Mortal Bite (Golden Vampires of Tuscany) Page 3

  Still mortally shamed by his long-ago decision to turn, there wasn’t a day of the centuries that had gone by when he didn’t feel the sharp pain of regret. God in Heaven, he wished he’d made the other choice, to remain mortal. He would have died in the 1700’s like his parents. He’d be buried right next to them on the plot of land bordered by the family vineyard.

  Paolo would be dust and not a danger to anyone else. Not able to feast on the blood of innocents, ruin mortal life.

  Lucius would never have existed.

  It is what I deserve.

  He made his way back to the ballroom. The party was ramping up to full rave Even the windows were foggy with the detritus of frenzied exhalations and hot human sweat. The dull dance beat dispensed like candy from the mobile D.J. made his chest rumble in a not unpleasant way. Paolo felt the pain and anguish pouring out of the partygoers as they danced off their fears, exorcised their demons. Could they feel that death was stalking them? Walking amongst them?

  He turned around in the center of the dance floor. Had they made a circle around him? Were they mocking him as they undulated, showed him their flesh, the dark patches usually left in shadow for a lover? Did they wiggle and send their pheromones blasting out to allure him or torture him? Who was master and who was slave here?

  Three pixie-like women dressed in butterfly princess costumes flew around him and surrounded his body with the luscious softness of their flesh. They touched him places he never let women touch him in public. His groin tightened and in spite of the debasement he felt, he got rock hard. Two of the ladies sandwiched him and he dry-humped one sweet little faerie, holding her by her tiny glistening waist as she writhed on his hardened member and let him feel the heat of her sex through her flimsy costume. His erection became so strong he feared it would rip through his trousers and take her through the silvery gauze that did little to protect her core from a thrust of his kind.

  I could do it. I could show them what I am.

  The scent of her body juices made him want to bite the little nymph. He could hold her while she experienced the euphoria of his tongue as he coaxed out her sweet red elixir until it filled the empty spaces inside him. He’d seal off the little holes in her neck, then re-bite her and partake again, then heal her, over and over again, until he was sated.

  He could feel what she would taste like, how her sweet scent could fill his nostrils as he explored the penetrations he made, dominating her, and sending his thanks to God that he could immerse himself in the life force of this beautiful creature.

  As he readied himself to bite down, he caught sight of Carabella Sampson, watching him from across the room. She stood in partial shadow, but Paolo could see her just as clearly as if she’d been standing in full sun. The dancers almost parted so that he could look upon the wonder of her full, luscious body. It made him stop gyrating his hips. He released the faerie and she tumbled to the floor like a rag doll, glamoured, but otherwise unharmed.

  Cara stood to him, unwavering across the expanse of the large room, letting him feast on her beauty, letting his eyes roam in places she should have been shy about revealing to him. She didn’t turn, or cover herself up, or fold her arms across her ample chest. Her red lips were moist, and he could hear her breathing across the huge hall. He could smell the tiny beads of sweat condensed on her upper lip, which quivered so very slightly. He drank of her in every way but with his fangs.

  The faeries were all over him again, one hugging his thigh between hers, another rubbing her breasts into his chest, raising his shirt, seeking a flesh-to-flesh connection. He continued to stare into the eyes of Carabella. His rod was red hot, but it was Carabella who was touching him, working on the zipper, trying to obtain purchase.

  Stop it, he mentally told them. He could not let them do this. He wasn’t that far gone yet. He would not subject Carabella to this sort of decadence or the darkness in his lonely heart. He tore his eyes from hers and danced with the nymphs, teasing them, staying just out of reach. He sent glam out to the crowd. More women, and a few men came and joined their circle. He paraded around the perimeter, touching faces and tickling their souls. They were starving. Starving for the passion he could unleash upon them.

  He turned and she was still there, watching him. He raised his arms to the ceiling and she did the same. One of the faeries unbuttoned his shirt. Carabella could see his chest, see the muscles that wanted to hold her shuddering body.

  Let me love you. There. He’d said it, finally.

  Her eyes got wide. Her hands came down over her own chest as she kneaded her breasts together. She searched the floor and then raised her eyes to his. Clear across the room from each other they danced together. Through the space of thin air he kissed her neck and watched as she moaned and rolled her head, exposing the blue vein for him.

  Paolo licked his lips. He undulated his lower torso as he barely managed to keep from exploding.

  I’m coming into you, lovely Carabella. I will make your flesh sing.

  She nodded softly as she lowered her chin and pouted her lips. One hand did what Paolo wished he could do, it laced down from her left breast to the juncture between her legs. Then she grabbed her skirts and raised the hem just enough so he could see a well-developed and tanned thigh. He wanted to bite the soft flesh on the inside, up by her core.

  Let me see it.

  He fell to his knees. The crowd parted and he was able to again see the lovely angel writhing in tandem with him half way across the room.

  I will bring you unspeakable pleasure, Carabella. Use me. I am the instrument of your pleasure. If I cannot be your love, use me—even if you must throw me away.

  One of the faeries broke his line of sight, lowering herself onto his lap, dancing on his hardness, driving him crazy by kissing his neck and exposing hers. His natural vampire instincts almost got the better of him. Control was slipping away.

  “Take me,” the glittery faery whispered. She leaned back and he watched as first one, then the other breast found freedom from her small, restrictive costume as she arched back, planted her palms on the dance floor and bent back.. Ruffles and her scratchy fabric filled his face.

  It brought him to his senses. He righted the faerie and whispered an apology with a kiss to her neck.

  “I am claimed already, little one.”

  “Take me anyway,” she begged.

  “Not tonight.”

  As he helped get her to her feet, the crowd applauded and the music ended. He searched the room, looking for the angel, but she was gone. He surreptitiously adjusted his pants, took another bow, and then released the faeries to the crowd. As he wandered toward the outer edge of the crowd of dancers, arms and lips grazed him, sought his attention, but his focus was elsewhere.

  Where did she go?

  Every spark of white caught his eye…and disappointed him when it was not the angel he sought. He searched the bar, hoping to find her tucked in the corner again by the fireplace, revisiting a glass of port, waiting for him. But no luck.

  The vision of her lying across his massive bed, all her lovely flesh exposed to the night air, nipples taut and knotted, her heavy breathing as she anticipated his mouth on her sex, his tongue inside her, making her rise and burn. He would take her every way he knew. He would love her until she craved no other. He would work out of her the loathing she felt for his kind, and he would convince her he was alive and everything she needed.

  Because he knew he was.

  That’s when he saw her, over by the table where he had placed his cape. Johnny had grabbed the top hat and she swung the silver scarf around her neck, protecting her lifeblood, demurely covering up what he longed passionately to see, touch and taste.

  When she looked up at him, he softened. He would have run to her, but he was unsure.

  On a night filled with miracles another one dropped down upon him. The God of vampires touched him when she smiled. It was a sweet smile. No seduction. No play. Just acceptance. He had not sent glamour to her. She sm
iled of her own free will, so delicious, so innocent.

  The world of the possible opened in front of him. It caused him to step softly toward her as she stood straight and tall, awaiting his arrival. One hand fingered her gauzy scarf, the other was tucked into the crook of Johnny’s arm as he attempted to draw her away. But she appeared to resist.

  She’s waiting for me.

  When he arrived at her side, she reached into her scarf and pulled out something. It was a business card she held between the tips of two fingers.

  “Call me.” Her flushed face was moist with a thin layer of her own excitement. Her eyes held his. Unafraid, but needy.

  It was all she said. His heart hung on every strand of her bountiful, beautiful hair as he watched her turn her head and follow Johnny from the ballroom.

  Chapter 4

  Cara was silent as Johnny drove her car, taking them both to her house, where he would catch a late bus to his own place across town. They’d only done this twice, gone Dutch and spent the time watching others. Theirs was not the dating relationship they hoped to find in the crowds they scanned. Instead, they worked “cover” for each other.

  Cara checked the mirror. Her cheeks were definitely flushed, mirroring the excitement coursing through her veins. She’d never felt so alive, so sexy, and so irresistible. She halfway wished they were on their way to another party. She could dance all night.

  She flipped the mirror up and looked across the console at Johnny. He was a beautiful man. Even features, smooth tanned skin and white teeth. His vibrantly healthy tanned skin, warm eyes and long lashes made him the perfect cover model or poster man for a milk commercial.

  He should be her type, she thought. Though he was younger, he could be a wonderful distraction. But no matter how hard she thought about it, no matter how lusty she felt this evening, to the point that she almost felt immortal, she never could quite see him as a sexual partner. And this made her a little sad.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t dance with you more.” She was feeling melancholy, a little sorry about her lack of attention.

  Why? Was she feeling guilty, perhaps?

  “That’s all right,” he flashed her one of his legendary fresh smiles. Johnny could turn on the charm, look just as tempting as any soap opera hunk, but unaffected. He was refreshingly natural, apparently unaffected by his good looks. “I had a good time. But you almost hooked up with that old guy,” he said as he winked at her.

  “Old guy?” Was the mystery man old? Hardly!

  “The vampire.”

  Maybe it was his costume, his makeup. He looked like he was around thirty, not much older than she. However, thinking about him brought a smile to her lips and revved up her engine a couple of notches. She felt in the mood to play with Johnny a bit. “You jealous now?”

  “I’m the one who’s taking you home.” He gave her The Bedroom Look. The one that said he meant business.

  Cara frowned. Was this getting complicated all of a sudden? Though she was feeling like a free spirit, her affections weren’t aimed in Johnny’s direction.

  He kept his serious tone. “Would you sleep with me some time—one of these evenings?”

  Cara was surprised this didn’t turn her on. There was absolutely nothing wrong with Johnny or his hunky body. It was something else. “Do you think of me that way, Johnny?”

  He looked at her as if she had a third eye in the middle of her forehead. “Are you nuts? I’m crazy about you.”

  “Wouldn’t that make me a cougar? Preying on a younger guy?”

  “Hardly. You’re only five years older. I think you’d have to be ten or twenty years my senior to qualify. Besides,” he grabbed her hand and kissed it tenderly, “you’re one hot lady. Don’t know why, but I saw a different side of you tonight.” He dropped her hand after giving her a squeeze. “I kind of like it.”

  It was true. She was a different person this evening. Some switch had been turned to “on” position, and she was enjoying every minute of it.

  She knew he was discreet, so a quick, passionate liaison was possible, and no one need know. But they worked together. They had to spend hours in close proximity in her tiny office at the college. They ate Chinese food over research projects and hashing over lecture notes. He was the brother she never had. She needed a true friend. But a lover?

  No.

  There was only one man on her radar. And for him she’d do just about anything. Even something inappropriate…

  “So, what about it?”

  “What about what?”

  “You gonna make me a lucky man tonight?” He frowned after searching her face, obviously realizing the answer was no. She didn’t have to say a word.

  “It isn’t wise,” was all she could think to say as she looked through the windshield at the passing lights . Wet streets and colorful signs twinkled between droplets of rain that diffused and refracted the view. What was she looking for?

  “Wasn’t asking for wise,” Johnny said, his voice deepening. “Was asking for totally hot freaking sex.”

  She felt the giggle erupt from deep inside her. She loved the way it rippled and fluttered throughout her chest. She was filled with mirth, and it had been years since she’d felt this good.

  “You think sex is funny?” he asked. “Or is it just me?” He scowled. “What about you and gramps?”

  “Why do you say gramps? He doesn’t seem old to me,” she said. She wasn’t going to let anything ruin her evening.

  “Because he has something old and sinister on his agenda. Something he’s hiding. I don’t trust him. It’s creepy.”

  Cara threw her head back onto the headrest and laughed. “Oh, Johnny. I don’t get that at all.” She scrunched her nose.

  “Whatever,” he whispered and then sighed.

  They remained silent until he pulled into her condo complex. In the underground garage they both got out and he handed her the keys.

  “Last chance.” His little smile was infectious, but didn’t win her over.

  “Thanks, but no thanks. I had a really nice time, though.”

  “Cara, you’re a big girl, and a smart one, too. Please, please, for my sake, be careful. I don’t like that guy, and it isn’t because he’s better at mesmerizing the room. There is something really off about him.” Johnny hesitated, then stepped closer to Cara, and she moved back to avoid an embrace, in case one was on the way.

  “Okay, I get it. But I just don’t want to see you get hurt. Aren’t you in the least bit concerned?”

  Cara had to admit there was some worry there, but it was covered over by something exciting growing inside her soul.

  “I can handle myself.” She immediately realized she’d hurt him. The flicker of a frown glanced off his face. “But Johnny, it’s sweet that you care. Thank you so much for that.” Cara moved into his arms and allowed him to encircle her. He was safe.

  Am I crazy? What could it hurt?

  But the answer was still no. She held him at arm’s length. “Thank you. For being my date tonight. For understanding. For being my friend. You don’t know how valuable that is to me,” she said.

  “Me, too,” he sighed with a bit of a pout on his brooding face.

  He gave her a safe peck on the cheek, backed away, waved, and walked toward the gated door. Carabella headed for the elevator and waved back just as the doors began to close. None of her friends would ever understand how she could just leave him standing there when he’d made himself so totally available to her.

  The elevator groaned slowly to the third floor. Inside her condo she turned on her bath and stripped, leaving the angel costume in a heap on the tiled floor. The fuzzy white wings perched in the middle of the pile, stubbornly standing guard over the mounds of white satin. She was grateful to be done with the scratchy protuberances.

  Cara swiveled the big screen TV arm so it would angle over her while she soaked.She slipped into the warm, sudsy water and sank up to her neck in lavender-scented bubbles. She flipped on the remote and watche
d an old Bella Lugosi film. The closeup of his eyes reminded her of the intense way Paolo had looked at her when he whispered, “I can show you many things, my dear.” She felt her legs quiver under the warm water.

  She sighed and allowed herself to relax against the back of the tub. As her eyes closed, she imagined dancing with him. He spun her around the floor of a grand ballroom filled with candlelight. The hall was empty except for the two of them, but somewhere a string quartet played a waltz as she twirled and leaned back, held by his powerful arms. First they swayed one way, then the other. She wore a golden gown like she’d seen in movies, and felt the taffeta swishing along her hips, the color matching satin dancing slippers encrusted in pearls.

  His palm pressed to the small of her back when he stopped her in the middle of the music, as they stood motionless on the polished wooden floor. His finger traced down the side of her face, rubbing over her lower lip as she opened her mouth to him and she tasted his full lips. She heard his inhale, like he was holding back, trying to be gentle with her.

  Then she saw herself on a large bed with cream satin sheets, naked, waiting. He covered her body and watched her face, her body as she moaned her pleasure, as he pumped inside her and made her come again and again, each time leaving her craving more.

  The visions continued as she lingered in the state of half dream half erotic trance, surrounded by the foaming bubble bath. Organ music leaked from the TV’s low volume control, sounding tinny but somehow fitting. At last she opened her eyes and the visions released her. She was left with the delicious lingering effect of her pulsing orgasm.

  Panting, she was still not sated, and she gripped the sides of the tub until her body returned to its relaxed state.

  What is this feeling that’s come over me? She could almost say she’d been bewitched. The powerful ache she felt for this man defied anything she’d experienced before. It was almost as if he were standing beside her, making her feel what she had felt when he touched her hand, or barely brushed her arm at the party.