Honeymoon Bite (Golden Vampires of Tuscany) Page 5

  But he’d gone back and brought her to Anne’s house. That sexual liaison he remembered. Vividly. Unhurried, like the one earlier in the day in the bathroom, but just as urgent. God, he loved fucking Monika. And in a way, Monika made him a better man too. He didn’t feel dirty for loving her, and he knew he truly did. Hell, he loved them both.

  And then Anne had walked in. He never wanted to see his lovely Anne look at him like that again. Woke him up from the fantasy that he could just go along without making a choice. Saw the reality of the pain he’d caused everyone.

  He thought about her place. He’d always liked it there. Maybe she would give him another chance, although he admitted he didn’t deserve one. Anne was looking more attractive the less available she was. He began to think he was budding a conscience.

  Something messed up with that.

  He’d have to mend his ways. Maybe start going to meetings again.

  Fuck that.

  He knew he was slipping into an abyss. Now it was getting dangerous, and bloody.

  Robert shook his head and swore under his breath, slammed his palm down on the coffee tabletop.

  He was forgetting things, too. First, he’d cheated on his wife, and now last night he had cheated on Monika. He was going to have to figure out what exactly he wanted and stick to the plan. Getting Anne back was Plan A. But he knew he had a much better chance with Plan B.

  Chapter 6

  Anne opened the heavy wooden door to her room, a converted cell in an old monastery. The Majorcan summer night air was warm and fragrant. Maybe she could float. Something to try another time. Just five days into her change and she was still getting used to her new self. Tonight she needed to feed—a need that would not be denied or it could get dangerous. And bloody.

  She loved the sounds her feet made as she lightly skipped along the moonlit cobblestoned street. The cool smell of dusty stone houses was pleasant.

  She could even smell blooming jasmine and orange blossoms from miles away. She was still adjusting to the sensory overload that was now her daily challenge. Pulling a deep purple satin cape about her neck, she drifted down the cobblestoned streets of the village, high atop the hills. If it weren’t two in the morning, she would be able to see the ocean, but she could smell its salty air. The unmistakable rusty scent of blood arrived not thirty yards in front of her.

  Men.

  A whole group of them. Young. Virile. In their peak of health. Her favorite kind.

  Her first few attempts to feed had been pathetic failures, and she’d barely enough to satisfy her needs. She’d ruined clothes until she learned she could get her feeding done as they were showering.

  She didn’t have the desire to kill, just to feed, but her first few attempts ended in death for the human, sadly. If she took someone expendable, like a street drunk, she could get high from the alcohol, or worse, from the drugs in their system. And she hated eating while the smell of urine, vomit, and weeks-old human sweat filled her nostrils. She had indeed been cursed those first few days until she learned how to leave the humans alive. Then she discovered several other things she liked about her new form.

  For the first time in her life, she wasn’t afraid of anything. She was able to process every little detail of a scene, even down to the smallest pebble. She could hear the footsteps of small bugs that lived under rocks and the whir of bee wings, the language of crickets and mating calls of frogs in the rain. Liberated from all her doubts and concerns for her own safety, she felt sexual arousal constantly, especially when she caught a particular scent that lingered near her. She’d been aware of it in her bed, in her shower. She’d feel it curl around her like arms of a lover and she’d basked in the tingly feeling it brought her ultrasensitive skin.

  She had no idea what kind of being she had turned into. One thing she knew for sure, she certainly was not human.

  She studied the five handsome twenty-something young men who stood before her, probably out for a night of dancing and drinking. Anne sensed they were looking to satisfy their sexual appetites. That worked.

  She picked out the tallest, and handsomest male in the group. The alpha, she thought. He was so sexy the way his confident, loose gait carried his muscular body straight to her. His dark brown bedroom eyes perused her over, and yes, she had to admit, her nipples tightened so hard they hurt, and she felt the delicious wetness in her panties as her sex vibrated to life.

  Hands on her hips, she smiled back at him. The others hung slightly back, gawking. This alpha was the stud, the legendary one.

  Perfect.

  “Hi there,” she whispered. The boys were animated. They registered she was an American and spoke among themselves.

  Alpha rubbed his palm against his chin, then swiped his fingers across his lips and made no mystery of focusing on her cleavage. Anne flushed at the attention. She was hungry too.

  “It is late and you are alone in a dangerous place,” he said in English with a thick Spanish accent. She liked the way his Adam’s apple bounce up and down his tanned throat as he spoke.

  “But I’ve found you. Will you save me?”

  His friends laughed enthusiastically. Alpha was wary. “You do not look like a professional—”

  Anne urgently stepped to him, then rubbed her breasts against his clean white shirt opened two buttons too low. She noticed the golden cross tucked in his dark chest hair. “I am not a professional,” she said, “but are you?”

  The boys roared. Whistles and catcalls laced the air. Alpha searched the smiling faces of his compadres, who encouraged him. At last, he inhaled and took a long, slow look into her eyes, then dropped his gaze down to her chest. His half smile showed a delicious dimple on the right. In a husky voice he answered, “It has been said a time or two.”

  This was good news. She craved him even more for his bravado. She saw the flush cover his face and the rush of blood down to his groin. The scent of his blood was laced with tangerines and red wine. He stood tall, his chest extended, showing her he was all male, that he was capable of pleasuring her in surprising ways. She liked that.

  Without taking her eyes off his, she extended her hand. She touched his cheek and watched it deliciously flush his skin again. Then she moved her palm to rest at the side of his neck, underneath his muscled jaw line. His pulse was strong and intoxicating.

  “Can you show me around and then take me home? Are you up for that?” She rubbed the length of him with her other hand, ignoring the whoops and hollers of the other boys. He stood before her, caught in the web of her glamour, every delicious drop in his body trying to jump ship. Her effect on him was obvious: he would do anything she wanted him to do to pleasure her.

  Anything.

  Marcus stood alone in the shadows, fully cloaked, and hung back well away from the crowd. He watched Anne lean in and kiss the tall male. As difficult as it was, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. His hands fisted as he saw the male place his palms against her backside, and then creep into and under her wrap to find her flesh.

  She is mine.

  The erection in his pants was getting uncomfortable. He could send an erotic wave toward her and make her so horny she’d ignore the stranger and run up the little hill, straight into his arms, where he could finally claim her.

  Anne and the young Spaniard were fully engulfed in a deep kiss, exploring each other’s bodies. The young man’s group moved away, clearing their throats and making whistling noises, but getting no response from their tall friend. The group evaporated into the streets. Anne and the large male were alone, surrounded by warm night air. Would she remove some of her clothing? Show herself to him before she took his blood? Marcus hoped not, but knew well about the new erotic forces making her do things she wasn’t used to.

  Either way, he was bound by duty not to interfere. This was to be his curse of the moment. All he could do was watch. She was a married woman, and the possession of another man. A mortal man who didn’t deserve the heavenly gift of her body and all its charms, someone
incapable of understanding what her needs were or that she was created for a higher, more powerful love. A love only Marcus could give her.

  The male nuzzled her breasts. For one brief moment Marcus saw the magic of her flesh exposed to him in the moonlight, saw the beautiful mound, now glistening wet from the stranger’s probing tongue.

  She lets him have his way with her. Will she open her other parts to him as well? Marcus was filled with unspeakable sadness. He had to do something.

  He double-checked his cloaking, then moved to stand behind her and was immediately charmed by her sweet vanilla scent, which brought his groin to life. He reached an invisible hand to her shoulder, to touch her there, or perhaps her neck, to feel the fullness of her soft dark brown curls, to beg her to feed from him instead. Her name stuck in his throat and he whispered what only he could hear, “Anne.”

  The ache in his chest intensified as he smelled her arousal. He placed his lips to her ear and pretended she could hear him tell her of his need for her. Of his centuries spent waiting, longing for the one woman created for him. His fated female. Marcus needed to pour out his melancholy so he could purge himself forever of this burden.

  You are here at last. See me, Anne. See and feel me. Feel how I love you, have always loved you.

  He wanted to think her sigh and the sultry smile on her lips came because she somehow knew her fated male stood behind her, ready to open the doors to their love, arousing her need to partake of the ancient ritual for their kind.

  The male was expecting sex, and he had shoved her skirts up, seeking her core with his long fingers. This was to be Marcus’s right. He felt her swoon as the man’s finger traced over her pleasure button. He could smell her wetness, her need for sexual release.

  He whispered to himself again. Anne, it is I you need. Let it be me who pleasures you, makes you moan hour-by-hour, day-by-day. Let it be me you crave more than the blood in any vein. Crave my blood, Anne. Drink of me, and let me fill you with eternal pleasure. It is our fate. Our destiny together.

  Marcus felt the hunger for blood rise in her chest, the smell of the glamour that came on just before the feeding. It would calm the human, would transform the bite into a memory, make the male think he had the best sex of his young life instead of what it really was.

  She came at his neck with fierce determination. She was so beautiful. So strong. So demanding. And Marcus knew he could meet every one of her demands. Only he could do it, he thought as she brought her thigh up over the male’s hip. They collapsed to the ground. Marcus kneeled at her back, rested his head there and smelled the scent of her flesh, listening to the blood from this male rush in to fill her cavities, bringing her strength, life.

  Yes. Make yourself strong. Take the blood and join me forever.

  He had waited three hundred years. He could wait just a little more. But just a little.

  Anne felt aroused and unsatisfied, even though her craving to feed had subsided. Something about the dark young man in her arms sparked a tender chord in her heart. She brushed the curly hair from his neck and licked the two puncture wounds there, following it up with a kiss. She’d discovered yesterday if she licked any wound, it would heal immediately. It was a nifty trick.

  This young stallion was delicious—in every sense of the word. His chest rose and fell, the golden cross glinting in the moonlight like the delicate twinkle of an angel’s kiss. Her fingers scanned his full red lips as she looked into his closed eyes.

  He would wake up soon, probably with a hard-on, and, as she confirmed this, he started to stir. She undid his button fly and slid his pants down one hip, then raised her skirts so he would think they had just been intimate. As she felt his hardness against her abdomen, she found she did feel intense desire. But it wasn’t for him, exactly. And it wasn’t for Robert either.

  He awakened. She smiled, giving him the satisfied glamour of a woman who had been pleasured by a skillful lover. “Thank you,” she said, and kissed him.

  His fingers gripped her skirts, drawing her against his groin. “Uno mas,” he whispered, one more time. He buried his head between her breasts, which were flaming hot with desire.

  “Lover, as much as I want to, I can’t. I must go before my husband misses me.” She displayed her ring.

  It was a lie, but she didn’t need entanglements.

  Pain registered in his face, sending a frown and a worry line between his eyebrows. His silky lashes glistened as he squeezed her breast and took in his last look at her warm flesh.

  “Where are you staying, then? I must see you again,” he whispered to her chest. He groaned and pushed his cock against the black lace panties she wore, dangerously tempting her.

  She was not going to have sex with this tall, dark Adonis of a man, even though he looked at her in a way that thrilled her. She would need another feeding tomorrow. The timing would work out nicely for her.

  “I will meet you tomorrow night, if you like, but not late. I’ll meet you here at six, after dinner.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Dinner? I don’t eat until nine or ten.” He kissed her apple-shaped breast, licked her bottom lip, and then covered her mouth. “But I will meet you here tomorrow night, and take you to dinner afterwards,” he whispered between kisses. “We will dance with the gypsies, and then I will take you to my bed, and—”

  “Do you have a shower?” she interrupted.

  “Of course.”

  “Good. You will take me to your place, and then I must leave. I go to bed early and leave the next morning. Sorry.”

  Now it was her time to frown and kiss his right temple. His pulse roared back strong, nearly recovered. She saw visions of feeding on him while he pleasured her with his cock, of her allowing him to feed on her. She was wet all over again as a little orgasm tickled her insides.

  So it was arranged and they kissed as he thanked her for the evening of sex he thought he had. He reluctantly let her go, lingering and begging one more time, which Anne sidestepped with a sweet kiss. She was thrilled she could take a wet feeding in the shower tomorrow. No mess that way, but no sex either. The thrill of being naked with him fueled anticipation. It would be the first time she’d feasted on someone for the second time.

  He watched her adjust her skirts and re-button her bodice, but at the last minute tore it open to feast on her breasts again. He would have been a wonderful lover, she thought, if that were what she was looking for.

  Am I looking for something? Someone?

  Yes, she thought. She was certain it wasn’t her husband, and it couldn’t be this young stranger.

  But who?

  So many things had changed. She wasn’t afraid as she walked through the wet streets all alone. She heard people inside rooms eating food, arguing and making love. She heard children snoring in their beds. Dogs barked as she passed and she found if she sent them a gentle message they would quiet.

  Very odd.But not unpleasant.

  She found it easy to run up the narrow steps to the room. She used her heavy iron key to unlock the door, which groaned open. In the dark, she undressed. Did she see a figure standing below under a streetlamp, perhaps looking up at her?

  She blinked, rubbed her eyes, but this time all she saw was a swirling white steam coming from a grate embedded in the stone sidewalk.

  Anne slipped into the sheets naked, loving the sensation of cloth against bare skin. She pinched her nipples and turned her face to the light of the streetlamp. Her sexual need was driving her crazy.

  Perhaps I’ll let him tomorrow. I’ll try feeding and fucking at the same time.

  As she scanned the room in the early morning hours, hoping for another erotic dream to overtake her, she suddenly felt sleepy, as if a warm breeze had floated over the back of her neck. She felt protected, as if arms held her warm and secure. She would live forever. She could live and die in his arms. Whoever he was.

  Marcus had been standing outside the Monastery Hotel under a streetlamp when he saw her figure in the darkene
d window. His body absorbed the swirling white misty air, hiding him from her sight.

  He’d made sure she got home safely, walking behind her as tears streamed down his face with need as he’d smelled her arousal and knew he could satisfy her. As she prepared for bed, he traced to the Spanish lad, her intended meal for tomorrow, and made sure he would not be physically able to keep his appointment with Anne. Then he’d come to her as she lay naked and full of desire. He’d pleasured her until she said those words that haunted him now:

  “Take me.”

  And he very nearly had, too. He’d sucked at her peach and vibrated her core with his tongue, making her come, and beg for more.

  Her sexual appetite was growing by the day. He knew it wouldn’t take long before he would no longer be able to satisfy her with just oral sex. She wanted him.

  He would make sure tomorrow’s feeding, the last before her trip back to America, would not take place. He had disabled the young Spaniard—not permanently, but enough so that he wouldn’t be able to keep his appointment. Anne would have to feed on a stranger.

  As he lay invisibly spooned behind her, awash in the scent of her flesh, her hair, her juices, he reminded himself to be careful and not get too carried away, though his animal side was rattling the cage to get out. He sighed and placed a gentle kiss on the back of her neck.

  How in the world am I going to last another twenty days?

  Marcus was good as his word. Anne returned to California and he continued to check up on her by day and appear, like in a dream, at night.

  He purchased an estate property, suitable for royalty, in the countryside north of her, with over a thousand acres of some of the finest grapes in the valley. He brought the boy Lucius with him, and started his instruction by telling him of the ancient stories. About fating. About the blood. About the choice he would take at puberty whether or not to turn vampire or remain human. He treated the boy as his own. It helped to pass the time until he could contact her and appear in person.