Mortal Bite (Golden Vampires of Tuscany) Read online

  With Bella, he wanted to be gentle. He liked the feeling of being bridled.

  “Is there anything you want?” he asked as he played with curls falling at the base of her neck. He lightly touched her skin with the tips of his fingers. She jumped like this gesture scared her at first.

  Relax.

  “Did you just ask me to relax?” She leaned forward and looked back at him with a frown.

  Incredible. She’d heard his thoughts.

  “As a matter of fact, I did. That’s very strange. We must have an extra connection.” He was barely able to hold back his desire to ravish her with kisses.

  “And why did you say that?”

  “I felt you were nervous, perhaps.” He laughed at how trusting she was. “No, Bella, I’m just making it all up. I had no idea.”

  That seemed to settle her.

  He knocked on the glass as they pulled up to the popular Jim Town Store, a Healdsburg icon. The chauffer opened their door, Paolo helped her alight, and she held his hand as they climbed the old wooden steps of the roadside café and eclectic general store.

  “Coffee?” he asked. “You want a cappuccino?”

  “Sure.”

  Overlooking the two-lane highway with the occasional car driving past, she sipped her cappuccino, her gaze far away. He tried not to look, but it was hard keeping his eyes off her face, the soft lips leaving a pink semicircle on the edge of the white paper cup. He wanted everything about her, even the paper cup she would eventually discard.

  Enchanting. She is enchanting.

  “So tell me,” she said.

  He didn’t know what she meant. “Tell you what?”

  “Where are we going? Didn’t you expect me to ask you?”

  “My brother has a home in Healdsburg. I thought I would show it to you. He and his wife have recently had a baby.”

  “You’re visiting from Italy. For how long?”

  “Haven’t decided.” He fingered the back of her hand as it clutched the cup. “When I’m ready.”

  She nodded. “What are you here for?”

  Very good question.Perhaps to fall in love. To forget. To learn to be a father. To start to live again. “I came here so my son could spend some time in California with my brother and his wife.”

  “He has been raised in Italy, then?”

  “Actually, no. But we do travel a lot.

  “I see,” she said.

  Do you see, my Bella? Do you feel the urgency between us? As if she could feel what he said, she sat up straight. She smiled. Did she hear him?

  “So what do you do for a living?” she asked.

  “I study human nature.”

  “A psychologist?”

  “No.”

  “A psychiatrist, a doctor?”

  “No. I read. I live. I have the luxury of being a gentleman of means, free to do what I wish, to pursue my interests as I will.”

  “You sound positively ancient. Johnny warned me about you.” Her eyes twinkled as she tilted her head.

  He stopped smiling. Some of his mirth was bottled. The pause was pregnant, on purpose. He wanted to see how she would answer herself.

  She had blushed. “I don’t mean to suggest you’re way older than I am. Perhaps a couple of years…”

  I like that guess, Bella.

  “But I haven’t heard anyone calling themselves a gentleman other than in a movie, or in one of my romance novels.” She took another sip of her cappuccino. “You have a funny way of speaking sometimes. Like you’ve traveled here from another time.”

  He was nailed by her warm brown eyes, caught, as if staked through the heart. He willingly allowed himself to squirm, if it meant she was looking at him. Anything to have her look at him.

  “It is my family, my old family roots you are sensing.” That and the way my fangs ache to taste you, to throw up your skirts and take the blood from your upper thigh, to satisfy myself by plunging in and looking at the rapture of your sweet, peach-colored face. I could bring you to heaven and back, if you will allow me…allow me in…

  The glamour had taken hold. Her eyes slightly crossed and she became stiff, motionless and staring straight at him, as if tethered. He was sorry for this lapse, but couldn’t help himself. He slipped to a chair next to her, placed his palm under her chin, turned her face toward his as she fell against him. Without knowing if it was right or wrong, he covered her mouth with his. Her soft lips welcomed him.

  She turned her body into his chest, her right arm coming up over his shoulder to play with the hair at the back of his neck. She drew her fingers under his ear and along the bone of his jaw, and touched his lips, as if needing to feel the kisses between them.

  He whispered words he used to hear in his dreams as a young man. Words of love passed down to him from others who spoke a tongue that was long dead. The incantation sent her pulse soaring. His followed along right behind.

  “Bella I need…”

  “Yes. I need this, too,” she said. Her eyes told him he could have his way with her right here on the table in the Jim Town Store, if he wanted. But he wanted her all to himself.

  “I know a place,” he said.

  “Your brother’s home?”

  “No. Some place we can be alone.”

  “Yes.” She held his head in her palms and kissed him of her own free will. He could hear the pulsing of the veins underneath the delicate white flesh at her wrists, which were positioned right over his ears. His mouth went to one wrist as he kissed her there, and felt the lifeblood inside her rise up to meet his tongue.

  He held back. This would have to be just sex. He couldn’t bite her. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. But God in Heaven, the sex would be glorious, and that would have to be enough for now.

  Almost lifting her out of the chair, he took her back to the waiting limo. The driver had been asleep in the front, and came round to open the door for them.

  “Is she all right, sir?” he asked as he frowned at Cara’s flushed face and half-opened eyes.

  “She’s tired. I’m going to take her to the Stone Creek Inn. You know it?”

  “Sure. You need me to call ahead?”

  “Please.”

  “No problem,” the driver said as he closed the door. In the privacy of the darkened limo interior, he had her all to himself, for a few seconds.

  “Bella, are you okay going with me some place where we can…”

  “Yes,” she said breathlessly. “Please. I would like that.”

  He covered her mouth again, his hand finding the thrill of the feel of her nipples budding through her bra. He couldn’t wait to have her naked.

  The car purred along the curved country road and up a noisy crushed granite driveway to a stone structure with a water wheel turning slowly to the side.

  “I will call for you when she feels more like traveling,” he said to the driver, who grinned back at him in response.

  “Of course, sir. I’ll return to Marcus’ home, then.”

  “Perfect.”

  Inside the reception area he secured a room on the upper floor, one with a view of the vineyards below. Cara was leaning against him, her hands untucking his shirt, her palms finding his chest as she slid them up and rubbed herself against his back.

  The clerk was efficient, seeming to take no notice.

  “Would you have a bottle of your best port delivered to our room?”

  By the time they were at the top of the stairs and had passed the water wheel, Cara had his shirt completely unbuttoned. He was glad there wasn’t much of a crowd on a Monday afternoon. They didn’t pass a soul.

  He unlocked the heavy carved door and stepped inside an oversized room with a roaring fireplace and huge four-poster bed covered in silk pillows. He turned to see her expression, and was hit with her flying body as she slammed into him and they toppled to the bed.

  Chapter 15

  Cara was beyond shame. The need she had for this man—he had called it urgency and that certainly was a great way to put it—co
nsumed her like she was a piece of tissue paper that had hit water. She was melting, floating into his rock hard body as he laughed and allowed her to overcome him, not because she was in any way stronger than he, but because he seemed to love watching her have her way with him.

  Him.

  Who was this man? She knew practically nothing about him, yet she was going to let him see her naked, let him kiss her in places where she ached to be kissed. Like her life depended on it to feed her soul.

  She had read about animal attraction between a man and a woman, like an ancient hormonal rule of nature passed down through generations, but she hadn’t been close to feeling it. This was…

  What? She heard him say something in a language she didn’t understand. Some internal memory. She saw torches, and a campfire. She saw the stars over a village lit by candlelight. Not a trace of an incandescent bulb or neon sign anywhere.

  “Amore,” he was saying over and over again in his mind. He was thinking of that word over and over again.

  She loved the feel of his hands as they slid under her skirt, as they smoothed over her bottom. She raised her cotton shirt so the tops of her breasts could brush against his hard chest. She held the back of his neck and leaned in to his ear and whispered, “Amore.”

  He flinched as he heard her speak it. With eyes wide open and full of wonder, he held her face between his long fingers.

  “Amore,” he said. “Love me, Carabella.”

  But she heard something else, too.

  “Heal me. Make me believe.”

  He was saying other things as well, but she didn’t understand. His thumbs were rubbing against her lips as he held her just an inch from his face. He studied her, with his dark eyes and rich brown hair. Her fingers sifted through the hair at his temples, smooth as silk. She saw the delicious movement of his Adam’s apple as it bobbed when he swallowed. She kissed him there, under his chin. Then along his neck, under his ear. Again, she whispered to him,

  “Yes, amore.”

  His groin arched up and she felt his erection—so large she was certain it hurt as she ground herself down on him, rubbing the length of him against her pubic bone.

  She removed her top and bra in one smooth move, and drank in the look on his face. He was hungry for her. Her breasts overflowed in his hands as he squeezed them. As she gave her flesh to him.

  She peeled his shirt over his massive shoulders and stared down at the wonder of his well-defined chest and trim waist. Beautiful. A sculpture Adonis himself couldn’t have appeared more masculine, more luscious. He watched as she partook of the vision that was this man’s wonderful body.

  She reached for his belt buckle and found he had none. He was wearing old-fashioned pants with filigreed silver hooks and eyes. One by one, she undid them, and slid her cool hands into the darkness to find his sex. She removed his pants and his arousal sprang forth. She could hardly close her hand around it, as its girth was nearly as large as her own wrist.

  “Too large, Bella?” she heard him think.

  She shook her head from side to side and slowly climbed down his torso, and, while looking up at his face, put her red lips on the tip of his cock. His head fell back into the pillow as he arched to her touch, as the stiffness of his sex grew even further, as she sheathed him with her lips, her tongue, and tasted him.

  A flash of golden light blinded her, as if his precum had a psychedelic quality to it. Her body shuddered, convulsed with need. She moaned as he sunk himself deep into her mouth.

  “Carabella, mi amore. Carabella, mi amore,” he rasped repeatedly as his hands played in her hair, as he pulled her to him, pulled her up so he could plunge his tongue deep down her throat. The musty, spicy taste of his arousal, the warm heat arising from his chest and from the moist warm places in his hair drove her to new heights with every inhaled breath. His taste, his scent—everything was an elixir. The lips of her sex were quivering with desire.

  In one smooth move he had flipped her over onto the bed.

  “Your turn,” he thought.

  She smiled her complete compliance. “Yes,” she whispered as she followed the arc of her fingers as they traced the shape of his ear. They listened to each other’s breathing. She watched his eyes grow darker to almost black.

  He lifted her skirt very slowly, slid his long fingers up her thighs to her panties covering her swollen sex. He took forever to slip down the lacy black underwear she’d had the good fortune to wear today. He let it trail along her thighs until he bent one of her knees, slipped the panty over it, extricating her leg. Then he drew the panties down the other leg, watching her face as she waited, her heart pounding in her chest with lust for him.

  He deftly slid a hand under her and unzipped her skirt, removing it. She was naked to him now as he watched her breathing, watched the juncture between her thighs and watched the rise and fall of her breasts. Gently he parted her knees and gazed upon her, and sighed.

  Let me see your desire, Carabella, he said to her in thought.

  She guided his long fingers to her opening, and pressed two of them inside her, arching her back up, bracing herself up so he could penetrate fully. He manipulated his hand, pressing in and out. She heard how wet and hot and swollen she was. He tasted his forefinger, closing his eyes, and when he opened them again, his eyes were jet black, with small flames in the center. His nostrils flared as she saw him press his teeth with his tongue, pushing against his own canines.

  He had pressed so hard, a small drop of blood formed at his mouth on one side, as if his teeth had been so sharp he had cut himself. She licked her lips, and looked at the blood. She wanted…

  What am I doing? She felt her arms pull him down to her mouth, and she sucked the blood from his cut tongue. Another golden flash overtook her. Every cell in her body sparked with need for the taste of this man.

  His eyes were wide. He looked surprised. Had she gone too far? Was this something he didn’t like?

  But then she was rewarded with a red, closed-lip smile. He kissed her under her right ear and she pressed her neck into him. Just like the mortal women did with their vampire lovers. She wanted him to taste her, bite her neck.

  What would it feel like, if?

  But then he was down on her chest, kissing first one, and then the other nipple, sucking them, making noise as he played with them and flicked them about with his agile tongue. That tongue that left the promise of things to come.

  No man had tasted her sex before. She wanted him to be the first. He kissed her belly button, nipping a sharp pinch that made her jump. He followed this with the laving of his tongue that stimulated her as well as took away the pain of the sting. Inch by inch, he kissed from her belly button to the top of her hairless mound.

  “I love hairless women,” she heard his thought. She felt her mound swell.

  She was grateful she had thought to shave closely this morning. His lip crinkled as he kissed the top of her slit, as he slid his tongue into the cavern there, over her nub on its way to her opening. She was shuddering with pleasure. The room was spinning. He made noise, slurping her sweet moisture, drinking from her, letting her feel his eagerness feeding her own.

  She was beginning a slow orgasm that was sure to explode soon. His slow and steady ministrations played her body like an instrument, demanded she feel the intensity of his desire for her.

  She didn’t want him to stop. She could have spent the afternoon with his mouth on her sex, but at last she felt the cooler room air on her and felt him climb atop her. She noticed he had sheathed himself in a light pink condom, but the burgundy red from his blood-bulging cock still shone through. It looked like he would burst it if he got any bigger. He settled himself between her legs and pressed just the head of his cock into her opening and stopped.

  She took in a breath. He was already stretching her. She drew her hands to his buttocks and pressed his groin into her. He resisted, making her pull hard to get him firmly planted all the way to his root, watching her struggle to accept his
full girth.

  And then he began a gentle, rhythmic in and out movement. He looked down upon her. His face faded and came back into focus as she moaned, closing and opening her eyes. Those dark eyes spoke to her.

  “Need this.”

  Yes. She needed it too. She hoped it would be the first of many, as he pumped her deeply. Their skin made slapping sounds as his movements picked up, as she was sent into higher and higher orbit with every plunge into her. She was on the edge of something…

  The orgasm hit her hard as he sunk deep into her soft folds, as he trembled, whispering her name in raspy tones. She recognized the jerking movements as he was spending into the condom, but it went on and on.

  At last he collapsed on top of her. She stroked his back, his backside and explored the nape of his neck with her fingers. His scent was like oranges. His skin was sweet and salty on her tongue. She could still taste the remnants of his small tongue injury in her mouth, giving her another little spark as she licked her lips.

  What is this? Who is this man?

  Most of her sexual partners had not lived up to her expectations, and she found herself actually grateful when the sexual act was over. She cared more about the closeness than the flesh on flesh experience.

  But with this man, she wondered if she would ever be able to get enough. She hoped he would recover soon, because she could hardly wait to be penetrated again.

  And then maybe again.

  In fact, she hoped they could stay naked and stay in this room all night.

  No one had ever made her feel this way before. She knew she wouldn’t be able to say no to him.

  Ever.

  Chapter 16

  In the lazy afternoon sun she awoke to the sound of the door to the room opening. She smelled the fresh pine logs in the fireplace, and heard them sputter and crack. Paolo walked back to the bed, naked, holding a tray with a bottle of Port and two glasses.