by Michele Hauf
Jane rolled over in bed, stretching her arms out languorously and sighing as she took in the sunlight beaming across her face. The smell of tea and pastries nearby alerted her that Prudence must have allowed the maid in.
"You've returned to the world of the living?"
Jane wrinkled her nose at Prudence's odd comment. "What do you mean?" She pushed up and reached for the teacup. Mm…lemon and lavender. "Where were you last night?"
"I was…occupied elsewhere."
Had Prudence blushed?
"I tried to wake you an hour ago for breakfast. I nudged you. You were sleeping like the dead. But smiling." At that statement, she met Jane's gaze with a lift of her brow. "Sleep well?"
"I am a woman pleased, Prudence." She slid her feet over the side of the bed and stepped onto the floor. Her landing resulted in a twirl toward the window. She gripped the curtains and looked over her shoulder at her utterly shocked maid. "You stayed away with purpose last night, didn't you?"
"Well, I, uh…" Another blush? "Pleased, you say? Dare I wonder?" Now she smiled that knowing smile that she and Jane reserved for when Jane knew she had gotten her way with her sisters. "You and Signore Sebastiani?"
"Don't act so shocked, Prudence. And do not judge me. It isn't as though you've been avoiding Adamo while we've been here."
"You noticed that?"
Jane winked at her.
"Yes, well, that crooked smile of his is rather compelling. And he takes directions well." Now that was absolutely a blush. "But enough about me. Tell me about you and the signore."
"I will not. Whatever pleasures he gave me last night—and they were many—are for me alone to cherish."
"I'm quite surprised. Normally, you tell me everything. Not that you've ever had much to share regarding you and Thatcher—"
"Do not bring up my husband ever again, Prudence. You know how I despise that man."
"And for good reason. Forgive me. Will you be spending time with Signore Sebastiani today? I thought you'd wanted to visit St. Mark's basilica?"
"We did so last night. Well, we looked at it a bit before he whisked me off on an adventure. And what a climactic event it was. La! I'm in the mood to make music this morning!" she announced grandly.
"You mean this afternoon. It is already noon."
"I slept so long?"
Prudence nodded, and again the two women shared that knowing smile.
* * *
Someone was strangling a cat on the ground floor of the palazzo. And Marcello knew, for a fact, that he did not own a cat. Nor a dog or any sort of pet that required one to care for it, and ultimately affect an emotional attachment. Only to watch it die of old age.
He wasn't sentimental. But over the centuries, he'd watched many of his mortal friends grow old and die. It was the only thing he hated about immortality. Could a man ever hope to forge relationships to endure that length? To find love?
No, never. Therefore, he did not have hope for love.
But right now, a little hope would be helpful in alleviating the cacophony as he approached the ballroom and pushed open the door to peer inside.
Utterly absorbed in the creation of her music—if it could be called such—her fingers dancing across the keys and head bobbing merrily, Jane Emery invoked a sort of musical hex that seemed to climb up Marcello's spine and dig thorns into his skull.
"She's actually getting worse," he muttered to himself.
But when someone replied, he was startled that he'd not sensed they were near. His vampiric senses were exceptional. So when he turned to Prudence, he realized indeed that the curse had taken a toll on him.
"What did you say?" he asked.
"I said…" Prudence cast her gaze assessingly over him. "I've got my eye on you, Signore Sebastiani."
"Is that so?" Bemused at her protective instincts toward her mistress, he crossed his arms and thrust back his shoulders. She noticeably cowered. "Well, I have my eye on you and Adamo."
The woman cast her gaze aside, but when she managed to look up again, her eyes narrowed on his shirt just above his nipple. "Signore, you have a spot of something there. Is it from the pomegranates that were served for breakfast?"
Marcello looked down. A tiny dot—of blood—spotted his shirt. He slapped a palm over the indiscretion. "Indeed. I dressed before eating. I uh…" He most certainly could not approach Jane with blood on his shirt. He'd been sloppy this early morning when he'd ducked out for a quick bite. Not at all like him.
Prudence crossed her arms triumphantly and lifted her chin.
"If you'll excuse me," he muttered, then stomped toward the stairs, en route to the fourth floor.
* * *
Jane heard the ballroom door close and decided she'd practiced enough. With a merry skip to her steps, she floated up the stairs to the fourth floor. She knew Marcello slept late, but it was afternoon. She knocked on his chamber door, and it opened immediately.
A gruff man wearing no shirt snarled at her. "What? Oh. Jane."
She pressed a hand over her thundering heartbeats. His masculine presence had the ability to disturb and excite her at the same time. "You obviously expected someone else?"
"My servant. I'm waiting on a clean shirt. I cannot believe they are all being laundered at the moment. What do they do all the day?"
"You do have a rather large staff for one man. But the house is immense. As is the man. Ahem. I imagine it requires a small army to keep everything in order."
"Indeed."
"Or perhaps one woman wielding the chatelaine keys?"
Such wonder in his eyes, then a smirk, before he stepped back, silently signaling she should enter his room.
Which Jane considered for a moment. A married woman entering another man's bedchamber? The scandal!
So she eagerly entered and closed the door behind her. Bold and brazen suited her just fine.
"Oh. It is dreary in here. All the furnishings are so dark. Do you want me to pull aside the curtains?"
He caught her by the wrist as she headed toward the window and spun her into his arms. Without a word, the man kissed her. Hard. And deeply. And with so much intent, all thoughts of silly curtains fled.
She placed her palm against his bare chest. The curve of his pectoral was hard and hot—like armor she might never defeat. How could a mere man be so formidable? So utterly powerful and iron-hard when his kisses were the softest and most heart-stopping things ever?
"I want more, Jane."
"You-you do? What more…?"
"There is much to teach you in the ways of pleasure."
"I suspect so." Heartbeats thudding, she tapped her finger on his chest. "I, wh…"
Utterly overwhelmed by him, for once, she did not know what to say.
"Are you afraid your husband will find out? Do you owe him such fidelity?"
"I owe him nothing. Which is why I fled the country. But I shouldn't wish to endanger you or risk discovery and possibly a prison sentence should anyone learn of our…liaison."
"Jane. Jane. Always so dramatic." He shoved down the shoulder of her dress and kissed her bared skin. Fiery sparkles shimmied up her neck. "I enjoy risk. And I challenge any man to stand up to me, especially one who sees fit to harm a woman. You may be scarred,"—he kissed the mark, stirring those sparkles to a gasping shiver—"but I intend to make you feel as though it's been erased, cleansed from your skin. The memory of any violence done to you completely obliterated."
"That's quite a task," she said softly, feeling a tear catch at the corner of her eye.
"Oh, Jane." He touched the edge of her eye, catching the drop. "Will you allow me to try?"
She nodded and gasped out a breathy, "Yes. " Yes, yes, and yes! "Touch me, Marcello. Touch me the way a man should touch a woman."
"With pleasure. Let's see how many layers I've to work through before I get to the sweets, yes?"
Hiding her blush with a bow of her head, Jane raised her arms as Marcello took up a maid's job of removing her dress. Her s
tays were laced tightly down her back, and as each crisscross of ties were loosened, her lungs expanded, and she drank in his scent more fully. The hardy maleness of him intoxicated her. She'd never been one to imbibe, but she could certainly get drunk on his warm, spiced skin.
A hand slid over the front of her boned stays, catching her just under her breasts. She exhaled into his grasp, and he kissed the back of her neck as he stood behind her. What a remarkable sensation to feel a man's lips there. Her cheeks flushed, and she curled her fingers then straightened them in anticipation.
With a shove, her stays dropped to the floor, and the compressed folds of her chemise loosened and puckered away from her body. Free! was always how she felt upon loosing her corset. With a tug at the neckline ribbon, Marcello opened her shift wide and planted a kiss on the back of her neck as the homespun cotton slipped down her shoulders to allow the cool air to caress her bareness.
In reaction, she caught her hand above her mons, grasping the chemise so she would not be completely bared. Another shiver tightened her nipples. Yet with an intention to adventure, she did not cover her breasts. Let the man look upon her. She wanted to feel his eyes take her in.
Marcello's hands smoothed up her stomach, and he cupped her breasts. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, his bare chest hugging her back. "These are perfect handfuls. Mm…" A squeeze of his fingers tested her nipples and produced a surprised chirp from Jane. His chuckle was low and silken. "Relax, Jane. I'll do you no harm."
"I know that," she said softly. "I want this. I need this."
He stepped around in front of her, and she had to tilt her head to meet his earthy gaze. Dark hair spilled forward over his shoulders, and she danced her gaze over the hairs dusting his pectorals. Compelled, she pressed her palm against his chest.
He clasped a hand over hers then reached to trace what she realized was a mark on her skin from her stays. They always lingered for a while after she’d been released. Dropping to his knees before her, he leaned in to trace that line with his tongue. Starting mid-stomach, he moved up slowly, higher and higher, until…
Jane grasped for something, anything, to secure her from falling into the lush depths of sensation that overwhelmed as Marcello's tongue glided up her breast and landed on her nipple. But there was nothing stationary to touch or hold. Remarkably, she remained upright, even wrapping a hand around the back of his head to hold him there and steady herself a bit.
He suckled and tugged and teased at her tightened nipple with such purpose. Mercy, it was as if he were performing the same over every inch of her skin, she felt his touch everywhere. And just when she thought her other nipple might go unnoticed, his big hand squeezed that breast and rolled the bud as if dialing up her pleasure with a twist of his fingers.
Gasping and bowing her head over his, Jane bracketed his face with her hands, anchoring herself to his shockingly delicious ministrations. It must never end.
And yet, if such wicked pleasure did not cease, she might cry out. Loudly.
What to do? Must she ask him to stop, or risk shaming herself?
Bold and brazen, remember?
"Yes," she gasped.
With a kiss to the underside of her breasts, Marcello found another crease left behind from her stays and tongued the impression downward, lower and lower. Her stays went to her hips, and so he followed that line all the way…
Hot breath hushed over her nether curls, and Jane realized in her wanton state she'd dropped her chemise. She stood naked before the kneeling man and…she didn't care. Let him do as he wished with her.
Another of his lusty growls preceded him saying, "Jane, I love you here. I can feel the sweet heat of your pussy." His tongue dashed down her seam and opened her to allow him to push a finger inside. "Yes, you hug me so tightly. Hell, Jane, your secrets tempt me to come right now. But I won't."
He stood, bending to kiss her beneath the jaw, while not removing his finger from inside her. And as the man moved to pay due attention to the nipple he'd not yet suckled, she couldn't decide which sensation to focus on. The slick slide of his finger in and out and around her opening, or the tugging, teasing pull of his lips about her nipple.
It was too much, and not enough all at once.
"Oh, Marcello, you render me helpless."
"Excellent," he breathed.
The pressure of his finger slicked over her high, swollen bud, and Jane chirped and twisted her fingers into his hair. All parts of her hummed. Her thoughts could not decide which sensation was coming from which part of her body—and that was perfectly fine. He performed a masterpiece on her, and she was his willing instrument.
Body shuddering and breaths and moans coming quicker, she strove to remain standing, and then felt his hand at her backside, squeezing her bottom, holding her up. He thrust the fingers of his other hand deeply into her, then pulled back out to slick across what seemed to be the master button to her release. And she was so close…
"Come for me, Jane," he commanded. "I won't let you fall."
And with an exacting slick of his finger over her pleasure bud, she did fall into a sweeping torrent of mad, delicious bliss. Jane cried out as her body shook and her core contracted. Rough breaths huffed from her lungs. The intensity of the orgasm surprised her, so she tensed her muscles, and that reaction seemed to deepen the sensations. Her hips bucked against Marcello's hand. The master of her surrender.
Suddenly, she was airborne as he carried her over and set her on the mattress. He stood beside the bed and looked at her. As she panted and the heat spread through her body, Jane suddenly realized he was still half dressed. He'd given her so much, and all without even removing his clothes.
"Take off your trousers," she whispered.
He bowed over her and kissed her on the forehead. "I am sorry, but I must rush off. However, next time you see me, it will be all of me."
With a final kiss to her swollen and aching breast, he strode out of the room, muttering something about finding her way down to her room at her leisure.
Jane rolled to her side and tucked her hands up by the pillow, lingering in the exquisite sensations that still hummed in her body. No man had ever made her feel so special. It almost erased the humiliations her husband had served her.
But she couldn't get beyond the fact that she was still married. Marcello could only ever be an affair.
How to make it more?
* * *
After locating a clean shirt in the laundry room, Marcello rushed through the palazzo and into the dull outside shadows. His cock was so hard it nearly burst through his trousers. He'd wanted to pull it out and sink it into Jane's hot, wet pussy. But the task of holding back had been an exquisite lesson in self-control.
Yet, now, he could not control the craving for blood. He must have it to slake the sexual desire he felt. For with the bite, he could alleviate some of that pent-up need.
Chapter 6
After dressing, Jane let out a bored sigh. With a wander about the second and first floors, she hadn't been able to locate Prudence, so she decided to venture out for a walk close to Signore Sebastiani's home. The evening was growing long, but she wanted to take in the air and gaze upon the big, full moon as she'd often done back home. She wouldn't go far. She didn't want to get lost.
As she passed buildings and alleyways, she was alternately flashed by brilliant moonlight and then plunged into shadows. Once she located a wide street that ended near the canal, she stood in the moon’s glow and let the cool whiteness beam over her skin.
She'd never felt so alive. Did Marcello do that to her? She knew that he did. The man had no idea how much surprising her with the moonlit gondola ride the other night meant to her. He'd touched a personal part of her. Only Prudence knew about her call to walk under the moon.
Wandering forth, she decided she'd soaked in enough of the night. Just a turn and a walk down… Now, which direction led back to the palazzo?
"Oh, bother."
Mustn't get worried, she
silently cautioned as she pulled the cape hood over her head. She'd not passed anyone while walking and now grew ultra-sensitive to small sounds, such as footsteps inside nearby houses and the wail of a baby.
Voices echoed ahead, low and perhaps from men. It would not be wise to seek help from strangers. Jane winced as she stepped cautiously. Yes, just ahead she saw the potted acanthus that she had most certainly passed earlier. She was on the right path. Just had to skirt by the alleyway, down which she had heard the voices…
Unable to not look down the lane as she passed it, Jane suddenly paused. She recognized the shadow of the man in the alleyway because Signore Sebastiani was possibly the largest man in all of Venice. And then she noticed that he stood next to another. A…woman? She couldn't be sure. But just wondering about it tugged a bit at something in her chest.
She didn't want to intrude on a conversation. What if it was more than a conversation? Like a secret liaison? She should leave him to his private business.
And yet…a twinge of jealousy pricked at her spine. She had to know whom he was speaking to.
As she neared the couple, she realized the other person was actually a man leaning against the stone wall. His arm suddenly dropped to his side. His head tilted in her direction, his eyes staring at her as Jane got closer.
With a suspicious lump rising in her throat, she cautiously called, "Marcello?"
Signore Sebastiani twisted his head to look at her. And in a flash of moonlight, she saw his lips glisten red. And the sharp glint of a white fang jut over his lower lip.
Dread curdled in Jane's throat. But she couldn't scream. Instead, she fainted.
* * *
As Marcello bent over Jane's prone body, Prudence scrambled around the building corner, huffing and panting. Jane had seen everything. Damn it, he'd been a fool! Deep in the bloodlust, he hadn't been paying attention. He'd simply thought the person he'd heard approaching from down the street would walk on by, ignoring the people lurking in the shadows.
He'd never imagined that Jane would be out, walking the streets so far from his palazzo.
He swiped the back of his hand over his mouth—not to be caught out with suspicious blood drops again—as the maid knelt on the cobblestones before her mistress.
