Mortal Bite (Golden Vampires of Tuscany) (27 page)

“I’m Shirley,” she said, extending a leather-gloved hand. She wore an
ammunition belt buckled over her shoulder, and gripped an H&K MP5
semiautomatic assault rifle like she was balancing a toddler on her hip. Paolo
could feel Lionel’s testosterone level spiking off the charts, as well as that
of the rest of the team.

“Welcome to our war,” Paolo said and was rewarded with huge grins all
around the group.

Then he caught an internal image of a warehouse door being slid open.
Cara’s vision was blurry, but he saw what she saw. She was sending him the
images with great detail.

He turned to Lionel. “Warehouse, greenish silver on the outside, near a
chain link fence, like a school.”

“I know right where it is,” Lionel replied. “Men, we’re rolling in, and
hot. Shirley, you stick with me and Paolo.”

“Yessir,” came the group reply. Arms were clasped. Paolo found himself
being hugged by a couple of really huge mortal guys with tattoos covering their
forearms and necks. Linked together, they traced to the warehouse.

The team spread out. Lionel was whispering orders in his Invisio. Paolo
wondered where he had gotten the training, but he was also very grateful the
men seemed to know what they were doing. Shirley stayed by his side the whole
time. He made a point to stay out of her way, too.

He wondered if he should telegraph to Cara he was here. He decided it
would be too dangerous for her. But the visions he got next speared him through
his core. Cara was chained by the wrists. Her clothes were being stripped. She
was standing naked in front of a room full of dark henchmen. Through Cara’s
terrified eyes, he saw the images of every one of their faces, and he counted
the numbers, grateful she had her wits about her.

“I count fifteen at least,” Paolo turned and told Lionel. Jeb and Hugh
Jett each took five men and planted them outside the other two entrances.

“You stay back. You’re a primary target,” Lionel said.

“Nope. I’m going in with the rest of you.”

“That’s what they want. That’s why they have her.”

“Not an option.”

Lionel sighed and spoke into his microphone. “On my mark.”

Before he could give the order, Paolo heard Cara’s scream and then the
distinctive shrill voice of Dag Nielsen.

“Oh lover boyyyyy. She
needs
you. Come in and she won’t be harmed, any further, that is. Your lovely beauty
has just lost her right eye.”

Paolo was furious and immediately traced to inside the warehouse. He saw
Cara’s face, with both her eyes intact. But her neck had been sliced open and
her blood was spurting in a light fan spray all over the concrete floor. Dark
vamps around the warehouse were smacking their lips.

“Oops. I lied,” Dag said as a net of silver with a restraining charge
fell over Paolo’s body, immobilizing him.

The SEALs led by the Jett brothers traced inside and began engaging the
dark guards.

“Stop!” screamed Dag. “I have Paolo and the girl. What are you fighting
for?”

Dag was hit with automatic machine gun fire and he laughed as he saw
smoke erupt from his chest. “Silver bullets? You found silver for those?” He
was distracted momentarily by the fact that the person who had fired the shots
was Shirley. “Well, I guess you didn’t miss me, then.”

Shirley fired off another set of rounds but Dag had traced to right next
to her. This allowed Jeb to overcome the guard next to Dag and release Cara’s
bonds.

But Dag was not going to die. “You’ll pay for that, and slowly,” he said
to her. Dag traced several feet away, dragging Shirley by the hair. He landed
next to Paolo’s net before any other rounds could hit him. Shirley was on him,
was carving up his stomach with a KA-BAR knife she’d pulled from her boots.

“Fucking little twat,” Dag said as he got hold of her neck. Shirley’s
arms and legs were flying around wildly, trying to find something to connect
with. “Go ahead,” Dag said calmly while he battled with Shirley with one arm.
“You see, it isn’t as easy as you thought to kill me.
 
And if you do, you’ll kill Paolo too, and this little lady,
although I’m tiring of this game.” Dag swung Shirley’s body through the air,
slamming her against the corrugated metal of the warehouse, where she lay
motionless until Dag kicked her aside.

Lionel began to take a step toward him. “Oh please. You want the Council
knowing you ended the life of the handsome Paolo Monteleone?” Dag smirked as he
gave a signal that triggered the sounds of guns cocking and safeties being
disengaged.

A forest of barrels pointed right at Paolo’s head.

Dag was smug. He’d thought of everything, Paolo brooded. Though the
silver netting was heavy, it didn’t burn his skin like it would dark vamp’s. It
was the anti-tracing charge that was the problem. Paolo was powerless to do a
thing.

“I can have him eliminated with
 
a click of my fingers. You will please drop your weapons, and stand
down,” Dag said, especially to Lionel, who nodded, and the men lowered their
weapons.

“No, I said Stand Down! That means you drop your fucking guns,” Dag
screamed.

The men complied as Paolo heard the crashes as weapons hit the concrete
floor.

Cara hid behind Jeb’s muscular frame. Paolo could see she hoped Dag would
be so focused on the battle, he’d forget about her.

But Paolo’s hopes were dashed when Dag strode over to Cara and pulled her
by the hair into the center of the warehouse, several feet in front of the
security webbing where Paolo was confined.

Blood had poured down her chest in thick, four-inch ribbons. Paolo could
tell she might very easily bleed out if they didn’t resolve things quickly.
Even worse, Dag held her head back, throwing her slightly off balance, and
increasing the flow of her blood. They were about out of time.

“Stop. I have what you want. I have the book,” Paolo heard himself say.
He couldn’t believe he’d offered it.

“No, Paolo,” Cara sobbed. “Don’t believe him. He’s lying to protect me.”

Dag was interested and leaned closer to the netting. “Come again?”

Cara was starting to pass out. Paolo could see the Jett brothers were
tensed and ready for action. Lionel was fixated on the little blonde’s body
near the dark corner. Then each of the brothers nodded almost imperceptibly,
staring at each other. Paolo could tell they had formed an unwritten, unspoken
pact.

“Please, don’t interfere,” Paolo said to Lionel. “Let me do this. I have
the book, Dag. It’s at the house, just down the road.”

Cara was literally being held up by her hair, but her face had gone grey
and her eyes were closed. Her mouth hung open and blood drooled slowly down her
chin and breast. Paolo tried to revive her mentally, but he did not get a response.

Dag dropped Cara’s torso and started over to the netting. “Good boy. Just
what I wanted to know.”

In a burst of speed, Jeb Jett grabbed Dag and tried to trace out of the
warehouse, but the protection barrier held and they fell to the ground. One of
the SEALs picked up a grenade launcher and blasted a hole the size of a truck
in the wall of the warehouse before Dag could right himself. Jeb lunged at the
dark coven leader again, and they disappeared out the opening into the night
air.

The battle between the dark guards and the Team guys never began because
their leader was gone. The dark coven guards faded away, some quickly, some
walking backward, slowly.

And suddenly the room was full of sorrow. Lionel and Hugh hung their
heads over their brother’s sacrifice. Paolo was grief-stricken at the enormous
sacrifice of life. Then he threw an anguished look at Cara, lying dead nearby,
and wished with all his heart and soul that he could join her right now in
eternal sleep.

Hugh and the others removed his netting while Lionel kneeled beside
Shirley’s crumpled body. “She still breathes!” he said triumphantly.

After extricating himself from the security webbing, Paolo ran to Cara’s
side. She had no pulse. He grabbed her body and held her tenderly, screaming
his rage and despair. Cara remained limp in his arms. Everyone waited.

She continued to turn paler, and her skin began to feel clammy and cold.
Her lips were turning deep purple. Paolo kissed those lips, tried to breathe
life into them, but it was no use.

“You have a decision to make, Paolo,” Hugh said as he put a hand on
Paolo’s shoulder.

“No. I cannot do that.”

“She is gone to us now, Paolo. She is entering death’s doorway. You would
rob her of her immortal life because of your loathing for your choice? She cannot
make a choice. You must make it for her.”

“I cannot take her humanity away from her.”

“It’s done. Dag did that. Jeb sacrificed himself for you, and for her.
Don’t dishonor his gift.”

“No, I am responsible. I killed her by loving her. I am her executioner
as surely as if I’d carved open her neck myself.” Paolo buried his head in
Cara’s chest.
 
He knew he would not
be able to endure a lifetime without her. He swore he’d take a tracing to Death
Valley, where he assumed Jeb Jett had gone with Dag. He’d end himself before
the next sunrise.

And then an image of his precious son intruded on his grief. The choice
and the path became very clear.

“I am so sorry, Cara. Please forgive me.” He bit his wrist and placed it
over her lips. The blood from his vein ran down the side of her cheek. He
opened her lips, kissed the little pillows of flesh he’d loved, tried to empty
a few droplets onto her tongue.

Cara, please forgive me. Come back.
Please, if you want a life with me, please come back. I promise to make the
rest of your days filled with everything you desire.

The men began to fidget. Paolo knew they wouldn’t let him sit there and
grieve all night. At some point he’d have to stop working on her. Not every
turning worked. Not every life could be saved. Only if they were compatible,
but God of vampires, how Paolo wished they were compatible, how he
believed—no, knew—they were.

And then Cara began to breathe. At her first raspy gasp her hand gripped
her own throat, as if she was suffocating again. Paolo held his wrist to her
lips and she finally bit down on him, and began to suck.

She fed ravenously as her cheeks turned pink, and her grip on his arm
actually left welts on his flesh. Delicious welts. Welts he blessed and
celebrated. The wound in her neck began to close, and all that remained were
stains of red, which dried and began to flake off.

Cara looked up at Paolo and, yes, he could see that she was confused, but
looking to him for guidance. She
trusted
him. He hoped in time she would forgive him for the choice he had made for her.

He bent down, pulling aside his wrist as she kissed him, almost as if by
instinct, and closed his wound with her tongue. With his own blood still on her
lips, he kissed her, feeling her little shaking body melt into his strength.

Inside him a bonfire began to burn. It wasn’t the fating he’d experienced
years ago, but it was something else. Something wonderful.

Paolo and Marcus entered the anteroom off the great hall of the Council
chambers with Cara between them. They’d been told to wait for their summons.
Marcus held the old book they’d found in Prague, and Cara held the book by
Alasdair Fraser. Paolo had insisted she carry it, since she was the one who had
discovered its existence.

She’d asked a lot of questions about her making while they prepared for
this meeting.
 
How her life would
change. What would she eat? All the little basic things Paolo hadn’t thought
much about, since his routine had been established almost three hundred years
ago.

Marcus had been so distracted over the upcoming meeting that he hadn’t
engaged in much conversation, certainly no small talk. Therefore, Paolo was as
worried as well, but did his best to cover it up. There’d be time for
celebration, he decided, once they fulfilled their duty to the ruling Council.
He hoped there would be no surprises.

So, they waited in the anteroom. No one attended them. For all they knew,
they awaited an execution, but Paolo was careful not to think about that for
fear Cara would hear his thoughts. He tried to think about sunny days in the
orchard in Tuscany, and picking apples with Lucius.

He decided suddenly that it was time to set aside his fears and focus
instead on life’s beauties. He’d begin by being more attentive to Cara as she
snuggled against him, so he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kissed the
top of her head. Marcus watched the demonstration of affection, and smiled.

“It is good to see you happy, brother,” he finally said.

More minutes passed. They were now beyond their time limit of twenty-four
hours. The large, carved wooden doors opened with a sucking sound, and two
novices in white robes emerged. They each linked elbows with Cara and asked
that the men wait outside.

Cara turned to give the book to Paolo and one novice instructed her to
keep it. At the last moment, she looked back over her shoulder at him, alarm
filling her lovely countenance.

Love you, Paolo.

Love you, mi amore. All will be
well. You’ll see. Just answer their questions.

She bravely stood straight and focused ahead as she was led through the
doors. With a heavy boom, Paolo and his brother were cut off from any hope of
rescuing her. It was now in the hands of the gods.

“What do you think they will ask her?” Paolo muttered as he stared at the
doors.

“Hard to say. What her background is. What she thinks of vampires. Does
she bleed.”

“Does she bleed?”

“They asked that of Anne.”

“Why on earth for?”

“To see if she was fated.”

“But Cara does not bleed, at least I don’t think she—I have no
idea. I have never asked her.”

“You’ve not even known her for a full cycle, Paolo.”

“True.”

“Women’s private things. They are so confusing. But the Council will
focus on the blood, the blood lines, the possibility she could be useful in
some way, like to bring offspring into their world.”

“You say their world, like it isn’t yours.”

Marcus hesitated. “I read nearly this whole book while you were in
California. I now know why the darks wanted it.”

Paolo watched the hand of his brother as it smoothed over the blotchy and
peeling surface of the old book with reverence. “This book has cost many, many
lives of our kind. It will cost more.”

“Tell me.”

“The human condition? It was an experiment, brother.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Someone had the bright idea to mess with God’s handiwork. Perhaps it was
devil-inspired. But the bible is correct. Humans were created, except they
weren’t created by God.”

“Who created them?” Paolo asked.

“We did, brother. We are the original race.”

“Not possible.” Paolo’s heart thumped loudly, seeming to echo in his
chest cavity.

“I’m not sure the Council knows this fact, Paolo. I’m not sure they need
to know.”

“The book spells this out?”

 
“Yes. We were the result of
natural selection, until a small group of our kind began to mess with our DNA.
They created two sub-races. One was mortal but could live under the sun and the
moon. The other was immortal, but could not go out in the sun. It was believed
that because of humans’ limitations, we could hold dominion over them. It was a
failsafe mechanism built into their bloodlines.”

“So how can a turning occur?”

“Our blood is stronger. Our blood will prevail. I think Dag was trying to
eliminate as many of the Goldens as he could, and then would rule supreme over
the whole world: human, dark vampire, Golden vampire. It’s just a theory, but I
think he wanted to force one of us to turn him so he was free from the
limitations.”

“Where did he learn of this?” Paolo asked.

“That’s an excellent question, and one we must investigate.”

“In secret.”

“If we live long enough. If they let us live.”

The doors opened. Marcus leaned to Paolo and whispered, “Continue
thinking of Lucius picking apples, brother.”

Paolo was heartened to see Praetor Artemis down on the main floor,
smiling and discussing something with Cara, who sat in a carved chair,
unharmed.

Thank the Gods.

She had been given one of Laurel’s white fluffy blouses with the low-cut
neckline, and he noticed Artemis was drawn to the way she looked. Paolo
unconsciously made a fist, but Marcus placed his palm on his brother’s forearm
in warning.

Artemis greeted them warmly, winking at Paolo, which was something that
had never happened before. “She’s lovely,” he whispered to him.

“Thank you.”

“Distinguished members of the Council, I give you the two heroes of the
day, Paolo and Marcus Monteleone.”

The brothers bowed. Cara sat directly behind them.

I especially like the view,
Paolo heard Cara say. Marcus winced like he’d been slapped.

Shhh.

Paolo experienced a flood of liquid dreams of them making love on the
cream satin sheets. He was starting to get hard, and it couldn’t be a more
inappropriate moment for it to happen.

Marcus stepped on his foot. Hard. It jarred his attention back to the
Council. He heard Artemis snigger.

Is my whole life an open book for
anyone to read?
Cara silently asked him.

He hears my thoughts only. But I’m
sure that was enough, Bella.

“Excuse me, Council members. I must speak to Cara for just a moment.”
Paolo didn’t wait for permission. He grabbed her elbow and led her to a corner.
“You will stop this. Right now. It is not appropriate.”

Cara looked back at him and swung her body from side to side, her sultry
eyes at half-mast. “But I love the way my new body feels, and I’m anxious to
try it out. Can you make it quick? I can be good for a few minutes, but only a
few.”

Paolo looked at his brother, who awkwardly tried to come to the rescue by
inserting a comment. “Members of the Council. My brother is having trouble with
his, his—“

“Fiancé,” Cara shouted out. The Council went aghast. A gavel was pounded
on the table. Paolo scowled and Praetor Artemis nearly doubled over with
laughter.

“Well, that’s what he promised me, anyway,” she added with conspicuous
innocence.

Paolo looked at Marcus, who shrugged. There was no help from any quarter,
so Paolo began stuttering as if he’d been caught in a lie to gain sexual
favors.

“You must forgive what I’ve said in the heat of passion,” Paolo told the
Council. Cara slapped him, but Paolo smiled, “I say many things, and I don’t
always agree with all of them, or remember what has been said, or promised.”

Several members of the Council laughed. The oldest member woke up from
his sleep and asked if the meeting was over.

Marcus tried to hide his giddiness at the brilliance of the deception.
Even Praetor seemed anxious to keep things on a very light and celebratory note.

“Then let it be said, Paolo Monteleone,” a gray-haired Council member
stood and delivered, holding onto the tabletop, “you are to wed this woman
within the next thirty days, as punishment for your insolence. The debt for
your turning her will be satisfied if you make her an honest woman.”

A cheer went up. Even some of the novices at the sides of the room
clapped. “And you, Carabella Sampson, shall honor and obey your husband-to-be,
and shall submit to him whenever and whatever he desires. Do you agree to
this?”

Cara crossed her arms, feigning some slight disagreement, but then ran to
Paolo, put her arms around his neck and said, “I will. Most certainly I accept
your terms.”

Congratulations were given generously. Within a matter of minutes,
Praetor said he would accompany them home, in his private limo. As they left
the chamber hall one member of the Council shouted out.

“The book! What about the book?”

Marcus turned and bowed. “I shall return it to my grandfather’s study,
from whence it came, for safekeeping, of course.”

“Excellent,” the member said. “Make it so.”

Cara found it very hard to behave herself during the limo ride. Her
hormones were raging. She wanted to strip off her blouse and skirt and ride
Paolo’s cock all the way home, with or without an audience. She slipped her
hand around Paolo’s side, and between the leather seat and his waistband,
managed to slip a couple of fingers under the fabric, feeling a bit of flesh at
the top of his thigh.

Marcus was engaging in conversation with Praetor, but Paolo’s constant
jumps and twitches whenever Cara tickled and stroked another inappropriate and
extremely private body part finally elicited a comment from him.

“You two. There will be centuries for that. Trust me. It never gets old,
Cara. No reason to rush into things.”

“I am starved.”

Praetor’s eyes sparkled at the blush of her lust, which filled the whole
vehicle.

“She is charming,” Praetor had said to Paolo, but was staring right at
Cara.

Her bra felt two sizes too small; her panties were wet with her juices.
Crossing and uncrossing her legs only pressed her lips against her nub and made
her shudder. It was an ache like she’d never experienced before. She had become
a wanton woman, and not afraid to show it.

“Five minutes, Cara. We’ll be home in only five minutes,” Paolo said to
her, but he too was grinning.

Cara feigned impatience and swiveled around, presenting the men with her
back. Her arms were crossed and she looked out the side window at the
cobblestoned streets of the village, gleaming wet with rain. Paolo found a way
to move his palm up under her skirt. He slid two long fingers around and under
her lace panties and found her core.

Cara hitched her breath as he sunk the fingers inside her. “Better?” he
whispered in her ear.

She moved her pelvis against his palm, rubbing herself and pulling his
fingers in deeper by way of an answer. She barely heard even dribbles of the
conversation the three men were having.

“And so I want to spend some time studying every chapter in this tome.
Just the three of us,” Marcus said.

Praetor agreed. Paolo mumbled a “yes” into Cara’s hair.

“Until we thoroughly analyze it, we say nothing to anyone else, can we
all agree to that?” Praetor asked.

The plan was formed. Marcus and Praetor would begin work on the project
in the morning. Paolo would begin work whenever he would manage to escape from
the bedroom.

With the doors closed behind them, the fireplace roaring, Cara felt a
little timid, now that she was going to have her first encounter with the man
she loved as a vampire female. A Golden vampire female. Though she’d studied
the myths and legends in her teachings, she never in her wildest dreams thought
she’d be preparing for a night like this.

Every minute she remained untouched by Paolo was painful to her. The
desire to couple with him, to mate in the old, ritualistic way Alasdair Fraser
described in his lovely book, was stronger than any other need. Stronger than
breathing. She was burning up with lust. Her ears buzzed. Her neck pulsed and
her breasts shook with the pounding of her heart.

He came up behind her and whispered, “You were very naughty today.”

The feel of his warm breath on the side of her face and in her ear sent
her spine tingling, and the little sparks of passion found their way all the
way to her toes. “I hope I can make it up to you,” she whispered in return. She
helped his palms find her breasts and she moaned and rolled her head back on
his shoulder when he squeezed them.

“I’ve been told I have to make you obey.”

“Do you want me to fight?”

“I want to let you do whatever you want to do.”

“I want to please you.”

“But you do, my Carabella. You do.”

He slid her blouse over her shoulders, undid the zipper at the back of
her skirt and slid the fabric down over her thighs as he came to his knees
behind her. She’d worn the black high-hip panties that showed off her full
bottom and he hissed, and then kissed her flesh, one cheek at a time. He turned
her around to face him, still on his knees.

A lazy forefinger traced down the crack between her buttocks while his
hand palmed her mound from the front. He drew her to his mouth, slipped the
lacy fabric to the side with his tongue and found her labial lips. She felt a
nip as he bit he there and drew blood.

“So sweet, Carabella,” he whispered. “I want more.”

“Yes,” she said as she looked over her shoulder at him. His tongue had
found her folds, ridges, and then her insides. His saliva tingled on her skin,
healing the first wound before he bit harder, creating another one.

She groaned and bent over, giving him better access. She entwined her
fingers in his as he gripped her thighs, his face buried in her sex. From out
of the corner of her eye she could see the growing tent in his pants.