Christmas Bite: A Golden Vampires of Tuscany Novella

by Sharon Hamilton

  Jeb was having trouble keeping a straight face. “What men go through to torture themselves for the women in their lives.”

  “Stop it, Jeb. Not. Helping.”

  Lionel asked himself if she was indeed the woman in his life, and the conclusion was a puddle of question marks. The possible fating would have to remain a secret, forever. He thought it prudent to remind his younger brother.

  “While I appreciate the pep talk you gave me in North Africa, which also happened to save your backside, I’m not sure I can call her the woman in my life. For me, and you know this,”—He’d pointed to Jeb with two fingers—“there has never been more than one woman in my life. Phoebe is not her.”

  “Go ahead and convince yourself if it makes it easier, Lionel, but I’m not believing a word of it. And for the record, I’ll not be speaking about it until it becomes something we can. That I’ll give you. But know the truth. You have the fate, which is the joy and the curse of our species, all over you. It’s like your head has been reattached to your body, backwards.”

  Lionel sat on his bed, studying things in his room he’d cherished—things no female had ever seen. Next to his pillow was a miniature painting of the young and healthy Maria Monteleone. It was the first thing he packed when he traveled privately, and the last thing he looked at in the early morning before he turned in for the restorative sleep.

  “I am more fearful of today than I was tracing to your location in the Sahara.”

  “I can see that.”

  “I harbor a crime deep within my heart. And the repercussions, if it were made public, could also affect you and Hugh.”

  They shared the private gaze that was so common when one of them or all of them were going off to war or on some dangerous mission. When it was acknowledged that one of them might not survive.

  “I don’t hold you responsible for things you cannot control. I only hope it happens to me that way.”

  “It’s against everything I’ve trained for,” Lionel stopped him.

  “And it’s everything a healthy male yearns for. We stand beside you. You’d do it for either of us, Lionel.”

  He knew his brother was right.

  The two brothers embraced and then separated. Lionel kick-started his motorcycle and tore off into the mild, Fall night.

  A shopkeeper was doing some nighttime cleanup as he rounded the curve, slowing down to cruise through the back way to the Dominichelli estate. Her colorful roses were still in their stands. He chose yellow ones, hoping they’d be considered safe, allowed the old woman to wrap them in green waxed paper, and stuck them inside his jacket, unzipping the leather just enough to keep the flowers from becoming smashed.

  The Dominichelli long, crushed granite driveway filed through groves of olives, bordered by tall Cypress trees in clumps of three every few meters. In the starlit night, the tall silent beings stood witness to the gauntlet he was about to walk. Like judges or executioners, they showed no emotion as he passed on the most important mission of his lifetime. His last mission, if he’d misjudged.

  The heavy carved door with the Dominichelli crest swung inside before he appeared on the stoop. He recognized his brother’s bike and a couple of vehicles parked in the yard on the right.

  He’d met her mother, Freya, for the first time at the wedding that day. She studied him carefully, blocking the doorway. He knew she couldn’t hear his thoughts, so he decided to reassure her to ease the pulsing vein at her temple.

  “She has called for me. I hope that you were made aware, Madam Dominichelli,” he said as he bowed to her, sending the yellow roses up and into his nostrils.

  She held her head at a strange angle and was waiting for him to notice she’d extended her hand for him to kiss. He did so with chaste speed.

  He retrieved the roses from his jacket and handed them to the beautiful woman, who smiled at the gesture.

  “Lovely. Phoebe will love them. Yellow is one of her favorite colors.” She delicately pushed them back to his chest. “Come, protector. Or, can I call you Lionel?”

  “What do you call Hugh?”

  She threw her head back as he followed her through the anteroom and into a small hallway leading to the kitchen, which was their traditional gathering place. She smelled wonderful.

  “We call him Huge, but I’m not quite sure he’s comfortable with it yet. My daughter said she heard you call him that, and somehow, it just stuck.”

  Lionel cursed under his breath. His voice broke as he spoke. “Then I suppose you could call me Lionel, ma’am.”

  “Phoebe, my love, your guest is here,” Freya announced.

  With the fireplace warming her backside, Phoebe stood in a burgundy frock, wearing a necklace and heart-shaped earrings he recognized immediately as belonging to Maria Monteleone. Hugh stood beside her and gave a nervous grin. He frowned when he noted the roses.

  “Miss Phoebe, these are for you.”

  She was in front of him in a flash, her pink nose buried in the velvet petals. The color reflected in her face and made it seem golden. The tiny earrings on charm hooks sizzled to the rhythm of her heartbeat. She was nervous too.

  “Thank you. And here it should be I presenting you a gift, not the other way around. But you are a true hero, aren’t you, Lionel? Never seeking anything for himself.”

  Phoebe’s father entered behind him and gave him a slap on the back. “If thanks are being had, please allow me to join the receiving line. You have done this family a great service, and for that we are eternally in your debt.”

  “I wasn’t acting alone. Hugh also—” he began.

  “Nonsense,” Hugh objected. “You were the one who took notice and disposed of the garbage. All I did was return her to the safety of her family.”

  Phoebe had placed the flowers in a crystal vase, spreading and tending to them like Maria used to arrange her flowers. Lionel closed his eyes for a second and willed the past to leave him.

  Phoebe stood so close to him that the muscles in his thighs began to expand, not to mention another body part that was complaining about being restricted. She began addressing her parents.

  “I have something to share.” Her hands were clasped inside themselves at her waist as if she was giving a music recital.

  The brothers shared the warning gaze that sent both their blood pressures rising and widened their eyes. Hugh looked like he was about to pass out, but very slightly shrugged, telling Lionel he had no idea what was to come.

  “I was resistant to it at first,” Phoebe continued. “But I’ve decided to make a change to my security detail. I’ve taken the trouble to consult Marcus on this just this morning.”

  Lionel swallowed. Hard. He widened his stance.

  “Hugh and I have discussed this as well.”

  This brought a scowl to Hugh’s brows and lips. He avoided Lionel’s eyes.

  “With Marcus and Hugh’s permission, I’ve decided to switch my detail. I’m inviting Lionel to become my personal protector.”

  She could not know how much pain he was in. He wanted to shake her as he had last night at the bungalow, to make her come to her senses. In no way was this a safe thing to do.

  As she smiled up at him, she took his hand. He took a step back. She giggled softly and grabbed his hand again.

  “My mother has advised me it would be prudent to take a husband, until such time as I have found my fated mate,” she whispered, lying through her teeth and making him want to put a paw over her mouth to stop her. But he was unable to say or do anything. Her fingers entwined with his in an intimate familiarity that was dangerous to both of them.

  “Lionel, if you will allow my request, I am asking you to become my husband until that day comes. To protect me and act on my behalf, not as a paid employee, but as a husband would care for his wife.”

  This isn’t wise, he found himself messaging her, though he knew she couldn’t hear him. There was no way that the two species could hear each other.

  But will you do it? came her an
swer. It completely immobilized him.

  He looked at the little group, watching the way her chest heaved, breaking free from the low-cut frock she wore. Her hand was moist, and from it came a soothing glow that soon traveled all over his body. Her father’s mouth hung open. His eyes were difficult to read. But Freya had clasped her breast and was smiling, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “Well done, Daughter. And look how shy he is. He is the perfect choice.”

  Lionel could tell Hugh was calculating and re-calculating in his head all the possible scenarios as if he’d arrived at the party late.

  “Do you always make your ladies wait, Lionel?” Phoebe purred, pushing the envelope into dangerous territory.

  “My ladies? I-I have never been asked to perform this task.”

  She’d stepped so close that now he could feel the heat of her body. Phoebe was hanging on every word.

  “A husband? In name only, of course,” Lionel continued.

  “Yes, of course!” Salvatore Dominichelli blurted out nervously. “Phoebe is to remain virgin. There will be no consummation of this marriage. You have that correct, my man.”

  But her eyes challenged him as he saw the battle lines being drawn. He was torn between being the person her parents thought he was, the person Marcus and Paolo and the whole Monteleone clan thought he was, and the male she was becoming to know. The man who was feeding and tending a growing fate that would certainly complicate all their lives. And yet, he found strength in her face.

  He suddenly didn’t want to share her with the rest of the world.

  Her blush told him he’d not been smart and had let his thoughts roam freely between them.

  Is this a mistake, dear Phoebe?

  All I want to know—and I won’t ever be able to sleep again until I do—is, will you do it?

  He knew there was only one answer, God help him. He decided it would be good form to call up the God of mortals for extra strength. He went down on one knee.

  “With God’s help, I will serve you faithfully, will honor your womanhood, and protect you from harm. And I’ll perform any and all the tasks that you require with a willing heart.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that even Hugh was calling on the God of mortals. His brother closed his eyes, bowed his head, and crossed himself, even though there was no one now who could save them.

  Chapter 12

  PLANS BEGAN WITHIN hours after it was confirmed by her father that, indeed, Marcus and the rest of his family had approved of the choice to take Lionel as her husband. Most of her friends and family were delighted. Those of the household staff were guarded and shared a level of enthusiasm that seemed tepid at best. Phoebe believed it to be because they still worried for her safety and expected she’d save herself and everyone around her by taking to the turning soon and then marry.

  The subject had been brought up several times by her mother, and on each occasion, she fended off the arguments with the same resolve she’d had the day she made her decision.

  “After, Mother. After some time, if I feel a calling to that part of my life, I will do so. In the meantime, could you just tolerate a mere mortal in your household for a bit longer?”

  Freya always broke down and agreed with her each time they had the discussion. Phoebe was careful to thank her mother and her father and especially the household staff, on whom the burden of cooking, cleaning and protecting her mortal world fell. It was a world closer to them than that of her parents.

  She decided to celebrate her new engagement at her dance studio, where she and Samuel had been learning ballroom and jazz couples dancing. She wanted to bring Lionel as her special guest of honor, but he refused. She had not seen him for two days after the announcement, and she was disappointed. But tonight would be his first night at the villa with them all.

  “He’s been preparing his things for the move tonight, Phoebe. I’ve helped Samuel take a room downstairs by the kitchen, since you are now an engaged young woman. Lionel will be here later on. You’ll see. My duties are complete, and it’s adios soon.”

  “I shall miss you, Huge.”

  He gave her a careful hug. “We’ve enjoyed our brief tryst, madam. Haven’t we?” he said asked with a deep bow. He zipped his lips. “It will be our secret.”

  She was filled with giggles. “Have you ever been in love, Hugh?”

  “I don’t think there is love for most dark coven members. Not like what you feel, for instance. Most of us submit to a life of service, and there’s meaning in that. Love is not a luxury we can afford.”

  “How sad,” she said, touching his cheek.

  “You have to stop touching me, lovely Phoebe. We can’t be seen as too familiar. Only with your husband.”

  She thought the comment odd, but let it stand. “So fating would be how it works, then?” she pried.

  Hugh turned his head from side to side as if he were helping the pieces of his brain to fit together, to give him a complete picture and a coherent answer. “I think that’s mostly true. I’m sure the evil ones have just an animalistic blood lust. They’d eat their wives if it was necessary. Perhaps their children as well.”

  He shook all over.

  “Would it be odd if a dark vamp did fall in love? Or felt the fating?”

  “Ah, how clever of you.” Hugh ticked his finger at her face. “I’m not going to willingly fall into that silver trap. You’ll have to ask him yourself.”

  “Ask whom?” came the voice of Lionel behind her.

  Phoebe ran to Lionel’s arms, hitching skirts and wrapping her legs around his hips.

  You shouldn’t be doing this, Phoebe.

  She noted the gruffness in his tone and met it with defiance of her own.

  Stop me.

  The picture he sent her made her drop to her knees, panting. In the vision, he’d removed her petticoats, slid down her panties, turned her over his knees, and was slapping her bare bottom so hard there were red welts the size of his enormous hands on each cheek.

  She pulled herself up and frowned like a spoiled child, rubbing her backside.

  “Ow.”

  Lionel sighed and faced the ceiling. Hugh was nearly doubling over with laughter. “Promise me, brother, you will take your fake honeymoon in a screened and protective space. I don’t want to see any of it or know anything about it.”

  “There will be no honeymoon, Brother. She takes liberties at her home she will regret doing some day.” Facing her, he repeated himself. “You should not get comfortable with these games, Phoebe. It’s dangerous.”

  “See? I told you exactly the same,” added Hugh.

  “Very well.” Vowing to get even, she demanded, “When you finish getting situated, there are a few items that require your attention.”

  Lionel turned his head, but she’d masked everything she could. “I’ll be upstairs when you feel in the mood to serve.”

  As she left the room, she brushed against his thigh with one of her own. When the electricity sparked the inside of her entire right leg, she hitched her breath and gave him a subtle moan.

  All she heard at her back was some swearing. She thought Italian was much more pleasing to the ear, told him so telepathically, giggling all the way to the top of the second-floor landing and her bedroom beyond.

  She heard cars on the driveway and then happy voices of her brothers returning with her parents. Phoebe ran to overlook downstairs and waved at Rodrigo and Santos. Their return had been delayed due to an emergency at the camp.

  Little Santos was only eight and rattled stories to his mother in Italian. Rodrigo stood tall, then ran up to his sister.

  “You were missed, Brother,” she said as she hugged his bony frame.

  His handsome face was partially covered by hair that had grown too long.

  “Look at this!” she said, extending his curls out five inches from the sides of his head.

  “Mama has already told me I’m to report to cook so I’m not mistaken for one of the coven ruffian
s.” He pondered his well-worn canvas slip-ons. “They came, you know.”

  “I heard. Did they take anyone?”

  He sadly nodded. “Two boys from families in Washington State who had apparently gotten lost in the forest. They found the bloody tracking devices stuffed in their backpacks with their cell phones.”

  The realities of being mortal were growing heavier with each passing week. Phoebe knew the wedding would be a welcome distraction for the entire Tuscan clans, as well as others from abroad.

  “You heard my news, then?”

  “Phoebe, I can’t believe it. But a dark lord? How could you agree to obey and be companion to anyone but a Golden?”

  “You see any eligible Goldens who want me?”

  “He wants you? They are allowing you to do this?”

  “No, silly. It’s a marriage for protection and convenience. He’s allowed certain liberties he wouldn’t have as an employee. But the marriage is still for my protection. That’s all you have to know.”

  “I couldn’t do it, Phoebe. I just couldn’t.”

  She pulled him to her again and, stroking the top of his head, whispered, “You’re only fifteen, Rodrigo. Wait until you turn nineteen. You’ll see things differently. Trust me on that.”

  She followed his skipping form upstairs to the third floor where her parents had their bedchamber. When she peered below, Lionel had just started the ascent with a cardboard box filled with several items. She waited until he passed her on the way to the room across from hers. He stopped in the hallway beyond, turned, and asked for directions. She pointed to the right.

  At his doorway, she watched his massive back and upper arms from behind as he bent over the box laid tenderly on the bed, pulling several things out. She knew he sensed her.

  “I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on you, not the other way around,” he mumbled to his box.

  “I find you fun to watch.”

  “Fun? What is that?” he said, holding an electronic piece of equipment with the cord dangling.

  “The opposite of obligation. A freebie.”

  He had his room set up in less than five minutes.

  “You always travel light?” she asked.