Mortal Bite (Golden Vampires of Tuscany)

Mortal Bite

Sharon Hamilton

Copyright © 2013 by
Sharon Hamilton

All rights reserved. Without limiting the
rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be
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otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this
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This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the
author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Paolo Monteleone
found himself wandering the cobblestoned streets near his family home in
Tuscany at moonlight, reeling from the dancing, partying and blood-feasting.
He’d been offered long, graceful necks by women who showed their desire to join
with him, women who pretended perhaps they could be his fated mate, but Paolo
remained true to his mortal wife in Chicago. True to his inner conviction that
a promise made was a promise kept, mortal or vamp.

He had come to
Italy from the States for the wedding of his sister’s granddaughter.

Monteleone
weddings were legendary in their opulence, filled with tradition dating back
more than a thousand years. But then, some of Paolo’s ancestors, who had lived
then, were still alive. The family’s Golden vampire lineage could be traced
back to pre-Roman times.

Paolo had often
thought the weddings were conducted more like a grand glittering
 
memorial than a wedding. The pageantry
of flower-laden boats filled with pre-pubescent Golden females sailing down the
river, bisecting the village at midnight was a somber sight, he thought. The
hissing and snapping of huge torchlight standards illuminated tattered banners
from past generations of Goldens. Faces of young mortal vamp children and their
parents appeared to glow from within. The whole affair seemed more fitting for
the death of a fallen king than for the joining of two people, who were about
to live together forever. Red and golden silken flags flapped in the breeze.
The air was pregnant with fire, incense and burning oils.

Mortals outside
the clan wisely stayed away, unless they were invited as hosts and pleasure
partners for Goldens. They were strictly monitored, and only the most discreet
were allowed.

Sophia was
marrying a Golden from another powerful family, and everyone was relieved she’d
decided to stay within the Golden line. Like Paolo, many Goldens had begun
marrying mortal men and women, and it was always difficult. Paolo was
experiencing this now. For while their mortal mates would age, and eventually
die, the Goldens would not. Paolo’s mortal wife was in her seventies, as she
lay wrinkled, slowly being eaten away by several illnesses he was powerless to
heal. Paolo looked barely thirty although his real age was closer to three
hundred years.

There could
never be children, since Goldens could only procreate with their fated mates,
and Paolo had never found his. Some had to wait centuries to find them. Both he
and his brother, Marcus, had never found that fating, although they’d tried,
both bedding lovelies throughout Europe for three centuries. In Marcus’s case,
he now had a long-time paramour, and had been faithful to her for many years,
although it was rumored Maya did not match Marcus’s commitment. Though Paulo
had never met the vixen, he’d been told Maya claimed they were fated. Marcus
disagreed and said he’d never felt it, but that she was a skilled pleasure
partner who could satisfy his strong needs. However, there were no children
born between them, which was a most telling sign.

The blood never lies.

Marcus was still
looking for his mate, while Paolo had chosen a different route. He
 
lived abroad and married mortal women.
To his sorrow, he could not give them the children they deserved, but he loved
them with devotion all their lives. Thus, he experienced the pain and loss of
women he truly loved, but was never fated to.

So, this
celebration of the joining of happy hearts, and of all the children born of
these unions, who were mortal until their age of decision, was a bittersweet
time for Paolo. He often felt like he was on the outside, looking in through
the shop window, while his family enjoyed the fruits of love and
companionship—the
 
celebration of their vampiric life—danced and played joyfully
inside.

Most of the time
it didn’t bother him. But tonight his flesh burned under the moonlight. Perhaps
someone at the party was wearing some form of pheromone-laced perfume that got
under his skin. His lips were swollen, his flesh ultra-sensitive to touch. He
felt every grain of dirt and crevice as he wandered the streets, tracing his
fingers down the cool ancient stone walls. His eyesight was especially keen
tonight. He could even smell the blood of the few mortals in the town who
stayed shuttered behind locked doors. He’d never noticed how he could hear the
quiet bedtime cooings of lovers in the dark. He felt their passion, heard their
kisses and moans of ecstasy.

I am alone.

He wasn’t sure
whether he was running from the pain of his third wife’s slow demise, or
seeking the familiarity of his roots in Tuscany. He didn’t feel at home in
either place.

If only I’d made the other choice.
His
parents had decided to remain mortal and had died in the seventeen hundreds.
Paolo and all his siblings made the decision to turn soon after the option was
given to them.
 

He rounded a
corner, came upon a bench overlooking the river, and sat down. A few rose
petals floated by on their way out to sea. He heard soft guitar music, the
lilting sound of laughter and somewhere in the distance the sound of a lone
viola. It matched the ache in his heart.

There would be
three more days of this before the couple was joined for all eternity. And
since this couple had claimed a fating, Sophia’s womb would be blessed and
prepared with the incantations. Golden children were rare and highly coveted
and cause for great celebration.

But I could never give my wife what I know
she always wanted.
He’d endured the amazed look on her face each day she
looked at him in his young, perfect state. Although she never asked, she must
have realized that he was not human.

But she loves me.
For that, Paolo was
grateful.

A sound behind
him caught his attention. The back of his neck warmed as if he’d been caressed
there. His groin started to grow as he scented something female approaching. He
could not help but inhale sharply, which made his nostrils flare and his hands
sweat. His fangs ached and began to slot downward. He thought perhaps it was
due to the urge for sex, something he hadn’t hadn’t felt in nearly a year. Her
scent made his eyes flutter and though it was dangerous, he found himself
giving in to the pleasurable feelings overtaking his body.

“Marcus?” the
female whispered. “I thought you’d gone home.”

Paolo stood and
turned around to find himself facing one of the most beautiful women he’d ever
seen. “No, not Marcus. I’m Paolo, his younger brother.”

Paolo’s chest
was pounding. He had the urge to strip off his shirt and howl at the moon. It
was a strange desire, perhaps harkening back to some ancient DNA.

The woman
removed the hood of her red cloak. He could hear the fuzzy woolen fabric slide
off her shiny black hair. Dark soft curls hung across her chest, daring to
cover up what he so desperately wanted to see: her breasts. He knew what the
space between her breasts would taste like, because he could smell everything
about her, even the dark patches she would certainly cover up, if she were a
lady.

But this was no
lady. She was dark and dangerous. His mind wanted to step back, but, to his
amazement, he took a step forward. Her upper lip quivered, tiny beads of sweat
glistened in the moonlight. Her skin was pale and translucent. She brushed
aside her hair and he saw the pulsing blue vein in her neck calling to him.

Paolo made fists
of his hands, but the urge to touch her skin was overwhelming. She licked her
lips and he heard her little moan reaching out to him with need, her breathing
ragged.

Her scent made
it impossible to concentrate on anything else. He knew where he was, but why or
how he got there, he could not remember. He wasn’t sure he’d remember his name
if she asked it. But he’d already introduced himself, hadn’t he? Why didn’t she
say anything?

She turned to
the side and he marveled at her glorious profile, watching her breasts swell
with every breath, seeing the delicate flesh just under her chin that made him
thirsty for her blood. She dropped her red cloak in the street as she turned
and walked away from him. He found it natural to step to her, focusing on the
sway of her hips under her long skirt, hearing her breathing and the tiny scraping
sounds of her shoes on the wet cobblestoned street. He wanted to lift that
skirt, rub his palm up the side of her thigh, move his fingers into the warmth
and softness of the folds between her legs, and make her cry out for him.

He’d walked
nearly a dozen steps when he came upon her cape. He stopped and picked it up,
bringing it to his nose. A fresh wave of electricity coursed through his veins
and he felt himself get hard as granite. His pants were uncomfortable.

With the cape
over one arm, he continued to follow her, letting the red fabric brush against
him as his burning thighs took him closer and closer to her. His long strides
soon overtook her little steps. She was tiny in height but ample in all the
other proportions. He needed to see her naked. He needed to kiss her and feel
her shudder in his arms.

He needed to
join.

She turned her
head around and looked at him over her shoulder in a sensual rolling movement
that almost made him run to her, but he held back. He wasn’t sure how long he
could hold out, and was relieved to see in her eyes a complete consent to
anything he wanted of her.

Anything.

His painful
steps finally caught up to her. As his knees touched the fabric of her skirt he
heard her breath hitch, as if she felt the same connection. It was too close.
Too intimate. Too dangerously familiar. But he couldn’t stop himself.

She stopped and
he pressed his groin into the curve of her bottom. She leaned her head back
rested it on his shoulder as she turned, rubbing her thigh against his stiff
cock, then placing a knee to his groin and pressing against him.

Paolo dropped
the cape in the darkened storefront where they’d halted.

He couldn’t
believe he heard his own voice speaking. “Do you have some place we can go?”

Her dark eyes
reflected the moonlight and a burning torch nearby. Her full red lips mouthed
the words that sizzled throughout his body, “Yes, after. I want you here, Paolo
Monteleone.”

“Should we find
a place more private?” he whispered as their lips touched. Then his fangs
slotted down further and his fingertips slid below the top of her bodice,
seeking her perfect mounds.

“Yes, we
should.” She kissed him deep, inserting her tongue, pressing it into his fang,
making a small wound that gave him a drop of her blood. Sparks flew behind his
eyelids. He needed to feel the length of her naked body against his.

She drew her
head back and gazed at him, smiling, showing her slotted fangs. “You are
delicious. I’m impulsive and don’t like to wait when I can have it all.”

“All?”

“When I can have
you now
and
have you later.”

Clothes began to
fly. He kissed each tantalizing bit of her flesh as it came into view. He
tasted the moisture between her breasts, her soft nipples that hardened under
the sandpaper of his tongue as he coaxed them. He fell to his knees on top of
the cloak, his cock pointing to the moon while he removed her last shred of
clothing, a pair of silky black panties he would have preferred ripping from
her. But he tried to be gentle, even though his entire body was shaking with need.

She stood over
him, spreading her legs apart. He took a bite at the top of her thigh, his nose
buried in the lips of her sex. Her sweet blood flowed over his tongue and
filled him with fire.

He regretted
there was no soft mattress to bed her. With only the thin cloak to protect her
delicate flesh, he lay down on it instead and pulled her on top of him. She
found his cock and embraced him with both hands, lowering her lips to him and
sucking. He gave him a small bite at the base of his rod, swirled her tongue
over the wound to heal it, and then bit him again.

No woman had
ever bitten him there. She took his balls in her mouth as she rode his thigh,
squeezing hers against his muscles. He gripped her naked waist, raising her up
and over his cock, and then setting her down on him.

He gasped at the
pleasure of being deep inside her hot flesh. The more he thrust upwards, the
more he needed.

She writhed,
held him inside her, milked him with strong internal muscles. Her breasts
overflowed in his hands as he squeezed them, as he heard her moan. Her skin
shone like alabaster, her wet hot lips forming a ring of temptation he needed
to taste. His hands slid back to her waist as he raised and lowered her on his
shaft, as he caressed her bottom and pushed her forward so his tongue could
mate with her mouth while his cock rammed deep inside her.

He had no notion
of time, or for how long they fucked in the shadowy alcove, but at last he felt
his seed spew into her, which caused her to jerk, her eyes flying open. He was
emboldened when he felt her long, vibrating orgasm as she rode him faster and
faster while he spilled inside her. His balls ached as he emptied everything he
had.

At last she fell
against his chest, her satisfied breathing bringing him new strength. He wrapped
his arms around her and pressed her into him, as his thigh came up against her
bottom, keeping him deeply embedded inside.

I need more.
Not more than a few minutes
had passed when he realized he could take her all over again. He began to
harden, still inside her.

“Ah, yes, you
are one of those?”

“I am. I am
bewitched by you.”

“Most
certainly,” she said as she felt the base of his shaft. “I love feeling where
you have staked me here.”