“No!” Dante fought to get away, but Alex wrapped one strong arm around his waist and smoothed his hair with the hand of the other to calm him.
“I did not change you. Would never turn you, even if you wished it. But sex is better for me if I have a taste of your blood. Wasn’t it better for you, too?”
It had surpassed all the great sex they’d had together, but he was afraid to admit it for fear next time Alex might take more blood. Too much blood. Despite what he said.
“My saliva has a healing element to it. By morning this small wound will be gone.”
They showered together, and Alex convinced him it would be safer if he spent the night there. Dante slipped into a pair of Alex’s pajamas, which were a size too large, and Alex lay beside him and took him in his arms.
“In Pompeii,” he began.
“Yes?”
“When I pulled away from you and doubled over in pain, it was because I wanted your blood.”
Alex described how he’d felt, how strong just the scent or a pulsing artery filled with blood pulled at him sometimes. How easy it would have been for him to give in to blood lust, sink his fangs in Dante’s throat, and drink his fill. When he’d drawn away from the temptation, his body had reacted with severe pain in his gut. Then, when his body realized the answer was no, it’d gradually accepted his choice and the pain had subsided.
“The blood lust will never be the same with you again because I controlled it, but taking a sip during sex is a gift to you. The gift that little drink bestows is a powerful orgasm. It does the same for me.”
Dante was silent. He really had no words. Mixed with concern that Alex might accidentally turn or kill him was the memory of the powerful response his entire being had experienced in his orgasm. And the thought that in this act Alex had bound them together in some mystical way.
Since he didn’t know how to respond to what Alex was sharing, he laid his fingers across Alex’s lips. Then he slept.
He rose at what he thought was first light, not being able to see outside, and dressed in last night’s clothes. Alex was so deeply asleep he looked truly dead. At the sight of him like that, something inside Dante lurched in pain. He drew the covers up over the still form, wondering what he would do if he couldn’t see this magnificent immortal again. Even after such a short time together, it would be wrenching, he knew.
Shoes in hand, he slipped quietly out of the room. As he put on his shoes in the hallway, he laughed at himself. You idiot. It would have taken more than the sound of your shoes on the carpet to wake a sleeping vampire.
In the lobby, he noticed for the first time the absence of windows. Not one window. That was why Alex could waken in the late afternoon and safely wait for him in the lobby before sunset. The size of the hotel and the attention to detail to protect its inhabitants made him wonder how large a population of immortals would be found in Italy if they were counted. It might be a shock to the humans who lived here. It had been to him.
On the steps of the Stoker, sunlight peeped through the fog as it drew back to its beginning on the Bay of Naples. He’d been right; his body clock had set off its silent alarm at first light.
The undead were all asleep now. He was safe. At least until sunset. He felt invigorated and decided to walk the few miles to his hotel.
When he reached the path that followed the curve of the bay, the fog thickened, blocking the sunlight. He zipped up his jacket as the dampness seeped into it and made his hair curl as it always did in humidity, but the coolness, scented by the salty air from the sea, heightened his senses. The sounds of boatmen on the water as they readied to leave port carried to him, even though he couldn’t see them. Men grunted and called to each other as they loaded some kind of cargo into a ship.
Enjoying the refreshing air and the mysterious cocooning feature of the mist, he wondered if sunlight would reveal the sleek Global yacht he and Alex had motored in to Pompeii. Passing through a particularly thick patch of fog, he heard scurrying feet behind him, and an all-too-familiar voice whisper, “There he is again. Alone. This time, let’s finish the job.”
In one swift reflexive movement, Dante drew his gun and crouched in the direction of that voice. He knew his assailants, but there was no time for fear to paralyze him. The fog was thinner near the ground, and he saw the thick legs and running feet of the first attacker just before the man tripped over him and fell on his face. His wrist was in a cast, confirming who it was. Before he could get his good hand under his body to push himself up, Dante whirled and rapped the base of his skull with the butt of his gun.
For the second time in three days, Guido was unconscious.
Dante straightened and spun around toward the next man. He kicked him in one knee with all his strength.
“Bastardo!” The second thief howled as he bent over and clutched his kneecap.
Dante stepped away from him, certain this was the one who’d almost throttled him and broken his arm. Instantly, the memory of it burned in his throat and arm. That would not happen to him again. Determination sent him into a shooting stance. He drew a bead on the thief.
“You done him in!” Knee pain forgotten, rage uncoiled in his assailant as he looked at the body in front of him, but he stayed still when his gaze fell on the gun in Dante’s hand.
“‘Done him in’? No more than the vampire did you two in when you tried to rob me, maybe even kill me,” Dante said with icy calm. “Shall I summon him again? He came before when I called him with my mind. This time he won’t be so kind. Chances are you’ll both end up as vampires.”
Summon Alex? Oh, sure. He had this powerful immortal at his beck and call. If anger hadn’t made cold steel of his spine, Dante might have laughed at the lie. Certainly, he felt no remorse for telling it. He would say anything, do anything, to resolve this incident without having to fire his gun. That would get him in a shitload of trouble.
The terror on the man’s face was his reward. “Guido said it wasn’t a man. Said it was a vampire, but I didn’t believe him.”
“Guido’s a very smart man.” Well, actually not. How stupid was it to attack someone when you didn’t even have use of both your hands? Of course, Dante didn’t express that thought out loud. “I don’t even know your name. Pity. If I decide to shoot you and push your body into the bay, by the time they find you the fishes will have eaten away most of you.”
The man’s muscles tensed to lunge.
“Nuh-uh. Don’t come any closer. Stay right where you are.” Dante backed up, still with the assailant in his line of fire, but away from Guido’s slumped form.
“Take your compadre with you. Stay in the portion of the mist where I can see you, and don’t come back. Ever. Or next time I’ll either shoot you on sight or summon the vampire to make short work of you.”
Grunting and groaning, his attacker struggled to get Guido over his shoulder and limped off.
“Santa Maria,” Dante muttered, “are people safe anywhere in Naples?” He jammed his gun into his belt at his waist in front where he could reach it fast. When the men were several blocks away, he turned and jogged to the Vesuvio.
Upon entering the lobby, he decided to climb the three flights of stairs to his room to work off some of the tension the encounter had created. After a hot shower and a shave, he’d have a leisurely breakfast and catch the train to Sorrento, where he’d verify the safe arrival by courier of an order for one of their clients.
Key card in hand, he approached his room and froze. His throat tightened. The door to his room was slightly ajar. Using his cell phone, he called the front desk and waited until the manager and head of security had arrived. They entered together.
“My apologies,” the manager said as he stared at a suite in shambles.
The head of security notified the police, and while they waited for them, Dante called his supervisor to explain the problem.
The manager was apologetic, the investigating officers and crime scene technicians meticulous.
As with Alex’s break-in, Giacomo—a shoo-in as the culprit in his mind—had been into his computer to look through the business files. He’d ripped all the clothes out of closet and drawers, tossed Dante’s personal items in the bathroom into the marble sink, torn open condom wrappers, and dumped bath salts all over the floor. He’d emptied the contents of the foaming bath decanter into the large tub.
Dante reported the break-in to his boss in Florence and that he might be late to his appointment in Sorrento, then he sat on one of the chairs in the suite and let gloom set in.
“Signor Rocco, I found this in the bath salts on the bathroom floor. Is it yours?”
Dante looked down at the exquisite emerald resting on the man’s olive-skinned palm.
“Not mine, but I have an acquaintance whose room was vandalized last night in a similar manner, and he had a group of jewels that were stolen. If the same culprit hit my room later, then he may have lost the jewel here. The gems were insured, so my friend will have a description. When I saw what had happened here, I immediately thought of the suspect in the other break-in.”
“Where may we contact this person?”
Dante provided the name of Alex and the Stoker. “I think you’ll want your night officers to contact him,” he said.
The only light moment so far in this nastiness was the surprised looks the officers exchanged over the information he provided. It was like someone had lit a candle in their heads and they got it—vampire.
“Perhaps I should report I was almost attacked on my walk here this morning. The same men, whom I’d met on the train, had accosted me the night I arrived in Naples.” He thought it was time to report these guys and so he did.
“But, signor, you are carrying a weapon!”
“I’m a diamond courier, and although I have never fired my gun I’m sure you understand it’s necessary I be armed. You will see it has not been fired this morning.”
By the time they’d finished their investigation, there was no time to shower or shave, and the mess in the bathroom made it impossible anyway. He brushed his teeth hurriedly and grabbed a coffee as his breakfast. He hoped the clients would understand.
The prince’s men apparently hadn’t found Giacomo, and he must have come here last night while Dante had slept in Alex’s suite. Hairs stood up on the back of his neck and his arms as he imagined what might have happened had he returned to his room while the vampire was here.
Even in daylight I’m not safe, he thought, as he boarded the brightly colored train and headed for Sorrento.
§§§§
Alex woke up just before sunset. When he rose, he noticed the message light on his phone blinking. The police asked him to please contact them about another break-in of a guest’s room at the Vesuvio. They believed a piece of his property had been recovered.
Any dregs of remaining sleep vanished on the instant. He called Dante’s cell. “I expected you to be here by this time, and now I have a message that your room was ransacked. Are you okay?”
Dante gave him the news. “Giacomo must suspect we’re lovers, not just rivals in the courier business. Jealousy must have triggered the rage this damage shows.”
“As soon as I contact the police, I’ll be over to help you clean up.”
“That’s not necessary. The maids cleaned the bathroom, and I have fresh towels and sheets. I can finally shower and shave.”
“Thank the gods, you stayed with me last night. Until Giacomo is caught, I want you with me just before vampires wake up. Will you do that, please?”
Dante agreed.
Alex entered the hotel fired up to get to Dante, but he discovered they weren’t allowing immortals access to the rooms since the break-in. He bit back his temper. “I understand you’re just doing your job, but Signor Rocco is expecting me. Please call to tell him I’m here.”
The clerk, a self-important man, hung up the phone, his mouth tight with disapproval. “I have permission to allow you to go up, but you must take the stairs. No undead in the elevators.”
As irritating as it was, walking the stairs worked off some of his anger because he couldn’t reach Dante immediately. When he was finally in his room, Alex swept Dante’s living, warm body into his arms and hugged him hard. “I’m sorry you met such an evil immortal as Giacomo. I’m grateful he hasn’t hurt you. I could not have borne that.”
Releasing Dante, he withdrew two things from his jacket pockets. “Wounds from your gun can heal, but if you use this wooden stake he will die. Yes, it’s true they’re lethal. The most effective way to destroy him would be to tie him up and leave him out in the sunlight, of course. Then his allergic response would ignite his body and he’d burn until only ashes remained, but the stake can kill, too.”
Dante gave a shaky laugh. “Gun, stake, and knife. I’ll feel like an itinerant peddler with all this banging around in my jacket. I’ve never fired my gun, and I’m not sure I could drive this stake or the knife into someone.”
“Better that than he bites and enslaves you. If he turns you, you will owe him unwavering obedience for the rest of your existence. Being drained and dead would be preferable. Trust me.”
He watched Dante shudder and knew he’d driven his point home. “You drive the stake into his diaphragm and up into his heart. If I had a silver knife to give you, I would. As for the one you have, I suggest you start by slicing off his dick and balls.”
Dante laughed.
“Now, what’s left for us to do?” Alex asked.
They folded clothes and returned them to drawers. They hung up the things that belonged in the closet. As Alex handled the clothing, the clean scent of spice with a light undercurrent of musk that was Dante filled his nostrils and settled him. Except for the times of sexual arousal, contact with Dante always calmed him.
Dante told him about the morning attack.
“By the gods, you aren’t safe day or night, are you?”
“I finally reported them to the police, and they’ve heard of this duo. I think they’ll catch them. Meanwhile, you can be sure I won’t be taking any more morning walks until they do. That and this incident ruined my day.”
Alex frowned.
“Ruined my day until you came,” Dante said. His voice softened. “When I’m with you, I feel grounded.”
“Anchored?”
Dante nodded.
Alex felt his face break into a smile. He took Dante’s hand and brought it to his lips. “I understand. It’s the same with me.”
“When do you see the police?”
“Later. We have time for you to have dinner before we go to the station, if you wish.”
Dante’s hair was still damp from the shower when they entered the dining room. Alex waved the waitress away when she waited for his order. “I’ve already had my dinner. I’ll have hot tea, please.”
Alex noticed Dante’s half smile. He chuckled, knowing Dante knew he would pretend to drink it. “My best guess is that the emerald is one Giacomo stole from my room. However, he erased from my file the list of gems I’d checked out from the company to bring here. The inventory and its descriptions are gone. I notified my boss. We agree it’s best if the CEO provides that information for the police anyway. They’ve faxed it over.”
He watched Dante’s dark head as he bent to eat and longed to touch the dark curls and bring them to his face to feel their silken touch. After all they’d been through together, there were things that needed to be said, and it was time to broach them. “I think it’s time to speak of this thing we’ve avoided. I know it’s always uppermost in my thoughts. Is it in yours?”
Dark eyes gazed into his, and Alex recognized the honest soul who was Dante Rocco mirrored in them.
Dante put down his fork. “You’re talking about the prince’s decision?”
“I am.”
He nodded. “Yes, I think about it. He seems to be taking his time in letting us know, but all along I’ve felt my company would be selected because it’s Italian. We Italians are fiercely lo
yal, and it doesn’t make sense to me to use an American firm. I’ve been afraid to ask how you’d react if your service wasn’t selected.”
Alex shrugged. “Considering how I feel about you, it would be ill of me not to be happy for you. Disappointed, yes, and believing the prince had made a mistake, yes, but that’s how it sometimes goes in business. However, there’s one thing I haven’t told you that may influence Massimo to choose Global.”
Dante’s strong, slender fingers paused in lifting a piece of bread from the maroon linen in the basket in front of him. “And that is?”
“I don’t know if he requested a gemologist from your firm, but I’ve been asked to work as his appraiser, no matter which company he selects. I’m to give them my answer when they call about where they’ve awarded their business.”
Dante sat very still. He dropped his gaze. “I see. Yes, we did send someone who could verify gems.”
“Ever since Maciodi gave me the message, I’ve struggled with how I feel about this. At first, I thought, yes, because it might bring me back to Italy, and I was happy because I thought we could be together again. But the appraisals would occur in the country where the purchase originates and is picked up for delivery. That might never be in Italy. And even if it were, you might be somewhere else or not available.”
Dante nodded, and Alex drank in the pleasure of studying his face in candlelight. He was beautiful to Alex. He loved the planes of the strong Roman nose, the clear olive skin, and the eyes now avoiding him. Alex toyed with the bag steeping in the teapot on the table in front of him. As he’d seen people do, he took a spoon and pressed the bag against the pot to squeeze out as much liquid as possible, then he withdrew it and laid it in the small saucer set there to receive it. “And then there was the death of Signor Garibaldi.”
Dante looked up, and Alex allowed himself to enjoy the deep depths of the brown eyes. He smiled when Dante said, with some grimness, “Ah yes. That death.”
“I’m thinking it might be difficult to work in the shadow of such power.”
“I see.”
Alex knew he did. Dante had experienced the risk involved for anyone who served the prince and displeased him. If it wasn’t simple dismissal, it might be death. Dante was alive only because of Alex.
Night Train to Naples Page 8
