“No, I haven’t had opportunity. I just transformed six months ago.”
“I see. New blood. Well, don’t worry. I won’t bite. Unless you want me to.” He winked. “That’s a tired joke, but I couldn’t resist.”
She smirked, which turned into a genuine chuckle. “You never know—I might like a bite.”
She could seriously entertain the idea of wrapping her legs about his hips and sinking her fangs into his neck—
“What have you come to Venice for, Kyler?”
Tugged out of the fabulous fantasy of lapping at the man’s neck, she gave him a blank look. What had he said?
“Vacation or work?” he asked.
“Oh, uh...a search and find actually. For a friend.”
“And did you find what you were searching for?”
“Oh, yes. It was actually a piece of art. Pretty.”
“Something famous?”
She shrugged. “Could be. I’m not much of an art enthusiast. I wouldn’t recognize Picasso if he sat down before me with one of his works in hand. I prefer music.”
“I do, as well. All sorts, but I am partial to jazz. Do you like to dance?” he asked.
“I do, but I don’t know how. I’ve always wanted to learn something like the tango.” She hooked her fingers on the backpack strap. The hardy weave and weight reminded her not to lose all caution. “I was on my way back to the hotel when I stopped for a quick drink. Not really dressed for dancing or partying. I’ll take a rain check, though.”
“Rain checks often go untended. How about another prosecco?”
“You’ll get me drunk.”
“Do you get drunk?”
“Not usually.” Vamps could consume a lot of alcohol with little affect on their sobriety. “But whiskey, straight from the vein, does make me sick. I learned that one the hard way.” She touched her chest. Never had she confessed such a personal detail about herself. It was too easy to be open in his presence. Relaxing into the conversation felt like stepping into his arms and settling in for a nice long snuggle.
“Vodka is my bête noire,” he offered. “I can’t stand a drunk bite. I prefer them healthy.”
“Me, too,” she agreed. “But I’m still learning, you know.”
She straightened and slid her hands down her ribs and to her waist, a weird habit she’d developed after putting on thirty pounds following her mother’s death. She still hadn’t lost the weight, but she had learned to embrace her curves. And use them to her best advantage.
A glance at Dante confirmed he was studying her with those mesmerizing eyes. Interested? If only she’d worn something more revealing than the pedestrian black turtleneck shirt and black leggings. Wow. Did she totally look like a cat burglar? What had she been thinking? Should have brought along a bright red scarf to tie around her neck after the deed had been done.
“So, tell me more about you, Dante. You are Italian, but I think the words you just used were French?”
“I am both. Italian on my mother’s side and my father was French. But I don’t mind speaking English. It is an interesting language.”
And her only option. “Where are you living?”
“I own a palazzo a short walk away, in the San Marco. It’s a vacation home. I spend most of my time in Paris. Though at the moment I am homeless in the City of Light. Sold my barge and waiting for my property agent to send me some new and interesting finds.”
“You lived on a barge? That sounds...actually, kind of smelly and wobbly.”
“You get used to shifting with the waves. And the Seine doesn’t smell that bad. It’s the tourists peeking in the windows all the time that made me decide to sell. This time of year they are like patrons peering in at the lone captive animal.”
Kyler laughed and leaned an elbow on the bar. Her body nudged closer to his. Their thighs hugged now. There was something electric about him, and it wasn’t the shimmer she’d felt with their handshake. The man oozed confidence and élan. Physically, he wasn’t her type. While muscular and seemingly strong, he was too pretty, too perfect. He could model for a top magazine, and women the world over would swoon.
She much preferred a man who looked average, acted average and wasn’t concerned about what others thought of him. An average Joe. Probably because that was all she’d ever dated. She’d never thought a man as handsome as Dante would give her a second glance. Yet she’d never ruled out flirting with any and all men. It made her feel sensual and alive.
“How long did you live in Paris?” she asked.
“Are you fishing about for how old I am? You can simply ask.”
She shrugged. “Okay. How old are you?”
“I was born in Paris in 1860. Well before Picasso.”
She quickly did the math quickly—over 150 years old. “I find it fascinating that immortality ages a person so slowly. It’s an amazing gift, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“But immortality does not mean you—we—can never die.”
“Yes, a healthy fear of stakes does serve a vampire a longer life. I am a youngster as far as living centuries goes. I love to experience everything. There are never days I would bemoan my existence.”
“I agree. Vampirism rocks.”
“There is so much to do in this world,” he continued. “So many adventures to be had. So many women to love.”
Of course, a man as attractive as him would not want for a girlfriend. But could he possibly be between lovers? “You have...many lovers?”
“At one time? Never. I am always exclusive. But if you are counting years, then of course I’ve had my share. I never kiss and tell, though. Each woman is a memory I forever cherish.”
“Sounds like I’ve met Casanova in the flesh.”
“Eh, he was too boisterous. Couldn’t stop himself from writing about his sordid affairs and sharing them with anyone who would listen.” He skated a finger around the rim of his glass, and Kyler sucked in a corner of her lip. The movement reminded her of a fingertip circling skin. “I’ll keep my secrets, thank you.”
Kyler was suddenly all about learning secrets. Or making new ones with a certain irresistibly sexy vampire. Her elbow slipped, and the backpack slid from her shoulder to the crook of her elbow.
“Shopping?” he said with a nod to the backpack.
“Sort of. Just a few trinkets.”
When she made to slide the strap back up her arm, he touched her again, wanting to help, and hooked the wide black strap over her shoulder. “That’s heavy for trinkets.”
“I should probably go,” she offered. Though the idea of walking away from such an intriguing man felt wrong. She enjoyed talking to him. But really, she shouldn’t risk sitting around with a valuable piece of art in her backpack. Or have him ask more questions she wasn’t willing to answer. “It’s getting late.”
“It’s just past midnight. Do you sleep much?”
She shrugged. “A few hours a night. I still cling to some of the more satisfying human rituals.”
“Six months you’ve been a biter?”
“Yes, though I’ve never heard it called that before. A biter?”
He shrugged. “A silly joke. It’s better than longtooth, yes?”
“Sure.” She’d heard that werewolves called vampires longtooth—a terrible slang word the vamps hated. She hadn’t experienced the whole vampire milieu long enough to know if it bothered her or not. Just owning fangs had taken a few weeks to become comfortable. Bite her lower lip much?
He tapped the goblet stem and asked, “Are you American?”
“Yes.” She turned on the stool, deciding to linger a little longer instead of the quick escape. “Is my accent that terrible?”
“The American accent is...quaint.” He smiled and his eyes glinted, full of moonlight. For a
moment Kyler had to stop herself from leaning closer to him, sniffing, seeking his scent along the edge of his square jaw. “You’re a long way from home. Did your friend for whom you’ve gone on an art quest send you from the United States?”
“I’ve been living in Paris six months,” she said.
“I see. You were transformed immediately upon arriving?”
“Uh, yes. I don’t really want to talk about that.” She had to keep the theft a secret and any details about her transformation would ultimately lead to why she was in Venice.
“Sorry. I’ll change the subject. Have you taken a gondola ride?”
She glanced at the canal, which whispered by on the other side of a decorative iron railing laced with thick ivy. “It seems so touristy.”
“It is, but this time of year it is exquisite around ten in the evening when the last rays of sun glitter on the lagoon. With a bottle of prosecco in hand and perhaps a lover by your side?”
She lifted the goblet before her in a proposed toast. With more purr than tease, she said, “Now you’re making me wish I had a lover.”
He tinged his glass against hers. “I’d be happy to oblige.”
No tease in that statement. The man meant every word of it. And should she take him up on that offer, Kyler felt certain he would not disappoint.
Mercy, was her fantasy about to become reality?
“Kyler? I think I’ve said something wrong again. I tend to be direct. A woman deserves nothing less than truth, yes?”
“No. I mean, yes, I appreciate your directness.” She placed a hand on the back of his, which toyed with the base of his glass. “I—” she lowered her lashes and looked up through them “—was considering your offer.”
He turned up his hand to touch her fingers but didn’t clasp her hand. “A delicious end to a very good day?”
“Is that a promise or advertising?”
“I don’t need to advertise, chérie.”
“You certainly do not.” She laughed then because a giddy sort of surrender had settled into her muscles. She liked the man. Vampire. And there were so many things about him that made her want to get to know him. Much better.
He tilted a nod toward her. “Come closer, Kyler.”
Without reluctance, she leaned in and he touched her cheek. The shimmer again hit her with a shock of recognition. None of the humans around them could know two vampires sat talking to each other. His finger traced her ear and curled her hair over it. And his eyes walked over her face, taking her in, consuming her. They were so gorgeous. Devastatingly clear and direct. A hint of green danced within the blue, like sea glass.
Kyler opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She was enthralled. And she knew a vampire could not enthrall another vamp. Just wasn’t possible. They could work a number on humans, though, making them forget they’d been bitten, and that perhaps what had been two fangs puncturing their skin had instead simply been a nasty bug bite.
“I renege on my offer, Kyler,” he whispered.
It took her a few seconds to shake off the blissful daze his touch had led her into. “What?”
“About being a casual lover to celebrate your good day.”
“Oh...okay.” But then she felt her confidence and straightened. What was wrong with her? Not pretty enough? Too...quaint? “Why?”
“It would wound my pride to take you home and then know you would walk away the next day without a care to look over your shoulder.”
“Oh.” Was he implying he didn’t want a hookup, but rather something more? Interesting. But she didn’t know him, and she wasn’t willing to make such a commitment. “Isn’t that how Casanova does it? Love them and leave them?”
“It is. And truth be told, it is my modus operandi, as well.”
“Then it’s because you’re not attracted to me. That’s all right. I understand. It was nice talking to you—”
He clasped her hand and pulled it to his lips, where he pressed a warm kiss that overwhelmed the silly shimmer they shared and coursed over her skin with a heady intensity that would not allow her to do anything but sigh.
“Oh, I am attracted to you, Kyler. I cannot look away from your bewitching blue eyes that are not so sure if they should fear me or trust me.”
She looked aside. But then a bold twist of her head showed him she wasn’t afraid to meet his gaze.
“Or perhaps devour me.” He brushed the hair from her cheek. “You’re not sure what you want. You’ve never been with a vampire before, so I sense fascination coached with caution. Perhaps not enough caution? I would never ask a woman to betray her moral compass.”
Why bring morality into the mix? Couldn’t he simply be her reward for a job well done? She tended to dive into things and think about them later. Life had always demanded she challenge herself. To be the best. To learn new things. To steal if needs must. To never be afraid.
To soar.
So she leaned in and spoke near his ear. “I am quite sure I want you, Dante.”
“Why? Is it as I presume? Because I am vampire?”
“Yes, and...” He was a Casanova, and she’d fallen under his spell. And he was a challenge she wanted to leap for. “Because you compel me. And I don’t think it’s because of what we are. Sure, a bite would be nice. As you’ve guessed, I’ve never been with another vampire. But beyond that? I want to feel you.” She pressed her hand against his chest. “On my skin.”
A playful smile tugged at one corner of his perfect lips. “And here I thought I was the Casanova?”
“I’m not afraid of asking for what I want. Truth? I’ve never done anything like this before. But it feels right. Take me home with you, Dante.” She pressed her mouth lightly to his and whispered, “Let’s celebrate a good day.”
Copyright © 2016 by Michele Hauf
ISBN-13: 9781488031021
Bayou Wolf
Copyright © 2016 by Debbie Herbert
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