When he pulled back, his gaze was rimmed with the red of her blood. Looking deeply into her eyes, he murmured, “A fine vintage indeed. My compliments to your winemaker, Gio.”
Tatiana shivered in pleasure as the heated words rolled over her. She looked up at him, dreamy-eyed.
Leaning over, Marcello kissed Tatiana’s cheek lightly. “Go to our room, bella mia, and await me there.”
Tatiana started to protest. She paused nervously before nodding in agreement. She saw the look on Marcello’s face, begging her not to cause a scene.
She gave him a small curtsey and turned, making her way along the empty side of the table. When she was gone, Marcello felt a presence beside him.
“She is a very beautiful mortal,” the blond vampire said.
Marcello felt the restlessness of his vampiric guests. Tatiana was a tempting treat whom they all wanted to taste. He would’ve asked them to leave, but he couldn’t be rude and kick them out of his home. Instead, he smiled, turning to look at the blond vampire who had asked to taste his witch.
“Sì, Gereon, she is beautiful, but she is not so special.” Marcello grinned widely. At Tatiana’s dismissal, the vampires began spilling over toward the men to drink from them. Others disappeared with women down the hall where Cesare once slept, to slake their sexual desires. Others, still, lounged on the chairs by the wall, sipping their oblivious, drunken human meals at leisure. “She is possessive, jealous. It amuses me to indulge her. Just as it will amuse me to break her heart.”
Gereon laughed.
“Now,” Marcello said, letting his green tinted eyes fall on the woman Gereon held. He reached for her, entrancing her to him. Lifting her wrist to his mouth, Marcello bared his fangs. “How about that taste?”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Tatiana waited in the bedroom for Marcello to come to bed. She was too afraid to change from her dress though she did take the silk flowers out of her hair. She also put the emerald necklace away in the wardrobe along with her gloves.
The visiting vampires didn’t leave until it was nearly dawn. She felt them more than she heard them outside the door. When the door to the bedchamber finally opened, Tatiana sat up on the bed. Her wide eyes turned to Marcello. His gaze looked a bit glassy.
“Are you…?” she began, coming to her feet in worry.
“Drunk,” he stated.
Tatiana was confused. “But, you can’t drink win...oh. Oh!”
His meaning dawned on her, and she recoiled from him.
“Yes, oh,” he chuckled.
“You mean you...you…?” Tatiana studied him carefully.
“I sent the humans home in their carriage. They will sleep for about a day, but will be fine.”
“You did?” she asked, surprised.
“We are not always monsters, bella.” Marcello shrugged out of his jacket and laid it over the chair. She watched him in open interest as he undressed.
“Are the vampires gone?”
“Yes, and they will not be back anytime soon.”
“How come you never told me of Jirí?”
“He has nothing to do with you.” Marcello unbuttoned his white shirt. “He has little to do with me.”
“Oh.” Her eyes found a spot on the floor, and she stared at it to keep from looking at the unintentional seduction his undressing had become. “I didn’t know you could get drunk off blood.”
Marcello chuckled. “Only with a certain blend of wine that is very potent to humans. Don’t worry, bella mia. You were not given any.”
“Oh, yeah I know.” She dared a glance. Marcello pulled his shirt off and kicked off his shoes. She shivered with longing. Trying to sound nonchalant, she asked, “So...who did you drink from? One of the women?”
Marcello stopped in his task of freeing himself from his breeches. Striding across the bedchamber with supernatural grace, he stood before her. She kneeled on the bed and didn’t move as he raised his hand to her chin. “Why all the questions, bella mia?”
“No reason,” she lied. “Just curious.”
“Would it bother you to know that I drank from another woman?” he persisted. His dark eyes searched her.
Try as she might, she couldn’t look away. She didn’t answer.
“Are you jealous, bella mia?”
“No,” she lied. His eyes narrowed in on her knowingly, searching. His hand moved to her throat, gauging the racing speed of her pulse. Reluctantly, she admitted, “Perhaps a little.”
Marcello’s gaze lit with pleasure. A slow smile began to curl his lips.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she cried, pulling away in anger. “You don’t have to laugh at me. I don’t care for it any more than you do. Fine, I said it. I’m jealous. I wanted to rip all of their eyes out of their pretty little heads. Happy? I’m jealous, and I’m tired, and I hate it. Oh, quit looking at me, I hate you too.”
Marcello’s smile only grew, not so quick to believe her as she crawled over the bed. Making a wide arch to the wardrobe so she wouldn’t have to go near him, she began to undress.
“You have no reason for jealousy, bella mia.” Marcello came slowly up behind her as she tugged out of her gown. She gasped to see him so close and held her gown before her in a maidenly act that amused him. “They are only food to me. I did nothing else with them.”
“You didn’t?” she asked, her jade eyes wide and vulnerable. She’d imagined him with them in so many ways. Tatiana frowned. What was suddenly wrong with her that she couldn’t keep her mouth shut? Her face hardened, as she forced out, “You should have. I don’t care what you do, or who for that matter. Go sleep with them all. I don’t care.”
She wore only her chemise and corset, clutching her gown to her chest. Realizing how ridiculous it was to hide from him, she laid the gown aside and grabbed a red robe.
“Tatiana,” Marcello’s smooth Italian accent came from behind her.
“What?” she demanded in irritation.
“Come here to me.”
She forced a heavy sigh. “It is almost dawn and you will undoubtedly be asleep soon, and I am exhausted from fighting off Lord Adolfe…”
Marcello’s warm body pressed into her back and stopped her rapid flow of words. His strong arm snaked around her waist and pulled her against his tight, naked body. His warm lips pressed along her neck in a delicate kiss that weakened her knees and caused a soft moan to escape her lips.
“Tell me I am enthralled by you,” she whispered. Her hand lifted to touch his face, encouraging his kiss. “Tell me everything I feel for you is a dream, like what you did with Cesare.”
“No, bella mia, you are very much awake,” he whispered, licking at the delicate cords buried in her throat.
Tatiana turned in his arms, ready to receive his kiss with one of her own. She pressed her body into him, accepting his length along hers. There was no point in denying what they both wanted. It’s not like it mattered or like anyone cared what they did. Before her lips met his, she whispered, “I was afraid of that.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Broderick looked over the dawn tinted streets. Paris looked much different in the light of day. No longer the bright, wondrous nightlife of wicked pleasures, it now looked dirty and stale and reeked of human sweat and trash. Drunken humans from the night before snored in the gutters and alleyways. A few awoke to the kicks of patrolmen, only to stumble their way home, cursing and sputtering in slurring protest.
His vivid blue eyes gleamed with amber gold as he lifted the entry to Marcello’s catacomb home. Glancing behind him, he saw his carriage was ready and waiting. Broderick took a pouch from his waist and opened it. Inside was a light brown powder. Taking a handful, he blew the powder down into the opening and began to whisper an ancient spell in a language long dead to the human world.
Broderick closed his eyes and concentrated as he spoke. A slight breeze whipped his fashionably short dark hair around his head. He wore simple clothes, a light jacket. The morning sun had yet to re
ach overhead, and the streets were shadowed because of it. He hated this deceit, hated that he must kidnap Tatiana, but knew no other way to lure the witch out.
Chapter Forty
Tatiana yawned. She strained her eyes but couldn’t see in the pitch black around her. Feeling the dead weight of Marcello’s arm over her waist, she knew it must still be daytime. She sighed, feeling content in his arms. Then, frowning, she smelled a faint odor of flowers and dirt.
Without stopping to think, she worked herself out from under Marcello’s arm. He tried to hold her closer, pulling her snugly against his naked body. She lightly kissed his jaw and patted absently at his neck. The smell reminded her of spring, of home, of happiness and girlhood pleasures. She felt Marcello shift. This time, when she tried to move, he let her go.
Her body was sore from the vigorous pleasure of Marcello’s claiming. He may be a vampire with tireless passions, but she was only human and could barely keep up. Though truth be told, she’d wanted to try desperately. Even now, her body wanted him, always wanted him. It was crazy how much she longed for him, the creature, the demon who held her prisoner. And yet, as she thought of freedom and escape, she did not long for it. Instead, the idea suddenly horrified her. She was content to remain forever his slave.
Absently, she felt the end of the bed and pulled on her silk robe. She walked to the bedchamber door, slipping out into the dining hall. The scent of flowers grew stronger, and she heard a low male voice singing in her head, soothing words she couldn’t understand. There was peace in that voice, soft and tender. Her mind became numb with the single-minded purpose of following the smell and finding the bearer of the golden, silky voice.
She walked through the dark, instinctively moving around furniture and up the stairs to the catacomb mazes above. Her bare feet swished lightly on the stone. The smell of flowers called her forth. She smiled, her limbs felt like those of a child. Whatever the smell, it made her feel good, young and innocent again, pure. Her steps began to lighten and skipped past the dark piles of skulls and bones, unable to see them, not caring that they were there. She cut through the darkness with ease, moving on instinct rather than sight.
Seeing a dim light, Tatiana giggled and moved toward it. Her wide eyes stared up from the dark, seeing sunlight for the first time in a long time. The warmth of the day hit her and reminded her of how much she loved lying in a bed of flowers warmed by the sun.
“No,” she heard a whisper from behind.
Tatiana hesitated, confused. She looked into the dark and saw a pale hand reaching for her. She gasped in fright, backing away into the light. The hand didn’t stop but followed her into the sun. It was a woman’s hand, frail and slender. Soon, Alice’s face emerged from the darkness to look at her. The bright blue of the dead woman’s gaze stared at her.
Tatiana panted for breath, wishing the woman would leave her alone. Alice tried to reach her, coming closer. Tatiana began to cry, the big, scared tears of a child unable to move or scream. Her features twisted in violent terror. Alice withdrew at the look, and Tatiana calmed by small degrees.
“Alice,” Tatiana mourned, staring into her face. “Alice, forgive me. I am so sorry. Please, forgive me.”
Alice’s eyes turned up toward the light, and again the ghostly whisper sounded, “No.”
Suddenly, Alice faded completely.
“Ah-ha, there you are, my lady.”
Tatiana screamed. A firm hand latched onto her upper arm, and she felt herself being lifted into the air, wrenched from her place on the steps. She flew out of the opening, as if she were no heavier than a feather. With a thump, she landed in a thick pair of arms. Her silk robe parted and offered little protection from her captor’s gaze. The heat of his body soaked into her.
“You,” she gasped, recognizing the man from that very alley. She struggled to be free. He didn’t even flinch. “What do you want? Who are you?”
“I am Broderick,” he answered. She tried to kick, but his arms held more strength than should’ve been humanly possible.
“What do you want with me? I demand you put me down,” she cried, pounding on him. His eyes flashed with gold. His mouth elongated slightly, and he gave a vicious snap of his teeth. With a frightened gasp, she instantly froze.
Broderick took advantage of her sudden stillness and tossed her up into the carriage. Her robes flew open revealing the long line of her naked legs and stomach. She gasped, trying to cover herself before she’d even landed. Then, calling an order to the driver, Broderick followed her inside. Seeing her clutching her robe, he chuckled in mild amusement. The carriage took off at a fast pace, jostling them on their seats.
“Are you a demon?” she asked, fearful. All too well she remembered the pain of his blade in the frozen witch’s heart.
“Nay, my lady, I am but a friend,” Broderick stated, his voice soft as he tried to soothe her, “if you but let me.”
“You are not human, and you can’t be a vampire,” she breathed. “You walk in the sunlight.”
Broderick smiled. He bowed his head, settling comfortably on the carriage seat. Relaxing his large body, he studied her from under the veil of his lashes. “Yea, you are right on both counts. I am a lycan, a werewolf.”
Broderick laughed. He let his eyes flick again with a dangerous gold. Tatiana gasped, shaking her head in heated denial. And, with a series of horrified pants, Tatiana did the only thing she could. She fainted.
Marcello heard the scream echoing in his head. He knew Tatiana was in trouble. With supernatural speed, he chased after her. He caught the strong scent of her in the catacombs mixed with an unfamiliar blending of herbs. As he saw the stream of sunlight from above, he skidded to a stop, inches away from his fiery death. He pulled back. His heart pounded wildly and never before had he cursed his vampiric weakness as he did at that moment.
His skin tightened, threatening to turn to ash should he stay too long in the sun’s presence. The light burned his eyes to look at it, and he had to turn away before he went blind. He was forced back into the shadows. Hopelessness overwhelmed him as he made his way back into the darkness of his catacomb home. He yelled in outrage, beating his hands bloody upon the stones. Tatiana was gone.
Chapter Forty-One
Broderick didn’t stop the carriage until dusk. To Tatiana’s surprise, Leandro stepped inside. For a moment, her heart leaped in hope to see him. But, as he settled into the seat next to Broderick and said something in a language she couldn’t understand, her hope went crashing to the ground.
Leandro smiled widely at her, his eyes lighting in slight interest to see her clad only in a silk robe, and simply acknowledged, “Bella donna.”
Tatiana pulled her robe closer to her body, grabbing the lapels to hold it closed. Outrunning or outsmarting a werewolf was one thing, but a werewolf and a vampire? Tatiana knew she didn’t stand a chance. Maybe if she knew more about her powers, she could fight them off. As it was, she didn’t even know if her powers were strong enough.
They traveled rapidly throughout the night. Broderick provided a basket of food. Leandro turned away while they ate, staring out of the window.
“I thought werewolves ate humans,” Tatiana said, eyeing Broderick with a look akin to suspicion.
Leandro glanced back to them and laughed. Broderick grimaced slightly.
“Only when they deserve it,” Broderick answered, his words echoed by a low growl. “So considered yourself warned, my lady.”
“They prefer to be called lycans,” Leandro said. A cloud passed over his eyes as he looked at her and he again turned away.
Splendid, Tatiana thought, sensing that she might have insulted Broderick. I’ve been kidnapped by easily offended brutes.
Remembering Broderick’s last comment, she muttered under her breath, “You already killed me once. I shouldn’t wonder that you will do so again.”
Broderick’s vivid blue eyes whipped around to stare at her. He narrowed his gaze as it flickered with golden fire.
&n
bsp; “It’s no use,” Tatiana said. She glanced at the bread in her lap, absently tearing it into small crumbs. “I’ve learned to block my thoughts. You’re just going to have to ask me what it is you wish to know.”
Leandro chuckled but did not turn his attention away from the night.
“Fine,” Broderick said straightforwardly. His tone was light, but his gaze was aggressive and his grin wolfish in intent. “What do you mean, I killed you once?”
“I saw it that night in the alleyway when you touched me. I think it was a past life. I have seen many past lives. I was in an icy stream, tied to a tree. I had long red hair, and you called me Maighdlin, right before stabbing me in the heart.”
“There is no way you could recall that,” Broderick whispered, horrified.
Leandro glanced curiously at his friend. “Who is Maighdlin?”
“No one,” Broderick said. His reaction wasn’t what Tatiana would’ve expected, not from a cold-hearted killer. If she wasn’t mistaken, his eyes looked sad, hurt.
“I remember her, and I remember another. I was in a field, and knights charged me. This time, my hair was blonde. I tried to run, but they lopped my head off,” Tatiana said. “That was probably you too. You have the knight’s build.”
Broderick paled. Tatiana frowned to see the look. The bread fell from her lap as she inched away from him.
“What manner of death do you have in mind, this time, lycan?” she inquired in fear.
“I don’t seek to kill you, my lady,” Broderick said. His expression was earnest, but she was hard-pressed to believe him. She could still feel the blade to her neck and the knife in her heart.
“I don’t believe you,” she said. “What are you? A witch hunter? Is that why you have come for me?”
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