by Tina Folsom
Maybe his brother Raphael had had the right idea by settling down and marrying a good woman. He seemed happy, and by what Dante had briefly seen through the mirror the night before, their sex life certainly wasn’t lacking despite the familiarity they must by now be experiencing. He’d never thought about it before. Well, ideas like these were premature anyway. Maybe his infatuation with Viola would quickly fizzle out now that he’d finally fucked her so thoroughly.
Yes, thoroughly. And maybe that was exactly the reason why he wanted her again now: his body had gotten in the mood for sex and wanted more. He was almost sure that was the reason. Almost.
Dante rose and washed quickly before he dressed and stalked downstairs, his nostrils flaring when he picked up her scent. He found Viola in the parlor, stretched out on the sofa, her eyes closed. The gentle rise and fall of her chest indicated that she was sleeping.
He lowered himself onto the sofa and gathered her in his arms, lifting her onto his lap. She stirred, but he merely settled her against his chest and stroked his hand over her back. She mumbled something in her sleep, but he didn’t have the heart to wake her. She looked so peaceful and content. He closed his eyes and relaxed. With Viola in his arms, everything seemed so much better.
Chapter Sixteen
“You sure you two don’t want to join us?” Isabella asked as Raphael put her black cloak across her shoulders and handed her a pair of long gloves.
His brother had finally realized that Dante only had Viola’s best interest in mind. And if he interpreted Raphael’s occasional smirks correctly, he was pleased with the developments between them. Raphael had said as much the day before.
“If I didn’t know you any better, I’d say you’re totally smitten with her.”
Dante had merely snorted and declined to answer his brother’s implied question.
“We’re sure.” Dante sat in his favorite armchair in front of the fireplace now, and what made the situation even more comfortable was the fact that Viola was snuggling against him, sitting on his lap. Why would he want to go out when he had everything he wanted right here? “Enjoy yourselves. I’ll take Viola dancing some other night.”
When the front door finally shut behind them, he looked at Viola’s rosy cheeks and red lips, dying for a taste. “You didn’t want to go, did you?”
She shook her long hair, which cascaded over her naked shoulders. She wore a low cut dress he’d ordered for her in a hurry. She hadn’t brought many clothes, and the blue dress she’d worn when he’d met her had started to become wrinkled and dirty. Besides, he liked seeing her in garments that revealed more skin than her own dress had.
They’d fallen into a comfortable routine over the last week and, to Dante’s surprise, he was still not bored with her. On the contrary, the more time he spent with her, the more he craved her company.
“I’d rather be here with you.” She paused. “Alone.”
At her suggestive tone, his cock twitched eagerly. He knew that husky tone and what it entailed. And he was more than ready for whatever she had in mind. “I’m your slave.”
She chuckled. “You don’t mean that.”
Dante touched his finger to her nose. “I do mean it. You’re the mistress of my body and my h—” Heart, he’d nearly blurted. Even if in jest, he couldn’t allow himself to say something like that.
Sweet as Viola was, she didn’t call him on it, didn’t demand he declare himself. Instead, she placed a soft kiss on his lips and slid off his lap.
“Don’t go,” he begged.
Her smile was back on her face, mischief twinkling in her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.” She dropped down to the floor between his legs, shoving his knees further apart so she could scoot closer.
When her gaze dropped to his crotch, he almost choked. She’d never sucked him. He’d never demanded it, never asked despite all the things they’d done in and out of bed. Somehow, he’d always felt she wasn’t ready for it. Yet, she seemed ready now.
“You want to do this?”
She nodded.
“Here?”
Another nod.
“Now?”
His cock surged and pressed against his breeches, desperate to be let out of its confines. He ripped the first button open. Then her hand stopped him.
“Let me do it.”
Dante let his head fall against the backrest of his armchair and exhaled. “Why now?” He felt as if he’d died and gone to heaven.
“I want to give you something you never asked for.”
He stroked his palm over her face and slid his thumb across her lips. “You know you don’t have to do that.” But he wanted it. By God, how he wanted to feel her lips around his cock.
Viola eased the remaining buttons open and freed his hard shaft. “You’re beautiful.”
Her breath whispered against his naked skin, caressing him, teasing him. He watched her wrap her small hand around him and shifted in his seat to shove his breeches further down, allowing her better access not just to his cock but also his balls. She helped him pull the fabric down to his ankles so he could spread his thighs wide, opening himself up to her.
When she shifted closer and leaned over his groin, he let out a moan.
She giggled. “I haven’t even started.”
“I know, my sweet, but you have no idea what the power of suggestion can do to a man. If you don’t take me into your beautiful mouth soon, I’m going to come without you even touching me.”
“We can’t have that.”
An instant after her murmured response, Dante entered heaven. Instead of a first tentative lick against his cock, which he had expected, Viola closed her lips around him and slid down his entire length, capturing him within her warmth and wetness. Her moan bounced against his sensitive flesh, echoing his own. Her hand circled him around the base while she braced herself on his thigh with the other.
Dante cupped her head with his palms and steadied her gently without guiding her. He wanted her to suck him the way she wanted to: slow or fast, it didn’t matter to him. Already now, he knew that he wouldn’t last. His body was burning as if he’d stepped into the rays of the sun—but this was a pleasurable kind of fire. A fire he’d never felt before. Warming, coaxing, comforting. Not the fire that destroyed, but the fire that nurtured.
He recognized that it was Viola, who stoked that fire in him and kindled that flame: with her tongue licking up and down his shaft, her lips sucking hard, her fingers moving up and down in concert with her mouth. She gave him softness and warmth. As for the desire he felt for her? He knew now that it would only grow with time rather than diminish. He could never let her go.
“Viola,” he cried out. “I need you.” It didn’t matter how young she was and how inexperienced. All that mattered was that in her arms he felt whole.
Dante looked at her face. Her eyes were closed as if she truly loved what she was doing to him. He couldn’t tear himself away from the sight of his cock disappearing between her red lips, then reappearing when she withdrew. “I’ve never felt this good.”
For every other woman his words would have been spoken as an encouragement to suck him harder, but all he wanted to tell Viola was that she was bringing him to his knees. When she moved her hand and cupped his balls as gently as could be, he took one deep breath, knowing it would be his last before his climax ripped through him.
“I’m coming,” he rasped out, trying to pull out of her mouth. To his surprise, she kept her mouth firmly lodged around him. He exploded inside her and felt her swallow his seed. Not a single drop spilled from her lips.
As soon as he had his breath back, he pulled her up and into his lap, covering her swollen lips with his and plunging his tongue into her to show her how much this meant to him. He was breathless when he released her.
Dante rested his forehead against hers, trying to slow his racing heart, but it didn’t slow down. Too much excitement was pumping through his veins, too many realizations hitting him all at once. “Viola?”
“Dante.” His name rolled off her lips like a caress.
Whatever he’d wanted to say disappeared. Only one thought prevailed. “Marry me.”
Chapter Seventeen
Viola scrambled off his lap, her eyes wide in shock as if he’d said something truly frightening. Her mouth gaped open as she took a few steps back, her arm stretched out as if trying to push him away. Was she?
“Viola,” he ground out while jerking up his trousers and rising from his chair.
“No, please. I don’t believe—you can’t—”
“Dante, there you are.” At the voice, Dante swiveled on his heels and saw his friend Lorenzo enter the room. When Lorenzo’s gaze fell on him and then on Viola, he bowed briefly. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
Dante could see him inhale and knew that by now he would have picked up the scent of sex in the air. It still hung heavy in the room. When Lorenzo’s eyes flickered in interest, Dante shot him a warning glare. The lascivious suggestion that had clearly been on his friend’s lips, died instantly.
At least one disaster was averted, because having his friend suggest they share Viola for an hour of unadulterated fun was not going to happen. Yes, he and Lorenzo had shared plenty of women—and in every conceivable way possible—yet there was no way in hell he’d allow another man to put his paws on Viola. Not even his best friend.
Dante cleared his throat. Lorenzo’s interruption couldn’t have come at a worse time. Hell, he’d proposed to Viola, something he thought he’d never do until the words had actually spilled from his lips. And by the looks of it, she didn’t believe he was serious. But he was.
“Lorenzo, I see you can still smooth talk your way around my servants to allow you in even when I’m occupied with more important things.”
Lorenzo approached with a smile. “If I didn’t, I would rarely see you. Where have you been the entire week? Nobody’s seen you.”
Dante glanced back at Viola, who stood at the fireplace, her expression blank. He raked a long look over her. “I was occupied with more important things.” He paused and locked eyes with her. “Much more important things.”
The air prickled with tension between them. Severing the contact with her, he turned his head back to his friend, whose face was colored with surprise.
“May I introduce Signorina Costa to you? Viola, this is my friend Lorenzo.”
“Charmed,” Lorenzo answered and bowed in Viola’s direction.
“Signore,” she acknowledged him politely.
“Now that you’ve assured yourself that I’m well, I’d like to—”
Lorenzo held up his hand. “As much as I respect your privacy, you’ll have to hear me out first. Something is brewing in the city.”
Dante raised an eyebrow. “Brewing?” For once he wasn’t interested in getting involved in anything that might be going on outside of his own four walls.
“Nico came to me an hour ago. Apparently you pissed off some man who’s now screaming bloody murder. Something about you stealing his woman.” Lorenzo looked past him toward Viola. “Not that I can really blame him.”
Dante didn’t have to be a mind reader to know who might be having it in for him. “I’m assuming you’re referring to a man named Salvatore.”
He heard Viola’s indrawn breath behind him.
“The very same.”
“He’s no threat to me.”
“And to her?”
Dante sucked in a breath. “Viola is under my protection. She will not leave this house without me.”
He heard her gasp behind him and turned. Her eyes were wide, but it wasn’t shock anymore. It was disbelief. “I’m still your prisoner? I thought ...”
“You’re holding her captive?” Lorenzo asked before Dante could soothe Viola’s concerns.
“Stay out of this, Lorenzo. And besides, it’s not true.”
“How could you?” Her voice was low, breathless. Unshed tears rimmed her eyes as she stormed past him toward the door.
He didn’t try to stop her, but he would not drop the subject. “You’ve not given me an answer yet, Viola, and I will have that answer. We’ll talk when Lorenzo has left.”
She didn’t acknowledge his words and swept out of the room. He listened as she stomped up the stairs before he turned back to his friend.
“An answer to what?”
“Since when have you turned into a nosy washerwoman?”
“Since you began acting all weird,” Lorenzo retorted.
“I don’t act weird.”
“Sure you do. And I suspect the chit has something to do with it. Since when do you give a damn about what some whore thinks?”
Faster than the blink of an eye, Dante snatched Lorenzo by his collar and bared his fangs. “She’s not a whore! She’s the woman I’m going to marry!”
The stunned expression on Lorenzo’s face almost made up for the rude interruption, almost, but not quite. Dante dropped his hold.
“You? First your brother, now you. What the fuck is in the blood you guys are drinking? Because I’m sure going to avoid that source like the plague. Are you all going insane?”
“I assure you, I’m feeling quite well. Now if you would excuse me so I can talk to Viola and get her answer.”
“You mean, she hasn’t accepted you?”
“Yet,” Dante corrected tightly. Yet. Because there couldn’t possibly be any reason why she wouldn’t want him. They’d spent an incredible week together, giving each other unspeakable pleasure. Why would she not continue that under the protection of being married to him? Why would she not want the security that marriage would grant her?
Sure, the fact that he was a vampire was one strike against him, but she didn’t even know about that. Obviously it couldn’t be the reason for her objection.
“Well, good luck to you. However, I’d like to bring your attention back to that Salvatore fellow. My suggestion is to nip the situation in the bud and take care of any threat before it escalates.”
Dante ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “What are you suggesting?”
***
Viola stuffed her dress into the satchel and pulled the drawstring tight. She didn’t know what Dante had done with her pistol, but it didn’t matter. She would procure a new one shortly. All that mattered now was getting out of his house and away from him.
He wanted to marry her. How could he do that to her? How could he dangle this dream in front of her when she could never fulfill it, when she knew that she would be dead in a few short weeks? She couldn’t even blame him. After all, she’d kept her headaches secret from him, making sure he never had any reason to believe she wasn’t well.
Marry me. The words echoed in her mind, caressing her heart. They lifted her onto a cloud of temporary happiness only to make her crash land seconds later. He hadn’t said that he loved her, but it had been in his eyes. Despite the fact that his climax had gripped him only moments earlier, she’d recognized that his offer of marriage had been genuine. It hadn’t been merely the aftereffect of his lust-drugged state. His eyes had opened, and she’d looked into his soul.
A sob tore from her chest.
No, she couldn’t allow herself to wallow in those dreams of what could be if only she was healthy, if only she wasn’t dying. It would only lead to more pain—both for him and for her. If she left him now, at least she wouldn’t break his heart. He’d be angry and disappointed, but his love for her couldn’t yet be deep enough to damage his heart. But if she allowed him to marry her, he would see her waste away over the next few weeks.
She didn’t want to hurt him like that. He’d done too much for her. She wouldn’t repay him by inflicting pain on him.
His explanation to his friend Lorenzo that she wouldn’t be allowed to leave the house on her own had only given her ammunition to push him away. It would make it easier to leave. He wouldn’t pursue her if she insulted him by insisting he was imprisoning her. His pride would be hurt, his ego bruised, because he b
elieved—rightly so—that she was staying of her own free will by now.
Dante might have imprisoned her the first night, and maybe even the second, but after that, the choice to stay had been hers. They had never spoken of it, but she’d never heard him utter another word to the servants or his brother or sister-in-law that she wasn’t allowed to leave.
Viola regretted that everything had to end so soon. She threw a last look at the bed they’d shared for a week, and her body instantly remembered the pleasure he’d given her, the tenderness he’d showered her with. Even now, her womb clenched with desperate need for his touch. For a last kiss. But she couldn’t risk it. If she allowed him even one last kiss, one last embrace, she’d never leave him.
The tears in her eyes stung, but she cried them silently. No sound came from her lips when she walked down the stairs, her slippers in her hands so as not to make any noise. When she reached the landing, she stopped and listened. Dante and Lorenzo were still in the parlor. The door was ajar, and she could only hear their muffled voices.
As quiet as a church mouse, she reached the heavy oak entrance door and put her hand onto the handle. Viola held her breath while she pressed it down.
Chapter Eighteen
Dante heard the thump of the front door closing and shot up from his armchair. Without sparing Lorenzo a look, he sprinted into the hallway and yanked the door open. His eyes instantly adjusted to the dark as he searched the badly lit alley.
Viola made it as far as the corner of the fifth house before he caught up with her and captured her in his arms.
“No, let me go.”
Her struggles would be useless. He wouldn’t let her go. He knew she had feelings for him. How deep they were, he wasn’t sure, but he could sense that she wasn’t indifferent to him. So why didn’t she want to marry him?
