by Sophia North
"Do I look harmed?" Simone quipped sarcastically. "No! I am safely tucked away in this supernaturally impenetrable mausoleum. Vlad's presence was not required nor wanted. And I told him as much - many, many times. Who knew the threat to slit my own wrists and bleed out if he didn't go, would finally do the trick?"
"You are a one fierce lioness. Again, Vlad sees the truth of things before me. Fucking prick, but I suppose he didn't really stand a chance against you."
"Come, let me see if your wounds are really healing. One cannot be too careful these days."
"Dr. Radcliffe, there are more inventive ways to get me naked," Dante teased suggestively.
Paying no heed to his sexual innuendo, she took a more commanding tone. "Strip and go sit down on the couch. I'll be back shortly."
Still dressed in her black leather outfit, Dante enjoyed watching the rather provocative view she presented as she turned and marched out of the room.
Minutes later, she returned with a bowl of steaming hot water and towels. "You're still dressed," she announced, setting the tray down with an annoyed thump.
"But I am sitting on the couch - I've got to get points for that."
She ignored him and wrung out a towel she'd submerged into the hot water. "Stand up and strip," she ordered, in no mood to humour him.
"Yes, Ma'am."
He stood up and had the gall to salute her.
Simone shifted her weight to one side and held out the damp towel in her fingertips, thus providing Dante with an excellent reason to comply. She looked hot as hell and the thought of her wiping down his 'tortured' body with that towel was too tempting to resist.
"Hold that thought," he whispered huskily. "I'll be right with you, Doctor."
Dante zipped over to the telephone. "Roxy, sweetheart, it's me ... no, everything's fine. I am pleased to hear you are well too. Listen, need a favour from you ... no, not that kind of favour, my sweet. Find Vlad for me, will you? Tell him I'll see him tomorrow - he'll know the time and place. Gotta run, bye."
When he zipped back he no longer found his seductive lioness waiting. The once lovingly held towel had been thrown back into the bowl, rather unceremoniously one might add, and Simone now stood, arms crossed ready for round two.
"Roxy, your sweetheart, can tend to your wounds," she declared angrily. "You and she seem to be rather cosy with one another."
Damn that green-eyed devil, his work could either be a vamp's best friend or utter enemy. "You didn't seem to mind having Vlad's tongue stuck down your throat either."
Two could play at this game. Dante ignored her gasp of outrage and removed his long leather coat and started to unbutton his shirt.
"I was acting as his supplicant, what did you expect me to do? Knee him in the balls for taking liberties?"
"Twas no different for me with Roxy's advances - to shy away would have been unnatural under the circumstances."
He had her there. Not that she was going to admit it, nor was she going to have to - when Dante slowly peeled away his shirt, all thoughts of Roxy and Vlad vanished.
"Your torso is covered in blood! You said you weren't hurt."
Dante took the towel, dipped it in water and then slowly wiped it across his chest. With the blood removed, his perfectly intact skin was revealed to her anxious gaze. "See, all healed."
Simone let out the breath, she'd inadvertently been holding, in relief. Moving towards him, she took the towel and continued where he'd left off. "You scared me tonight," she said, her tone low and husky.
As she circled him, repeatedly dipping and rinsing away all traces of his ordeal, Dante whispered back: "How?"
"I thought I was never going to see you again."
"You think so little of my warrior skills, my sweet Simone? Surely you know, nothing can stop me from keeping you safe - that I would slay thousands to protect you."
"And get yourself killed in the slaying - what good are you to me dead?"
At his back, she ran the towel down the length of his spine and moved round to his side, the towel drawn about at his waist until she let it drop to the floor. Pressing her cheek to his glistening bicep, she traced the length of his arm. "What good are you to me, without arms to hold me." She moved to stand in front of him once more. "Without lips to kiss."
Simone took Dante's face in her hands and very lightly, kissed him on his lips. "I want you more than anything in the world," Simone confessed.
"My soul starves for you as well," Dante replied, looking her deeply in the eye.
They kissed passionately for a few minutes and Simone felt her consciousness begin to fade. It was not like she was about to become unconscious. It was as though she was slipping into a new or higher state, a place where all her worries and fears did not exist.
Her attention was focused solely on Dante and his sensational body.
In no time at all they were both naked. Their clothes had seemingly disappeared from their bodies in a blink of an eye and they were both on the long leather couch. Simone could not help running her nails down his back when he moved on top of her.
As he kissed her breasts she cried out with pleasure and as soon as he reached down to touch her, she was wet. Her head felt heavy with desire. She needed him inside, without delay. Otherwise she was going to explode.
Reading her, Dante did not tarry. Slowly pushing his large cock inside her, he tried his best to be gentle. But it required immense self-control.
"Put it all in!" Simone groaned. "I want it all."
With such encouragement Dante gladly obliged. Thrusting deeper inside of her with each powerful stroke, Simone turned her face, biting into a cushion to try and hold back screams of ecstasy.
Lost in the thrill of his deep thrusts, Simone felt layers of inner tension and frustration crumble and dissolve. The recent hardships and pressures of her life were finally being cleansed by the fulfillment of her carnal needs. She responded to his pumping rhythm with a deep groan, which quickly turned into a cry of bliss.
The sex was frenzied, almost animalistic, and it didn't last long. Simone knew it was mostly about release. After her frenzied orgasm sent waves of euphoria through her body, she heard Dante cry out, feeling his hot liquid inside her.
For a while he laid sprawled out on top of her. Neither desired separation. Words were no longer necessary, their bodies communicated as one.
It could have been several minutes later or several hours but Simone felt the need for him again. Without any prompting, Dante responded - taking her in his arms he carried her to his bedchamber. To Simone it felt like their connection had become telepathic.
Their second act of love went much longer. They were both more artful and imaginative this time. Simone attentively caressed and licked Dante's erect penis until he became harder and harder. Groaning and lifting his head, he pulled at her hair and demanded her to ride him.
Instead she placed a hand on his solid chest and pushed him back down. She teased him by running her fingers across the muscles of his six-pack before kissing and nibbling his pecs.
Dante could barely stand the torture. He ended her playfulness by flipping her over and entering her more forcefully. His powerful cock pulsated inside her, the feel of it seemed to set her mind on fire.
Several times she felt Dante pull himself back from the brink, as she commanded him to pound her harder. Eventually, taking control, Simone guided him onto his back. She rode him faster and faster until they both exploded in a fiery fervor.
They remained locked together until their hot, sweaty bodies cooled and the cycle began again.
Hours later, when they both felt waves of satisfaction still their beating hearts, a deep sleep began to wash over them.
Simone was completely but blissfully exhausted. Fighting sleep, she tried to tell Dante how much she loved him but it was no use. She was gone.
But even if she'd succeeded, Dante, with one of his muscular arms wrapped round her naked body, had too drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.
&nb
sp; Chapter Twenty-Six
SOFT PETALS ON one's lips was a very pleasant way to wake up. Simone opened one eye to spy Dante sitting on the bed beside her, a long stemmed red rose in his hand.
"Hmm, remind me to tell you how much I love your appreciation of flowers," she purred, inching her hand in his direction, "after showing you first." Her fingers encountered a fully clad thigh rather than the naked one she was expecting. "Why are you dressed?" she moaned, turning onto her back, casting him a clearly come hither glance. "Come back to bed."
"So demanding. You do recall we are currently at war with a maniacal psychopath intent on destroying both our worlds? A lie-in romp seems a tad selfish, wouldn't you agree?"
Simone pulled a pillow over her head and muttered. "Fuck Anton and his evil ways."
"My sentiments exactly! Although I'm not too sure I am pleased to hear Vlad's influence on your choice of language. Now up," he ordered, with a resounding smack to her pert little ass. "He waits for us downstairs and I am sure you would not be pleased if he became impatient again. We both know there'd be no stopping his constant interruptions should we tarry."
"Beast. He takes far too many liberties with all his comings and goings. That will be Simone's house rule number one when all this is over: no more impromptu visitations from Vlad."
Dante could barely hide his elation. He liked to hear her talking about a future together - even if it meant the banishment of his best friend. "Well, until that fateful day, we are stuck with him - and with that in mind you may want to give consideration about what you leave laying around."
He waved her list of questions from the other night at her. "Vlad has a way of misinterpreting information and he would have a field day with this! Quite, an exhaustive list, love. Thank god you took pity on me and stopped at question three - although I must admit to a certain degree of intrigue over question thirteen - Treadwell's - why did he bring me there? Zara? A rather obscure detail to have a question about - does Treadwell's mean something to you?"
Simone snatched the list away. "You're right, it's nothing more than a silly detail."
Dante wasn't so sure. "Tell me, you obviously figured out my connection to the location from what I told you about Zara. But why is the fact she ran and owned Treadwell's of interest to you?"
"I knew her."
"You knew Zara! How is that possible?"
"I lived in a flat above her shop for almost five years. The night you brought me there I thought you were some sort of creepy stalker client, who wanted to subliminally message me you knew about my past. It was only after I spent some time replaying everything you've told me that I made the possible Zara connection."
"Do you remember when you moved into the flat?" Dante asked, his heart pounding in his chest for some inexplicable reason.
"Uhm, it was the spring I finished my internship in Switzerland. So that would make it early June 2012. Why?"
"No reason in particular. Curiosity, I guess. It's surprising we never met back then - even if only through a chance encounter. Zara and I became friends around the same time," he replied casually, desperate to keep his voice neutral in lieu of the fact his mind was reeling.
What did it mean? his inner voice cried, but he ignored it.
Simone watched Dante struggle to hide his reaction to the news of her connection to Zara. It felt like a sharp knife had sliced right through their warm, intimate cocoon of contentment and left a cold gaping hole of things best left unsaid. "I'd better get moving. You were right about the Viking's impatience."
"We'll be in the music room - third door past the library on the way to the kitchen. Or simply follow the sound of music playing. I do my best strategising at the piano."
Dante rose and left.
The folded list rested on the duvet beside her. Simone reached over and crumpled it in her hand.
THE GENTLE PLAYING of Chopin echoed through the great hall as Simone descended the grand staircase. Illuminated in full light, she marvelled at how she'd never realised Dante's home was completely submerged underground. She had to give credit to his ingenuity for installing some sort of a system capable of creating simulations to mimic the cycles of day and night.
"Doc!" Vlad boomed in greeting when she entered the music room. "Well done - I've been waiting centuries for some lucky girl to finally pluck what was on offer."
Flustered by his strange compliment, Simone replied, "Viking, what on earth are you talking about?"
The blonde haired devil leaned his large frame against the grand piano where Dante sat playing and gave her a devastatingly incorrigible smile. Without another word, he drew out a pair of black lace panties from his trouser pocket and twirled them accusingly at her on his index finger.
The fiend was unbelievable.
Before Simone had a chance to reply, Dante moved to and fro from his playing without missing a note, her once displayed knickers now gracing the inside of his pocket. "If the two of you are quite finished," he drawled, playing a particularly intricate passage in Nocturnes Opus 9 effortlessly. "Our time can be much better spent than in childish antics. Perhaps, it may be of interest for you both to learn where I ended up last night."
This got Simone and Vlad's attention. The implications over her discovered panties quickly forgotten.
"Allow me, Simone," Vlad graciously offered, to which she replied: "Much appreciated, Viking."
"What the fuck, are you talking about, mate?" the vamp bombastically bellowed at his nonchalantly Chopin-playing friend.
On and on he played, his head swaying in tempo to the music, until the melody slowed and he turned to look at the pair, watching him intently, awaiting an answer. "Let's just say, I had an unpleasant, unplanned meeting with Anton and require your assistance in killing the bastard - immediately."
"So, let me get this straight: you were taken hostage at the theatre, brought to Lowerton, had a little tête-à-tête with a possessed lunatic and came home to me..." Simone deliberately left their passionate love making out of the equation and continued. "... and failed to mention you'd just been recently freed from captivity? Your wounds, the blood you were covered in - you sustained those injuries and said nothing?"
Simone's furiously laid out sequence of events were amazingly accurate. She never failed to impress.
"Ah, other than discovering my father is being held captive in Lowerton, Anton murdered Zara and is also the Rogue responsible for the latest spate of human slaying - I'd say you summarised my night admirably well."
"Why would he release you?" Vlad asked. "He was hell-bent on getting you to be a part of his future plans, which I am sure you refused - so why not keep you prisoner until you either agree to join him or else die by his hand?"
Dante stopped playing. "The delusional bastard is giving me some time to think about it and he is keeping my father drugged and imprisoned as motivation to lean in his direction."
The pain in his voice was unmistakeable. To discover his father was alive but so entangled in the present darkness would make it hard for anyone to rejoice.
"You mustn't lose faith, Dante," Simone said encouragingly, as she sat beside him at the piano and took hold of one his hands. "He is alive! And finally you know for certain what you always knew to be true in your heart. All is not lost - even though the way ahead will not be easy."
Dante raised her hand to his lips and pressed her knuckles to them. "Thank you, love - your words mean much."
Vlad added his own choice words to bolster his friend's spirit. "Let's get on with killing the bastard then. I'll be damned if I let that cunt destroy everything I've fought and sacrificed for over the centuries. I know Lowerton, the council, are not perfect - far fucking from it. But to see it in the hands of Anton and Simmons - no way, not on my Watch. I'd rather die fighting for a flawed but noble way of life than partake in the world Anton intends on building."
"Then we will fight together - to the death!" Dante vowed.
"To the death," Simone echoed.
"Simon
e ..."
She pressed her fingers to his lips. "There is no life for me without you. Accept my decision in this."
He closed his eyes and nodded.
Dante moved from the piano and like a General preparing for battle, folded his arms behind his back and began to pace about, firing off titbits of information to formulate a plan of attack. "Last night's larger than expected ambush was an unfortunate set-back, there's no skirting that fact. We lost about fifty vamps by my count - a terrible loss for our side. But on a positive note, we gained two important advantages in the process."
"Actually our losses were closer to twenty according to my sources," Vlad clarified. "And they also reported we took out our fair share of them. Of the two hundred sent - forty, at the most made it back to Lowerton. You and your motley crew fought well. Their advantage in numbers should have meant we lost more than we did."
Dante brightened at the correct figure. "Good news indeed. I couldn't be certain how many of our brothers actually fell. After making sure Roxy was safe, I was attacked by a dozen or so vamps and taken to Lowerton. And it was there I discovered our two advantages."
Simone stiffened at hearing Roxy's name on Dante's lips. She would never be able to quite forgive the female vampyre for taking liberties with her vamp. The male vampyres in the room, of course, had no clue of her reaction.
"Don't keep me in suspense, brother. Spill," Vlad demanded.
"First up, I can confirm Peterson is a mole. He tried to hide himself from me but I saw him in the chanting crowd when I was in the coliseum. Second, my father said something to me I’ve not been able to shake. I think it relates to my last vision. It might even have something to do with Wilhalf’s present location."
"What did he say?" Simone asked, whereas Vlad, more interested in his news about Peterson, thundered out: "I knew something wasn't right about that cunt! But after I beat the shit out of him, we can use him as a double-agent."
In his next breath, Vlad finished with, "You've had another vision - for fuck's sake, mate. What did I say about sharing?"
