Tears of Blood (The Blood Chronicles)

by Tamela Quijas

  Leisurely, his mouth settled on the exposed pulse on her neck. Meghan shuddered, rising weakly out of her seat, stars exploding behind the lenses of her damaged vision. She twisted her head to the side, allowing him far easier access to the beating vein declaring her excitement. Uncertain where to place her hands, she clutched at his shoulders, ignoring the clatter of her cane as it dropped to the ground. She drew him nearer without uttering a word, and her breath escaped in a euphoric flutter as the burning warmth of his tongue flicked the sensitive shell of her ear.

  Amado groaned hungrily, his eyes darkening as he moved his mouth from her neck. Struggling with the demon lurking inside him, he breathed in, and then exhaled a shuddering gasp. Meghan’s fingers remained twined in his hair and he detected her faint moan of displeasure.

  “You drive me to madness.” He managed huskily before his lips brushed over her mouth. Amado moaned hungrily, unable to control his better senses. An unfulfilled hunger caused him to gnash his teeth together before drawing away from her enchantment.

  “Amado, you shouldn’t….” Meghan protested weakly, powerless of fully understand the feelings wracking her.

  “You’re magic to me.” He groaned his admission heavily. “I look at you, and I see the appeal of my youth. I touch you, and I’m lost in your spell.”

  Her mouth thirstily parted beneath his, savoring the tempting warmth he so willingly presented. He tasted of rich chocolate, she realized, his undeniably masculine aroma flooding her bedazzled senses. Her legs trembled as he ravenously consumed the silken petals, the firm pressure of his hand pressed against her cheek. Almost savagely, her name nothing more than a low sound, he deepened the kiss until she became a breathless and pulsating mass of aching womanhood.

  Amado pulled back, and waited for her disappointed moan. Even though she spoke of not wanting him in her life, her body whispered otherwise. She needed him, and he understood her surrender was within reach. A stifled laugh escaped him as he deliberately captured her parted lips again and hauled her from her seated position, enveloping her delicate mortal form into his arms.

  Immediately, she strained against him, savoring his taste. Meghan quivered with long forgotten zeal. Bit by bit, his gloved hand traveled with luxuriating deliberateness through the silken length of her golden tresses, pulling her mouth closer to his as the heated kiss grew. She felt herself losing her reason as she became lost in the wonder of his caress. Her arms encircled his neck as the pressure of his lips increased, and Meghan felt as if the very breath were being stolen from her body. Lost in his embrace, she wanted more, and returned each impassioned kiss with one of her own.

  “Let me into your world, mi bella.” The heat of his throaty words sent tantalizing shivers across her skin. His mouth brushed her lips, teasing her with unspoken promise, filling her with hunger. “Free me from my darkness…”

  “Amado,” she mouthed hotly, unaware the name spilled from her. Desire rippled throughout every nerve, and lust sent stabbing jolts of agony into the depths of her womb. Her legs trembled and her hands fluttered as she pressed her mouth to his with surprising eagerness.

  “Are you finished with her yet, Gianni, or do you wish to continue making a spectacle of yourself to all of Bentham?”

  Declan’s sarcastic comment sent an unexplained chill over Amado’s flesh. Reluctantly, he pulled himself from Meghan’s arms and turned. A low growl escaped as he glowered defiantly into the face that had tormented him for nearly a century. The urge to rip at Balthazar’s smug expression filled him, and the hastily shadowed hue of his eyes revealed his fury.

  “Be cautious, my child of the night,” Declan soothed in a voice tinged with a hint of violence. “You don’t want me to regret harming you.”

  Words caught in Amado’s throat and he couldn’t speak. Resentment raged inside him and his temper blurred his senses as he looked at the fiend.

  In the distance, he heard Meghan’s cane tapping on the sidewalk as she hurried away.

  Chapter Eleven

  A hundred voices surrounded her, the pitch a jumbled puzzled as they echoed from the marble floor and the cathedral high ceilings of the luxurious Grand Illusion Hotel. Meghan couldn’t control the tightening of her shoulders as Chesca removed her jacket and hand it to the coat check girl.

  “Relax, Meg.” She whispered close to her ear. “You’d think you really didn’t want to come here.”

  “You twisted my arm, Chesca.” Meghan reminded from the corner of her mouth.

  “Who the hell are you kidding?” Chesca retorted cheerfully as they linked arms. “You always wanted to go to one of these things, being the fan you are.”

  “You forget to remember it’s the fan I was.”

  “Whatever.”

  Chesca shrugged and, for a moment, she heard the underlying tone of disgust coloring her friend’s retort. Meghan admitted she’d always wanted to attend the festivities gracing the Grand Illusion every fall, when time slipped back to simpler era, where a man’s was as good as a lawyer’s signature, and when the Golden Era of Films reigned supreme.

  Kevin never had been one to share her love for the films, and laughed at her. Wincing, she recalled his fatalistic words, as clear as if spoken this morning.

  “…you like those damn boring events, Meg? You like those fucking nerd conventions, where all you morons look more like the disgusting idiots you really are? I’ll be damned if I’m wasting my time or money on something so fucking stupid….”

  Meghan winced again. She stopped where she stood, and shook Kevin’s angered face from her thoughts. She realized Chesca turned to look at her, her expression markedly patient, but she didn’t have to tell her of the invading thoughts. Kevin’s vicious spirit would always shadow her, whispering and ruthlessly butchering whatever joy she felt.

  Chesca knew how Kevin’s memory bothered her. Even after half a decade, his image often prevent Meghan from doing what she loved most, the remembered fear of his rage lingered. She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to shake the underlying terror he instilled in her after years of abuse, but realized she had to stop living in the past.

  As she finished chastising herself, a different memory erased Kevin’s terror with one broad stroke. The remembered feel of warm lips caressing her mouth banished her ex-husband’s twisted visage to a forgotten world and her body tingled with startling life. She lifted trembling fingers and ran the delicate pads over her lower lip, recalling Amado’s lips pressed against hers, and sighed.

  Amado’s taste, the scent of his skin, lingered in her finely tuned thoughts. He tormented her in ways Kevin never could. The faceless man filled her imaginings, the warm whisper of his breath an echo in the wind, teasing her with everything she believed unnecessary. The shell around her heart suffered a severe crack with his kiss, and she found she wanted more. In fact, she wanted him in her life.

  Meghan stifled a smile and her cheeks brightened beneath opalescent powder. Chesca laughed and pulled her close, enveloping her in an embrace that nearly strangled the breath from her. Pulling back, she ran a warm hand over her upturned cheek.

  “I haven’t seen that look on your face in years, Meg.” Chesca whispered.

  The voices about them lifted as the next singer mounted the podium at the far end of the ballroom. A chanting, masculine chorus of Marilyn, Marilyn, Marilyn, rose to a deafening pitch before the sultry sound of a woman’s voice filled the room. As swiftly as the voices had risen, silence fell, and excited whispers replaced the previous din.

  “Maybe I’m letting you steer me into something I shouldn’t be doing.” She was simply plain old Meghan Stanley, and not anywhere as stunning as most of the women in attendance.

  “After what I saw from the store window yesterday,” Chesca muttered. “I’m not the one leading you on a dangerous track.”

  Meghan blushed crimson, vaguely wondering how much of the kiss she’d seen. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Chesca.”

  “Don’t play me for the fool,
Meg.” Her retort dripped with censure as she reached for a fluted glass of champagne from a passing waiter. After taking a long sip, she leaned in close. “I saw the overly heated, erotic kiss you and that delicious morsel of a man exchanged yesterday, outside the café.”

  She suspected her face now burned a flaming shade of garnet at the offhanded comment.

  “My God, Chesca, how many people saw us?”

  “Nearly half of Bentham had an exclusive view of the most ardent kiss I’ve ever seen in my lifetime. I have to admit, that kiss made me very, very envious.”

  Meghan groaned deep in her throat. “I’m so ashamed…”

  “Why should you be?” Chesca questioned innocently.

  “I made a public spectacle of myself!”

  “Sweetheart,” her friend began delicately, waving her hand and sending the bells on her bracelet into tinkling chaos. “In this day and age, how many people see you exchange an enthusiastic kiss with a totally handsome man is the least of your worries.”

  “Chesca….”

  “Are you feeling guilty?” Chesca murmured wickedly.

  “No, I’m not!” She blurted out impulsively. She pressed the palm of her hand to her chest and struggled to breathe inward, the abrupt memory of his lips filching any semblance of coherent thought from her.

  “Well, that’s good to hear.” The words reeked with a congratulatory echo as Chesca pounded her on the back. Just as Meghan suspected her spine would shatter, she stopped and leaned close, murmuring slyly into her ear. “Anyway, if you’re ashamed or embarrassed, I’ll take that scrumptious little Sicilian morsel off your hands.”

  “Chesca!”

  “I’m joking!” Her friend hurried to explain, laughing uproariously at the outrage on Meghan’s face. “Besides, your Amado’s totally not my type.”

  Meghan ran an anxious hand across the back of her neck, sighing heavily. “Hell, I don’t even know if he is my Amado.”

  “You have to be kidding me. Are you serious?” Chesca inquired, surprised.

  Meghan shrugged. “I can’t even tell you what Amado looks like!”

  “Is his appearance really important?”

  “I don’t know!” Nervously, Meghan rubbed at the side of her cheek. Instantly, she stopped, not wanting to smear the make-up Chesca so carefully applied for the night. “For all I know, he could be a troll.”

  The other woman deposited her empty champagne glass on the tray of an attentive waiter.

  “Honey, trust me, he definitely ain’t no troll.” Chesca jabbed her merrily in the ribs with her elbow. “But would it count if he was?”

  Silent, Meghan exhaled heavily. “Honestly…”

  “Then let me ask you this,” Chesca began, her words intense. “Does he make you feel special?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you enjoy his company?” She persisted. “Does he make you laugh, and do you look forward to being with him?”

  Meghan shrugged, unable to answer, before she nodded.

  “Are you starting to fall in love with him?”

  Meghan’s mouth dropped open and her heart lodged in her throat at Chesca’s question. The blood roared in her ears and felt slightly dazed, realizing she’d pinpointed her exact feelings.

  “I think I am.” She admitted dazedly.

  “Then, what’s it matter how he looks?” Chesca observed easily. “Honey, as long as you feel that the moon and stars sets on you when he’s around, it’s not significant.”

  Meghan laughed and the sound tinkled with pleasure. “I hate to tell you that you’re correct, since you’ll gloat for a week, Chesca.”

  “Me? Gloat?” She sounded outraged before she broke out into giggles. “I never gloat!”

  “You do.” Meghan supplied smugly.

  “Okay, perhaps a little bit.” Chesca conceded. “Still, though, let me tell you something….”

  “Now what?”

  “Granted, Amado’s isn’t a man I’d go gaga over, but he’s certainly easy on the eyes.”

  Chesca’s type was the epitome of the tall blonde Adonis women only saw in magazines, shallow to a fault, and only good for one thing…sex. If Amado wasn’t her sort, then he had to be the exact opposite.

  “Can you describe him for me?” She questioned as her curiosity overwhelming her.

  “I suppose.” Her friend answered offhandedly, her tone teasing. “Better yet, how about you tell me how he looks?”

  “I don’t…”

  “Just imagine, Meg.” Chesca murmured throatily as she pressed her cheek to Meghan’s face. “Remember that soul-searing kiss the man planted on you, and tell me what how you imagine he looks.”

  Needlessly, Meghan closed her eyes, and recollections of Amado’s lips tormented her hungry thoughts.

  “He’s, probably, a few inches taller than me.” She began, recalling he hadn’t stooped to pull her into his arms. “He’s Italian…”

  “Nope, darling,” Chesca retorted saucily. “He isn’t Italian, and he’d be the first to correct you.”

  “Okay, okay!” Meghan conceded tersely. “He’s a Sicilian, which leads me to believe he doesn’t have your coloring.”

  “Nope, he’s not fair skinned or haired.” Chesca supplied informatively. “His hair is nearly a blue-black and his skin has a tan I wish I could get during the summer.”

  The mental image grew minutely.

  “His eyes are golden with flecks of black, as he told me when I asked.” She continued. “He says he’s a ballroom dance instructor, and I can’t hear him half the time when he’s walking. So, I suppose he’s on the lean side.”

  “You're doing pretty good there, Meg.” She could almost hear Chesca nodding.

  “So, what am I missing?”

  Chesca mulled over her words as Meghan waited. “Do you recall those old films we used to watch?”

  “Which ones?”

  “The silent ones,” Chesca supplied. “You remember the ones with Armand Gerino?”

  “Yes, I do.” Meghan snorted, remembering staring at the long dead actor with teenage awe. “We’d spend hours sighing over him and those overly dramatic advances he’d make toward his female leads.”

  “Well, dearie,” Chesca sounded as if she were imparting the most secret of secrets. “If I had to describe Amado for you, I’d say he bears a startling resemblance to Armand Gerino.”

  “Yeah, right!” Meghan laughed aloud. “Just like Marilyn up there really resembles Marilyn.”

  “Believe what you want, but he’s a dead ringer!” She grumbled. “If someone wanted to pull a DNA test for possible illegitimate heirs, Amado would be the man I’d pick.”

  “Oh, Chesca, you’re so silly!” Meghan chuckled, although the image her words evoked did stir her memories.

  “You have some sort of image of him, so tell me more.” The other woman encouraged with a smile.

  “His voice is like molten lava…”

  “And here I thought you said it practically dripped honey the first time.”

  “I thought so to, but I was wrong.” Meghan corrected with a secretive smile.

  “So, tell me,” Chesca chuckled outright. “How can a man have a voice like molten lava?”

  “When he speaks, I want to melt.” Meghan admitted weakly.

  “And you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

  Meghan sighed, but her mental picture of Amado lingering. “For me, I think it is.”

  “I don’t think anything that man does is bad for you.” Chesca shook her head and her hair brushed across her bare shoulder. “In fact, I think he’s the best thing that’s happened to you in years.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” Chesca’s reply echoed with an envy Meghan hadn’t ever heard before. “Lord, what I would give to have a man look at me with that much adoration and love!”

  She smiled tenderly and her heart skipped a beat. “You’re not teasing me, are you?”

  “Darling, I would
be the last one to pull your leg.” Unexpectedly, Chesca pulled her into a tight embrace, and planted a light kiss on her forehead. “Also, I think you’re finally enjoying yourself.”

  “You know what?” Meghan whispered with a hint of wickedness, winking up in the direction of her flame haired friend as she moved to her side. “Honestly, I really am.”

  “I think you need to be sinful a little trace more, and loosen up, Meg.” Chesca managed. “Live a little! Furthermore, I like it when you revert to the old you.”

  “The old Meghan died years ago.” She reminded her caustically.

  “You’re so full of shit!” Chesca’s words didn’t contain the usual joking inflections. “You allowed yourself to sink into this ugly pit after you divorced Kevin, which makes me sick. You’ve shied away from the world, built this shell around you, and forgotten what it’s like to be alive.”

  Meghan tensed, sensing the heavy weight of Chesca’s annoyance. “I didn’t…”

  “Didn’t you?” The fiery redhead interrupted caustically. “I remember a girl who used to sing songs that would make chills run all up and down my back. I recall a young lady just as wild as I was, and could fight the world as easily as any pro boxer could. My friend laughing at the stupidest things, and enjoy every moment of the world around her!”

  “That was a long time ago, Chesca.” Meghan protested halfheartedly.