Mortal Bite (Golden Vampires of Tuscany) (4 page)

“Made even more so by your presence,” he said, and bowed.

“Oh, now that was the perfect touch,” she said, pointing to him. “You
really have it down. You must be an actor. Are you?”

“How did you guess?”

“I can tell. I read people very well. It’s a gift.”

“Indeed.”

“There you are!” Johnny’s flushed face appeared before her at the perfect
moment. His hairline was dripping with sweat, and he was fanning himself with a
cardboard coaster and grinning like the devil. “You’ve got to come out on the
dance floor with me. This band rocks! Please save me, dear, sweet angel, from
these women who want to leave their men behind and take me home to have their
way with me.” His straight white teeth and dimples made him look entirely
kissable.

She disliked that she’d been so caught up in conversation with this
stranger that she’d let her good friend down. A friend she would normally love
to flirt and tease with, perhaps a little more.

But not tonight.

She turned and said a polite goodbye to Paolo, then allowed Johnny to
lead her away by the hand. She lost herself in the crush of bodies, the heat,
sweat and flashing lights. But just before the crowd filled in behind her, she
felt the mysterious dark eyes of the gentleman she’d just met. A gentleman who
made her pulse quicken just by being near him.

Paolo was stunned. The blow Cara had delivered had felled him as quickly
as a sword. Of course any sane woman would be repulsed by the thought of being
with him. The only things in this world that craved him were half-witch
vampires who wanted to suck him dry.

I am truly lost.

His glamour had worked on her. She might have been warming to him on her
own as well. Things had been going along so beautifully. Then he had to go ask
her about what she did and learned that she studied
vampires
and had decided they were
despicable beings.

Am I despicable? Am I a cold,
blood-sucking monster who preys on little children?

With horror, he realized perhaps the answer to his question was…

Yes.

He’d fathered a child. Was he now leading that child to a life of
loathing? Could he bear to hear Lucius tell him that some future woman had
found him repulsive? How could he be honest with his son,
 
or would he simply not tell Lucius how
much he regretted his own decision to become vampire?
 
How could he counsel Lucius when the time came for the boy
to make his own irrevocable, permanent, life-altering decision?

What would he say if Lucius asked about how he was created? It hadn’t been
with love, an act of love. Paolo’s cock had lurched, and his balls had constricted
and spewed forth the seed that would become Lucius. That’s all. It had been a
loveless, animal act, a betrayal, he’d believed, of his brother. He’d used
Maya, the woman he’d believed was his brother’s
fated
mate countless times with abandon over a lost weekend in an
animal mating he was powerless to stop.

He’d copulated frantically and repeatedly, despite his revulsion for the
object of his animal desire, with the woman who proved to be his—not his
brother’s—one and only fated female, because only a fated mate could have
borne his child. And he still hated the mother of the child he loved so deeply,
even now, after her death.

Despicable? Yes. He would shoot his seed into anything. His
fating
had completely owned him, taken
over completely during those fateful days. He had been nothing more than a set
of balls wanting to heave. Afterwards, when the urge finally released its grip
on his soul, he fled back to America and into the arms of his dying mortal
wife. He regretted ever having come over to Tuscany for the wedding.

Still mortally shamed by his long-ago decision to turn, there wasn’t a
day of the centuries that had gone by when he didn’t feel the sharp pain of
regret. God in Heaven, he wished he’d made the other choice, to remain mortal.
He would have died in the 1700’s like his parents. He’d be buried right next to
them on the plot of land bordered by the family vineyard.

Paolo would be dust and not a danger to anyone else. Not able to feast on
the blood of innocents, ruin mortal life.

Lucius would never have existed.

It is what I deserve.

He made his way back to the ballroom. The party was ramping up to full rave
Even the windows were foggy with the detritus of frenzied exhalations and hot
human sweat. The dull dance beat dispensed like candy from the mobile D.J. made
his chest rumble in a not unpleasant way. Paolo felt the pain and anguish
pouring out of the partygoers as they danced off their fears, exorcised their
demons. Could they feel that death was stalking them? Walking amongst them?

He turned around in the center of the dance floor. Had they made a circle
around him? Were they mocking him as they undulated, showed him their flesh,
the dark patches usually left in shadow for a lover? Did they wiggle and send
their pheromones blasting out to allure him or torture him? Who was master and
who was slave here?

Three pixie-like women dressed in butterfly princess costumes flew around
him and surrounded his body with the luscious softness of their flesh. They
touched him places he never let women touch him in public. His groin tightened
and in spite of the debasement he felt, he got rock hard. Two of the ladies
sandwiched him and he dry-humped one sweet little faerie, holding her by her
tiny glistening waist as she writhed on his hardened member and let him feel
the heat of her sex through her flimsy costume. His erection became so strong
he feared it would rip through his trousers and take her through the silvery
gauze that did little to protect her core from a thrust of his kind.

I could do it. I could show them
what I am.

The scent of her body juices made him want to bite the little nymph. He
could hold her while she experienced the euphoria of his tongue as he coaxed out
her sweet red elixir until it filled the empty spaces inside him. He’d seal off
the little holes in her neck, then re-bite her and partake again, then heal her,
over and over again, until he was sated.

He could feel what she would taste like, how her sweet scent could fill
his nostrils as he explored the penetrations he made, dominating her, and sending
his thanks to God that he could immerse himself in the life force of this
beautiful creature.

As he readied himself to bite down, he caught sight of Carabella Sampson,
watching him from across the room. She stood in partial shadow, but Paolo could
see her just as clearly as if she’d been standing in full sun. The dancers
almost parted so that he could look upon the wonder of her full, luscious body.
It made him stop gyrating his hips. He released the faerie and she tumbled to
the floor like a rag doll, glamoured, but otherwise unharmed.

Cara stood to him, unwavering across the expanse of the large room,
letting him feast on her beauty, letting his eyes roam in places she should
have been shy about revealing to him. She didn’t turn, or cover herself up, or
fold her arms across her ample chest. Her red lips were moist, and he could
hear her breathing across the huge hall. He could smell the tiny beads of sweat
condensed on her upper lip, which quivered so very slightly. He drank of her in
every way but with his fangs.

The faeries were all over him again, one hugging his thigh between hers,
another rubbing her breasts into his chest, raising his shirt, seeking a
flesh-to-flesh connection. He continued to stare into the eyes of Carabella.
His rod was red hot, but it was Carabella who was touching him, working on the
zipper, trying to obtain purchase.

Stop it,
he mentally told them
.
He could not let them do this. He
wasn’t that far gone yet. He would not subject Carabella to this sort of
decadence or the darkness in his lonely heart. He tore his eyes from hers and
danced with the nymphs, teasing them, staying just out of reach. He sent glam
out to the crowd. More women, and a few men came and joined their circle. He
paraded around the perimeter, touching faces and tickling their souls. They
were starving. Starving for the passion he could unleash upon them.

He turned and she was still there, watching him. He raised his arms to
the ceiling and she did the same. One of the faeries unbuttoned his shirt.
Carabella could see his chest, see the muscles that wanted to hold her
shuddering body.

Let me love you.
There. He’d
said it, finally.

Her eyes got wide. Her hands came down over her own chest as she kneaded
her breasts together. She searched the floor and then raised her eyes to his.
Clear across the room from each other they danced together. Through the space
of thin air he kissed her neck and watched as she moaned and rolled her head,
exposing the blue vein for him.

Paolo licked his lips. He undulated his lower torso as he barely managed
to keep from exploding.

I’m coming into you, lovely
Carabella. I will make your flesh sing.

She nodded softly as she lowered her chin and pouted her lips. One hand
did what Paolo wished he could do, it laced down from her left breast to the
juncture between her legs. Then she grabbed her skirts and raised the hem just
enough so he could see a well-developed and tanned thigh. He wanted to bite the
soft flesh on the inside, up by her core.

Let me see it.

He fell to his knees. The crowd parted and he was able to again see the
lovely angel writhing in tandem with him half way across the room.

I will bring you unspeakable
pleasure, Carabella. Use me. I am the instrument of your pleasure. If I cannot
be your love, use me—even if you must throw me away.

One of the faeries broke his line of sight, lowering herself onto his
lap, dancing on his hardness, driving him crazy by kissing his neck and
exposing hers. His natural vampire instincts almost got the better of him.
Control was slipping away.

“Take me,” the glittery faery whispered. She leaned back and he watched
as first one, then the other breast found freedom from her small, restrictive
costume as she arched back, planted her palms on the dance floor and bent back..
Ruffles and her scratchy fabric filled his face.

It brought him to his senses. He righted the faerie and whispered an
apology with a kiss to her neck.

“I am claimed already, little one.”

“Take me anyway,” she begged.

“Not tonight.”

As he helped get her to her feet, the crowd applauded and the music
ended. He searched the room, looking for the angel, but she was gone. He surreptitiously
adjusted his pants, took another bow, and then released the faeries to the
crowd. As he wandered toward the
 
outer edge of the crowd of dancers, arms and lips grazed him,
sought his attention, but his focus was elsewhere.

Where did she go?

Every spark of white caught his eye…and disappointed him when it was not
the angel he sought. He searched the bar, hoping to find her tucked in the
corner again by the fireplace, revisiting a glass of port, waiting for him. But
no luck.

The vision of her lying across his massive bed, all her lovely flesh
exposed to the night air, nipples taut and knotted, her heavy breathing as she
anticipated his mouth on her sex, his tongue inside her, making her rise and
burn. He would take her every way he knew. He would love her until she craved
no other. He would work out of her the loathing she felt for his kind, and he
would convince her he was alive and everything she needed.

Because he knew he was.

That’s when he saw her, over by the table where he had placed his cape.
Johnny had grabbed the top hat and she swung the silver scarf around her neck,
protecting her lifeblood, demurely covering up what he longed passionately to
see, touch and taste.

When she looked up at him, he softened. He would have run to her, but he
was unsure.

On a night filled with miracles another one dropped down upon him. The
God of vampires touched him when she smiled. It was a sweet smile. No
seduction. No play. Just acceptance. He had not sent glamour to her. She smiled
of her own free will, so delicious, so innocent.

The world of the possible opened in front of him. It caused him to step
softly toward her as she stood straight and tall, awaiting his arrival. One
hand fingered her gauzy scarf, the other was tucked into the crook of Johnny’s
arm as he attempted to draw her away. But she appeared to resist.

She’s waiting for me.

When he arrived at her side, she reached into her scarf and pulled out
something. It was a business card she held between the tips of two fingers.

“Call me.” Her flushed face was moist with a thin layer of her own
excitement. Her eyes held his. Unafraid, but needy.

It was all she said. His heart hung on every strand of her bountiful,
beautiful hair as he watched her turn her head and follow Johnny from the
ballroom.

Cara was silent as Johnny drove her car, taking them both to her house,
where he would catch a late bus to his own place across town. They’d only done
this twice, gone Dutch and spent the time watching others. Theirs was not the
dating relationship they hoped to find in the crowds they scanned. Instead,
they worked “cover” for each other.

Cara checked the mirror. Her cheeks were definitely flushed, mirroring
the excitement coursing through her veins. She’d never felt so alive, so sexy,
and so irresistible. She halfway wished they were on their way to another
party. She could dance all night.

She flipped the mirror up and looked across the console at Johnny. He was
a
beautiful
man. Even features,
smooth tanned skin and white teeth. His vibrantly healthy tanned skin, warm
eyes and long lashes made him the perfect cover model or poster man for a milk
commercial.

He should be her type, she thought. Though he was younger, he could be a
wonderful distraction. But no matter how hard she thought about it, no matter
how lusty she felt this evening, to the point that she almost felt immortal,
she never could quite see him as a sexual partner. And this made her a little
sad.

“I’m sorry I didn’t dance with you more.”
 
She was feeling melancholy, a little sorry about her lack of
attention.

Why?
Was she feeling guilty,
perhaps?

“That’s all right,” he flashed her one of his legendary fresh smiles.
Johnny could turn on the charm, look just as tempting as any soap opera hunk,
but unaffected. He was refreshingly natural, apparently unaffected by his good
looks.
 
“I had a good time. But you
almost hooked up with that old guy,” he said as he winked at her.

“Old guy?”
Was the mystery man old?
Hardly!

“The vampire.”

Maybe it was his costume, his makeup. He looked like he was around
thirty, not much
 
older than she.
However, thinking about him brought a smile to her lips and revved up her
engine a couple of notches. She felt in the mood to play with Johnny a bit.
“You jealous now?”

“
I’m
the one who’s taking you
home.” He gave her The Bedroom Look. The one that said he meant business.

Cara frowned. Was this getting complicated all of a sudden? Though she
was feeling like a free spirit, her affections weren’t aimed in Johnny’s
direction.

He kept his serious tone. “Would you sleep with me some time—one of
these evenings?”

Cara was surprised this didn’t turn her on. There was absolutely nothing
wrong with Johnny or his hunky body. It was something else. “Do you think of me
that
way, Johnny?”

He looked at her as if she had a third eye in the middle of her forehead.
“Are you nuts? I’m crazy about you.”

“Wouldn’t that make me a cougar? Preying on a younger guy?”

“Hardly. You’re only five years older. I think you’d have to be ten or
twenty years my senior to qualify. Besides,” he grabbed her hand and kissed it
tenderly, “you’re one hot lady. Don’t know why, but I saw a different side of
you tonight.” He dropped her hand after giving her a squeeze. “I kind of like
it.”

It was true. She was a different person this evening. Some switch had
been turned to “on” position, and she was enjoying every minute of it.

She knew he was discreet, so a quick, passionate liaison was possible,
and no one need know. But they
worked
together. They had to spend hours in close proximity in her tiny office at the
college. They ate Chinese food over research projects and hashing over lecture
notes. He was the brother she never had. She needed a true friend. But a lover?

No.

There was only one man on her radar. And for him she’d do just about
anything. Even something inappropriate…

“So, what about it?”

“What about what?”

“You gonna make me a lucky man tonight?” He frowned after searching her
face, obviously realizing the answer was no. She didn’t have to say a word.

“It isn’t wise,” was all she could think to say as she looked through the
windshield at the passing lights . Wet streets and colorful signs twinkled
between droplets of rain that diffused and refracted the view. What was she
looking for?

“Wasn’t asking for wise,” Johnny said, his voice deepening. “Was asking
for totally hot freaking sex.”

She felt the giggle erupt from deep inside her. She loved the way it
rippled and fluttered throughout her chest. She was filled with mirth, and it
had been years since she’d felt this good.

“You think sex is funny?” he asked. “Or is it just me?” He scowled. “What
about you and gramps?”

“Why do you say
gramps?
He
doesn’t seem old to me,
”
she said. She
wasn’t going to let anything ruin her evening.

“Because he has something old and sinister on his agenda. Something he’s
hiding. I don’t trust him. It’s creepy.”

Cara threw her head back onto the headrest and laughed. “Oh, Johnny. I
don’t get that at all.” She scrunched her nose.

“Whatever,” he whispered and then sighed.

They remained silent until he pulled into her condo complex. In the
underground garage they both got out and he handed her the keys.

“Last chance.” His little smile was infectious, but didn’t win her over.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I had a really nice time, though.”

“Cara, you’re a big girl, and a smart one, too. Please, please, for my
sake, be careful. I don’t like that guy, and it isn’t because he’s better at
mesmerizing the room. There is something really off about him.” Johnny
hesitated, then stepped closer to Cara, and she moved back to avoid an embrace,
in case one was on the way.

“Okay, I get it. But I just don’t want to see you get hurt. Aren’t you in
the least bit concerned?”

Cara had to admit there was some worry there, but it was covered over by
something exciting growing inside her soul.

“I can handle myself.” She immediately realized she’d hurt him. The
flicker of a frown glanced off his face. “But Johnny, it’s sweet that you care.
Thank you so much for that.” Cara moved into his arms and allowed him to
encircle her. He was safe.

Am I crazy? What could it hurt?

But the answer was still no. She held him at arm’s length. “Thank you.
For being my date tonight. For understanding. For being my friend. You don’t
know how valuable that is to me,” she said.

“Me, too,” he sighed with a bit of a pout on his brooding face.

He gave her a safe peck on the cheek, backed away, waved, and walked
toward the gated door. Carabella headed for the elevator and waved back just as
the doors began to close. None of her friends would ever understand how she
could just leave him standing there when he’d made himself so totally available
to her.

The elevator groaned slowly to the third floor. Inside her condo she
turned on her bath and stripped, leaving the angel costume in a heap on the
tiled floor. The fuzzy white wings perched in the middle of the pile,
stubbornly standing guard over the mounds of white satin. She was grateful to
be done with the scratchy protuberances.

Cara swiveled the big screen TV arm so it would angle over her while she
soaked.She slipped into the warm, sudsy water and sank up to her neck in
lavender-scented bubbles. She flipped on the remote and watched an old Bella
Lugosi film. The closeup of his eyes reminded her of the intense way Paolo had looked
at her when he whispered, “I can show you many things, my dear.” She felt her
legs quiver under the warm water.

She sighed and allowed herself to relax against the back of the tub. As
her eyes closed, she imagined dancing with him. He spun her around the floor of
a grand ballroom filled with candlelight. The hall was empty except for the two
of them, but somewhere a string quartet played a waltz as she twirled and
leaned back, held by his powerful arms. First they swayed one way, then the
other. She wore a golden gown like she’d seen in movies, and felt the taffeta
swishing along her hips, the color matching satin dancing slippers encrusted in
pearls.

His palm pressed to the small of her back when he stopped her in the
middle of the music, as they stood motionless on the polished wooden floor. His
finger traced down the side of her face, rubbing over her lower lip as she
opened her mouth to him and she tasted his full lips. She heard his inhale,
like he was holding back, trying to be gentle with her.

Then she saw herself on a large bed with cream satin sheets, naked,
waiting. He covered her body and watched her face, her body as she moaned her
pleasure, as he pumped inside her and made her come again and again, each time
leaving her craving more.

The visions continued as she lingered in the state of half dream half
erotic trance, surrounded by the foaming bubble bath. Organ music leaked from
the TV’s low volume control, sounding tinny but somehow fitting. At last she
opened her eyes and the visions released her. She was left with the delicious
lingering effect of her pulsing orgasm.

Panting, she was still not sated, and she gripped the sides of the tub
until her body returned to its relaxed state.

What is this feeling that’s come
over me?
She could almost say she’d been bewitched. The powerful ache she
felt for this man defied anything she’d experienced before. It was almost as if
he were standing beside her, making her feel what she had felt when he touched
her hand, or barely brushed her arm at the party.

It had been a sudden impulse to give him her card tonight. It was his
move now, not hers. She was not going to chase him.

She wanted to be pursued. Hunted. She knew she needed to run from him.

So he could claim her for his own.