by Tina Folsom
“I can’t let you go, Viola.”
She wrenched against his grip, and he eased off the pressure so he wouldn’t hurt her, but he didn’t let go.
“Please,” she begged, her eyes filling with tears.
“I love you.” He took a leap of faith with his next words. “And I know you love me too. So, why are you leaving me?”
She lifted her chin, her gaze colliding with his. Her lips trembled, but she parted them nevertheless. Her sweet breath drifted to him, and he inhaled more of her. “It will never work. Please let me go.”
He shook his head and clenched his jaw. She was keeping something from him, he could sense it. Jealousy reared its ugly head. “Is there somebody else?”
“No!” Her protest was instant and vehement. “Please, Dante, if you really love me then you have to let me go.”
“Why? Tell me why.” His voice bounced off the walls of the neighboring buildings.
Viola dropped her head and her shoulders at the same time. She was defeated, but he felt no joy, because with her spirit gone, she wasn’t the same.
Her voice was quiet and calm when she finally answered. “Because I’m dying, Dante. I have a brain tumor. In a few weeks, I’ll be dead. That’s why I can’t marry you.”
He loosened his hold on her, the shock of her revelation weakening him. She stepped out of his hold, severing her body from his. It was like a cold blast of air hit him. For an instant, he felt dazed and confused. But then his blood flowed to his brain, and it started churning wildly.
Now he understood. The foreign scent and taste of her blood—it indicated her illness. It had been her body’s way of telling him she was sick. And he hadn’t recognized it. But he had felt that he needed to protect her, that she was vulnerable. How vulnerable, he only realized now. But he wouldn’t allow her to push him away because of it.
“That’s the only reason you don’t want to marry me?” The step he was prepared to take demanded that he was sure of her feelings. If she didn’t love him—
“Isn’t that enough?” she whispered.
Dante drilled into her with his eyes. “Tell me the truth. Do you love me?”
A sob broke from her, but in the middle of it he heard her. “Yes, more than I want to.”
His heart rejoiced. “Are you prepared to spend the rest of your life with me?”
“Dante, don’t torture me.”
“Answer me, Viola.”
“Yes, I want to spend my last few weeks with you.”
He shook his head. “That’s not what I asked. I asked for eternity.”
“I don’t have eternity, Dante. Don’t you understand? I’ve come to terms with it. Really, I have. But if I had eternity, there’s nobody in this world I’d rather spend it with than you.”
Dante nodded. “That’s all I needed to know.” She would be his. Now that he knew she loved him, everything would work out. He’d reveal to her what he was: a vampire, a creature of the night—an immortal creature. And he could make her immortal too—by turning her into one of their kind. Any illness she had would vanish as he drained her of her blood and fed her his. She would be as near indestructible as he was. And she would live. And be his wife. Forever.
“Come, let us go home, and I’ll tell you about our life together. You’ll—”
“Watch out, Dante!” came Lorenzo’s scream from behind him.
***
Things happened too fast for Viola’s tear-stained eyes to capture everything. Lorenzo had followed Dante from the house, but there was another shadow too, one that jumped out of an entryway. She recognized him instantly. Salvatore—the man who would have bedded her had Dante not interfered.
The moonlight was sufficient for her to see that he was armed with a pistol, a pistol he aimed at Dante now. She wouldn’t allow it. She’d accepted her own death, but she couldn’t allow the man she loved to perish. Without giving it another thought, she jumped in front of Dante as a shot rang out.
She barely felt the pain when the bullet entered her back. It was a mere pinprick, a sting. Maybe that was what death was like—all pain vanished. More shouts in the alley drifted to her ears, more people came running. Some wrestled with each other, but all she felt was Dante. His strong body holding her.
His voice in her ear. “Oh, God, no!”
Other voices, Lorenzo’s. “Take her into the house.”
Footsteps, people running, voices echoing in the alley—her mind couldn’t process all that was happening.
“I’ve got him—he’s dead.” Raphael seemed to appear from nowhere. When had he come back from the ball?
“—took the bullet.” Fragments drifted to her.
“Hold on, my love.” Dante’s comforting voice again.
“—so much blood. She won’t make it,” she heard Isabella’s voice cry out.
Then Raphael’s soothing voice, low and steady. “Dante will see to it.”
She felt the movement of Dante’s steps as he carried her, but her eyes were too clouded to make out his face. “So cold,” she mumbled.
“I know, my love. Just hold on. Everything will be alright. I promise you.” But she heard the fear in his voice, the desperation. The pain—the very pain she’d wanted to spare him.
“Forgive me, Dante,” she pressed out, the few words leaving her breathless.
“No! You stay with me. You hear me?” he shouted.
“Here, on the sofa. You have to do it now,” came Raphael’s urging voice.
“She doesn’t know.”
“You love her?”
“Yes,” Dante said, his voice firm and strong.
Then she felt his lips on her, kissing her softly. “I love you. Please trust me, I’m doing this because I love you.” Then his lips drifted to her neck.
Her skin prickled. She felt his teeth graze her, reminding her of the night he’d truly made love to her for the first time. She moaned softly. “Yes.”
When his teeth pierced her skin, she jolted, but Dante’s strong body held her down. She struggled only for a second before giving into the sensation. It reminded her of sex—during sex, the initial penetration had hurt too, but only for a moment. Later, it had been pleasurable. Just like this.
Viola had never thought that she would experience her death so vividly, but instead of simply drifting off to sleep, she relived every moment of her time with Dante. Like a moving picture, it played before her mind’s eye until all went black and quiet. Dark.
Chapter Nineteen
Viola’s blood was still on Dante’s tongue when he pierced his own wrist with his fangs. He’d drained so much of her blood that her heartbeat was down to a mere twenty beats every minute. She was unconscious now but still alive.
Despite the fact that his brother and Isabella stood in the parlor, it was eerily quiet in the house. Neither had spoken a word since Dante had started the process. All his concentration was on Viola. If he missed the moment her body would accept his blood, she would die.
His body tensed as he waited for her heartbeat to slow even further, and the whole scene in the alley played out in front of him again and again. He’d seen Salvatore a split-second before Lorenzo had alerted him. He’d been unconcerned with his own safety—all he’d thought of was getting Viola out of danger. He’d never expected her to act so swiftly and shield him from Salvatore’s assault. She’d sacrificed her life for his, with no reason. Salvatore’s gun wouldn’t have hurt him. Only silver bullets could kill a vampire.
Viola’s heart beat even slower now.
It was time. He raised his wrist and set it against her closed lips.
“No!” Lorenzo screamed as he burst into the room. “Stop, you’re killing her!”
Dante reared his head and growled.
“The bullet is made of silver.” Lorenzo stretched his open palm toward him. It held a ring.
Shock coursed through Dante. He pulled his wrist from Viola’s mouth. He recognized the symbol on the black onyx ring: a cross intersected by three wav
es. The symbol of the Guardians of the Holy Waters, the group of wealthy Venetians whose mission it was to eradicate the vampires in their midst. A secret society that he and his fellow vampires had been fighting over the last years.
“I found it on Salvatore before I disposed of his body.”
“He was a Guardian?” Raphael gasped.
Lorenzo nodded quickly. Knowing that Salvatore had been a member of the elusive society could bring them a step closer in their search of the remaining Guardians. Later, when Viola was out of danger.
“You have to take the bullet out before you turn her,” Raphael said.
“Or she’ll die,” Dante whispered to himself.
If he left the silver bullet in her, the moment he turned her into a vampire, the deadly metal would burn her flesh from the inside and kill her. Had she been shot with anything else but silver, her new vampire body would merely expel the foreign object and heal itself.
Dante stroked his hand over Viola’s face. By shielding him from Salvatore’s bullet, she had truly saved his life. Now he had to save hers, or all would be in vain.
He gave his brother a desperate look. “Help me.”
Without hesitation, Raphael was by his side, his fingers lengthening into sharp claws. Dante shook his head. “No, you hold her. I’ll take the bullet out myself.”
He shifted Viola and transferred her into Raphael’s arms so her back and the gaping wound was exposed to him. Once she was a vampire, her body would heal itself within minutes. “Quickly,” Raphael instructed.
Dante’s fingers had already turned into claws. He sliced through the top layers of her skin and muscle, following the path the bullet had taken. When he touched the bullet lodged next to a bone, the silver sent a bolt of pain through him.
Hissing, he clenched his teeth and curled his claw, dislodging the silver from the bone. With a groan, he drew the bullet from her body, then dropped it to the floor. His flesh was sizzling where it had come in contact with the metal. But he ignored the pain.
There was no time left. He could not lose her.
Taking Viola from Raphael, he placed his bleeding wrist at her mouth and forced her lips open. The blood dripped, filling her mouth.
“Swallow, Viola,” he urged her. “Swallow, damn it.”
Her mouth didn’t move. His heart contracted. No, he needed her to live so he could live. She was all he wanted. “Please,” he whispered. He bent over her face, and a solitary tear dislodged from his eye. It dropped onto her lips and ran to the corner of her mouth before it followed the path his blood had taken earlier. “Don’t leave me.”
A gurgle from her throat startled him. She swallowed. She took a breath.
“Viola!”
The relieved breaths of his companions filled the room. But all Dante saw was Viola. How her chest rose as she took another breath. How her cheeks turned rosy. How her throat worked to swallow the rest of his blood.
“Viola, my love.” Her eyes flew open, and all he could do was smile at her.
“Dante, oh Dante, are you hurt? You’re bleeding.” Viola’s eyes stared at his wrist.
He shook his head and laughed, full of relief. It figured that her first thoughts would be for him. “No, my love, I’ve never been better.” Then he hugged her to his chest and squeezed her to him. “I love you, Viola, I love you so much.”
“Salvatore,” she stammered. “Did he shoot you?”
Dante pulled away just far enough so he could look at her face. “You took the bullet. You saved my life.”
There was a puzzled look on her face. “But … I don’t understand. I feel fine. Actually …” She paused. “I feel better than fine. He must have missed, even though … I felt the bullet hit me.”
He gave her a soft kiss on her lips. “You did get shot. You almost died. I took the bullet out of you. But, that’s not all.” Dante looked at his brother. How should he tell her what had happened? How could he explain to her what he was? What she was now too?
“Just tell her,” Raphael said.
Dante swallowed hard.
“Tell me what?”
***
Viola stared at Dante, who seemed insecure for the first time since she’d met him. Something was odd. While she could have sworn she’d felt the impact of the bullet and the pain that followed, she felt better than she had in a long time. She wasn’t tired, and there wasn’t even a hint of her usual headache. No throbbing, no dull ache, nothing. She felt the way she had before she’d gotten ill. No, better. She felt so full of energy she wanted to run a race, just for the fun of it.
All her senses seemed sharper too. Her eyesight was better—not that it had been bad before, but now she could see the smallest detail on Isabella’s embroidered gown and even the intricate filigree on the buttons that graced Raphael’s waistcoat. Not to speak of her sense of smell. Her nostrils flared as she tilted her head more in Isabella’s direction. She smelled distinctly different than the three men in the room. She’d never noticed the difference before.
“My love.” Dante’s endearment jolted her out of her observations. “This might seem strange at first, but there’s something important I have to tell you.”
Viola raised her hand and cupped his cheek. The knowledge that he was alive and well was all she needed. Nothing else could be as important.
Dante turned his head and kissed her palm. “I made you into one of us.”
Dante’s words made no sense. “One of you?”
“Yes, you’re like me and Raphael and Lorenzo now. Immortal.”
She let out a soft laugh. “You’re funny.”
“No. I gave you my blood so you could live. Viola, I’m a vampire.”
At his assertion, she jolted, her hand slipping from his face. She couldn’t have heard right. “Sorry, can you say that again? I think I misheard.”
Dante gave a slow shake of his head. “You heard right. I’m a vampire. And I turned you into one, otherwise you would have died. Even if you hadn’t gotten shot by Salvatore. I’m sorry, but there was no time to explain. I had to act. Swiftly.”
Viola listened to his words. Slowly, they sunk in.
“You were slipping away. I couldn’t let you die. I had to change you instantly.”
She tried to understand the implications of his words. “You’re a vampire? Immortal?”
He nodded.
“And I’m one too? But my brain tumor ... I’ll still die.”
A warm smile curled around his lips and spread over his entire face.
Hope bloomed inside her. “Won’t I?”
“No. Any illness you had was eradicated by the turning. You’re healthy. Your tumor is gone. You’re immortal.”
Your tumor is gone. Those were the only words she truly understood. She would live. Her life wasn’t over. She had another chance. Her heart filled with joy, making it so full it would burst if she didn’t give her emotions free reign.
Tears pushed forward and escaped. “Oh, my God.”
Dante’s face twisted as if in pain. “I’m so sorry, Viola.” He dropped his head and avoided looking at her. “Forgive me.”
“Forgive you?” He’d given her a new life, the greatest gift she could have ever wished for. She’d never been happier. She took his chin and made him look at her. Regret was evident in his eyes. He’d misunderstood her tears. “I would like to give you an answer to your question now.”
“My question?”
She smiled and drew closer to him. “I want to be your wife. For eternity.” Before she’d even finished the last word, his lips were on hers, kissing her breathless. He only lifted them long enough for a murmured “yes” against her mouth before he claimed her with his tongue, forging deep inside.
Only the clearing of throats in the room made her realize that they were not alone. Dante severed the kiss and turned his head briefly to the others in the room. “Go away.”
Viola chuckled. “That’s rude, Dante.”
“I don’t care. I want to make love to y
ou now.”
Raphael laughed out loud. “Last time I checked, you did have a bedchamber, my dear brother. I suggest you use it.” He hesitated for a brief second before he continued. “And, Dante, the storage room next to my chamber is off limits from now on. Get your kicks somewhere else.”
Chapter Twenty
The door closed with a loud thud that echoed through the entire house. Dante didn’t care what anybody thought. He wasn’t even surprised Raphael knew that they’d watched him and Isabella make love. After all, Viola had been quite vocal that night, and Raphael would have picked up the sounds with his superior vampire hearing.
But none of that mattered.
Viola was alive, and she’d accepted him for what he was.
Dante captured his soon-to-be wife between his body and the door at her back, pressing her against it.
“Is your brother angry with us?”
“Raphael? Hardly. I’m sure he got a kick out of it himself, knowing we watched him and Isabella.”
“But we can’t do it again?” A wicked smile curved around her pretty mouth.
Dante pressed his hardening cock against her soft stomach. “No. But I’m sure I can arrange other things for us to watch if you’d like.”
His heart skipped a beat when he saw Viola raise an eyebrow in interest. Her breathless voice only underscored her excitement. “Yes?”
“Anything you want, my love. Because keeping you satisfied is my mission.” He willed his fingers to turn into claws. Slowly, making sure she saw what he was about to do, he placed his claws at the spot where her décolleté revealed her lush breasts.
She inhaled, the action pressing the flesh closer to his sharp claws, but she didn’t pull away. “What are you going to do?”
Not a question—not the way she said it. It was a challenge. One he was more than happy to meet. Faster than a human’s eye could process, he sliced through the front of her bodice, ripping it in half.
“You mean what did I just do?” he corrected.
Viola looked down at her torn dress then raised her head and looked at him, her eyes shimmering golden. He sensed the power in her, the power of a vampire, and the knowledge that she was his—that she would be his for eternity—overwhelmed him.
