Eternally Bound

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “I would have you promise not only your silence but also your protection,” Tatiana said.

  “Protection?” he asked, intrigued. “Who would you seek protection from, bella mia?”

  You. I would be protected from you. Tatiana couldn’t help the thought. Instead, she answered, “I would have your promise that you won’t harm my family or any from their line. You won’t touch them, and if it is in your power to protect or help them, you will do so. Also, we will leave this area. Promise me that, and I’ll agree. Oh, and you must promise to let me see my family again. I wish to say goodbye.”

  “Done.”

  Tatiana blinked in surprise that he would agree so readily.

  “Now, your pledge, bella mia,” he ordered. Anticipation was raw on his face. His eyes narrowed, waiting. “Say you are mine ‘til the end of your days.”

  “I’m yours ‘til the end of my days,” she repeated simply, mesmerized by his eyes. A strange curling sensation came to her limbs. Any remaining power she had over him left her. As she watched his face twist with pleasure and greed, she tensed. What did she just do? How could she have bound herself to the devil? “Keep your word, my lord, take me home.”

  “You didn’t specify when I had to take you.” Marcello chuckled maliciously under his breath.

  “But…” Tatiana looked him over. How could a man who looked so handsome, who’d touched her with such tenderness, be so cruel? She shivered, remembering it. The tenderness had been forced. Her mind condemned her for it.

  “Ah,” the count hushed. His hand rose from her neck to stroke her cheek. There was no point in confining her. He had her word. She’d restrained herself, given him power over her. “Don’t worry so, bella mia. I’ll take you tomorrow at dusk. You’ll have your goodbyes with your family.”

  Tatiana nodded. Her lips trembled, and she wanted to cry. She held back. The monster before her wouldn’t be swayed by her tears.

  Tatiana’s memory again wavered and slid through time. She remembered that she hadn’t slept throughout the next day. Marcello’s warning had been clear. If she weren’t there when he awoke, he would slaughter her father’s household. Huddled on the bed, she watched the flames dancing in the fireplace. The hours had passed by too slowly.

  That evening, as soon as darkness fell on the land, Marcello came for her. He threw a simple gown of brown wool on the bed. She didn’t dare ask him where he got it. She tried to slip the dress over her body without dislodging the coverlet she was using to hide her nakedness. This obviously amused Marcello immensely, who only laughed at her.

  Soon, she was home, looking up at Eastwich Manor. Her whole body stung. When she moved to step up the front stairs, Marcello’s grip on her elbow stopped her. Tatiana looked up at him. His eyes glowed, and she felt herself going weak in the knees. His eyes dipped to her lips, and she knew he meant to kiss her. But, instead, when his mouth lowered, he pierced her lip with his fangs, drawing a hint of her blood.

  Tatiana recoiled, trying to pull away. Her mouth opened to scream at him. His words stopped her.

  “I’ll leave you here, for now, bella mia. You’ll suffer, never knowing when I’ll come. Each night with be a nightmare for you.” Marcello lifted his finger to her bloody lip. Wiping it gently, he added, “This is my mark. With this, I’ll always find you. You’ll never escape me. Each night, touch your lips, remember me—your new master.”

  “I wish not to remember any of this, nothing about you,” Tatiana swore, passionately. Suddenly, she grew dizzy. Her head spun in furious circles. Falling forward, she felt herself caught up in Marcello’s arms.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Paris, France, 1898

  Tatiana screamed. She lurched forward as the memory released her. Her hands flung into the air, wildly searching through the darkness. When she was met with silence, she stopped. A cool hand found her arm, running up to the back of her neck.

  “Let go of me,” she gasped, disoriented. The memory had been so real. Glaring through the darkness, she tried to find Marcello in it. She slapped back his hand. Feeling the intimate brush of silk to her nakedness, she shivered. “Where are my clothes? What have you done to me?”

  “You were lost in the memory for a long time,” Marcello said. Tatiana thought she heard him yawn. She wondered if it was daytime, and if so, why were they on a bed and not in a coffin? Marcello chuckled and answered the thought, “We are below the streets of Paris in the catacombs. This whole place is the grave. Though, if you like the idea of being pressed so intimately close to my body, I can send Cesare for a coffin.”

  “Get out of my head,” Tatiana ordered, hating that he could always read her.

  “Why should I when you think so openly?”

  Tatiana didn’t answer. Was he being playful? She tried to edge away from him. But in the pitch black of the room, she had nowhere to go. She was too afraid to venture far from the bed. Her body shook. Had she done all that? Had she forced Marcello into her bed? It didn’t make sense and yet she knew it had been real. She’d felt that it was real.

  “I see you remember our time together,” Marcello said, though the idea brought him no pleasure. “I had no idea that little spell you cast worked so well.”

  “What spell?” she whispered.

  “When you said you wished not to remember.” Marcello shifted on the bed. It was around noon in the outside world, and his vampiric body was tired. “With the dreams you sent me, I thought you were sure to remember it.”

  “Dreams?” Tatiana asked, confused. She had sent him no dreams. The room was cool, but not too cold. She wondered how much of her he could see. She angled her body so that her back was to him and curled her knees into her arms.

  Marcello chuckled. He had her body memorized, and her modesty before him now amused him. He didn’t wish to discuss their shared dreams with her. She’d made him endlessly relive their four nights together until he was wildly searching for any woman to slake his desires. It was hell and Marcello had thoroughly enjoyed being tormented by his lovely witch. Being a vampire, he’d acquired a few depraved pleasures in his long life.

  “What happened after I cast the spell?” Tatiana asked with forced lightness when he spoke no more. She liked listening to him talk. His voice was calm, and when she heard it, she knew where he was.

  “I carried you to your father.” Marcello reached for her and pulled her down beside him. He was pleased when she weakly obeyed. But, as he moved to touch her naked arm, she stiffened and inched her body to the far end of the bed. “I showed him your dress and told him of Alice’s grave. After admitting you’d spent many nights alone in my company—”

  “You promised your silence,” she broke in, horrified. “You didn’t tell him that…?”

  “I gave my silence,” he growled. “I didn’t say what we did. Your father assumed the worst in you, bella mia.”

  “You let him believe I killed her,” she whispered, accusingly.

  “No, bella, Henry told him as much.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she said, but in truth, she knew Marcello wasn’t lying. He had no reason to deceive her about this. Henry’s uncomfortable presence around her, and some of the few words he’d said to her over the last years made sense with Marcello’s explanation.

  “Sì, you do believe me, bella mia.” Marcello again reached to stroke her shoulder. Until she’d awakened, she’d been lying in his arms, cuddling into his chest, making soft purring noises in the back of her throat. He wanted her back there.

  “What else happened?”

  “I told your father that you’d promised yourself to me and that I would be coming back to collect you.” Marcello continued to stroke her lightly. She shivered beneath his hand. “I left instructions that you weren’t to be touched, harmed, or given away to another man, no matter how long I stayed away from you. I told him I would come back for you and that I would take you away from him—forever. Your reputation was already tarnished, and there was Alice’s death to consider. Your
father had no choice but to honor your word to me.”

  Her body heated at the memory of her wantonness. Even now, she felt her attraction for him stirring to great depths. Her stomach ached with need, fueled by the knowledge of how he felt inside her.

  “I will admit I am rather tired, bella, but if you would like to climb atop me, I can accommodate you.”

  Tatiana gasped and moved to strike him. Marcello’s hand shot forward in the darkness to stop her. With a jerk, he hauled her body onto his.

  Tatiana panted as her bared breasts pressed into his firm chest. He too was naked. Her body burned at his touch. She whimpered in embarrassment of her desire for him. She knew he felt her body’s response. Her nipples hardened against his smooth skin. She tried to pull away, but Marcello firmly held her wrist, wrapping his arm around her waist to trap her body to him.

  “Vieni qui e baciami,” he whispered, his accent rolling over her. “Come here and kiss me.”

  “I don’t understand what you from me. Just stop.” Tatiana struggled against him. She hated when he spoke in his seductive language with his seductive voice. Their movements only served to torment her more. Her body rubbed against his. His knee pressed into her center, causing her to let loose a ragged gasp for air. “Please, let me go.”

  “No, bella mia, you are mine. You bound yourself to me.”

  “Only until the end of my days.”

  Marcello easily read her intent and lashed out. He whipped her body beneath his, and pinned her down. His thigh came to rest heavily on her naked legs, tangled in the silk sheets. The length of his hard arousal pressed into her, stirring her even as he scared her. His face came so close that she felt his nose alongside hers. “If you ever again think to take your own life, I will—”

  “What, my lord?” Tatiana spat. “Slaughter innocent children? Kill my family? Come, now, what will you do? What new threat do you have for me?”

  “Your brother’s bride is pregnant, bella,” Marcello stated. He absently traced her arm with his finger. “She is not yet a member of your family. I could kill her and not break my promise to you. I could kill every woman your brother ever looks at. Your family’s line will die with him.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Do you not remember, cara mia?” Marcello leaned, so his lips whispered along hers. “You have bound yourself to the devil. Don’t presume to know what I am capable of.”

  Tatiana gasped.

  Marcello took the opportunity of her opened mouth to press a deep, hard kiss to her lips, claiming and conquering her. His tongue dipped inside her, massaging along hers, circling in firm thrusts that left her moaning in pleasure. His arousal jerked, wanting to mimic the thrust of his tongue with the thrust of his firm body. He’d dreamt of her endlessly over the last few years, wanting her back within his control. Now that he had her, it was difficult to pull away.

  Tatiana moaned again and, though she still struggled to be free of him, her lips responded and let him in. His arms didn’t move, keeping her trapped beneath him. Of their own accord, his hips began to stir, restlessly rocking alongside her warm, soft hip.

  “Tell me, bella mia, for I am curious.” He let her catch her breath when he felt her become faint. “What would you have told your beloved Thomas when he discovered another man laid claim to you? Do you think he could’ve loved you then?”

  Tatiana listened, though her pounding heart made it impossible to concentrate. His nearness was almost too much to take.

  “Tell me,” Marcello persisted, whispering along the seam of her lips. He traced the tip of his tongue delicately around the edge of her mouth, taking her panting breath inside himself. “Would you have been able to enjoy him between your thighs as you did me? Would you have begged for him, bella? Longed for his touch? Forced him into your bed? Do you think that even-tempered lad would’ve known how to please you? Do you think he would’ve known how to put out the fire that burns in you, even now? He wouldn’t have made you happy, cara mia. You know that. You would think of me with him thrusting inside you. You think to hate me, but your body wants me, calls to me.”

  “Be quiet.” Tears came to her eyes, but her hands were still trapped, and she couldn’t brush them away. She couldn’t see his face in the darkness. She was grateful for it. If she saw his eyes, she knew she’d be lost to him. “You are not fit to speak Thomas’ name. He’s a good man. A fine, decent man. And at least when he touches me I don’t get chills.”

  Marcello chuckled and purposefully turned her words on her, “My point exactly, bella. You wouldn’t have trembled at his touch. You are too passionate, and he would’ve never been able to satisfy you.”

  “At least I could’ve loved him,” she growled. “And he loves me.”

  “How long would he love you after he discovered it was you who helped to bury his sister? That you helped cover the evidence of Henry’s crime? Do you think he holds you in favor now, when he knows the truth about your brother?” Marcello spat the questions at her, purposefully cruel. He did not like hearing her speak of another man in such a fond way. Jealous rage welled inside him until he wanted to strike out at her. He controlled himself. His lips were still close to hers, his voice soft, though they argued. “Do you think he would understand how and why you did it? Why did you do it, bella mia? Do you even know?”

  The cold, eerie chill again came over Marcello, and he glanced around. His eyes pierced the dark with predatory ease. They were alone, yet he felt as if a presence was near them, watching, waiting. He frowned.

  “Who knows how or why we are able to do things? We just do them,” she defended. “What should I have done? Don’t you think that I miss Alice? Don’t you think I want her back? She was more than a maid. She was my friend. I hate Henry for killing her. Is that what you want to hear? I hate him. I hate him!”

  “Shh,” Marcello whispered. The cold presence appeared to retreat as he comforted the woman beneath him. He leaned over and brushed his lips to Tatiana’s cheek, tasting the saltiness of her tears and kissing them away. “Hush, bella mia, hush.”

  Tatiana did not know what to make of his soft caress, so different than his claiming kiss. She was stunned by what she’d revealed to him. But, she did feel better having said the words aloud. Somehow, she got the impression Marcello understood her hatred for her brother and did not condemn her for it. Then, she snorted in self-loathing. Of course, he didn’t condemn her for it. He, himself, was a creature of hate and death.

  “You are so quick to judge me,” Marcello stated. His leg eased off her body. He was too tired to continue fighting with her. The day was strong, and he needed his rest. He fell onto his back on top of the soft bed and closed his eyes.

  Tatiana held very still. When much time passed, and he did not speak again, she assumed he slept. Sitting up, she dared to brave the darkness only far enough to find clothes. She didn’t want to spend the day lying naked by Marcello’s side. Memory served all too well, reminding her of the fact that she was weak when it came to him. Not that any of it mattered now. She was beyond society, in hell as he put it. Like it or not, she was the demon’s mistress.

  Feeling around on the mattress, she found a discarded robe tossed over the foot of the bed. She pulled it over her arms, pausing to smell the lapel. It smelled of Marcello. She shivered, feeling her treacherous desire anew. Defiantly, she wrapped the robe around her body, pulling it close. Then, taking the covers, she burrowed beneath them. She was aware of Marcello’s presence, and the darkness of the room did not scare her. The only thing she feared was lying right beside her as motionless and as unfeeling as a corpse.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Marcello was gone when Tatiana awoke the next night. A warm fire burned brightly, illuminating the chamber. Remembering that she was in the catacombs of Paris, Tatiana looked around. She laughed as she found herself searching for skulls and bones.

  She discovered a red silk robe draped over the edge of the bed. Marcello’s larger robe swam over her body, falling past
her hands. With a quick glance around, she changed back into her own clothing, if she could call the thin material clothing. Taking his belt, she went to the large mirror and fashioned her curly black hair into a high bun as best she could. There was nothing proper about wearing a robe around a man who wasn’t her husband. Then again, there was nothing respectable about her life anymore. The thought caused a frown to fall over her pale features.

  Grimacing, she whispered to her overly slender, barely clad reflection, “You do look like a prostitute. All that is missing is the red rouge.”

  Tatiana had to turn away. She couldn’t bear to see herself. So, instead, she looked at the black angels beside the fireplace and stepped forward. For a long moment, she stared at the solemn faces, wondering if she should just end her life. She had no doubt Marcello would keep his word and kill off her family line. Perhaps that would be the most just ending to this whole affair. Henry would lose as he’d caused others to lose. Tatiana shook her head. No, she wouldn’t wish Henry’s crimes to be repaid with the death of others. Henry needed to be punished for what he’d done. Only she didn’t know what that punishment should be.

  “Do you have the answers, I wonder?” she whispered up to the dark angel of death. The statue stared at her with an inky gaze that did not waver. Its arms reached down until she had the strangest urge to jump up and embrace it.

  Tatiana reached out to touch the black angel’s arm, curious to feel the warm stone. When her finger glanced over the surface, she tensed. An electric fire shot through her body. In a fog, she saw Henry. He looked older than she remembered him. A figure came from the darkness, limping over the stone, increasing speed as he neared her brother. Suddenly, a shot rang out. Henry was struck in the side. She saw him falling over, into the snow that lined London’s barren streets. Then, the dark figure turned, and she saw Thomas’ blue eyes looking directly into hers. His face was hard, his gaze deadly as he turned a second pistol on her. He fired his shot.