What’s your problem? You seemed in a good mood earlier,” she said, noticing with a fleeting memory of their early morning encounter the faintest whiff of cherry Jell-O still clung to her hair.

Sebastian sighed. He looked disheveled and worn in the soft flannel shirt he wore. He much preferred silk and velvet to flannel, but he donned it occasionally when working.

“I’m sorry
chèrie
.” He blew out a shivering breath and raked his fingers through his hair, exposing one narrow gold hoop earring. “I have a feeling it’s going to be a very long night in the studio. I’m practicing for tomorrow night’s benefit concert. You will come, won’t you?”

“I promised Vince I would do this for him, but that won’t keep me from seeing you perform. Actually, something very strange just happened.”

“Really?”

“Sebastian, you won’t believe this, but I just dreamed the diary. I fell asleep for a little while and when I woke I had dreamed the next section of the diary I hadn’t yet read.”

“Are you sure?” He sat next to her, his back facing her and shrugged his shoulders. A subtle hint. “Perhaps you did read it and merely were reliving it in your mind.”

“No, I know I didn’t.”

“But why would that happen? For what purpose?”

“I don’t know.” She kneaded down along his spine, planting delicate kisses into the heat of his neck. “But I feel as if...well...as if someone wants me to know these things. I have this feeling I’m getting somewhere with this diary, Sebastian. Not that I’ve learned much in ways of the vampire, but I feel connected somehow. Like this is the path I seek.”

His sigh reduced her joy to a gentle sadness.

“I’m sorry, Sebastian. You can’t worry about this. I love you.”

She kissed his jaw, smooth of stubble and walked around in front of him. “So how are things coming with your album?”

“We’re just getting started. I’ll be laying down the tracks to Moonlight Fantasy tonight before rehearsal.”

“Moonlight Fantasy? Mmm, sounds like you.” She traced his lips with her finger. “You’re tall, dark, mysterious…every woman’s fantasy.”

“Really?” He drew her hand back to his lips, kissing her knuckles as he measured her reaction. “Am I
your
fantasy?”

Scarlet closed her eyes. An unexpected flash of naked flesh and golden hair sent a chill down her spine. “Yes,” she faltered, “…you are.”

She pressed her palm to the warm flannel over Sebastian’s heart, hoping he would not sense her distraction. Why the hell had Vince’s image come to mind?

“Are you going to be around the castle today, or are you going over to Gary’s again?”

Glad he had changed the subject, she slipped her arms around his neck and kissed the minute shadow forming above his lip.

“I think I’ll lounge around and read for a while, maybe help Anthony in the rose garden. It’s starting to shape up nicely since he’s been working on it. I’m so glad we hired a green thumb.” She pressed her body against his.

Sebastian moaned his desire. “Yes, it will be nice when the yews have grown tall enough and the maze is well-shaped for moonlight strolls, eh?”

A hopeless romantic. Sebastian DelaCourte, possessed of an eighteenth century mind, living in the body of a twentieth century rock star. “That would be nice.”

The artificial sound of the telephone jarred them both and Sebastian nodded swiftly as he backed out of the room. “That’s probably the studio. Tell them I’m on my way,
chère.
Au revoir
.”

He blew her a kiss and disappeared.

Scarlet picked up the phone on the third ring. “Yes?”

“So did you guys talk the other night?”

“Gary?” She twisted the cord around her finger and fell back into the damask pillows tossed across the settee. “Hello to you, too. How was your night? Or dare I ask?”

There was a pause. “I really like this chick, Scarlet. She’s different from the rest, not so concerned with
what
I do for a living as what I do
to
live. I think I’m gonna start seeing her more often.”

“Gary, that’s great! I’m happy for you. What’s her name?”

“Lisa. But what about you and Vince, did you have a chance to talk to him?”

“Mmm, yes.”

“So?”

Suddenly, Scarlet felt more like a spy sent behind enemy lines than Vince’s friend. She was amazed that Gary was so perseverant of his friend’s new habits. He and Vince were best friends. Couldn’t he accept him for what he was and get on with things?

“Gary, how do you expect Vince to act? Like you? He’s not like you anymore. And neither am I.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means…just lay off Vince, all right? He’s fine.”

There was a rustle on the other end of the line and Scarlet knew Gary chawed his gum top speed. A sure sign he was pissed off. “You call killing innocent people fine?”

“He’s a vampire, Gary! That’s what vampires do. They drink blood.”

“But they don’t have to kill. Baz told me.”

“Just lay off the vampire crap, will you? I’m in no mood.” She rubbed a finger across her pounding temple. Why was she defending Vince?

“What’s happening to you, Scarlet? Did Vince do or say something to you last night? All of a sudden you seem to be taking his side instead of mine.”

“Gary, I’m not taking anybody’s side. Vince…is a good guy. I wish you could see beyond your own fears.”

It was forever before Scarlet heard Gary swallow his gum and finally speak in the meekest of tones. “Would you kill, Scarlet? Like Vince?”

“No.” She clenched her fist. “But the fact you asked really pisses me off.”

“So after talking to Vince for a few minutes after a concert you decide everything about him is cool. I know better, Scarlet. I’ve been on the road with him and I’m telling you, Vince is one severely fucked up guy. Can’t you see? Or are you as blind to his good looks and rock n’ roll hair as all the rest of the women?”