Desired: A Vampire Blood Courtesans Romance

by Monica La Porta

  The limousine stopped, and a moment later, Martino opened my door and held his hand out for me. I exited the car, taking in the sight of the Coliseum illuminated by thousands of spotlights. Fabian was immediately at my side, his hand on the small of my back.

  “Have you ever visited the Coliseum at night?”

  “No, I haven’t, and I didn’t think it was open at night.”

  “It usually isn’t. But I have sponsored the latest restoration, and I’ve got special permission to visit whenever I want.” His fingers traced circles on my back. It didn’t matter that both my gown and the cloak lay between his touch and my body; it still felt as if he were caressing my naked skin. Goosebumps covered me from head to toe, and I gasped under my breath when he whispered in my ear, “I hope you’ll like the tour.” He gently led me through the entrance, and we were soon walking inside the Roman arena.

  “This is amazing.” I couldn’t help but feel like I was living a dream. Although with him at my side, I would have found a stroll through the neighborhood grocery market interesting.

  “I fought here,” he said, breaking the spell that kept me enthralled.

  “You were a gladiator.” I tried to wrap my head around the idea that the man at my side was more than two thousand years old. No wonder he had been so convincing in that movie about the Spartan War.

  “I was.” His eyes lit at the memory. “But not for long. When I finally became famous enough to draw the attention of a Roman lanista—a rich merchant with enough money to own a gladiator school—I was brought to Rome from the provinces. Here, in the sands of the Coliseum, I soon rose through the ranks, but a vampire noticed me, and the rest is history.”

  “That’s not common knowledge.” Not once had I heard about it, and I compulsively devoured anything I could find on Fabian Laurentis. There wasn’t a television interview of him I hadn’t watched. If the fact that he had been a gladiator when he was still human had been mentioned, I would have known. Plus, the whole media circus would have milked the juicy tidbit for all its worth.

  “No, it isn’t.”

  From his clipped answer, I assumed that just as he didn’t want people to know about his courtesans, he also didn’t like to share about his long gone past. “But you are telling me.”

  “I am.”

  Something warm and sweet and all around wonderful blossomed at the center of my chest. “Why?”

  He abruptly stopped. His hand pressed firmer against my back, making me turn to face him. “Because I want you to know me.” His hand slid up and around, and stopped at my shoulder. “Not the vampire.” His fingers dug slightly into my cloak. “Not the actor.” His eyes locked with mine, and his other hand came up to caress my cheek. “Just me.”

  Just me.

  But there wasn’t anything “just me” about a man like Fabian Laurentis.

  I stared at him blankly, and he asked, “Can you keep an open mind about me, princess?”

  His last word hit me like a slap. “Don’t call me that,” I said before I could soften the angry tone in my voice. It was a reflex from years of steeling my heart against the cruel jibes of my peers. “Please, don’t call me that ever again.” I closed my eyes to blink the tears away.

  His finger pushed my chin up. “Look at me.”

  I did.

  “I apologize—” he said.

  “There’s no need. You couldn’t have known.” I regretted having lashed out without thinking of the consequences because now the mood was ruined. But it had been instinctual, beyond my power to stop from happening. “I just hate to be called by my title, that’s all.”

  “It won’t happen again.” He pressed his hand against my cheek, and I leaned into it.

  A sudden and strong wind pushed me to the side. Taken by surprise and incapacitated by my heels, I struggled to maintain my position when the gust didn’t abate but grew stronger.

  “Stay away from her,” Fabian said, then swore, reaching out to grab my elbow as I slipped further away from him.

  As rapidly as the wind had started, so it stopped, and a woman appeared in front of me.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Fabian

  I saw Stella falling backward and grabbed her before she hit her head on the marble base of one of the columns. Her terrified eyes didn’t leave mine as I held her up, but there wasn’t time for any explanation. “Don’t talk,” I mouthed, then pushed her behind me to shield her from Malvina.

  My sirra had found out about Stella. Who had betrayed me? I would rip his heart apart, but now, I had to save Stella from Malvina’s insane jealousy.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked my sirra.

  “Don’t play stupid, pet.” Malvina stood a few steps from me, her cold eyes looking over my shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of Stella, who was shaking badly.

  I could smell the scent of Stella’s fear and could hear her heartbeats getting faster. Her fear fueled my rage with burning coals, more so because I was powerless before Malvina. My sirra studied my reaction; her obsidian eyes that had once drawn my attention—when I was but a mortal and didn’t know any better—shrank to slits.

  “You know exactly why I am here.” Like a panther, Malvina slunk to the side, her long legs clad in her signature black boots with the impossibly-high heels. “To rip apart your new toy.” She waited for Stella’s gasp. Then satisfied she had provoked the expected reaction from her prey, she winked at me.

  I mentally braced for her next stab.

  “But if you want to play with me, I can always share. She won’t last long, I’m afraid.” Malvina paused, then tilted her head to the side. It was a mannerism that would have looked coy in another woman, but was threatening coming from her. “For good old time’s sake?”

  Stella froze behind me. Her heartbeats slowed, and her breathing stopped.

  I didn’t interrupt Malvina’s monologue, and I knew I was damning myself with Stella, but centuries of containing my sirra’s cruelty had taught me never to try to make her reason. Last time I tried, two innocents lost their lives.

  “You still like insipid girls, I see.” Malvina paced an imaginary line, back and forth, back and forth, resembling a feline on the prowl. Her eyes started to glow. Bloodlust was difficult to hide, even for a vampire as old and powerful as she was. “But if we take it slow, we can make her last a whole hour.”

  I hated that I couldn’t reach behind and touch Stella. She was going into shock and needed reassurance, but I couldn’t move a single muscle without giving away how important Stella was to me. Malvina would kill Stella the moment she realized the truth. And I couldn’t touch Malvina. Her role as my sirra protected her. Malvina had used it against me so many times that I had learned my lesson. She had created me and could do to me anything she wanted, but I couldn’t raise a single finger against her, or I would become a renegade—a pariah who had no place in our tightly knitted vampire society. And with me out of the picture, Stella would be at the mercy of Malvina or any other vampire.

  “I might let you take her first.” She chuckled. “I’ll even hold her down for you. After all, you paid an obscene amount of money to sink your fangs into her sex.”

  I recoiled. Stella stepped away from me, making herself more vulnerable by exposing herself to the monster.

  Eyes widening and nostrils flaring, Malvina took in Stella’s appearance. I stepped back to cover her, and that displeased my sirra.

  “Now, be a good pet, and move,” Malvina said, venom dripping from her sweet tone as she eyed me with distrust. “I wonder what her blood bouquet tastes like, and I’m hungry.”

  The luminosity from her eyes shone brighter than the light from the lamp post. She hadn’t fed in a while. I wasn’t surprised because she usually didn’t when she planned to pay me a visit; hunger enhanced her senses.

  When Malvina realized I hadn’t stepped aside, her face transformed, rage distorting her perfect traits and unveiling her true nature underneath the façade. “You will do as you are told, pet.” />
  The threats, the torture, the pain, I had endured it all before. Malvina didn’t scare me any longer. In the past, I only had to stall her long enough for her attention to wane, and she would be looking for a different thrill. But tonight, her focus had a maniacal quality, and that frightened me.

  “I thought that maybe you’d like something more exciting,” I said, stepping toward her, but keeping Stella in my shadow.

  Malvina tilted her head again and paused her nervous pacing—she looked like a caged animal that had just seen a piece of meat dangled before the bars. “And what would that be?” Her eyes roamed up and down my frame, lingering below my belt. She smiled. It was amazing how her reactions perfectly mimicked human emotions and yet she could distort their meaning into the opposite. On her mouth, a smile meant to reassure became the harbinger of evil. “Are you offering your delectable body?”

  “Would you like that?” I carefully erased any trace of revulsion from my question as I made it sound as if it were her idea.

  Stella hadn’t moved a muscle for the last bit of a conversation that was rapidly descending into madness. Her heart beat fast again, too fast. I was worried she was going to faint, but she was still on her feet and hadn’t said a word. I was glad for that. Things for Stella could get worse if she looked lively. Malvina liked her prey terrified and screaming, even trying to get away from her—in the end, it wouldn’t matter for the soon-to-be-dead victim, but it greatly entertained my sirra.

  She tapped her lower lip with her manicured finger, her long, sharp nail depressing her crimson flesh. Besides the rhythmical drumming, the rest of her was still, and that more than anything else betrayed her eagerness. “It has been a while.”

  Six centuries. It had been six centuries, and yet, not long enough for me. My insides still curled at the memory of our last carnal encounter. That time, I hadn’t been exactly willing.

  “I want her to watch,” Malvina said.

  Coming from her, it wasn’t an unusual request, but although I could silence the screaming “no” that died in my throat, I couldn’t compose my face fast enough, and she saw right through me.

  “Sparing the princess’s feelings?” Malvina cackled. “Marcello wouldn’t have done that.” She tilted her head. “Are you surprised that Marcello works for me?”

  Until now, I hadn’t been sure if Malvina had recognized Stella, but now I realized that my sirra had been closely watching me and that she had been playing with me all along.

  “You can have me,” I said.

  “But you want me to leave her alone.” She resumed her pacing.

  I could see in my sirra’s eyes her resolution to punish me through Stella. Malvina wouldn’t forgive me for not loving her as she wanted. Her affection was a perverted parody of love, made of jealousy and possessiveness, but it was all she had left of her humanity, and she clung to it.

  Then, as I had dreaded since she showed up, Malvina had enough of her sick game, and without warning, she attacked me. I withstood the assault, the only action allowed me. Her fangs pressed into my throat, and I would have let her have her satisfaction, but I knew all too well that it wouldn’t be enough. Malvina would go after Stella the moment I lost consciousness—her real reason to attack me. It would take me no more than a minute to regenerate, but it would be sixty seconds too late for Stella.

  I feigned to the side to dislodge Malvina’s hold on me.

  “I like it.” Malvina laughed out loud, pinning me down more strongly. “I had forgotten how much fun you were. I should chain you to my bed—”

  I rocked back and forth until I dislodged her off me. “Let’s move this party to your place,” I said as she jumped.

  “That’s such a lovely offer—” Malvina stood over me, an unreadable expression plastered on her face.

  I realized my error a moment too late, and I moved as fast as I could, but Malvina had already lunged for Stella. My sirra decided both her fate and mine when she lowered her fangs to Stella’s throat.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Stella

  I didn’t see the woman moving. A moment she was fighting with Fabian, the next the vampire’s hands were at my throat, her fingers extended into talons that gouged my skin.

  At first, I didn’t feel anything. Like a paper cut, her claws neatly sliced my flesh, and when the sharp pain came a moment later, a sensation of warm wetness accompanied it. My blood soaked the collar of my cloak, but I couldn’t raise my hands to staunch the rivulet. The vampire kept me pinned to the ground, her legs locking my arms to the side. She shook with laughter at my attempts to free myself.

  Terror took hold of me. Like an icy glove tightening against my throat, panic spread down to my lungs, pressing on them like an anvil, crushing my heart. I couldn’t breathe. Black dots swam in front of me, expanding until darkness replaced the sight of the monster on top of me. A memory emerged as my consciousness started fading. Another time. Another place. But the horror was similar. The piercing pain in my throat was the same. My stomach recoiled. A scream tore from my mouth. It was my nightmare all over again.

  Then, the vampire wasn’t on top of me any longer. A blur of movements and inhuman shrieks disturbed the silence of the ancient place. With the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of bloodied fangs and talons tearing flesh and tendons.

  My sight cleared, but the suffocating sensation didn’t. The memory was still present, fighting with reality for supremacy. Images mixed. Then and now, swirling in a loop. With sickening lucidity, I realized that I had lived through this horror once already. My night terrors weren’t horrific dreams but memories.

  In the distance, a car honked. Brakes skidded to a halt. The acrid stench filled my nostrils. Was it happening now? I couldn’t be sure of anything.

  “You attacked me!” the woman shouted, in her angry voice a tinge of betrayal. “You attacked me,” she repeated as if she was looking for meaning in her own words. “I am your sirra—”

  Their movements were slowing to a halt, and I could see that Fabian kept the woman at bay with his hand stretched before him.

  Before her expression could smooth back into her disdainful mask, the vampire looked at him with a crushed expression. Then Fabian pressed his hand against her chest and shoved her hard. The sound of breaking bones interrupted the woman’s outraged cry. As she was thrown against a column, blood spurted from the hole gaping at the center of her corset.

  At the explosive impact, the marble cracked and toppled over, burying the vampire under several tons of freshly-made Roman ruin.

  I barely had time to lean to the side before I threw up.

  Without sparing a second glance for the other vampire, Fabian moved to my side.

  “You are going to be okay. I promise.” He knelt, then passed his arm under my knees as he cradled me to his chest. Once standing, he dipped his head lower, his lips leaving kisses all over my wound. His tongue gently lapped at the blood.

  His actions should have horrified—or at the very least terrified—me, but the sensation was pleasant instead, leaving warmth in its wake that banished the chilling cold permeating my body. I am under severe shock, I told myself. Even as I was having those thoughts, the sensation evolved from comforting to arousing, but he had stopped and was studying me.

  Fleeting disappointment visited my chest, but my strength returned, and with it, my brain started working again, setting my priorities straight. “Is she dead?” I pointed my chin at what was left of a once majestic column.

  The pile of rubble had settled, but nothing else moved. The few stray cats living in the Coliseum had fled when the fight started, and the silence was eerie.

  Fabian’s chest rumbled. “It takes way more than a push to kill Malvina.”

  The push had collapsed the woman’s sternum, but I wasn’t going to correct him.

  “Is she badly wounded?” I wasn’t worried about the vampire’s health. My concern ran in the opposite direction; I was afraid the woman would emerge from that mound of rubble and
grab me again.

  “Only her ego.” He tightened his hold on me. “I’m afraid my plans for the night have changed.” Fabian’s voice was casual, but the hard set of his jaw and the cold light in his eyes told me he wasn’t as calm as he wanted me to believe. “I wish I could give you a choice in the matter,” he said, “but we are leaving Rome.”

  “Why?” I wasn’t sure he heard my question because we were already moving—or more precisely, he was running.

  Not just running though; his speed kept me pressed to his chest as if I were riding one of those scary carnival rides where people are glued to the wall as their cab spins out of control. From the little I could see, jostled in his arms, we were out of the Coliseum and heading toward the Fori Imperiali Street.

  At that time of the night, a few tourists would be still strolling in the piazzas and streets nearby. Our passage created a gust of wind that sent hats and bags flying, but nobody saw us—just as I hadn’t noticed the crazed vampire until the last moment.

  Finally, he stopped. The abruptness of it sent me reeling, and I gasped for breath.

  “Hold on,” he said, before rearranging my weight so that he could use his left hand.

  Only then did I realize that he was standing before a sports car. With an easiness that revealed this wasn’t the first time Fabian broke into someone else’s car, he forced the lock on the passenger’s door. I was deposited onto soft leather, and he sat in the driver seat a blink of an eye later.

  Leaning against the red fabric of the seat, Fabian extracted his cell phone from the front pocket in his trousers.

  “Martino?” he said as soon as his call went through. “Meet me at Ciampino.” Then he put away the phone and reached under the wheel to yank at some cables. A moment later, the car engine purred to life.

  Fabian joined the traffic, but the moment the car eased into the road, he pressed down on the accelerator, flattening me against the seat. As he passed cars left and right, he turned to look at me and said, “Because my sirra will be looking for me the moment her shock abates and she is her lovely self again.”