Mortal Bite (Golden Vampires of Tuscany)

by Sharon Hamilton

  “What is it?” one of the officers asked her.

  “Someone must have a key. You can’t walk out and have it lock behind you automatically. I had the locks changed because I was locking myself out all the time.”

  “Found a key here,” one of the officers said as he searched Johnny’s pockets.

  “So I gotta ask you one more time, who else has a key?”

  “The admin staff, and probably the college janitorial service. They have a whole crew.”

  The second officer stepped aside and spoke quietly into his shoulder microphone. Cara looked into the office after the light was turned on. Papers and books were scattered everywhere, some with their edges soaking up Johnny’s lifeblood. Every drawer in her desk had been upended. All her shelves were wiped clean, the books nearly covering the entire floor of her tiny office. The telephone receiver was left off the hook. Even her trash appeared to have been searched and dumped on the desktop.

  “Can you tell if anything obvious is missing?” one of the uniforms asked Cara.

  She shook her head. “Impossible to tell. Who would do this?”

  “Not a robbery, because it doesn’t look like his wallet has been removed,” one of the officers said from his kneeling position next to the body.

  “I’d say, from the looks of it, someone was looking for something stored in a book or file somewhere. You got anything, a valuable document maybe, that someone would want?”

  Chapter 27

  Paolo felt the terror in Cara’s heart. He saw the body in front of her just as if he was standing there. He had to work on himself not to trace to her side for protection. But he had given his word.

  He’d gone back to the guest wing and was planning to take Lucius to school personally when he received the vision of Cara’s office. The to-do list he had created was crumpled in his right hand.

  “Father, I’m ready.” Lucius ran into the room and gave him a hug. The boy’s fresh mortal scent always made him feel lucky, and incredibly happy. But today, knowing there was probably a dark vamp on a killing spree, his need to protect his son weighed on him. It was suddenly urgent he talk with the Jett boys to make sure the daytime detail was in place. He wanted to personally interview every one of them.

  “You’ve had your breakfast?” he said to Lucius’ dark brown eyes. The boy’s freckled nose scrunched up, and Paolo saw he’d forgotten to have anything to eat. “You want a hamburger and French fries and a strawberry shake on the way?”

  “Could we?”

  “Well, you could. But you know I don’t care for the taste.”

  “I know.” Lucius’ palms lay flat against Paolo’s cheeks. “You are what you are, and I am what I am.”

  It was one of those moments when Paolo was convinced the boy could not have been of his issue. The roles at this particular moment had been reversed, and suddenly he was student to his son, who was wise way beyond his years. His need to protect his son was paramount. He knew that if he had to sacrifice himself to save Lucius, he would be doing his race a tremendous service. Paolo saw in the boy the future of the whole Golden vampire clan. He could feel the boy’s destiny as surely as he could smell the blood of mortals.

  Paolo felt ridiculous going through the fast food drive-through while driving Marcus’s black Maserati, something Laurel and the other siblings back home in Tuscany would find odd. But this was Lucius’s world, and it included drive-through, text messaging and cell phone games. He wanted the boy to have a normal upbringing, not living the gilded princeling days of the superrich, which might distort his warm heart and avid mind. Lucius would be required to do great things in the future, Paolo thought. Time for being a king among Golden vampires would come soon enough. Now it was time to be a normal human boy.

  They sat in the car while Lucius finished off his meal and wiped his hands and face with the moist towelettes he carried in his backpack. This also surprised Paolo.

  “Where did you get these?” he asked as he held up the foil packet.

  “Cook. She said using these would keep me from getting the flu.”

  “Ah.” Paolo made a mental note to thank the cook, who was more a grandmother to the boy than his real grandmother, Aurora, that half-witch bitch mother of his fated female. Paolo found the reminder of the boy’s mortal vulnerabilities touching.

  He got out of the car and gave Lucius a brief hug so as not to embarrass him, and then watched him join several other friends. The cheerful gang of normal human boys ran together to their classroom just as the bell was ringing.

  As he sat in his car, he felt another wave of Bella’s despair. He’d seen Johnny’s face and felt her mourn for him. It didn’t make Paolo jealous. But he wished she would summon him. He could reach out and touch her with a message, but he’d given his word.

  As he drove back to the Monteleone estate through downtown Healdsburg, he was struck with how normal the little town looked. Since it was a tourist Mecca, several large white busses were parked near the square. He pulled into a parking spot and went inside to get a cappuccino and hope he would feel Bella reaching out to him soon.

  The screaming of the milk foaming machine was harsh, but not as harsh as the sound of sirens whizzing by. Perhaps there had been an accident on the freeway. Paolo’s cell phone rang. It was Marcus.

  “They’ve found Rory dead in an alleyway. Ripped the poor boy’s head clean off.”

  Paolo knew Marcus was beside himself with grief. Since Rory was in California, and under Marcus’ protection, this would be counted as a failure on their part, but would fall mostly on Marcus.

  “I think the time for you to remain in California is limited, brother. You have to ask yourself if it is worth it.”

  “I’m not running from them. They won’t defeat us.”

  “Maybe not us. Maybe we’ll live for eternity, but what about our children, Marcus? Surely they don’t have to pay the price.”

  “I’m taking measures.”

  “Simple when Ian is little, but I just dropped Lucius off at school. He’ll be unprotected until I pick him up. I’m going daft with worry just thinking about it. As much as I hate to, I think I should bring him back to Tuscany, where we have the majority.”

  “That’s your choice. What about the girl?”

  “Sacrifice, brother. My primary goal is to keep you, your family and my son safe.”

  “She knows more than she should, Paolo. You perhaps should wipe her memory.”

  “That I can do.” Paolo flinched inwardly about the difficulty of this task. He wasn’t sure he could bear the look on her face when she saw him for what she would think was the first time. But it would be for her own protection. “There is other bad news, Marcus.”

  “Oh?”

  “The girl’s assistant was found dead this morning in her office at the University.”

  “Found dead?”

  “From the sight of the face, I’m guessing he was drained. Neck ripped open and head ripped mostly off, though. Brutal. A dark executioner did this, I am positive.”

  “What’s the scene like?”

  “I haven’t been over. Just what she saw, and she was scared brother. Almost catatonic. The office was ransacked.” Paolo paused, and then said in a whisper, “We still have that gift, brother. I can feel her emotions, and hear her thoughts. Like a fating. And it’s getting stronger.”

  “Is it a fating?”

  “Sadly, it is not. Definitely not a fating. Although I have tried to tell myself it is. Wouldn’t it be incredible if there was the possibility I could have two fated females?”

  “Unbelievably lucky. But you say no.”

  “The physical attraction is there, no question. But not the animalistic, all-encompassing—”

  “I get it.”

  Paolo had always felt guilty for bedding Marcus’s long-time paramour. “This is different. The feelings I have for this mortal woman are growing. And with those feelings, the gifts are getting clearer and clearer.”

  “Interesting.” />
  “And I have control, not that I don’t want to be by her side, but I still have some control, not like with—”

  “There has to be something of substance there. I’ll consult with the Council next I am in contact. In the meantime, why don’t you trace to her? Investigate the murder?”

  “She hasn’t summoned me, and I gave her my word.”

  Cara sat alone in the lecture hall, where her now-cancelled classes would have taken place, her head resting in her hands elbows dug into the black desk top. She gently rubbed her temples, and remembered how Paolo had done this, to ease her mind. She imagined his long fingers atop hers, imagined hearing his steady breathing and drawing in his spicy, lemony scent. She knew she could call him and he would be right there, in front of her. She knew she wasn’t hiding anything from him by refusing to summon him because he knew what she was feeling. The ache she felt for him was growing.

  You are still an addiction to me.

  She was relieved that he left her alone. But was this smart? Somehow, she knew he had answers she needed.

  The coroner and forensics team were done with the office, the body, and their questions for everyone who had been standing around the door, as well as the janitor, the school administration officials and several of her students who knew Johnny better than most. They stuck their heads into the amphitheater door and said their goodbyes. She had a tiny stack of their business cards in case she remembered or found something of interest.

  She could not warm up, and a dull ache pounded in her thighs. Cara’s bones were stone cold and she felt old. She wanted to be home in bed in her flannel pajamas, wrapped in the comforter her grandmother had made, with a cup of hot tea and a lemon slice on the side.

  Lemons. Will I ever be able to smell lemons without—don’t answer that.

  The shock of the last few hours gave way as she finally allowed herself to grieve for Johnny. Warm tears streamed down her cheeks as she raised her head and stared at the sea of empty lecture chairs.

  Why? Why Johnny? Had something happened at the dance she didn’t notice? Did Johnny have some kind of secret life that she knew nothing about? Or, was it a random act?

  ‘They’re looking for something in a book, perhaps a book itself.’ Perhaps it was time to show Paolo the book.

  Should I be afraid of him? Who can I trust? He seemed like the only option available to her. Johnny’s death left her feeling alone and unprotected in a world that suddenly felt very dangerous.

  “Paolo?” She said to the room. “Are you there?”

  I am.

  I’m afraid. Johnny—

  I have seen it through your eyes. You are in danger. Let me come to you.

  I have a book I think you need to see.

  Book?

  Yes, I have located a book by Alasdair Fraser. And there is a letter in it. I think you should see it.

  Yes. Cara, do not think about the book right now. Make no mention of it in your mind, either. Summon me so I can protect you. You are in danger, mi amore.

  There it was again, that doorway to the unknown. He was asking her to believe in the fact that he was vampire and could be summoned. That perhaps someone else could read her thoughts. Did she really want proof of this?

  Nothing can harm you if I am by your side. Alone you are vulnerable. He did sound urgent.

  Okay. She remembered what she’d said in the bathtub, Come to me, Paolo.

  And there he was, standing on the other side of the desk, all six foot something of him. Handsome, eyes ardent and studying her face, her neck, her upper torso, making her tingle and blush. He smiled as if he could feel what she felt inside.

  Of course I can. It brings me unspeakable pleasure to do so.

  Tears began to well up as her emotions exploded. It was too much for her to comprehend. Johnny was dead. Killed by some sinister person, probably a vampire, perhaps a vampire Paolo knew, which made it even worse. And there was an undeniable attraction to this tall male who could transport himself immediately from here to there, had fangs, and who had made her feel wonderful just yesterday afternoon—all afternoon, making her feel more alive than she had ever felt in her life. It was a strange combination of death and new beginnings.

  I am at a crossroads.

  You are, mi amore.

  I am afraid.

  You should be. There is a war brewing.

  “Can you help me? Help me understand?” she asked him out loud.

  I can, if you will trust me. He held his arms out to the sides, beckoning her to come to him. She had no choice but run to him, nestling her face in his chest, reveling in the feeling of his arms wrapped around her. Protecting her. Perhaps—something else too.

  He held her face between his large palms. “Let me teach you about me and my kind. There isn’t nearly enough time, and this isn’t how I wanted to do it. But if you understand, I can teach you what I believe are some opportunities possible. Things neither of us ever dreamed could happen.”

  She placed her hands over his wrists and studied the strong face of the man she knew she had fallen deeply in love with. A man she had been searching for her whole life. Cara decided in that moment to embrace the new adventure like her life depended on it.

  Because perhaps it did.

  Chapter 28

  The fluttering of warm wind all around Cara made her feel like she was floating in a cloud of butterflies. Pressed against Paolo’s chest, as he held her there, she laid her head to the side and listened to a heartbeat she hadn’t known he had. In a handful of seconds, the sensation stopped, the tracing was complete, and she was standing in her bedroom, her arms up and about his neck.

  She tipped her head back and willed him to bend his full red lips to cover hers. It was delicious to moan into him, and feel the deep rumble of his chest in response. He took everything she could give in the kiss, but she still needed to give him more.

  His fingers laced through the hair at the back of her head. He pulled, arching her face away from his, kissing the side of her neck. She pressed her lower torso into his groin and felt his desire.

  She needed him too. Please, she mentally sent him between kisses, now becoming ravenously needy. She was starved for his ministrations.

  Cara began to remove her blouse, watching as his eyes went to fire while she removed her bra. He came to his knees and kissed each nipple tenderly. She held his head, clutching at the loose curls, loving the feel of his mouth on her sensitive flesh.

  “You are a wonder, mi Carabella.”

  You awaken me.

  He groaned and lifted her up, laying her tenderly on the bed. He removed his clothes and then shimmied her skirt down her hips like tissue paper. Slowly hooking her black lace panties with one long forefinger he slipped them easily down, the backs of his fingers smoothing over her thigh all the way to her ankles, and then off.

  He parted her knees, tenderly easing two fingers inside her folds. She arched with the pleasure of his penetration, of the reassurance of what was going to happen between them in the coming moments.

  “I’ve missed this,” Cara said between sighs. She wanted to lose herself in the feel and scent of this man and forget the ugly scene from earlier this morning.

  He twisted his head to the side, and with the lopsided smile curling up the corners of his smooth, full lips, said to her, “Bella, mi amore. It has only been one day. Already one day is too much for you?”

  There it was, the honesty between them, though there was still so much she did not know about him. She was unafraid to show him how much she needed him to make love to her. “Yes. Already one day is too long without this.” It was difficult to get the words out.

  He covered her body with his, sliding his thighs beneath hers, lifting her bottom up off the bed with his hands and pausing at her opening. “It is the same for me, Carabella. I dream of this almost every waking moment.”

  He began to slide inside her, slowly. She lost herself in the dark pools of his eyes, the faint lemony scent of his chest cov
ering her, making her feel safe and protected. Without speaking she was telling him how it felt, how her body ached to be possessed by him. He nodded and gently filled her to his hilt. Then he began to pump and drill deep inside her, pulling her chest up flat against him, pressing her breasts into the warmth of his hard body. She drew her arms up over his neck and he grabbed her underside, moving her up and down on his enormous shaft. His long, fluid strokes rocking her body back and forth on him made her insides explode.

  She squeezed down on his girth until at last his spasms overtook him. He lunged deep inside her and held her buttocks in place so hard she thought perhaps she’d have welts.

  I will kiss the pain away, if I’ve left a mark, he told her.

  “I’ll wear your mark with pride,” she whispered. “I didn’t want you to let me go.”

  I never will he said to her. “Mi amore,” he whispered into her ear, kissing down the right side of her neck.

  She knew he wanted to bite her. He was looking down, at the place where their bodies joined as their breathing hitched in tandem, as she admired his flat abdomen and the shadow that was their joining. She lifted his head, placing her palms under his jaw, and placed his forehead against hers. She relished the feeling of him between her legs, the rhythm of his breathing. His mouth was just out of reach, so she turned her head and mated his lips to hers, and then searched for the fangs inside with her tongue.

  She allowed a pinprick from his sharp canine, and presented the drop of blood on her tongue to him, spreading it over his own. His breath became ragged, and labored like a runner. His cock inside her sprang to life and began to lurch. He rocked her body over his groin, burrowing deeper, in a circular motion.

  “Take me, Paolo. Take me your way. I want to do this for you,” she said.

  At first he shook his head, but she held his face in her hands again and with firm resolve, nodded back, “Yes, I want you to take me in your way. Your custom.”