A Venetian Vampire

by Michele Hauf

  Kyler pushed up and turned to sit against the wall. Her hair fell forward across her cheek. She had to admit she feared what Dante could do to her. He was strong and had decades of knowledge to wield against her.

  “He’s not my lover,” she said softly. Not anymore, anyway. “I...owe him a favor.”

  “A favor? Theft is quite a large favor.”

  Out of the corner of her eye she spied the egg, lying before the closet. Rich and exquisite, set there without a care as if it were a child’s abandoned toy. She leaned toward it...

  “Don’t touch it,” Dante said sharply.

  She sat back. She’d keep an eye on it for now.

  He kicked off his shoes and pulled down his pants.

  “Not this again,” Kyler muttered.

  “Yes, this again. I’ve a certain distaste for wearing the canal. Damn, I have always hated fish and their smell. You are costing me a fortune in bespoke silk and calfskin leather.”

  “It’s not my fault you like to swim in the canal. What happened this time?”

  “Perhaps you should have stuck around to see?”

  “You really think that would have been wise?”

  “No. I’m actually pleased you were able to get away unscathed. I, on the other hand, had to make a quick escape. And I was followed by wolf number three into the canal.”

  “He came back?”

  “Yes. I dispatched him. And I’m fine, thanks for your concern.”

  The silver knife landed on the bed. Dante leaned over her in his wet briefs. “I’m going to shower. With the egg. When I come out, we are going to talk about who it is that has sent you after the egg. And why it is so important to you to have a spell that grants eternity to one who already possesses immortality.”

  * * *

  Steam surrounded Dante after he’d gotten out of the shower and stepped onto the bath mat before the vanity. The mirror was fogged, but he couldn’t see his reflection anyway. On occasion he caught glimpses of himself in street windows, possible because the clear glass was not backed in silver. After a half a century or so, a man had seen enough of himself and it mattered little to continue to look. He’d not aged since the day Zara Destry had pierced his carotid and changed him forever. And he would age so slowly that a glance in a window once a decade was more than enough to confirm immortality.

  He didn’t bother to dry off because he hadn’t been able to shower fast enough. He needed to look at the egg. No sounds came from out in the room, but he knew Kyler would not have left. She wanted this egg because she thought it had special powers to grant eternity? The only special powers he knew that were attached to this egg were quite the opposite. And devastating at that.

  But it wasn’t the egg, exactly, that provided such magic.

  “It’s what’s inside,” he murmured as he bowed before the gorgeous object and turned it slowly.

  It was affixed to a gold stand and secured with snapping hooks, a part of the original design. He’d appreciated that when he’d first received the egg. He tended to be a bit clumsy with the more delicate objets d’art. Zara had given it to him. He’d thought it was a token of her affection, and it had meant so much in those first moments when she’d revealed it to him. For he had loved her. Deeply.

  Zara had then explained to him why she wanted him to have it. It contained a spell, and she didn’t want to be the one to have to guard it. Certain others wanted it, and she was afraid of having to face one, in particular, of those others. She trusted Dante. He was honest and brave. A single kiss had sealed his agreement to take the egg.

  And then she had left him. Forever.

  Dante winced now as he remembered that morning she’d kissed him and said goodbye. Fleetingly. As if he were just another lover and she was on to the next. As if they had not spent a lovely week together, entwined and breathing in each other’s skin, sex and blood. He was familiar now with the process of a quick escape from emotional attachment. But back then he’d been devastated. Heartbroken.

  “Man up,” he whispered to himself now. “You’re over her, remember?” And he’d never love again thanks to Zara’s cruel indifference.

  Turning the exquisitely crafted egg slowly, he sought the front. The largest of dozens of sapphires sat above a curved indent, into which his forefinger fit perfectly. It had been well over half a century since he’d last handled this prize, for he’d taken it on in 1952. Would he remember how to operate it?

  After wiping his wet fingers on a nearby towel, he tapped the indent on the trim. Another tap. A gentle touch to determine if he had the right panel. And then he pushed in and slid the panel up a millimeter.

  Click.

  The inner mechanism began to rotate. He smiled at the sound of gears, recalling this had been created around the time that the steam engine had been retired for the motor. The Fabergé eggs had been created for the Russian tsars Alexander III and Nicholas II as Easter gifts for their wives and mother. This was one from the Imperial collection. It had remained nicely oiled during its absence from his care.

  Had someone already opened this? The thief who had originally stolen it from him? He wasn’t so curious to learn who had stolen it now that he had it back. But might a curator at the auction house have figured out the motions to open it? They couldn’t know the correct order and proper finger placement required. As far as he knew, only he and Zara had that knowledge. And who knew where that vampiress was now?

  He’d like to know. No. He did not. He’d gotten over her. At least, that’s what he told himself.

  “Damn it, man, pull yourself together.” The last thing he needed was to fall into melancholy over a lost love with Kyler around. He would never expose that weakness to her. Love was simply something he knew he must avoid. He did not consider it a possibility now.

  The top half of the egg snapped up, exposing an equatorial view of the inner gears.

  He bent to get a closer look and survey the various cosmetic items inside. His heart thudded. Where was it?

  Ah. Tucked between a tiny mirror and a foldable comb.

  “It’s still in here. Excellent.”

  * * *

  Kyler pulled her hair into a ponytail, squeezed tightly, then dropped it down her back. He was taking a long time in there. The shower had stopped five minutes ago. And he didn’t have clothes in the bathroom with him. What was he doing? Was there a way out of the bathroom that she wasn’t aware of? Maybe he was doing...personal stuff. Frustrated man stuff that was a direct result of—well, it wasn’t as though she’d resisted his advances.

  She was a wimp when it came to sea glass eyes and a seductive smirk.

  She dashed over to the bathroom door and listened. She could sense his calm heartbeat on the other side of the door. After quickly making her way back to the bed, she sat on the end of it just as the door opened. A towel was wrapped about Dante’s hips. His abs glistened with water droplets, as did his legs and shoulders.

  But the only appealing thing she noticed was the egg in his hands.

  Kyler stood. Dante nodded curtly that she sit, and she did. And then she got angry at herself for following his silent commands and stood again.

  “Really?” He huffed out an exhale. He strode over to the table and set the egg down, then sat on the chair beside the table. He then nicely asked, “Will you please sit down, Kyler? And tell me about this mystery man for whom you’ve stolen the egg.”

  “I won’t reveal his name. He’s a friend.” She walked over and sat in the chair on the other side of the table. They were both now an equal distance from the egg.

  “Then you won’t walk out of here today with this prize.” He leaned back, resting his forearms on the chair arms. Unaware of the sexual energy he put out sitting in but a towel and with water-bedazzled muscles.

  On the other hand, she sensed the man was a
lways aware of every sensual move he made. His entire existence was an orchestration of seduction and charm. And Kyler would do well to ignore the insistent twinge of desire that hummed within when she thought about how delicious it was to feel his muscles gliding against her sex-hungry body. Or when his mouth brushed her skin...

  “You believe that egg will grant a vampire eternity?” Dante asked.

  She had to play him carefully. Not reveal too much. “Don’t you? You have said that the egg was once yours. Don’t you know things about it? Why did you have it in the first place? And how did you lose it? I don’t believe this ever belonged to you.”

  “Kyler.” He paused a moment, and in that pause she felt his struggle to remain calm. To not leap across the table and choke her. To not simply dash away with the egg. He could. He was the stronger of the two of them. “Let me tell you a little about this egg and the spell contained within.”

  “Please do.” So it was a spell? Good to know.

  “It was gifted to me in the 1950s by a woman—a vampiress—and I was asked to guard it well. To not let it fall into the wrong hands.”

  “Great job.” If a thumbs-up could be sarcastic, she’d mastered it.

  “Ahem. Simply put, I was to never let anyone near it. Because, as you’ve intimated, it does possess certain powers. Or at least, what is inside of it does. So I placed it in a vault room of a home I once owned in Austria. It was a secure vault for the time period. That is, before digital combinations and the high-tech mumbo jumbo came about.”

  She rolled her eyes. Was he really such a technology noob?

  “I was once an art collector. And I traveled a lot. I tended to put things in the vault and then forget about them. Until the mid-1990s, when I decided a move to Paris was necessary. Just as well, I’d grown tired of collecting things. They are just things after all. So, I sold the Austrian property to a young couple who were excited to renovate the centuries-old castle.”

  “You lived in a castle?”

  “For a time. It’s not as romantic as it sounds. Rather drafty most of the time. Anyway, the vault was opened weeks before the move date. A brief visual inventory alerted me something was wrong. Someone had been inside. There was no sign of forced entry. But things were missing. A few Rembrandts. A Lalique ruby brooch. And the Fabergé egg. I have no idea when it was stolen. Or by whom. Only that it was gone.”

  “Perhaps one of your many nameless lovers took it?”

  He inhaled through his nose, clutching the chair arm with tight fingers, and continued. “I marked it off as bad luck and have kept my eyes and ears open for the egg. I didn’t hear a thing until a few days ago. I’m not sure who had the egg—the original thief, or if it had been sold immediately after it was stolen from me—or how it came to be brought to auction. But know this.” He leaned across the table and tapped the top of the egg. “I will not let this out of my hands a second time. I was given it to guard its secret, and I will do so.”

  “Because you did such a fabulous job the first time around.”

  He’d been told to keep it safe? How could he have not known someone had robbed him? Of course, if he was a world traveler, the castle must have sat empty a lot. And nothing high-tech like digital security? A smart thief could have had a field day within the safe. But she still wanted to go with the idea of a disappointed lover stealing the thing. Or perhaps even a scheming lover who had used him specifically to get to the egg. Would serve Dante right after he’d turned the tables on her.

  “Your story, if it’s true, is a good one. But you’ve not softened my heart to your plight. You had a job to do. You failed.” She hooked a finger about the base of the egg holder and slid it a few inches toward her across the table. “I’ve been charged to bring this back to King.”

  “King?” Dante’s gaze grew fierce.

  Shit. She hadn’t intended to reveal the name of her creator.

  “You mean the King?” he asked.

  “Not the king of any country. I just... I shouldn’t have said that. Would you stop looking at me? I can’t think properly with your big sea glass eyes beaming onto me like that.”

  Dante smirked and leaned back again. “You like me, Kitten. I’d even go so far as to say you’re smitten by me.”

  Kyler blew out a “Puh.”

  “You are attracted to me. You like having sex with me. You favor my kisses. You even enjoy my company. Admit it.”

  “None of the above.”

  He mocked a pout. “I recall those orgasms you had were genuine and quite loud.”

  “Just because you’re capable of getting me off doesn’t mean I have to fall in love with you and swoon at your feet.”

  “No. But you wouldn’t mind another kiss, would you?”

  “Will a kiss get me the egg?”

  “No. But it may get you another orgasm.”

  Kyler glanced out the window, trying desperately to distract herself from the growing desire in her core. Hell yes, she would love him to give her another orgasm. To lean into his kiss and feel his hands at her breasts, his tongue moving down, down and down...

  “What do you want from me for the egg?” she asked. “Do you want to fuck me again?”

  He stood abruptly. The height of him, the lines and hard landscape of his muscles and body, his overwhelming masculinity, set Kyler back in the chair. Her heartbeat thundered as he gazed down at her. He took a few steps and stood over her. “This.” He swept a hand toward the egg. “And this.” He leaned down and kissed her.

  He kissed her hard. He kissed her deeply. He stirred up a wanting moan from her as she leaned upward, seeking more, begging for him to take her, to want her, to need her. To own her.

  He broke the kiss and said, “Are two very different things. Can we agree on that?”

  “I don’t know. I still feel like you used me.”

  “You’re not that stupid, Kyler. No man could use you sexually. You are a strong woman. You take what you want.”

  Again he gestured to the egg. Yes, she’d nabbed that damn thing. Go, Kyler!

  “And you fuck who you want.” He returned to the chair and sat.

  Kyler exhaled, wishing he’d gathered her into his arms and tumbled onto the bed with her. She was out of her element. Stealing the egg had been a leap into risky and advanced thievery. And now with no contact from King, she felt unmoored. She wanted to feel safe, to fall into Dante’s arms...

  “No,” she said firmly, shoving back her wimpy thoughts forcefully. “I’ve told you as much as I’m willing. Now let me have what I’ve rightfully earned.”

  “You mean what you rightfully stole. Big difference between earning something and stealing it. And let’s discuss King. He is not your lover?”

  “That’s what I’ve told you.”

  “Right. Then please enlighten me as to why you, a vampiress, would want to give such a remarkable gift to a vampire hunter?”

  “A—” Kyler huffed out a breath. Vampire hunter? “You’re thinking of someone else. The man I’m talking about is a vampire.”

  Dante’s jaw dropped open in intent wonder.

  She’d said too much.

  Chapter 7

  Dante stood and walked to the window. What Kyler had just said made little sense. Of course, there could be another man out there who called himself King. Weird name to go by. Pompous. But the only King he was aware of had founded, and currently headed, the Order of the Stake, an ancient order of vampire hunters dedicated to eradicating his species.

  He eyed Kyler over a shoulder. She studied the egg without touching it. It must kill her to have it sitting there, so close, and after she had done all that work to obtain it. Twice. If he were to play by the rule of thieves, he’d allow her the nab. But he wasn’t a thief, and keeping the egg was necessary to the very safety of his species.

&
nbsp; Should the spell contained within that egg fall into the wrong hands, Dante would feel responsible for the destruction of so many. And if it were to fall into King’s hands, a vampire hunter—he didn’t want to think of it.

  He turned, hands on hips, and tapped his foot.

  When she finally deigned to look at him, she shook her head and splayed out a hand. “Do we have to do this with you in a towel?”

  “I can take it off.” He loosened the twist at his hip.

  “No!” she rushed out.

  Dante smiled. “Then that leaves you with a choice. Towel off? Or a discussion about King.”

  She gaped at him. “I choose door number three.”

  “And what is behind that door?”

  At that moment a knock at the door sounded. Had she been a witch Dante would have been impressed. But she was not. And his tailor was gaining speed with practice.

  “Saved by the knock,” he said, turning to answer the door. When he returned with the garment bag, Kyler held the Fabergé egg. “Touch all you like. It’s returning with me to Paris, where I’ve a storage locker to stow it until I can find a new place to live.”

  “And how are you planning to get it out of Venice? We’ve wasted time. The news this morning already announced the theft.”

  “Not a theft,” he corrected. “Merely missing. Keep your facts straight, Kyler, We don’t want to upset the masses.”

  She exhaled heavily. “Whatever. But as for leaving the island, don’t you believe there will be police everywhere? Most likely checking bags as we attempt to board a taxi?”

  The thought had occurred to him. “I’ve a private water taxi. And a private jet.” But he wasn’t stupid. Of course there would be police and security at the docks. Fortunately, he was a patient man. “I intend to take a stroll over to the docks right now. Scope things out.”

  “Fine. I’ll watch the egg while you’re gone.”

  “You’ll come along. Egg snug as a bug in your backpack. I won’t let either of you out of my sight.”