Secrets in Blood

by Patricia D. Eddy

  “What did he do to her?” Anger seethed deep inside, and Nic ached to punch something—or someone.

  Vittoria grinned. “Nicola, he may have caused her great pain, but he gave her a gift as well. One you will be thankful for. Evangeline does not age. Not like normal humans, anyway. The degeneration the doctor speaks of is what causes aging. These telomeres are part of every cell chromosome. Think of it like a cap. Every time a cell divides and reproduces, a bit of this cap wears away. When the cap is gone, the cell cannot divide any longer and it dies. This is how humans age. Fewer cells reproduce or reproduce properly. The muscles, nerves, they cannot repair themselves. Your sposa could have hundreds of years with you.”

  He gaped. His hand found its way to the bonding mark over his heart. Warmth radiated through him. “Are you certain?”

  Vittoria lifted a shoulder. “I am certain of nothing. For all I know, every word that prick wrote is a lie. You should guard this information carefully, my friend.” She shook her short crop of blond curls. “I require fresh clothing before we go. Carlo, pack up that mess. Let us go home.”

  Carlo met Nicola’s eyes. “We will try to keep the drives from the Conclave—or at least copy all of the information before we hand them over. For you and for your Evangeline.”

  “Nic?” Evangeline stood at the open door, her eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed, her shoulders slumped. He reached her in four strides and had her in his arms a second later.

  “I will never let you go.” He explained Vittoria’s theory between long, languid kisses. “So you see,” he murmured, caressing her breast, her hip, and finally cupping her ass, “I hope you have no regrets, my sweet sposa, because we will be together for a very, very long time.”

  Evangeline shuddered as Nic found the bonding mark on her neck and scraped his fangs over the tender scar. “None at all.”

  Sunlight flooded the bedroom and glinted off the lamp by the bed. Evangeline sprawled on her stomach, her hair fanning out over the down pillow. She’d been breathlessly excited when Nic had led her off the airplane in Naples, but only ten minutes after he’d settled her into the small front seat of the rented Fiat, she’d lost her battle to stay awake.

  Memory and instincts had taken over, and Nic navigated the narrow, curving roads with ease. Ninety minutes later, they’d pulled into the driveway of his cliffside home. Evangeline hadn’t stirred, not when he’d lifted her from the car, not when he’d carried her up the twisting staircase, not even when he had eased off her jeans and the shapeless flannel shirt and slid a rich, crimson silk nightgown over her head.

  Carlo made a few calls from the private plane that netted a crew of ten cleaning and stocking Nic’s home for the two of them. Half the walk-in closet had been filled for her, all the right size. Soft silks, light cottons, warm wools, all in bright colors. Dresses, skirts, sweaters, everything she could possibly need. The extravagance would do until they settled into this new life and she could shop for herself.

  He nuzzled her neck, scraping his fangs gently over the tender bonding marks. She shuddered underneath him, but he pulled away and let her be. Her father’s death weighed heavily on her. She’d even called his name once in the night, a few tears escaping her eyes. But now, relaxed in sleep, her beauty staggered him.

  He stroked her hair. They could have centuries together—perhaps even half a millennium, if Vittoria was right. He would grow old with her, willing himself to age if he had to.

  The French doors yawned, letting in the gentle sea breezes and the sounds of the gulls diving for fish. After he’d settled her in bed, he’d thrown open the doors and stood out on the veranda breathing in the fresh air. He’d cried then, releasing some of the tension he’d carried with him for eighteen long years. The relief of freedom, the comfort of his home, and the knowledge that his life mate slept nearby comforted him.

  He trailed a hand down Evangeline’s shoulder in the light of the morning, and finally, she purred and shifted.

  “Leamme alone,” she slurred. Her hips rocked as his hand rested on her ass.

  “No.”

  “Kept me up for days,” she murmured, sliding seductively over onto her back to look into his eyes.

  “No, cara, just twenty-seven hours. And I do recall you had a nap in there somewhere. Not days.”

  “Yes. Days. Two of them,” she retorted, but then her eyes focused on the blue of the Mediterranean Sea through the open doors and she gasped, sitting up so fast her head thudded into his chin. They both winced, and he laughed. Evangeline leapt up and practically ran for the small stone veranda beyond the bed. She basked in the sun, the breeze ruffling her hair.

  “You live here? Really?”

  “We live here, Evangeline. And tonight, we will be married here. We will be bonded, legally, emotionally, and physically.”

  The radiance of her joy blinded him, but he’d never look away. Not for a moment.

  “Wait. What am I wearing?” she asked, her brow furrowing as her hands smoothed over her hips.

  “You object?”

  She grinned, her eyes trailing down his naked body. “Well, one of us is wearing too many clothes.”

  Nic laughed and, within seconds, had his life mate, his sposa, his wife, naked underneath him, writhing with passion in the morning sun.

  34

  Carlo knocked at the door an hour before sunset. Dressed in a dark blue suit, his salt and pepper hair slicked back formally, he looked every bit the lawyer. Vittoria wore a siren-red dress that hugged her voluptuous curves, with ringlet curls spilling around her face. A garment bag draped over her arm, and she held a pair of white strappy heels.

  “She is upstairs?”

  Nic nodded, and Vittoria brushed past him without a backwards glance.

  “Carlo? This was to be informal. What is Vittoria doing?”

  Carlo laughed. “You know little of women, my friend. Are you really wearing that?”

  He looked down at his black slacks and crisp white shirt. “There is something wrong with my clothes?”

  “There will be once Vittoria gets done with your sposa. Go find a suit, at least.”

  Nic sighed. He doubted Evangeline would mind his attire. But still, he climbed the stairs and pushed through the bedroom door.

  Evangeline stood half-naked in the center of the room, sputtering with indignation. A cascade of white silk pooled around her hips, and she frowned at Vittoria. “How the hell am I supposed to walk in those things?” she asked, pointing down at the heels on the floor next to her.

  “You have never worn heels before?”

  “No. Can’t I just wear what I had on before?” Evangeline stared longingly at the simple white cotton dress she’d plucked from the huge closet.

  Vittoria gave a delicate snort of dismissal. “No.”

  “She can wear whatever she likes,” Nic said. “We are already bonded. This is merely a legal formality.”

  “Nicola! This is a human tradition. You will honor the ceremony. Now go change into a suit and then leave us.”

  He did as he was ordered, grumbling the whole time. He should have told Vittoria to leave for her impertinence, but Evangeline only knew one woman in all of Italy, and Nic would not risk Vittoria’s anger by dismissing her. He wanted Evangeline to have a confidant if she needed someone while he…had to suffer through the interrogation.

  “I can’t breathe! Shit. All right, that’s it. Off. I’ll wear the dress, but not those death sticks you want me to put on my feet and certainly not this fucking thing.” A corset flew across the room as Nic slipped out.

  Soon, he stood on a small patch of lawn overlooking the sea, Vittoria and Carlo at his side. Evangeline appeared at the French doors, and the sight of her took his breath away.

  A long, white silk gown dipped low between her breasts and cascaded over her hips to swish gently around her ankles. Flat sandals graced her feet. Her hair shone, a fresh cut angling the ends. His coin rested against her pale skin.

  Nic held out his hand, and s
he placed her delicate fingers in his. Her words in his head had him stifling a laugh. “I didn’t want any of this fuss. But you do look damn good in that suit.”

  Leaning in, he kissed the bonding mark on her neck. “You are a vision.”

  Carlo cleared his throat. “Nicola, please face your sposa. Repeat after me. I, Nicola Angliatti, on this night, do take Evangeline Longo to be my wife. I vow that for as long as we both shall walk the earth, I will be faithful and true, and keep her above all others. I will love her, cherish her, and respect her.”

  Nicola did as Carlo asked. Next, Carlo asked Evangeline to make the same vow.

  “I, Evangeline Longo, do take Nicola Angliatti as my husband. I vow that for as long as we both shall walk the earth, I will be faithful and true and keep him above all others. I will love him, cherish him, and respect him.”

  “Nicola, do you have the rings?”

  He nodded. Evangeline’s eyebrows shot up. They hadn’t discussed this. He flushed with embarrassment. “I had Carlo pick these up for me this morning. They are very old. The coin you wear is from the vampire who is believed to be the father of our race. He was bonded to another, and these are their rings. I purchased them at the same auction I acquired the coin. They have a long history of love behind them. For many years, I have held these in my safety deposit box, though I did not know why I wanted them in the first place. Perhaps I always longed for you.”

  He opened his hand. A blood-red ruby winked in the smaller ring.

  “By the power granted me by the Conclave and the government of Italy, I do state that you are now legally wed. Nicola, you may now kiss your wife.”

  “I do not need permission for that,” he said and pulled his life mate close. His hands skimmed down the silk of her gown. When their lips met, he lost himself in her sweet taste. He didn’t want to pull away, but he had to get Carlo and Vittoria out of their house. For the next twenty-four hours or so, he wanted his wife all to himself.

  Thank you for reading Secrets in Blood. Nic and Evangeline are safe in Italy. Or…are they?

  Find out in the dark, thrilling, and sexy REVELATIONS IN BLOOD.

  Danger lurks around every turn, allies turn to enemies, and help comes from the most unexpected source.

  She burns for him. He can’t get enough of her. Or her blood.

  They thought they were safe. After escaping the catacombs and leaving all she’s ever known behind, Evangeline is ready to be free. To start a new life with Nic. The vampire who claimed her body and her heart.

  His touch heals her. Her blood quiets his demons.

  Connected forever by a bond forged in blood and sealed in passion, their desire for one another grows beyond their wildest dreams. Until a new threat emerges.

  Betrayed, separated, and tortured, can they find their way back to one another? Or will their bond be shattered forever?

  Love freed them.

  Love will break them.

  Can love save them?

  Don’t miss the dark, sexy, and thrilling second installment of the In Blood series.

  One-click REVELATIONS IN BLOOD

  * * *

  If you enjoyed this book, I hope you’ll consider leaving an honest review on your purchase site of choice. Reviews are like chocolate (or blood) for authors. They keep us going and allow us to keep filling your Kindle with delicious stories. As soon as one of my books hits 75 reviews, I start writing the next book in the series!

  Italian Phrases

  A cosa somigli, al sole, in riva al mare? - What would you look like by the sea in the sun?

  Apri le gambe - Open/spread your legs.

  Bambina - Child, little girl

  Bellezza - Pretty one

  Buono - Good

  Capite? - Do you understand?

  Capo - Elder, sir

  Cara - Dear

  Caspita - Wow

  Che cosa? - What?

  Chi è? - Who is it?

  Ci provo. Freddo. - I’m trying. Cold.

  Cooperazione e sicurezza - Cooperation and safety

  E lei? - And you?

  Hai ucciso mio figlio. Per favore, fammi morire - You killed my son. Please, let me die.

  In inglese, per favore, va bene? - English, please. Yes?

  Incantesimo - Charm

  Ma - But

  Mannaggia - Damn

  Merda - Shit

  Mi dispiace - I am sorry.

  Mi piace - It pleases me.

  Mia moglie - My wife

  Mia sposa…Evangeline…mio tesoro - My wife, Evangeline, my treasure.

  Mio dio - My God

  Non riconosci la mia voce? - You don’t know my voice?

  Pazzo - Lunatic

  Per favore Dio, uccidimi - Please God, kill me

  Per favore, rimani ancora un po - Please, stay

  Per favore. Non fermati! - Please, don’t stop.

  Perfetto - Perfect

  Piccolo bambino - Small male child

  Più - More

  Povero - Poor

  Presto - Soon, in a hurry, quickly

  Promessa sposa - Betrothed

  Pronto - A general phrase used when answering the phone. It literally means ready.

  Quanti? - How many?

  Scusi - Excuse me?

  Sei un bastardo. Ti ucciderò se le fai del male. - You’re a bastard. I’ll kill you if you hurt

  Sei una testa di cazzo - You’re a dick

  Si, amico mio. - Yes, my friend.

  Si, signore. Un momento. - Yes, sir. A moment.

  Solo pochi minuti - Only a few minutes

  Solo pochi minuti. Vieni con me? - A few minutes. Come with me?

  Sono tuo marito - I am your husband.

  Sposa - Wife, spouse

  Sto per scoppiare! - I’m about to come/burst

  Stronzo - Asshole

  Tesoro - Treasure

  Tesoro, amore mio, sono qui - Treasure, my love, I am here.

  Ti strappo le palle e gliele faccio mangiare. - I will rip off your balls and feed them to you.

  Tu sei il mio cuore. Sempre. - You are my heart, always.

  Tu sei un figlio di puttana - You’re a son of a bitch

  Un regalo per te - A gift for you

  Vaffanculo - Fuck

  Vieni qui - Come here

  About the Author

  I’ve always made up stories. Sometimes I even acted them out. I probably shouldn’t admit that my childhood best friend and I used to run around the backyard pretending to fly in our Invisible Jet and rescue Steve Trevor. Oops.

  Now that I’m too old to spin around in circles with felt magic bracelets on my wrists, I put “pen to paper” instead. Figuratively, at least. Fingers to keyboard is more accurate.

  Outside of my writing, I’m a professional editor, a software geek, a singer (in the shower only), and a runner. I love red wine, scotch (neat, please), and cider. Seattle is my home, and I share an old house with my husband and cats.

  I’m on my fourth—fifth?—rewatching of the modern Doctor Who, and I think one particular quote from that show sums up my entire life.

  “We’re all stories, in the end. Make it a good one, eh?” — The Eleventh Doctor, Doctor Who

  I hope your story is brilliant.

  You can reach me all over the web…

  patriciadeddy.com

  patricia@patriciadeddy.com

  Also by Patricia D. Eddy

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  By the Fates, Freed

  Destined, a By the Fates Story

  By the Fates, Fought

  By the Fates, Fulfilled

  In Blood

  If you love hot Italian vampires and and a human who can hold her own against b
eings far stronger, then the In Blood series is for you.

  Secrets in Blood

  Revelations in Blood

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  I don’t just write paranormal. Whatever your flavor of romance, I’ve got you covered.

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  * * *

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  In Her Sights

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  Do you like to be tied up? Or read about characters who do? Enjoy a fresh BDSM series that will leave you begging for more.

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  All Tied Up For New Year’s

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