He suddenly threw her over his shoulder and ran to the bed where he tossed her down. Pressing his body against hers he separated her thighs with his knees. Lifting her petticoats, he began unclasping his britches, and then suddenly stopped.
He traced from her body to the furthest corner of the bedroom, and she felt instantly cold and needy. She could barely see the arch of his back and shoulders as his enormous frame stood in the shadows, bowing, nodding to some god or goddess lurking there. He was in quiet contemplation, one palm to his mouth, fingers lacing over his bottom lip ever so slightly.
At last he turned, and she could see he was near collapse, his face was streaked with grief.
“Dearest Phoebe, must I change my mind and take back my vow? Is this what you want for me? To live in agony?”
“No, husband.” Phoebe was beside yourself knowing she caused him real pain. “I feel in my bones and every cell of my body that’s the reason there is a path, husband. But as you say the god of vampires or humans or whomever is in control this feeling between us would have mercy on us. We are one in every way except one. And I feel our bond growing stronger every hour every minute of every day.”
He dove for the foot of the bed, knelt in front of her, placing his forearms and hands together in prayer. “Please, dear precious wife. Please help me to serve you.”
She slid down to straddle his shoulders and arms, her fingers sifting through his hair. She smoothed over his lower lip with her thumbs and once again followed this gesture up with a deepening kiss.
“You do serve me, husband, by bringing me life, the full beating of my heart and the warmth in my womb. It’s everything I’ve always dreamed of. You do serve without any satisfaction for yourself. I want to give you some tiny token of what you give me every day. I want to return the favor. I beg you to let me give myself to you in the one way only a wife can. Your fated mate, Lionel. You know I am this woman. For all eternity I shall be your woman.”
He fingered her breast, twisting and pinching her engorged nipple. Moistening his lips, he opened his mouth and moved toward her chest.
She held her breath, in rapt anticipation.
A hard knock at the wooden door interrupted the moment.
“Phoebe!” her father shouted. “This is unacceptable. Come down here at once. And Lionel if you are in there with her you will fulfill your duty and bring my daughter down to dinner and to our guests.”
Lionel was at the door, opening it fully to allow Phoebe’s father to see that they were indeed dressed and ready to come join the party.
“It is entirely my fault sir. We will be down in seconds.”
“Very well.”
Lionel didn’t bother to close the door but reached for her hand which she took and hung onto until they began their ascent down stairwell. Her father had disappeared into the drawing room amid titters and soft conversation.
She wouldn’t let go of Lionel’s hand as he attempted to escort her. She protested so loudly that in the end Lionel gave up and traced them both to the foyer. Tracing with her new husband was one of the most exciting things in her daily ritual and she tried to do it repeatedly.
“Phoebe, your mother must wonder why you make me trace from one room to the next,” her husband whispered. “It is a small travel. Is it really necessary?”
“It is and I must. I love the feel my arms wrapped around your hard body my husband.”
She knew Lionel stifled a sigh when they entered the great room lit by candlelight and filled with a dozen or more house guests. The Monteleones were in their best finery. Marcus and Anne and their baby were in the middle. Paulo and Cara Bella stood to the side as Lucius advanced upon them.
“Great to see you cousin. And Lionel, I hope we get to see each other again soon. I sure will miss you in California.”
Phoebe clutched Lionel’s hand tightly understanding that they had yet to broach the subject of their leaving for California with her parents.
“That’s very kind Lucius,” said Lionel. “I too look forward to spending more time with you.”
Marcus had a special gleam in his eye as he approached Lionel. “My man, how is married life today?” Her cousin’s lopsided grin and wink of the eye lead Phoebe to believe they had had some private conversation about their sexual struggles. She took it as a compliment that Lionel had mentioned this to Marcus. With this small triumph in her belly she extended her hand for Marcus to place a kiss at her fingers.
“No fears cousin. Lionel has been a perfect gentleman in all respects. Isn’t that correct?” Phoebe teased.
Lionel’s brittle smile and sharp eyes told her he was struggling with his answer. She sensed he was about to make a comment when his nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. Before he could speak, she dashed off in search of her mother, leaving Lionel alone with Marcus Monteleone.
“You are finally here Phoebe,” her mother mused. Taking stock of her daughter, Mrs. Dominicelli’s eyes wandered up and down. She smiled warmly. “I was beginning to think you might be taking dinner in your bedroom—that you were ill.”
“I am not, but my stomach is churning. I’m simply starved!” Phoebe quickly shot back. Then she turned to greet the couple standing nearby. “Nice to see you both tonight.” Although elder Monteleones well into their second century together, Phoebe was always amazed at how young Athena appeared. She could easily pass for Phoebe’s older sister. Carmine had taken the turn much older in life and appeared with a bit of white beard and a middle-aged paunch.
They bowed slightly. “You look ravishing, Phoebe. I have never seen you prettier,” gushed Athena. Carmine nodded and grumbled agreement.
Mrs. Dominicelli pulled at Phoebe’s arm. “Excuse me, but I must whisk my blushing young bride-daughter away.”
As the mother-daughter duo drifted away to a quiet corner, Phoebe could hear her mother’s cousin whisper to her husband, “I believe someone else has already done this, if I’m not mistaken.”
Phoebe felt tension flare in her mother’s body. She didn’t let on about her keen hearing, which would have brought on the discussion of boundaries being dangerously crossed with Lionel.
“Stop it, mother. Not such a bad thing that they all know how Lionel and I feel about each other. I do believe it is natural for husband and wife to feel some affection, even in an arranged marriage of convenience.”
Her mother whirled around and faced her. With her forehead creased, she spoke in a low grumble. “Phoebe. Why must you make things so difficult? I don’t want you to give off the impression that your arrangement boundaries are being breached—that Lionel is violating his obligation to our family.”
“But what about me, mother? What about my needs?”
Her mother scanned the room behind Phoebe’s shoulder looking for someone in particular. She tried but could not feel a telepathic request coming from the woman.
Drilling a look that nearly implanted on the back of Phoebe’s skull, matriarch Dominicelli whispered, “Although there have been some who have experimented with the other covens until the time their fated mates arrived, none have done so before the turning.” As an afterthought, she added, “And I have never done so, but I have known others who have.”
Phoebe could see the graveness of her mother’s warning.
“Experimentation is one thing. But I was thinking of your welfare when we agreed to the marriage with Lionel, and, well, we were pleased that he was so sweet with you. His honor has never been questioned. I mean, why share a marriage with someone you can’t stand, right?”
“I agree. But that’s not—”
“You will know the true difference between a sexual dalliance, a playful romp with someone so attractive as Lionel, and your one true fated mate someday. You would not be able to keep your hands from him. Most newly fated and properly mated couples stay secluded 24/7 for their first years, practically not going out—”
“Mother, listen to me.”
“I’m not going to let you tell me you know anyth
ing about this, because, dear Phoebe, it hasn’t happened yet. You have years and years, and perhaps centuries to learn about all that. Your father and I like that he is pleasing to you. It makes us happy that you are enjoying your duty-bound husband. And you tease him so—” she allowed her palm to swish through the air as if picking up the thought with her fingers and bringing it back down to her chest. “So convincingly, like a sister, or a dear friend. And a dear friend he will always be. He will always look after your children, perhaps. The Monteleones have seen this. They might be agreed to allow him to be in your service once your offspring are born.”
“You don’t understand—”
Her mother’s eyes raged. “Don’t test me, Phoebe. I understand perfectly well. You shouldn’t underestimate the lengths I will go to keep you safe.”
“Caged.”
“Unfair. Have you no inkling of the danger you place not only yourself but your brothers in? Other members of the non-turned family? You are connected by a strong bloodline. Don’t make the mistake of thinking your life can exist without the protection our entire family can give you. Lionel is there to make sure all the bases are covered.”
She wanted to message Lionel, but still was keeping this method of communication secret from her parents, as well as any other eavesdroppers.
But her mother had scared her, fracturing her fragile happy mood.
Chapter 3
Lionel watched the interaction between Phoebe and her mother with rapt attention. For a moment, he forgot he’d been carrying on a conversation with Marcus Monteleone and had stopped mid-sentence.
Marcus shuffled his feet, cleared his throat and asked, “Is there something wrong, my friend?”
It was reassuring to hear the helpful tone in Marcus’ voice. “I don’t believe so. But I really don’t understand women and have never found it to be one of my strongest skills.” He switched his gaze back to Phoebe, who had turned, giving him a sweet smile. He sensed she wanted to communicate with their telepathy. His slight shake of the head would not be perceptible to Marcus, but he hoped Phoebe would get the message.
“Women,” Marcus began. “Life’s greatest and most beautiful mysteries. How simple things would be without them. But boring, really.” Marcus was careful not to expose his words to general scrutiny as he examined the crowd of partygoers. He added, “You know, Lionel, that if there is ever anything, I can do to help you and your young Phoebe out, all you need do is ask. Even from California, there is much we can do on a moment’s notice.”
Lionel understood perhaps now was the proper time for his request.
“Marcus, I have a question for you.”
“Ask away.”
“I am thinking it would be good, and perhaps safer for Phoebe and I to move to California, if it could be arranged. Would this be something you could agree to?”
“Have her parents agreed?”
“Not her parents, no. But Phoebe very much would like to move outside the walls of the family compound, and I personally think it would be healthy for her.”
“You think you can protect her just as well in California, then?”
“Yes. Well, you’ll have Jeb and Hugh. After almost losing Jeb, I yearn to be close by his side. And there would be safety in numbers. Our bond as made brothers is a strong symbiotic one. It could help with the security of your family as well. But what I’m also asking is that we be under your roof, for a time. Until—”
“You mean until such time as she finds her fated—”
“Yes, or until she takes the turn.” Lionel didn’t want to mislead Marcus, so he decided not to go further, unless asked.
“I must admit, I was loathe to lose you, friend. I think accommodations can be made within our main home, similar to what you have here. I will discuss it with Anne. But I do agree that it would be best for Phoebe to be under the safety of our secure walls.”
“Definitely.”
“We can study the great book together, as well, Marcus.”
“That I would look forward to.”
“But you’d have to convince Freya and her father. I’m not sure they’ll agree.”
“I believe her mother already suspects something. But having your support might be the exact thing that would make a decision in our favor more likely. I doubt they’d agree to us setting up a household separate from the confines of your villa.”
“Consider my support a done deal.”
“And you are sure this isn’t asking too much, with the new baby?”
“I think Anne would love the company. Perhaps she can help with the other decision as well.”
“What decision is that, sir?”
“Convincing Phoebe to take the turning. You know it is the one way she’d truly be protected best.”
“She doesn’t desire it. But I completely agree, Marcus.”
“What is her hesitation then?”
“She fears that she will not like her new situation. I think she’s conflicted about joining the Golden vampire dynasty and I think she also has a concern that perhaps it would interfere with—well, the only way to say this Marcus is to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
He realized they’d reached that threshold once crossed before. “She believes she is fated to me or developing a fating toward me.”
“And you?”
“Marcus, I have to tell you I do feel there is something between us perhaps a strong mortal sense of what I can only describe as love—I mean, is this mortal love—can this cause such a reaction between us?”
“What are her symptoms?”
He understood that, as part of the vampire breed, she’d not just have her mortal desires, but deep-seated urges she wouldn’t understand until her turning. “She feels a fullness in her chest and in her womb.” Lionel looked to the floor as if some answers were written there. “I have to say it is exactly as some have described to me as a fating. I have heard your species women discuss it—overheard actually, because no one has ever come to me and said they feel what Phoebe feels. And although I loved your mother, Marcus, I loved her from a mortal state. I don’t believe it was a true fating. But Phoebe causes in me—something miraculous. I cannot describe it fully.”
Lionel waited for his employer to react, allowing him to study the way his hands tucked in his pockets and his bowing to the floor. He owed Marcus and his family his life as well as the lives of his brothers. Yet, he owed them so much more. He had to ask the question that had been burning in his soul.
“Marcus, I consider you more than my employer and you know this. Does this mean that perhaps I am unqualified to be Phoebe’s husband? Will you tell me true?”
“Lionel, if I felt you were unqualified, I never would’ve allowed the marriage. It is what Phoebe has requested, what she wants, and I do believe what she needs. But be careful. There are dark forces out there who would undo our family’s generations and centuries of history. Young Phoebe is right in the middle of it. You are best suited to protect her and that’s why nothing you could tell me would make me think you were unqualified. You are the one best equipped to see to her safety. And although I hesitate to say this to you, I do believe it is your destiny.”
At last, the partygoers left and while the staff finished cleaning up, Lionel and Phoebe sat with her parents in the living room. The younger children had all been put to bed over two hours ago. Salvatore Dominicelli poured him an aged brandy, offering a tumbler to his wife, but not to Phoebe. She was seated next to her mother, while her father sat in an overstuffed chair adjacent Lionel.
“We shall miss them, just as I’m sure you’ll miss your brothers, Lionel,” whispered Mr. Dominicelli to his glass. He appeared tired, as did his wife. “We thank you for your sacrifice.”
That gave Lionel the opening he needed. He noted it was as if it had been orchestrated for the opportunity. He glanced at Phoebe, who was stifling some telepathic message he was glad she had control over. Such misbehavior would complicate the request he had to make of
her parents. He inhaled and decided the time had come.
“Sir, I won’t lie. It will indeed be difficult to be without my brothers. And I have always had a keen fondness for Marcus and Paolo, developed over these past centuries, as you know. They have become family to me and have treated me as one of their own. As you both have,” he said.
“Thank you, Lionel,” gushed Freya.
Phoebe’s chest was heaving, red blotches mottling her skin, enhanced by the low-cut bodice with the twenty-seven buttons down her back holding everything deliciously in place. He cursed to himself at his thoughts.
Which made Phoebe smile.
As their mortal staff left the compound, the four were at last truly alone. The family’s other protector was outside the building with several other mortal security personnel. All four of them could hear the squawking of their radios. At no time was the entire household asleep. Several security members were always vigilant 24/7.
“Phoebe and I have talked at length, and I have spoken to Marcus this evening. We both agree it might be in Phoebe’s best interest if she were to accompany the Monteleones to California.”
“What?” her father gasped. “Surely you are not asking that she be sent away?”
“If you will hear me out, sir, I hope you will see the logic of my argument. I understand this is perhaps sudden, but it is something Phoebe and I have discussed for several weeks.”
Freya Dominicelli grabbed Phoebe’s hand and stared into her eyes, worry lines crossing her forehead and her lips turned down in a sad frown.
“Listen to him, mother,” said Phoebe, her voice soft and lilting.
“First, from a purely risk-averse standpoint, it isn’t wise for all your offspring to remain in the same household. If the staff were overcome, the dark covens could wipe out your entire lineage, as they have done to several other families here in Tuscany, and elsewhere. And Marcus agrees with me that there is a much smaller concentration of these dark lords in the United States than in Italy, where they seem to be multiplying daily. They are making their own kind. I believe they are making armies of their coven.”
Midnight Bite Page 2
