A Venetian Vampire

by Michele Hauf

  “You’ll have to force me. That’ll cause a scene and bring the police to you faster than a wolf on your scent.”

  He leaned over her and closed his eyes as he sniffed, drawing in her sweet scent and the slightest salty hint of fear. “I can control you, Kitten, with one bite.”

  Her intake of breath pleased him. It hadn’t been laced with fear but instead desire. He had her right where he needed her to be.

  “Yeah? Maybe I can do the same to you? You ever been controlled by a woman, Dante? Oh, wait. You don’t give them any more time than to come and then you leave. It’s gotta be tough hanging around me for so long, eh?”

  “Not at all. Your acerbic personality makes it easy enough to avoid any thought of sex.” The ease of that lie surprised him.

  “I hate you,” she said tightly.

  “And here I thought you were running over ways to get me back in your bed. Seduce me? Control me? And then run away with the prize?”

  “I don’t use sex to get what I want. Unlike you.”

  That cut hurt him more deeply than he would ever show on his face. Dante unzipped the garment bag. “You should try it sometime. Might loosen up those frigid muscles that wrap so tightly about your heart and—” He stopped himself from saying something crude. She didn’t deserve his anger just because she’d successfully matched him at his own game.

  “You’re an asshole,” she shot at him.

  He caught her by the arm as she rose to walk by. This argument would end now. On his terms.

  She initially struggled when he kissed her, but he held her firmly by the biceps. There was no way he would let her go. She deserved a bruising punishment for her cruel words. And he would do so by ensuring she did not forget the feel of him against her mouth.

  When he felt her push his chest with her hand, he gripped her wrist. With his other hand against her back, he pulled her in closer. She tried to twist her mouth away from him, and then she pushed him against the wall. The kiss unbroken, her breasts pressed against his chest as she sought the depths of their connection. Taking from him instead of resisting, she answered his teasing punishment with a surprising rebuttal.

  So sweet she tasted, like an addictive sugar. His soft yet independent kitten; how he did enjoy quieting her rages.

  Releasing his hold on her wrist, Dante relaxed against the wall. Kyler leaned into him, hugging his body with her wanting warmth. As her tongue danced with his, his erection tightened beneath the towel.

  She whispered against his mouth, “I hate that I want you so much.”

  And he loved that she did. Made her a hell of a lot more interesting than a woman who was attracted to him for purely self-serving sexual reasons. Because she’d confessed she needed him to find and keep the egg in hand. He liked her layers, and if it meant sticking around and sharing the Fabergé egg a few more days while ensuring the coast was clear, he intended to do so. He was going to stay as close to Kyler as her love/hate would allow.

  Suddenly the towel fell away from his hips. She’d tugged it off? He really did enjoy all this emotional torment. She gripped his cock and gave his lip a biting kiss, tugging out his lower lip.

  “Despise me all you like,” he said as he lifted her by the thighs. She wrapped her legs about him. She ground herself against his bare cock. Mercy, but he could come if he were not more practiced in delaying an ejaculation. “If you really hate me—”

  “I could bite you?”

  Dante stopped just inches from kissing her. She associated hating him with biting him? Grasping Kyler’s wrists, he held her away from him, making her slide her legs down and step back. Her eyes glided to his rigid cock, which ached for her body back against it, rubbing her moistness along the length.

  “I don’t know what it is about you,” he said, “but I forget myself around you.”

  “You want me,” she said with a purr. “Always.”

  “I do. Always. But I...don’t want the bite.”

  “Oh.” Her shoulders dropped, and she looked away but then right back at him with a hopeful smile. “You know we don’t have to bond with the bite—if we make it short and sweet. I understand bonding would have to be a mutual agreement between us.”

  She tapped her kiss-reddened lips, and her eyelashes fluttered softly. A talented seductress despite her inner disbelief.

  “I want to taste you, Dante, but I want to taste you on your knees, and begging for it. I want to know that I mean something to you. But I know that will never happen. Not with your record with women.”

  “The only time I go on my knees before a woman—”

  She put up her palm. “Yeah, I get it. Casanova has returned. And I’ve lost my appetite for charm. But I am hungry. I’m going to head out for a bite.” She shuffled into her shoes and strolled toward the door.

  “And leave me like this?” Dante turned to display his erection, full-mast and up against his torso.

  He knew he was pushing it, but really? Women didn’t leave him high and dry. And he’d never left a woman that way, either. What was wrong with Kyler Cole that she could walk away from such opportunity? Such delicious pleasure?

  “Just you and your hand, buddy,” she said and opened the door. “I’ll be back. I trust you won’t go anywhere with the egg.”

  “How do you know that? I might have an emergency exit off the island. Friends in the know who can secret me out of the country.”

  She paused in the doorway and smirked. “I know, because you want me as much as I want that egg.”

  “Ah.” He lifted a finger. “But I’ve already had you.”

  She strolled her fingers down a breast, which drew his eye to the hard nipple beneath the thin red fabric. “You haven’t had your fill. I know that as much as you do. And you’re not about to walk away from the conquest of biting me. No matter what you tell yourself. I can see it in your eyes, and—hell, your cock doesn’t lie.”

  The body part she’d mentioned performed a mutinous pulse that jerked it heavily against his abdomen. Dante lowered his palm to calm it down.

  “We’re not finished with one another,” she said, winking sweetly. “See you soon, lover boy.” She closed the door behind her.

  Indeed, they were not finished with each other. But that she was enjoying the game as much as he, well...he had to admit he liked her enthusiasm.

  Dante looked down at his softening erection. No time for self-pleasure now. He had a vampiress to stalk.

  But first? The foolish vampiress had left him alone with the egg.

  * * *

  Kyler had needed to get out of that hotel room as quickly as humanly possible. Hell, she wasn’t even human anymore. She should have been able to vacate the premises with vampiric speed. And yet seeing Dante standing there in the buff had taxed her every need to strip naked and be the one to bow before him.

  On the other hand, she hadn’t felt the least bit of defeat when kissing him. Or stroking his cock and bringing up a wanting moan from him. For a few precious and triumphant moments, she had owned that vampire. And she could do it again.

  But did she want to control him? The man was an obstacle. Granted, he was a sexy obstacle. But also cunning and dangerous. She should be able to take the egg and walk away. But she couldn’t, simply because she enjoyed playing against him. And she couldn’t fathom ending it now when it had only begun.

  She was letting emotions fall into the mix. The wanting, needy, romantic kinds of emotions that were perfectly fine at any other time. But right now, when she should be focused on the prize?

  “Mercy,” she muttered as she turned down a narrow, cobblestoned alley that was bracketed by three-story brick buildings. She stopped and leaned against a wall, putting a foot up on the opposite wall. Closing her eyes, she fought with her thoughts.

  She could walk away. Tell King she hadn’t
found the egg. But he’d know that was a lie because the missing-egg story had already played on the news. He must realize she had it by now. Of course, she could still use the lie that another thief had taken it.

  And another thief almost had taken the egg.

  But no. King deserved it. And she wanted in on eternity. She wanted to live forever without worry of the stake. That had been her reason for asking for vampirism in the first place. She’d been motivated by her mother’s death. She’d died so young. And the idea of gaining immortality with a few drinks of blood every now and then had been an easy fix for the heartbreak and grief Kyler had felt at the time.

  But then to learn that immortality wasn’t forever and that she needed eternity to make that wish so? Well, she’d been in for the transformation to vampire; she was in it to win it all now.

  But why would Dante think King was a hunter? They’d avoided that discussion. He must be thinking of the wrong man. No vampire would become a hunter and slay his own kind. For what reason? Certainly Dante was wrong.

  “Dante D’Arcangelo,” she whispered, eyes still closed. Sounded adventurous and sensual, not dangerous or even a threat to her. Why did her opponent have to be so damned sexy and consistently determined to seduce her?

  Kyler wasn’t sure what she’d do if he managed to get her into his bed again.

  On the other hand, there were plenty of things she could do. Kiss him. Fuck him. Come with him. Bite him.

  She pressed her lips tightly together. She did want a taste of Dante. It would rocket up their intimacy. A taste would be fun, sexy, teasing. It was the longer drink that would give them a blood connection, and that he seemed to fear.

  A connection just as she had with King. She could feel her creator when he was near, and he her. And sometimes she could sense his thoughts. She expected King knew more about her because he was old and experienced. But because they hadn’t had a relationship beyond that one night of sex they were not as intimately connected as she suspected others—lovers—could be.

  She’d never feared King. Dante had no clue what he was talking about.

  A noise at the end of the alleyway pulled Kyler from her thoughts. A young man smiled and swaggered toward her in the cool shadows. He wore a blue-and-white-striped shirt. Probably a gondolier on a break. He was tan, and his curly dark hair spilled over one eye.

  Kyler turned toward him with a Cheshire cat smile. A crook of her finger quickened his steps to her. She didn’t like to chat with her bites. Or kiss them, if that could be avoided. The whole sexual intimacy line was not something she crossed, because she considered her donors simply a meal. She reserved her sensual energy for real sex and relationships.

  He bowed his head toward her and said something in a mix of English and Italian so quickly she could only make out “pretty” and “hungry.” Yes, she was hungrier than she’d realized. She needed blood. Now.

  Tilting onto her tiptoes, she glided a palm up the front of his shirt. His heartbeat thundered. He thought he was going to get lucky. And he would. The swoon the vampire’s victim experienced with the bite was an erotic thing, oftentimes close to orgasm. Enough to leave them smiling and dazed with the pleasure they thought they had received.

  Acting quickly, she stroked a finger up his neck and pushed aside his soft brown hair. She lunged for him, fangs descending. He expected a kiss as he wrapped his arms around her, his hands straying down to her ass. Such an uninvited touch was frequent, and it annoyed her, but she would endure it for the blood.

  After pricking him deeply, she drew out her fangs and sucked in the hot, thick blood that tasted of wine, oregano and the salty sea. A sweet blend that enticed her to take more than a few sips—

  “Hey! Ciao!”

  Pulling away from the man’s neck, Kyler shoved him off her. She had the forethought to enthrall him, even as another stranger approached from down the alleyway. As his knees bent, his body gently fell and he crumpled into a semiconscious heap against the brick. He would be deeply immersed in the swoon for a few more minutes. The bite would heal quickly. By tomorrow evening it would but be a memory.

  “What about me?” the man asked as he walked up to her, arms splayed out in demand. “You are kissing men in the shadows?”

  Asshole. She didn’t need this. But she didn’t want him to see the other man’s neck. She hadn’t gotten more than a tiny taste! It wasn’t enough to satisfy her hunger. And she’d forgotten to lick the wound, a necessity to heal and prevent the victim from transforming to vampire.

  Unsure what to do, she acted instinctively and crooked a finger at him to step right up. He quickly moved to grab her, wrapping a hand across her back. He smelled like cigarettes and wine, and he wasn’t a tourist; she sensed that. He clutched her tightly, one hand groping up under her shirt at her back.

  Kyler suddenly had the urge to extricate herself from this mess. Forget about the blood. This had been an ill-prepared quest. When he dove to kiss her, she punched him under the jaw. Remarkable, the strength she had gained with vampirism. The punch sent him stumbling backward against the wall to land in a sprawl.

  He’d passed out? Nice. Diving to the other victim, Kyler quickly dragged her tongue over the wound to seal it.

  Standing, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and shook her head. “Still so much to learn,” she said with a sigh. Taking bites in public places, no matter how private she thought they might be, was best exercised with much more caution.

  Stepping over the second man, who groaned, she exited the alleyway and turned onto a main street. Ten paces ahead, a tall shadow stood beneath a froth of pink roses climbing a wrought iron fence.

  “Have a good bite?” Dante said. “Your collection skills are sketchy, Kyler. You could get into trouble one day, pushing a donor up against a wall so close to where tourists wander.”

  Chapter 8

  “Collection?” Kyler laughed as she strode past Dante. “Maybe I like the quickies. And the danger of collecting so close to others.”

  He didn’t reach out for her. That was a disappointment. To be tugged into the handsome vampire’s arms and then ravished with his kisses? Oh yeah.

  Then again, she was frustrated, having missed out on a chance to thoroughly feed, so his charm did little more than annoy her.

  Dante matched her pace as she veered toward the docks where visitors arrived from the mainland. “You lie to yourself a lot, Kyler. Why is that?”

  Did she? Why lie about wanting some fast and fun sex? Such pleasure was a woman’s right. As for that other lie, though...fine, she’d had to embellish about the quickie back in the alley. She’d not gotten enough blood and was still hungry. But the last person she wanted to confess her fuckup to was Signore Casanova.

  “Maybe it’s just you I feel the need to lie to,” she shot back.

  “I don’t understand that. I’ve been straightforward with you. We both want the same thing. And I am quite sure I was clear that the intimacies we’ve shared are completely separate from the challenge of winning the egg. I’m not using you. I don’t use women.”

  “Oh please, Dante, you’ve used every woman who has ever walked into your life.”

  “I protest.”

  “I remain firm.”

  “How so?”

  She stopped walking and faced him. His eyes entreated, and yet she thought she noticed a glint of sadness. She wanted to hug him, pat him on the head and tell him it was all going to be—damn it! He was doing it again. Making her feel for him when it was all a manipulative act.

  “You claim to admire women—”

  “Always. I love women.”

  “You love to play with them. To control them. To move them about on your game board. Satisfying a woman sexually isn’t loving them, Dante. It’s exerting your control.”

  “I don’t—why are you so afrai
d of being controlled? It’s King, isn’t it? What’s he holding over you? Is he controlling you?”

  She turned and swiftly walked onward, brushing past a gaggle of teenagers snapping selfies before a bronze statue of some saint she didn’t have time for. Why did he have to guess it on the first try? Not that it was an aggressive or even forceful control. It was that she felt she owed King. And what was so wrong with that? The man had given her so much.

  She wanted to be right about Dante being a bastard who used women to build up his self-esteem. And yet she wasn’t sure about that summation. She was too screwed up herself to be diagnosing other people’s habits. But since becoming a vampire, her life was growing clearer. At least, she hoped it was. She knew what she wanted. She had taken steps to get it.

  Now to hand over the prize and earn her eternity.

  “I can help you get away from him,” he said as he gained her side. He didn’t look at her. They both walked quickly forward through the bustle of tourists that edged Saint Mark’s square. “If you want that.”

  “That sounds a little too generous for your love-them-and-leave-them act. Or do you play a long game with your lovers?”

  “Truth?” He slid a hand into hers and pulled her to a stop. He didn’t push her against a wall or forcefully grasp her wrist, and Kyler almost missed that dominant control. Almost.

  “I’ve never been in a committed relationship,” he said, “and most affairs never last more than a few days. A few weeks is a possibility but a rarity. I said I love women, Kyler. I didn’t say I loved being tied down. How can a man love all women if he’s connected to only one for his lifetime?”

  “You really are Casanova. Sure you weren’t born in the eighteenth century?”

  “I don’t see the problem with that. I am vampire. I will live for centuries. Millennia, if I avoid the stake. Could you imagine being attached to one lover for so long? Be honest.”

  “No, I couldn’t,” she said without thinking. “I’d eventually want to see what else was out there, even if I was in love. Can love last for centuries? I’m not sure. But I’m not talking about commitment and relationships. I’m saying that you are more dangerous to the women you come in contact with than a mere bite. It hurts to be swept off our feet and into a lie.”