“Better?” he asked, a devilish grin forming on his handsome face. The light brilliantly contrasted with his features.
“Yes.” Tatiana picked up where she’d left off, lifting her fingers back to his face and leaning in to kiss him.
“Ogni volt ache ti bacio dimentico dove sono,” he whispered. His tongue licked the seam of her mouth. Tasting her blood where he’d cut her, he bit his tongue and massaged his blood to the wound. Her lip healed, as did his tongue.
Tatiana moaned, loving his accent, his deep voice, the vibration of it to her soft lips. “What did you say?”
“Every time I kiss you I forget where I am.”
Tatiana smiled in feminine pleasure. She ached for him. She wanted him inside her. It had been too long.
“How do we…?” She looked helplessly over the table and velvet seat of the private alcove. Outside the wild calls of the crowd still sounded and the lively beat of the music still played. It excited her to know the crowd was there, unaware of all they did within the privacy of their booth.
Marcello grinned. Taking his hand, he pushed the table away from them, giving them more room. Then, his fingers on her waist, he urged her to stand before him. His palms slid over the satin of her red dress, smoothing it down her body.
Tatiana looked down at him, eyeing the top of his head. Her breathing deepened, pressing her chest and stomach firmly against the corset until she was almost lightheaded. She saw the long wavy strands of his hair spilling over his masculine shoulders.
Marcello looked up at her, from beneath the silky length of his lashes. He watched her reaction as his hands slid down her legs. Taking the hem of her dress, he worked her skirt and chemise up over her hips, brushing his hand over the stocking-covered length of her calves to her thighs.
Tatiana shivered, taken aback by his gentleness. His forehead slowly lowered, coming close to her corseted stomach. His cheek settled by her waist, rubbing lightly against her.
“Monsieur…?”
Marcello’s head snapped up, his eyes flashed with red anger, as he turned to the curtain with an animalistic sound starting in his throat. The man in the checkered waistcoat jumped back in surprise. Tatiana didn’t move. The man looked at her, then to the count. Marcello growled at him, ordering him away in low French tones that sounded deadly even to Tatiana.
“Excusez-moi!” the man said quickly, bowing from the room.
Marcello looked back up at her as if he expected her to have changed her mind. Tatiana wiggled her body against his fingers, urging him to continue. He smiled, again setting his cheek along the curve of her waist. His fingers continued to explore her hips and thighs.
Tatiana shivered. She didn’t want him to be slow, or gentle. She felt the restraint in him, and she wanted him to let it go, like he had the last time they’d been together when he drank her blood and her control over him slipped.
Tatiana thrust her fingers into his long hair, pulling his head back from her. His dark eyes sought hers. She hesitated slightly before leaning over to find his lips. She pulled his face up to meet hers. She kissed him once, twice, before pulling back.
“Please, Marcello...” Almost too embarrassed to say the words aloud, she closed her eyes, panting against him for a long moment. Whispering, she managed, “Please...”
“What, bella, what is it?”
“Please, make love to me.” Her eyes opened to him, and she knew he felt the battle that raged inside her at the admission. She didn’t care. She let him feel it, let him feel her. She was tired of fighting him, of fighting herself. “Please, Marcello, make love to me like you want to, not like this, like you want to do it. I can feel the restraint in you. I can feel you holding back. I don’t want you to.”
“I will not act the beast for you, bella mia. I will not ravish you so you can hate me and blame me later for it.” Marcello’s eyes hardened, and his hands gripped tighter on her hips.
To her surprise, she understood why he was holding back. He didn’t want her using this against him? Why did it matter to him? Why didn’t he just take her? Why all this waiting? Why this seduction? Most baffling was the question, why would he care what she thought of him?
Tatiana’s body throbbed with need. She was hot to the point of being feverish with desire. Boldly, her fingers shaking, she reached down to his hand. She pulled it from her hip and drew it down, so he felt her desire for him. “I would think you cruel if you did not act, my lord.”
Marcello’s fingers slid forward at her push. She gasped, leaning back as his fingers slid into the soft opening of her body. She thrust her hips toward him, encouraging, needing.
Marcello growled. The last bit of his restraint faded. With a flick of his fingers, he hit the nub of her passion. She trembled in instant pleasure.
“Hold onto the table.” Marcello waited as she obeyed. Leaning slightly back, she gripped the table for support. He took one knee and lifted it up. At the same time, he kneeled before her on the floor. Hooking the knee over his shoulder, he said, “Come sei bella. How beautiful you are.”
Tatiana moaned in anticipation, delighted by his words. They felt so sincere. Marcello lifted her dress over his head. She knew he didn’t need to breathe and could stay buried beneath her skirts forever. His kisses started on her lifted thigh. He kissed her in light trails until she shivered. Then, his tongue found her, tasting her flesh in long, hard strokes. She pushed her hips forward, searching for his mouth, wanting him to continue his kisses until he came to the fiery center of her need. She knew she was wet for him, knew her body was more than ready.
“Marcello!” she gasped, not caring who heard. Outside the party still raged, loud and unaware.
His fingers moved, teasing her center lips open so they could stroke deeper. His mouth came closer. She felt his teeth along her skin, dragging slightly. She wanted him to bite her, wanted to feel the pleasure of his claiming. She wanted to feel her life draining into his. Both times he drank from her the connection between them had been deep. She wanted it to be so again.
Tatiana gripped the table. Marcello worked a long finger inside her, stroking and testing her lightly. Her body was tight from denial, and she knew it pleased him to discover it, for he groaned against her sensitive flesh. She bucked against his hand, throwing her head back in passion. A new song began beyond the curtain, modern and new to her senses, strong and pounding. The beat swirled dangerously in her head, drowning out everything.
Tatiana felt another kiss whisper past the bend where her thigh met her aching center. When she felt the brush of his fangs, she pushed forward into him, purposefully nicking herself. She heard Marcello’s moan and felt him licking the wound. She pressed her leg around his back, drawing him closer. To her delight, Marcello’s teeth sank into her leg.
Tatiana cried out. Marcello’s fingers began stroking her to a frenzied passion as he drank along her thigh. She rocked her hips into his hand and her leg against his mouth. His thumb circled in tormenting pleasurable strokes against her sensitive nub. Her body began to quiver and tense, peaking hard and fast.
Beneath her skirt, Marcello’s eyes were closed. He drank at leisure, able to taste her passion for him. As she climaxed against his hand, her blood released an intoxicating flavor onto his lips. He could taste her potent release and knew he had to stop soon or he wouldn’t be able to. Biting his lip, he used his blood to heal the wound he’d made on her. Her hot, wet body still quaked, tightly clutching his finger. He released her, coming out from beneath the red of her skirt.
Tatiana’s eyes were dazed. She was lightheaded from the strength with which he brought her to completion. But, it had been a long time, and she was still starved for him. She wanted more. She wanted to feel him quivering as she did. She wanted to feel him deep where he belonged. Tatiana knew she was lost to him. At the moment, she couldn’t think about caring. Even if she didn’t enslave herself to him, she was still his, would always be his. No other man quickened her blood. No other man made her insane with
need. And she knew that no other could ever calm the insanity inside her as he did.
As he stood, Tatiana moved her hands, brushing his hair back from his face. Her leg fell to the floor from his shoulder, weakened. She smiled at him, eyeing his firm lips. She saw a smudge of crimson, knowing it was her blood and not caring. Then, catching the red fill his eyes, she shivered. She wasn’t scared of him, not really.
Marcello lowered his lids as if he would look away from her. She didn’t let him. Her hand firmly on his cheek, she drew him back to her. Keeping her gaze steady, she ran her fingers over his strong chest. She released a button on his red waistcoat, and then another, another still, mischievously smiling wider as each came free.
His eyes darkened as he watched her, letting her take the lead. Discovering his firm waist, she ran her nails lightly along his waistband, feeling the texture of his skin beneath the linen. As she freed him from his breeches, she saw that he still wore no undergarments beneath his clothes. She shivered, hesitating only slightly as she reached inside to feel him.
Her hand came into contact with his smooth erection. Marcello did not move away as he pierced her with his stare. She felt his connection to her. He was part of her, and she of him. She gasped, her mouth falling wide as she began to pant heavily. Begging, she whispered simply, “Marcello.”
At his name, his mouth shot forward to claim hers. His lips were wild, wreaking havoc on her mouth—tasting, claiming, massaging with the silken depths. Not to be outdone, she returned the full force of his kiss, exploring him as he did her.
Her hands moved to his hips, gripping tightly as she pulled him forward. Her lungs began to burn. She couldn’t breathe and had to tear her lips away. Marcello’s mouth didn’t stop. He nipped her ear, her neck. He licked the pulse racing the blood in her veins, and she let him, unafraid of his bite. He sucked the skin along her collarbone, beneath the heavy fall of her ruby and diamond necklace, following the expensive jewels along her chest until he came to the sensitive skin of her breasts, thrusting up for his attention.
As his lips journeyed, so did his hands. He stroked her skin, ran his nails over the back of her neck, her shoulders, her bare arms, pulling down her gloves. His long fingers cupped a corseted breast, rubbing and teasing the globe up to his mouth. His finger dipped below the tight bodice, coming back with an erect nipple. He groaned moving to lick at it with ferocious urgency.
“Speak to me,” Tatiana demanded in a fervent whisper.
“What would you have me say, bella mia?” he asked, not once stopping as he discovered her other liberated nipple and gave it the same excruciatingly pleasurable treatment.
“Ah-ah, just speak.” Tatiana was consumed by him. Her hands ran over his tight buttocks, squeezing his cheeks firmly. She felt his body tremble and suddenly remembered his excitement when she was rough with him. With a growl, she pushed his chest, sending him flying into the bench seat.
Marcello’s eyes narrowed. His hands balled into hard fists. She knew he was instinctively ready for a fight. But, when he looked up at her heated expression, full of passion for him, he stopped, holding very still.
Tatiana’s eyes traveled over him. She smiled slowly, wickedly. Taking her skirt, she lifted it as she moved to straddle him on the seat. The music stopped, cheers alighted all around them. She brought her body onto his, rubbing herself intimately against him. Marcello moved slightly, shifting down in the seat to allow her better access to his body.
“Le tue labbra sono dolci come il miele,” Marcello whispered. Your lips are as sweet as honey.
Tatiana gasped, leaning over to kiss his neck. Her tongue trailed over him and she stopped to bite him hard with her flat teeth. She didn’t break the skin, but she felt his body lurch. His hand moved to her back, grasping her hips.
“La tua pelle e’ come seta.” Marcello lifted her up. Your skin is like silk.
Tatiana sucked his smooth flesh, licking to soothe the bite she gave him. She groaned, loving his voice, hearing the power in it, feeling it in him. His strong hands brought her up, over his body. She felt the hot tip of his thick, long arousal and couldn’t hold back. She pushed down, needing him.
Marcello groaned as he was embedded deeply into her willing body. She was like he remembered her, ready, hot, wet, all for him. Her body shook, readjusting to his size after so long. She felt him deep inside, pushing at her core until she thought she would explode from the depth of him alone.
“Tu sei bellissima,” he said on a moan. You are very beautiful.
A primal control took over Tatiana, and she began to move atop him, thrusting her body over him in deep, rapid jerks of her hips. It felt so good that she couldn’t stop. Her body was made for him, only him. His strong hands held onto her hips, urging her wild ride. The beat of the pounding rhythm of the orchestra seeped into her veins, and she kept tempo with the feverish pace of it.
Tatiana felt a cry leaving her lips, loud, joined by the shouts of the crowd. The closer her body came, the faster she rode him, the deeper she thrust him into her. Her body ached, but it was with pleasure. Her head fell back. She gripped his shoulders for support, pumping faster, faster, harder, deeper. Marcello’s mouth latched onto a nipple, biting and sucking at it. She was sure she would explode, dying in the pleasure of his touch.
“Bite,” she commanded him, wanting to feel herself within him once more.
Marcello growled, rising to gently pierce one of her breasts. His kiss was deep as he sucked along her flesh. Tatiana moaned in pleasure and approval.
“Yes, Marcello,” she cried softly. “Yes...oh...yes!”
She rocked her body firmly against him, impaling herself on him in a glorious burst of pleasure-pain. Her stomach quivered, she couldn’t move as the intense pleasure of their joining flooded her limbs. It was the first time they came together without one of them in control of the other. His hands jerked her in shallow thrusts on his shaft, milking her body for all it could give him. His body responded to the quaking in hers, violently spilling his release up into her.
Tatiana collapsed against him. Marcello was still deep inside her body. Her head fell forward, finding support on his shoulder as she tried to catch her breath. He was eerily still beneath her though she thought she could detect his heart racing in his chest. She moaned lightly, pulling back to study his face, searching his blank features for approval.
The expression in his dark eyes softened though his gaze still pierced into her. His eyes were rimmed with the red of her blood. She looked down at her chest. A small bead budded over one of the marks on her creamy flesh. She lifted up. Pulling her body from his, she stood and turned her back to him so that she could right her bodice and smooth her skirt.
Marcello bit his finger and, reaching around her from behind, he healed her skin before grabbing a handkerchief and wiping off the remaining blood. She shivered to find him so close to her back. He dropped the dirty handkerchief on the table next to the wine bottle, which was still amazingly upright. Tatiana’s knees were weak, but her body soared. The small room smelled of him, of what they had done, and it was intoxicating.
“Vorrei trascorrere tutta la mia eternità con te,” Marcello whispered, leaning close to her ear. Tatiana couldn’t understand him, but she shivered nonetheless. He placed a small kiss on the back of her long neck. I would like to spend all of my eternity with you.
Chapter Twenty
“So it is true, Leandro,” a dark voice mused. Broderick’s vivid blue eyes did not move to study his long-time friend, as he looked past the chaotically flying skirts of the dancers and the rowdy movements of the lecherous men. “Marcello has found himself a witch. Interesting.”
“Do you sense anything about her?” Leandro asked quietly, his eyes boring forward to the curtains with an odd mix of jealousy, curiosity, and hatred.
Broderick closed his yellowing eyes and sniffed the air, concentrating, sorting through the potent smell of sweat, beer, and cigar smoke. He hated the hall, hated the smell of humans.
“Well?”
“He takes her blood now,” Broderick whispered. His breath caught, and he let the smell linger in his head. “It is potent. She is of the ancient Egyptian lines, but her power is uncontrolled, unused. I would say that she is only new into it, perhaps a few years at most.”
“What does it mean?” Leandro asked.
“I would have to taste her to be sure, but the blood smells as if she is of the Addien. If she is of that old family, it must mean the powers just came back to her. Generations ago, the Addiens fought an ancient evil that cursed the land. The battle was thought to have killed their powers completely. The witches were left defenseless and were slaughtered by humans in the name of the church. One woman nearly escaped, but she was captured in the end. I knew her. She was very beautiful and had hair like wheat, eyes the color of jade. I have never seen the like of it again. She was said to be the last of the line. Although it was rumored that she had a child, the babe was never found.”
“You think this witch is descendent of that child?” Leandro asked. His dark brown gaze narrowed in concentration, but he couldn’t smell as well as his friend. He knew what Marcello was doing with the witch behind the curtains. He’d seen the woman kissing her vampire lover, moving indecently onto Marcello’s lap.
“It is possible. For centuries the line was sought after but never found. If the magic has been gone from her so long, it will be rested and ready. She may be unstable. Marcello might not know what he has found.”
“Ah, then I will have to save the fool from himself,” Leandro said. “I shall take her for my own. I will taste of her power and then I will kill her.”
“Have you no love for Marcello, he—?” Broderick began.
“No,” Leandro interrupted coldly. “I have no love at all. Vampires are not meant to love, only lust and feed. It is our way, our destiny.”
“Such a cold view,” Broderick said, though his tone did not necessarily disagree with the assessment.
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