Mortal Bite (Golden Vampires of Tuscany) (15 page)

She opened her eyes wide and saw him. Really saw him.

In a flash of energy, water was splashing everywhere as Cara struggled to
get herself out of the tub, knocking bottles of bubble bath and crystals all
around the granite ledge, some breaking on the floor. She then stepped on the
broken glass and cried out as she began to hop, holding one bloody foot behind
her as she ran for a pile of clothes on her bed.

Paolo stood up, at first unaware of how ridiculous he must look, with a
wet white cotton shirt and nothing else, his cock drooping, his limbs covered
in bubbles.

“Bella, please, love. Let me explain.”

“Don’t you fucking get near me you animal!” she screamed. She held a
knitting needle in her right hand like a dagger.

“I can explain this to you. Please, let me do so.”

“I don’t want to hear anything from your mouth except the apology you’ll
give me after I’ve had you arrested.”

“Don’t you want to know what happened? Don’t you want to know how I got
here?”

She looked at him for a second, and he thought perhaps there was a chance
she would allow herself a glimpse of the truth. But sadly, she was full of
anger and fear. Her naked body shivered, but she seemed not to notice. There
was no place where logic could take hold, he realized.

“You get out of my house this instant. I’m still calling the cops. I’ll
let you explain yourself to them.”

“Cara, it isn’t what you think. Honestly. Please.”

“No? You sneak in and fuck me when I’m taking a bath. Violate me when I’m
daydreaming. Did you slip something into my wine or something? I’ll bet your
creepy brother is on his way over here, too, and you’ll both do me and laugh
about it all the way home. That the way you rich playboys operate? Can’t get
girls the right way, so you have to drug them to get your jollies. Well, not
with me, you cretin.”

“Bel—”

“Get the hell out of here.”

“Bella, you called me.”

“I did nothing of the sort.”

“Yes, you called me. I
traced
here. But you called me. I couldn’t help but come.”

“You lying son of a bitch. Get out!” she screamed. Paolo was worried
someone would come inquiring, she was so loud. Soon her phone began to ring.

“I hope this is the cops that someone in my building called. If I had a
gun I’d shoot out both your kneecaps.”

“I’ll go. But you need to know one thing.”

“Just go.”

“You need to know I am vampire.”

“Just—what? What did you say?”

“I am a Golden vampire. An old race. Yes, Carabella, vampires do exist.
There are many of us—”

The phone stopped ringing abruptly, like someone had ripped it out of the
wall. Paolo wondered if his powers had done this.

“Shut up with your lies,” she said.

“It’s the truth. Think about it. One moment you were daydreaming, then
you called my name, asked me to come, and I did. You wanted me inside you. I
obliged, I am sorry to say.” Paolo noticed his member had begun to arch up
again at the talk about coming and obliging. In a horrible twist of fate, Cara
glanced back at his groin. Her frown and look of utter disgust broke his heart.

“Who do you think I am, some bimbo you have to give some fantastical
explanation to so you can get laid? I’m not falling for it. Or, are you one of
those who get off on violence. Well, if you want violence—”

She stepped towards him, holding the knitting needle high above her head,
ready to strike.
 
He traced to her
side so fast she looked everywhere in front but didn’t suspect he’d made it all
the way around her. He grabbed the knitting needle and tossed it out of the
bedroom and down the hallway. His arms encircled hers as he held her in place,
covering her back with his chest, making her immobile. He whispered into her
ear, with a trace of glamour.

“I love you. I would never hurt you, mi amore.”

He could feel the softness of her limbs, the warmth in her heart he had
touched, but then her natural human instincts kicked in and she went rigid with
fear again. It was no use, he realized.

“You are an animal. Get your filthy hands off me or I’ll scream and alert
the whole building.”

Paolo traced back in front of her, standing now longer than an arm’s
length away. “Enough,” he said. “In time, you will have questions. When you do,
I would be happy to answer them.”

Cara started to shake. Paolo reached for a large bath towel and threw it
toward her so she could cover up, which she quickly did. He found another towel
for himself and wrapped it around his waist. He felt completely ridiculous in
his sopping shirt, wrapped in a light yellow-colored bath sheet, dripping wet,
naked and barefoot.

“I’ll return the towel tomorrow,” he mumbled, staring at the wet bedroom
floor.

“Keep it. I never want to see you again.”

Paolo loved the stern fixture of her jaw, lips slammed shut together, the
determined stare as she tried to be brave. He knew she’d have a problem with
this next part, but he couldn’t help himself. He broke a wide grin, and before
she could react, he traced home.

No way this happened in my bedroom.
No fucking way.

Cara was still shaking as she looked at the bamboo floor where he’d just
been standing. A puddle of bubbly water quivered and began to fill in two small
dry patches where his feet had been. Just five seconds ago. He’d been standing
there, wrapped in her bath sheet with that smirk, that satisfied smile on his
face.

Is it evil that I am still
attracted to this—man?

But he wasn’t a man, was he? She walked over to the puddles he’d left
behind, as if they held some clue. She dropped to her knees and hesitated
before she wiped it up with her towel. His towel’s mate. The towel he said he’d
return and she said, “don’t bother.” She didn’t care about the damned thing.
She cared about the male she’d spent the afternoon and early evening with,
shared a bubble bath with. The male she allowed to violate her again.

‘I am vampire,’
he’d said.
‘Vampires exist. There are lots of them.’

He was completely delusional. Or was she? It didn’t make any sense. None
of it. She lassoed her mind to focus on him, searching to see if the connection
was still intact.

Are you there? No! Don’t answer
that. Don’t contact me unless I call you.

A tiny flame inside her belly made her insides glow, and she had her
answer. Yes, he was still there, and he could hear her.

Now what do I do? Don’t answer
that,
she said to him across time and space.
It’s a question I have to answer for myself.

She waited. No answer. This was a good sign. She told herself it was a
good sign.

Thank you,
she told him
mentally.

Always, mi amore,
came the
reply.

“No!” she screamed. “You can’t do this to me,” she said out loud to the
room. She checked the ceiling, behind furniture, and in the closet. She let out
the water in her tub and checked under the bed.

I am right here. At Marcus and
Anne’s home. In the guest bedroom.

Stop it,
she answered.
Get out of my head. Go away and don’t come
back unless I call you. No exceptions. My rules. We go by my rules.

There was no response.

Reassured he wouldn’t interfere unless called, Cara began to focus on her
own body. The shaking began again, like she was going through some kind of
withdrawal. The stress and roller coaster of her emotions had made her very
tired. She knew she needed sleep.

Cara put on a white satin nightie with a fuzzy lining to take the chill
off her skin. She did have the fleeting thought about one way she could
instantly warm up; she could have him in her bed and immediately the shaking
would stop. But the craving would continue. Her memory of his hot kisses, the
feel of his limbs against hers, his chest pressing against hers, the
incantations he liked to whisper to her belly were becoming hard to ignore.

She turned off all the lights, but lit a lemony votive candle beside her
bed.

Why?

Well, she knew why.
 
She
slipped between the smooth cotton sheets, lay back watching the fluttering
circle of light from the candle as it projected onto the ceiling, and began to smell
its scent filling the room. With heavy eyes, she drifted off to sleep, but not
before she saw bonfires, old stone buildings, some of them ruined. Wet
cobblestoned streets glowed in the moonlight. She could hear the clop clop of
horses. She heard weeping; she saw the tear-streaked faces of beautiful women.
Some were modern women, some in older dress, like a parade of characters
throughout time. She saw Lucius picking apples on the top of a ladder in a
sunny orchard, being steadied by strong masculine hands around the little boy’s
waist. Paolo’s hands. She felt the trembling body of the boy as if she’d hugged
him herself.

She sank into oblivion, grateful for her life.

And feeling oddly protected.

Paolo gazed out the opened window in his bedroom and watched over the
nearly bare, leafless vineyard by moonlight. A spitting, raging fire in the
fireplace had not sufficiently warmed him. His bones were cold, as if they’d
been made of iron. He felt brooding, heavy.

He was both delighted and annoyed that she could still communicate with
him. His emotions balanced on the edge of a sabre’s blade. While it meant she
wasn’t dead to him, psychically, he also knew that there was no way he could
predict her choice in outcome. If she chose to stay away—and she was
strong-willed for a human woman, stronger than his wives had been—perhaps
she could physically will herself to stay away from him forever. In time,
perhaps she could learn this. They were not fated, after all. That horrible
fact felt like the stake in his chest that the dark vamps dreaded.

He was losing her. He’d shown her his horrible, animal side when she
summoned him and he had no choice but to obey that summons. Fuck her in a
bathtub when all she wanted to do was have an erotic fantasy about him. He had
no control. He felt despicable, like a dark vampire animal. Like his enemies.
Was he becoming his enemy?

When Cara’s natural human psyche took over, she would be dead to him,
just as his three wives were. Perhaps that’s what had made him think of them,
and the pain of watching them age, and their eventual passing. He did not want
to bury a fourth. Cara had a human life to live and Paolo refused to take that
away from her.

He had been just as addicted to Maya and the fates of their kind as Cara
was feeling about him. But Cara had a chance at freedom, whereas Paolo had
none. He’d be forever caught between the mortal world he missed and the Golden vampire
world he couldn’t fully embrace. Which meant no happy household filled with
lots of brothers and sisters for Lucius.

Lucius.
The little boy would
need a father who could wisely counsel him.

He’d made his wives comfortable, showering them with riches, with travel,
with things to make them forget their empty wombs. But the emptiness, the grief
was still there, after all the gifts and fantastic excursions to all the
corners of the earth. And while he could heal many of their physical ailments,
but he could not cheat death. All passed into the afterlife mortals go while he
held them. While he prayed for their souls. While he grieved, again and again.

Paolo had begun to think it was his purpose in life to grieve. The God of
vampires had put him on the planet to demonstrate to Golden vamps everywhere
what not to do with their lives. Should he have tried to make a life with that
half-witch mother of Lucius? Could that have been the right action he’d missed
along the way?

The answer he came up with was always the same.

No.

With the coming war brewing, romantic love, at least for now, would have
to take a back seat to the safety of his son, his brother’s family, and the
future of the Golden vampire race.

He sighed and hoped Cara would find restoration from her much-needed
sleep. Sleep that would not come to him tonight. Though he tried to hold the
tears back, he found himself weeping silently, looking at the stars exploding
in the night sky, wishing for something he could never have. He wondered if the
God of man was capable of taking pity on him as well.

He said his prayer for healing Cara’s confusion and hurt. He said his
prayer for the safety of his son. He asked for courage to do the right thing,
and for peace to come flooding into his soul as he prepared for battle and for the
uncertain future that awaited them all.

Dag returned to his rented two-story flat, and found the little blonde
waif waiting for him just the way he’d dreamt he would. She was naked,
spread-eagled, and handcuffed by wrists and ankles to his iron bed frame. He
had a burning desire to hurt and maim something, and it was the first time he
was sorry he was about to fuck his brains out and perhaps kill the mortal
woman. This, and this time only, it would have been nice to screw a female vamp
so that she could heal and he could do it again later on. Fuck her to death
again and again. After all, his needs came first, before that of any other
living being, human, Golden or dark.

“Who did this to you?” he asked. Her eyes were dark, and he realized she
had taken some drug.

“You did, master.” Her throaty voice made him want to shove his cock into
her mouth and make her choke on it. He traced next to her and felt the
delicious ripple of fear that went like a lightning rod through her tender pink
flesh. He liked surprising, scaring her.

“You altered yourself.” He sniffed her, then licked one armpit, feeling
the elixir of her sweat turn his dick hard as steel. It hung cold and heavy
between his legs. He wanted her to feel how ripe he was for her.

“I asked permission of your houseboy.”

“Houseboy? I don’t have a houseboy.”

“The one who opens your front door? I assumed he was your male pleasure
partner.”

“Can it,” He barked and took another lick, this time running his tongue
down and over her left breast, over the knot of her nipple that went purple and
welted under the sandpaper of his tongue. He could eat that breast, but the
pain would distract her from coming, and he so much wanted her to come for him.
“I don’t fuck boys.”

She smiled in that sweet innocent way that had hooked him the first time
he’d seen her panhandling in front of Starbuck’s.

“Not even their—“

“So you decided you liked it in the ass after all? Is that why you’re
back?”

“No. I’m back for your cock. I need to be filled with your will.” Her
eyes were having trouble focusing. She moved her head back on the pillow,
jutted out her chin, which arched her back and put her breasts very close.

“Take me, if I am worthy, master.”

“Did the ‘houseboy’ fuck you?”

“What if he did?”

“I would have to wash you. Or kill you. And then I’d kill him.”

“If you wish me cleaner than I would otherwise make myself for you, you
may wash me. But I have not had another man’s cock inside me since the last
time you gave me your blessing. I have fingered myself, though. Many times.
Remembering—"She groaned into the pillow, exposing her lovely long
neck. He could smell her arousal since her legs were wide apart for him.

He wanted to ram himself inside her so bad he felt like shredding his
clothes and getting to it. But his phone rang. He swore and looked at the
display.

Uncle Colin.

He stood, adjusting himself. She had focused on his package, which pulsed
and ached inside his leather pants.

“Uncle?”

“I have good news about the book.”

Hope began to grow in Dag’s black heart and he momentarily forgot about
the girl, until he began to smell her again. “I’m all ears,” he said as he
watched her struggle against the handcuffs. The pink folds of her labia made
his fangs drop and his mouth water. His tongue slid across one sharp point and
he tasted his own blood, sending him an erotic jolt.

“The bookseller’s transaction records just came through. I told American
Express I was his only surviving relative, explained the tragedy of his whole
family, you know.” Colin’s voice trailed off. He continued, after taking a deep
gulp of air. “The transaction paperwork and his seller ID you gave me helped.”

“Let’s not fuck with each other Uncle Colin. Tell me what you know.

“Well, the book was shipped to a post office box in Sonoma County, just
north of here.” Colin sounded pleased with himself.

“Ah. Very good. And to whom was it shipped?”

“Ah, let me see,” Dag could hear the rustle of the slips of notes Colin
had pasted all over the wall behind his desk. “Here it is. Carabella Sampson in
Santa Rosa.”

“They shipped a rare book to a post office box?”

“I suppose so. That way it requires a signature, I believe. Here is the
box number. Perhaps you can get more information from the postal authorities.”

Dag smirked at the thought. “Not likely. But I think a night visit is in
order, and their customer service desk will be closed.”

“Well, I wish you luck. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“I appreciate that, Colin.”

“If that is all, then—“

“Wait a minute. Did you tie up dark Vicky?”

Dag felt the pregnant pause on the other end of the phone. He could barely
hear the response. “No.”

“You’re a lamb playing with a coyote. She’ll scratch your eyes out and
leave you for dead if you don’t control her.” Dag glanced at the blonde and
gave her a wolfish grin, showing his fangs. Her eyes momentarily got huge and
he felt his cock lurch. God, he wanted to fuck her till dawn, but now the book
was calling to him.

“Please, Dag, she hasn’t been home in a day. Over a day now. I had no
opportunity.”

Dag knew it was a lie. “Then I suppose I’ll have to do it and show you
how. You will bring her to me in a few nights, understood?”

“Dag, I don’t think that is necessary—“

“Of course it’s necessary. I’m going to show you how to control a woman.
Make her come until she wishes for death.” His upper lip twitched, as the
blonde understood the meaning of his words. Tears began to stream down her
cheeks as she gave him that soft, pitiful, waif-like look. It tore a hole in
his heart, for some reason. And it made him damned mad at the same time. He
didn’t like anyone to show weakness. He wanted her to defy him so he could
break her. So he could scare her to death. Then he’d decide if she could live.
Her life was putty in his hands, and he wanted her to know it. Wait for it. Not
know what the outcome would be.

“Uncle Colin?” he asked as he licked his lips and crawled onto the bed.

“Yes?”

“Bring her by Friday night around eight. This will be a life-changing
event. For both of you.” Dag flipped the phone closed and tossed it onto the
bear rug on the floor. “Where were we?”

She said nothing. Her tears did not stop in defiance. She bore her fear
and pain like a mantle of gold. Her pride made her breasts swell. He sniffed
the air, filled with the scent of her. “Shall I ravish you now? Or later?”

“You are going to kill me. What difference does it make?” Her tears had
stopped. Her lower lip quivered as her moist lips framed the words.

Dag bent down and kissed her hard, forcing his tongue down her throat
until she gagged. “Would you swallow my cock this way?”

“Please.”

Dag was filled with the power of his dark passions. His phone rang again.
“Fuck!” he shouted and was going to throw it against the wall until he noticed
 
the display. His first lieutenant was
trying to reach him.

“Rhys? This had better be important or I’m going to cut off your left big
toe, which I understand might not seem like much of a punishment, considering
the state of your toenail.”

Rhys had a chuckle, and Dag found himself suddenly lighthearted as well.
The delay in sexual satisfaction had become pleasurable all of a sudden.

“Supreme, we wanted to be sure we did the right thing by letting the girl
into your chambers. She is no longer mortal. But she insisted you’d made her
for your own pleasure, and had summoned her.”

“Yes, I thought you rather would. You didn’t mind sneaking a little
something while you cuffed her to my bed?”

“We thought it best she be restrained so she wouldn’t get into things.
And we figured you wouldn’t want us to wait by her side, watching her.”

“You did well. Except for the drugs.”

“Not my idea. It was hers.”

Dag swiveled around and stared at her eyes looking back at him innocently.
She is such a liar. I’m going to be extra
rough until she tells me more lies.

Rhys chuckled again. The blonde raised her sex as high as she could. Her
buttocks hung beneath her and quivered. He could hear the slick moisture
between her legs.

“Hurry it up or I’m going to come in my pants. Anything else?”

“You sending us out on a mission tonight? I can get Rubin and we can go
back and do Rory. Thought you might like that.”

“Rory’s mine. But you can get the executioner and call on the Librarian.
He has a name and a post office box to look up in Santa Rosa. You could go do
that. See if you can find the person who has the book. Colin will give you all
the details.”

“The Post Office will be closed, sir.”

“Then open it. You do know how to do that, don’t you?”

“Yessir. Will do.”

“And Rhys, what did she take?”

“Don’t know, sir. She brought it with her.”

Dag signed off and turned off his phone. The next person to interrupt him
would pay for it with his life. He’d come out when he was good and ready. He
hoped to get drunk with lust, and the girl’s blood. If she was lucky, and very
good, he’d let her live.