Dark Symphony (Dark Series - book 10)

by Christine Feehan

  She laughed softly. “You always make me feel beautiful, Byron. No matter what, around you, I feel happy.” His hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs sending a shiver of excitement down her spine.

  “Make me happy and give this a try.”

  She found his heavy erection, took her time settling over him, gasping as he filled her, her tight muscles giving way to allow him deep inside of her. “You think I can just sit here without moving?”

  He laughed, lifting his head to lap at her nipple. “Just think of the rewards.” He lay back and clasped her hands tightly in his. “Just look at the wall. It is dark in here, very little light can penetrate through the heavy curtains.”

  Antonietta deliberately wriggled, tightening her muscles around him, and lifted her hips to ease back over him in a slow, teasing slide. “You want me to hold still?” She lifted herself again, used her muscles to contract around him, slid back and squirmed.

  “Very still.”

  She had the impression of white teeth bared. “Well, if you really insist.” She tightened her fingers around his, trying not to be afraid. Very cautiously, she opened her eyes. The room lurched and spun. Images leapt at her from every side. She concentrated on the way Byron felt, filling her with his thickness, stretching her muscles. The heat and fiery friction that could be hers with a simple thrust of her hips. She allowed the images in her mind to wash over her and retreat. Feeling mattered. Byron mattered. His body, so masculine, so hard. His mind with such wicked, erotic ideas. Just the thought of his fantasies flooded her body with a need for instant relief. She deliberately picked one out of his head, a particularly graphic picture of her exploring his body, her mouth wrapped tightly around him.

  Byron groaned aloud. “You cannot think about things like that. Concentrate on your vision.”

  She laughed, careful of moving. She didn’t want to blink; too many images leapt at her. “You’re the one with all those pictures in your mind. I had no idea you were so set on that. I would have been most happy to oblige. I think it would have been far more fun than staring at the wall.”

  “Are you able to see anything? If you do not, I swear I might explode.” He had no idea it could be so erotic to lie perfectly still, connected together, surrounded by heat and fire. Her breasts were tempting, begging for his attention, but all he could do was lie passively while she stared at the opposite wall.

  “I can’t judge how far away it is, but I can bring the Jacuzzi into focus.” There was excitement in her voice. “I am seeing it through my own eyes, aren’t I?” She shifted, a slight, languorous movement that brought beads of sweat to his brow.

  “Yes,” he bit out between his teeth. Fire raced through his bloodstream. She was doing something with her muscles that wasn’t fair. “You are not supposed to be moving.”

  Antonietta closed her eyes. “I wasn’t moving.” She leaned back slightly, her hair sliding over his thighs as she began to ride him. “This is moving. There’s a big difference. And let me show you this.” She sped up, hard, fast strokes designed to massage and caress. To drive him wild.

  He reached up to capture her breasts, watching the sultry expression cross her face. She always gave herself completely to him, every bit as passionate or more than he. It only added to the dark intensity of his sexual hunger for her. His hands slipped lower to her waist, lifting her in time to his thrusting hips. He was close, so close. He caught her hair in his hand, dragged her to him as he half sat. “Take my blood, Antonietta. I feel your hunger beating at me.” The idea of it excited him so that he swelled even more, so that he throbbed and burned.

  He felt her body ripple with life at his husky plea. Her arms circled his neck. Her tongue lapped at the seam of his lips. Touched his throat. Found the spot on his chest. White-hot pain flashed through his body, whips of lightning broke over his skin. His hips thrust wildly, over and over, pumping into her, his body exploding with pleasure so intense it shook him, left him trembling with the force of their combined orgasm. Her mouth was a brand, claiming him, locking them together. The beauty of it took his breath away.

  Byron wrapped his arms around her and simply cradled her to him. When her tongue closed the tiny pinpricks, he rocked her gently. “

  Grazie

  , Antonietta, for your generosity. I cannot believe you are real at times. Years ago, I was captured by a vampire and given to humans so they could torture me and lure others of my kind into a trap. I tried to get past the pain by imagining what having a lifemate would be like. I did not even come close to the real woman.”

  She kissed him. She had no other way to answer him, to show him what he meant to her. She poured her feelings into her kiss, came up for air laughing. “I can’t possibly keep my eyes closed all the time. What are we going to do about this? I’m kissing you, lift my head, and accidentally open my eyes. You have three heads, and one of them is whirling around on your neck. Another appears to have some sort of strange bonelike thing running through the middle of your forehead. You don’t really look like that, do you? If so, you might have warned me that handsome man in the mirror you showed me was a complete figment of your imagination.”

  Laughing, he rolled over so she was flat on her back. “We have to have very dark glasses that do not allow you to see at all.”

  “In the meantime, shall I wrap my head like a mummy?”

  “I doubt your family will find the humor in it. Tasha would think I had you wrapped up to ship off to Egypt. I think you better wear your own glasses until we can get others. They should help.” He handed her the familiar pair.

  “

  Grazie

  ,” she murmured and slipped them on.

  He stood up. “Picture being completely clean and showered. See if you can build the image.”

  She stood up, stretched, her arms over her head. “I can’t wait to see poor Celt. He must have been so lonely. Can he stay with us from now on? I know he didn’t like being alone.” Antonietta did her best to hold a picture of herself, fresh from the shower, uppermost in her mind. “What do you do for clothes when you shape-shift?”

  “I will make certain you have clothes,

  cara

  .”

  “Did you touch Paul this evening? Is he going to be all right?”

  “Yes, he is weak and in pain, but he will heal. Tasha and Justine spent the night with him. At the moment he is resting. We will attend him when we reach the palazzo. We should go. We must tell Don Giovanni we are to be married immediately. I think it will be better if I ask him for your hand in marriage. While I am doing that, you can tell Tasha. I am certain she is bound to throw things, and it will be better if I am not present.”

  “Coward.” The smile faded from her face. “Before we do anything else, we have to talk to Marita. I can’t have her in the house, even if she is Franco’s wife, if she’s involved in some sort of theft ring.” Antonietta shook her head, touching her dark glasses to make certain they wouldn’t come off. “If she’s involved in some way, the children and Franco are going to be devastated.”

  “Marita is easy enough to read, Antonietta. And it is time we push past some of these barriers to see just who has been adding poison to your meals. It has to be someone in the house. As much as I know you want the culprit to be someone other than your family, few outsiders have access to your food.”

  Antonietta turned away from him. She couldn’t bear to think that a member of her family would try to kill her, let alone Don Giovanni. He could be stern and even at times seemed unforgiving, but she knew he was a loving, generous man whose life revolved around his family.

  “Are you ready to try shape-shifting? Something easy. A bird, something familiar to you.” Byron captured her hand, wanting to take her mind off her fears and give her something to anticipate.

  “I’ve been ready since I woke up.”

  Byron bent his head to kiss her. “I knew you would say that.”

  It was all she could do not to jump up and down on the bed like an eag
er child. She knew exactly how Josef felt. “Tell me what to do.”

  He led her out to the verandah overlooking the sea, “Merge completely with me. I will hold the image of the owl in your mind. At first you will be caught up in the beauty of flying, but you have to work at remembering to hold that image yourself. It takes years of practice to perfect it. And the actual shifting feels strange. You are submerging yourself, the essence of who you are, into another creature, another form. You have to control that form and all of its urges.”

  “Do the other women who have been converted have help?”

  “From what I understand they do, they just accept it without question. I am not certain they even realize the image and control is being held by their lifemate. We stay merged so much, can you always tell who has the first thought?”

  She nodded. “Let’s do it then.”

  The detail of the bird was amazing. She studied it carefully, paying attention to every curve, every feather. She caught the first shimmer of awareness in her mind. Her skin prickled. She kept her eyes closed tightly and let it happen, allowed her body to change while somewhere inside she felt the entire process. She stayed very still, afraid if she moved she might make a mistake. Afraid it wouldn’t happen.

  Try your wings.

  Cautiously, she stretched the layers of feathers to their full length and fanned the air experimentally. Joy burst through her.

  I’m an owl. Stay very close to me, Antonietta. Keep that image uppermost in your mind. You have to provide a map. If I try to open my eyes, I’m disoriented. Just stay close. When we get to the palazzo, we can practice shielding our physical bodies from the sight of others. Oh my gosh! Like an invisibility cloak. The invisible man. This is so fantastic. That is later. This is now. Really concentrate, Antonietta. You can get in trouble and fall from the sky. Hop up here to the banister, and we will launch out over the sea. So if I crash, I’ll just fall into the sea and drown as opposed to hitting the ground at record speed and breaking every bone in my body. That will not happen. I can carry you again if you prefer.

  Antonietta, deep inside the bird’s body, sniffed her disdain of his idea and hopped up beside him on the wide railing. Before she could talk herself out of it, she leapt off the ledge, wings spread wide. The wind caught her, lifted her up, ruffled her feathers. The feeling of flying was even more intense when she was the one actually doing it. Antonietta forgot everything Byron told her. The sheer exhilaration of soaring in the heavens with the wind and the clouds filled her with joy.

  Byron flew close to her, holding the image in her mind, shifting to place his body slightly below hers to keep her from falling when she became too exuberant. He didn’t reprimand her. Her joy flooded him with memories of his first experiences. They approached the palazzo from the seaside, dropping down in the cover of the maze.

  Antonietta landed hard on her bare bottom, was shocked when Byron thrust clothes into her hand. “I’m not going to ask.” She was trying hard not to laugh, rubbing her posterior. “Was that the very worst landing you’ve ever seen?”

  He framed her face with his hands and fastened his mouth to hers. “You are a miracle, Antonietta, and you do not even realize it.” He watched her pull the soft moss-green trousers over bare skin and shimmy into the matching silk blouse.

  Leaves rustled, a twig snapped. The soft murmur of voices in the distance alerted Byron and Antonietta to the others walking in the maze. They could also hear Don Giovanni singing softly under his breath as he puttered around the courtyard, checking his beloved flowers.

  The voices were hushed but angry. “That’s Christopher Demonesini,” Antonietta said. She shoved the dark glasses onto her nose, so upset she didn’t ask where Byron got them. “How dare that man show his face in our home? Franco should have thrown him out immediately.”

  Byron put a restraining hand on her arm. “Let me give you the rules of invisibility, Warrior Princess. You do not get to go wielding your broadsword and driving the enemy from your property. You are invisible. You gather information, and the most important of all things is not to react to what you hear. No reaction. That is the key.” He pulled her closer to him as the footsteps continued to approach and the voices became louder.

  Wrapped in Byron’s restraining arms, Antonietta did her best to simply listen when every instinct she possessed told her to confront Christopher.

  “I don’t care who you are or what power your family has, Demonesini. You can fill the Scarletti palazzo with a million roses. It won’t make up for what you did.” Diego’s voice was a whip of contempt.

  “This is none of your business,” Christopher contradicted. “Natasha is my fiancee, and what happens is between us.”

  “Not anymore. She broke the engagement, and she asked you very politely to stay away from her. Your calls and flowers aren’t wanted.”

  “I don’t think you know who you’re talking to. I can have you dismissed from your job. You might remember that the next time you decide to stick your nose in my business. Get the hell away from me and stay away from Natasha.” Christopher laughed. “You probably think she’ll look at you next, but a woman like Natasha Scarletti would never stoop so low.”

  “I don’t think you quite understand what I’m saying to you.” Diego stopped walking and turned toward Christopher only feet from where Antonietta and Byron were standing. Antonietta could easily see the images in Byron’s mind. Diego’s hand shot out and caught Christopher by the throat. “Your money doesn’t impress me. You can threaten me with dismissal from my job, but it won’t stop me. Leave her alone.” His fingers threatened to crush Demonesini’s larynx. “She doesn’t want to see you again. She doesn’t want to hear your voice. Stay away from her, because if you don’t, you’ll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life. Have I made myself perfectly clear?”

  Diego let go of Christopher, who staggered and coughed, massaging his throat. The captain walked away, disappearing behind the tall hedges.

  Can you read his mind? I thought you did not approve of reading minds. Maybe he’s the jaguar. He’s always been a smug little brat, even when we were kids. He hasn’t improved with age. I should have known he was capable of beating a woman. His father certainly is.

  He has the same barrier all of you have, so the Jaguar genetics run deep in him. Byron materialized in front of Christopher Demonesini, waving his hand for silence and staring deep into the man’s eyes. Antonietta, merged so deeply with Byron, received the flow of information as Byron extracted it.

  Christopher Demonesini lived with a monster. His father was ruthless with his fists and ruled his household as a dictator. There was no memory of a jaguar or killing people, but his father had ordered him to marry Natasha Scarletti-Fontaine. It seemed to be part of a plan for a merger of the two shipping businesses. Christopher was afraid of his father and would go to any lengths to prove himself to the man.

  Byron moved some distance away, veiling Christopher’s sight and removing all traces of his memory of sharing his thoughts. Christopher shook his head repeatedly, cursed as he rubbed his throat, and hurried back through the maze, retracing his steps.

  Antonietta leaned against Byron. “How awful to grow up like that. I’m ashamed of myself for disliking him so intensely. He had little chance to be anything but like his father.”

  “Tasha is not like her father. We all have choices, Antonietta. At some point we have to take responsibility for our own lives. Christopher is capable of becoming a monster every bit as ugly as his father. Diego will have to watch himself in his career. Christopher will never forget what happened here today. Still, as much as I wish to have found it, I could see no trace of the jaguar in him, although the genetics are clearly present as they are in you. How strong, I do not know. We cannot rule him out as the animal, but I detected no conspiracy for murder or even for theft.”

  “His father is a horrible man. I can remember him coming to visit when I was a teenager. Our families travel in the same social circles, so
he was often at parties and charity events. He always touched me. Brushing his hands accidentally against my breasts. Standing behind me and pushing against me, rubbing his body against mine. He made me ill. If I said anything, he always acted as if I were a child, misinterpreting what happened. Accidents, you know, and I was blind and couldn’t see what happened. Then he actually tried to court me. I had such an aversion to him, I wouldn’t even stay in the same room alone with him. I made poor Tasha stay right by my side every second. Tasha never let me down. Not once. The don would do his best to get her out of the room, but she stuck like glue.” A shudder ran through her body. “I always know when he comes in a room. Every hair on my body stands up, and I get that strange itching under my skin I always associate with the jaguar wanting to come out.”

  Byron smiled. She had the instant impression of teeth bared. “I look forward to meeting Christopher’s father. He should meet a real monster and learn the rules of the jungle.”

  Antonietta wrapped her arms around Byron’s neck. “I don’t want you to do anything at all. I have you, and his family can’t hurt us. They’re desperate for a way to save their business, but it won’t be through a Scarletti.”

  His kiss was tender, loving. “I want to speak to your grandfather and arrange our wedding immediately.”

  “He’ll ask you to sign a prenuptial agreement.”

  “I am a gem-caller, Antonietta. I find rare gems. I do not need nor want the Scarletti fortune. You do not need it either. What I have is yours. I will be more than happy to sign whatever agreement your grandfather deems necessary, as long as he has it drawn up immediately.” He took her hand as they made their way through the twists and turns of the maze.

  In the courtyard, Josef stood before an easel gazing up at the battlements. He wore his beret at a jaunty angle and a bright kerchief tied around his neck. Splashes of paint dotted his face and were smeared on his smocklike shirt. He is clearly in his painter period. Byron was sarcastic. He seems to go through stages like no other child in history.