by K. M. Liss
“And you... you recovered fully?”
“Oh yes, physically I was fine after a few days, cuts and grazes, that's all it was. The mental scars lasted longer though. I relived the pain and shock in my dreams for months. It's not surprising is it? He did effectively rape me with a large sharpened branch in front of everyone.”
“I never knew all this. Saba didn't tell me.”
“He didn't want to hurt you. That's why. He was as disgusted about it all as we were and he knew Raffaele meant a lot to you. He did it with your best intentions at heart. You weren't to know. Enough raking up that old stuff, come on then, choose a pretty dress. Fancy something black?” She laughed, opening her enormous closet door and inviting her in. “I have at least a hundred black dresses in here and a few dark coloured ones too. Take your pick Sevi. And find some shoes as well. Trainers don't look so good with a gown.”
She smiled and browsed the rails and picked out a pretty long dress and some slip on mules. “This is my kind of thing.”
“Oh yes, you and Saba are models, aren't you? I've seen your photos here and there, actually everywhere. I had hoped you'd let this whole sorry matter slide and die. I had no idea it was brewing like a storm. Still, it's all over now, isn't it? We can get on with our lives peacefully.”
“It'll take a while to sink in,” Sevi admitted, looking at the two of them a little shamefaced.
“I'm sure it will, for all of us. It's a new start. I shall forget that day when you arrived thirty years ago and pretended you wanted to be my friend,” Sofia said pointedly. “This is the real thing now. Come give me a hug Sevi, my sister.”
They had a tight girly hug, all three of them. Then she changed into her dress and they headed back downstairs.
She had to talk to Fro, to find out why he had misled her all these years.
“So, you goose... You were Gianni all the while. Didn't you realise what we thought and the implications of it all?”
“No I swear I didn't have a clue about any of this. Gabriel was wild and extremely foul mouthed in the bar when I met the guy. I assumed he was Ristorian, after the event, when I found out about all that stuff. I didn't run after him and ask to see his credentials.”
“Wild and foul mouthed? Gabriel?” She had never seen or heard their legal representative act like that in the thirty years she knew him.
“Apparently, he has his bad moments... Especially when he's drunk. Which he was,” Fro added.
“I'll look forward to seeing him in action someday,” Sevi said with a smile. He was so charming and cultured, she couldn't imagine it!
“Talking about me?” Gabriel poked his handsome deep auburn head over her shoulder.
“Yes, it's all your damn fault. The whole thing. Being mysterious, wild and foul mouthed.”
“Oh it's all my fault, is it?... Looking to pass blame now, are you?” He tickled her.
“Stop that,” she squealed.
“Not until you beg me...” He tickled her mercilessly and she squirmed wildly.
“Okay... Please, I beg you. Honestly Gabriel, you're not the man I thought you were.”
“Who is?” He quipped.
Her eyes caught sight of Saba watching her being tickled with great amusement. She sighed with pleasure at the sight of him and her heart flipped over and over.
“I know one who is.”
Chapter 9
December 2017, Chicago
She sat in their luxury hotel, a bag of nerves, drinking some sparkling water. Her phone bleeped with a message.
“Good luck girl.”
She smiled and texted Cali back with an honest reply.
“Scared shitless.” It was nice being able to admit being soft and scared. This was the real her.
“It's only an interview. You're not filming a Hollywood Blockbuster for crissakes!”
“But it's her... The Queen of The Sofa, the great Oprah.”
“So, I'm fucking Princess Calista!”
“I do love you Cali x”
“LU2 xx”
She rose and left with Saba. Their joint interview was something she was really dreading, but at least she wasn't alone. They both looked their stunning best of course. Perfectly perfect.
They were greeted at the hotel door and taken to the studios, where they were ushered into a plush hospitality suite. A few minutes later the door was opened and Oprah and a few of her aides came breezing in and they sat chatting to her like an old friend. Oprah made them feel comfortable and informed them some of the questions she would like to ask them in the interview. If only she knew who they really were and that they were both arguing over who was going to have some of her famous blood for dinner. She swept off with her gaggle of sycophants and they sat quietly and much more relaxed.
“So, I guess we're really famous now,” Saba said with a smile.
“I guess we are. Modelling royalty, so I hear.”
“I'm thinking of retiring soon. There's only one way we can go from here and I've had enough of it to be honest.”
“I'd like to carry on for a while longer myself.”
“But we've got more than enough money to live really well Sevi.”
“I know, but I like the work and some of my contracts aren't up for eighteen months.”
“We'll discuss it later shall we?”
They got their cue call and made their way to the most famous couch in the world.
The questions and answers flowed back and forth with ease and Sevi was enjoying herself tremendously. But soon it was over...
Oprah turned to Saba. “Sabato, it appears you want to break every female heart in the world, live tonight, on my show!” she announced.
Severina's stomach flipped over and sideways...
What the hell was he up to?
“That I do.” He turned to Sevi and took her hand.
“Ms Basteri, would you do me the honour of becoming my mate... I mean my wife.” There was a collective 'ahhhhh' sigh around the studio. Oprah's was the loudest, egging them all on.
Sevi was absolutely thrilled to pieces. She tried to keep her cool and her eyes under control.
“Mr Accosi, I accept with no hesitation. What took you so damn long?”
“I had to think it through.”
“We've been together for six years darling,” she said with sulky pout.
“I know. I'm a slow thinker.” The audience laughed at Saba's amusing reply.
“Well, at least you got round to it in the end.”
“We have a whole lifetime ahead of us, what's the hurry?”
They sealed it with a long kiss which was greeted with a round of rather common cheering and strange whooping noises.
Humans were so odd at times. She would never understand them at all.
They stood and held each other tightly, ignoring the noise around them. No one saw the yellow flash in their eyes as they made sure they kept them tightly shut.
They made their way out side by side with Oprah, backstage.
He looked at her and she looked at him. He nodded and slipped behind them. They 'accidentally' bumped into Oprah and tripping her up, sent her flying towards the nearby curtains with a squeal. Sevi sprang and hid her, sinking her fangs into her neck deeply in a split second. Queen O lay still in her arms as she fed. Saba stood shielding them from view, looking around as if he had lost something. One minute later Saba picked her out of Sevi's grasp and carried her to her shocked and confused aides.
“Oh dear, Oprah has fainted I believe. I just found her over there, by the curtain. Perhaps it's low blood sugar?” He suggested, swallowing a grin and passing her limp body to several extremely concerned people.
He took Sevi's hand as they left the studios, and they walked off into the cool and breezy Chicago night air.
“So, where's my ring?”
“I didn't get one.”
“Why not?”
“Because I'm a vampire?”
How did she know he would say that? What a feeble excus
e!
“Oh really Saba. You're so unromantic at times. I want a ring.”
“Severina, I love you with all my heart and soul, you can have a ring, a Rolex, or a Rolls Royce if you want. If it makes you happy.”
“It will. Shame I had to ask for it.”
“You're so sweet when you're stroppy.”
“I am never stroppy!”
“Yes you are. Quite a lot. Sweet and stroppy and so very, very sexy.”
“I love you so much Saba.”
“I love you too honey.”
“You're taking me to Tiffany on Saturday for my ring.”
“If you like.”
“Can I assume we are actually getting married?”
“Whatever. I'm happy to mate or wed, take your pick.”
Whatever...? Take my pick...?
“Do be more enthusiastic about it, please!”
“I'm a male vampire. A quick mate and a fuck will do me just fine. Maybe we could go to the London Hilton, order some of that very expensive Warhol Champagne and do it in the jacuzzi? I could slip your ring on your finger with my mouth...”
“No! I want the full works, like Cali did last month, with everyone I know there, and I shall wear a stunning black wedding dress, designed for me especially by Jose.” She said in a wistful voice, her heart feeling dreamy and warm.
“Oh really? What a surprise. But I'd still like to do the Hilton jacuzzi as well.”
Rising Bloodtide
Immortal Fire Series ~ Part III
K.M.Liss
RISING BLOODTIDE
Immortal Fire (III)
By Katrina Liss
Copyright 2014 K.M.Liss
Kindle Edition License Notes
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XSEX Books
All Rights Reserved.
This book is sold subject to conditions that it cannot by way of trade be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the author’s prior consent, in any form or cover, other than which it is published.
Disclaimer: This novel is a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it, while at times based on real figures, are purely the work of the author’s imagination.
Thanks & Acknowledgments
Love and thanks to my family and friends, for believing in me and encouraging me to write my little heart out.
Chapter 1
October 2017, Paris
Michello sat in the fading light of the day, perched upon the rooftop of one of the towers of Notre Dame Cathedral. He hugged his legs and daydreamed, passing the time as he idly watched the remaining tourists milling below. His gaze was drawn to the small road, Rue Chanoiness, opposite the cathedral. How he loved those old buildings and their fine architecture. He focused in with his superbly heightened vision to appreciate the small details of the design more fully. Even in the rapidly dimming light he could see so clearly.
He was momentarily distracted as a pretty young mother, wearing a long red coat and pushing a small dark haired girl child in a buggy, made her way down the road. In a shocking instant, right before his very eyes, she was set upon by a pair of young thugs who jumped out of a doorway. They pushed her against the wall with force and it looked like they were threatening her and demanding money. Her small child was crying and this didn't look good at all.
Miche didn't stop to think.
He sprang from his position and descended the tower in two quick jumps and speed ran across the square. Without the slightest hesitation, he leapt at the two men with a snarl and knocked one to the ground as the other took off in shock down the road. Miche bent down low and looked into the mugger's eyes, with his back to the woman, and flashed his yellow eyes and fangs at him, full of anger.
“Fuck! Qui êtes-vous?” the young thug gasped, staring at him in horror.
He picked him up roughly by his hair, enjoying his yelps of pain.
“Je suis le monstre de Notre Dame...” he whispered in his ear, smiling to himself, and sent him on his way, giving him a hard kick up the ass for good measure.
He turned to the young woman who sat crouched, open mouthed on the pavement, hugging her sobbing child in the buggy, with shocked eyes. He offered her his hand.
“Madame, êtes-vous okay?”
“Oui, merci monsieur.” She took it warily and allowed him to pull her up.
“Attention, hmmm?” He stood and watched as she pulled out her phone and rushed off with her buggy towards the well lit and busier square to the front of the cathedral.
Miche smiled inwardly as he thought about the last few weeks, since his regeneration into a young vampire. They had been more than a revelation. He had strengths and abilities he could never have imagined. Things he could put to good use, as he did just now. His agility, speed, and jumping skills still amazed him as he learned about all he was capable of.
When her red coat had finally disappeared from view, he returned across the square towards the far tower, taking his usual subtle route upwards, so as not to draw attention to himself. Finally, he leapt the last section to the roof, landing with a light thump. He started in surprise as he landed much too close to Vincente who was napping on the roof. Vincente was a feral. He lived here all the time, in the upper bell towers and roof vaults of the Cathedral, like the hunchback Quasimodo of the Victor Hugo novel. But Vincente was of course a handsome vampire, not an eyesore like that poor creature was.
“Fuck man...! Give it a rest will you. Leaping around like that scaring me half to death. I'm trying to sleep, now piss off, tosser,” Vincente complained loudly in English and gave him a nasty snarl.
“I apologise my friend,” Michello said pleasantly, unperturbed by Vincente's swearing outburst.
Vincente was normally quite good natured, but such a grouchy sleeper. Michello smiled at him fondly and sat down quietly next to him, stretching out his legs and shooing a pigeon away with his foot. It fluttered upwards a couple of feet and came back down again, strutting around as if it owned the place.
Damn birds, filthy creatures, the rats of the sky...
He had been here a week now, in Paris, after a long journey, hitch hiking, walking, buses, and even hanging onto the back of a train at one point. On the second day in the city he had met Vincente, and ever since had started to learn a few words of French. Luckily, Vincente knew some Italian and spoke English fluently too, so they could converse quite easily in one language or another. He wanted to learn the language of France and start afresh, a new beginning, after a lifetime in Italy, and where no one knew of him. Miche had big plans. But first he needed accommodation. He couldn't live at the cathedral, like Vincente did. Hiding away, sleeping rough on rooftops and in shadowy corners wasn't his idea of fun. It was cold and damp and dirty. Although the Refugio was anything but luxurious, it was at least warm and comfortable enough. He had washing facilities nearby, a private sleeping alcove, and somewhere of his own to sit and drink.
His short time with Sevi and Saba had shown him another world and how he wanted it. The luxury of top class hotels beckoned to him. Egyptian cotton sheets caressing his skin as he lay on the softest mattress. Piping hot spa baths with scented oils and jet showers massaging his toned and muscular body. 3D flat panel TV monitors and the latest computers. Thick soft rugs underfoot, paintings to admire, and fine wines to sample whenever he pleased. How he had enjoyed those things. Money could bring him luxuries like that and he knew, with his rugged and manly features, he could have them.
He would have them. Anything he wanted. Not that he really wanted that much in truth. It might take a while, but the things he desired would come t
o him.
He watched the cars rushing around below in the narrowed streets of the Île de la Cité. How he wished to have a car, but not just any car. He wanted something sleek and sexy. A car built for a man like him. He had never, ever owned one. He couldn't even drive. That was another 'to do' on his list. But he needed money first and to get that he needed the right job.
Vincente roused himself at his side, yawned, and stretched. Michello had given him a new sweater and pants from his large collection of clothing that Sevi had purchased for him in Rome, as his old t-shirt and jeans were filthy and rotting to pieces on his body. He still stunk though, despite his new clothes. He never washed. Not that that bothered Miche. He had years of experience with the stinking vampires in the Refugio. They didn't smell like human vagrants, they had a different smell entirely. They were earthy and slightly smoky, like the aroma of freshly dug wet soil mixed with an animal fragrance... It wasn't that unpleasant. Their clothes stunk more than they did to be truthful because fabric captured aromas from the air.
“I fancy something to eat,” the little vampire said quietly. “Let's have a human sandwich.”
“Not just now. I'm not hungry.”
“Ah, come on... A sweet and soft female, surely that will tempt you?”
“I fed only a short while ago, next time maybe...”
He couldn't get into feeding alongside another male vampire. He felt so aroused when he fed. It made him feel uncomfortable to go double. He felt far too straight to be a vampire at times. They had such low morals. Actually they had no morals at all. Perhaps his morals would loosen over the coming years too. His mindset and his upbringing were constraining him unduly.
Vincente shrugged and scampered off on his route to the ground. He reminded Miche of an elf. He had long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. His ears had a tiny point to them. But that was where his femininity ended. His voice was deep and sounded manly. His jawbone was chiselled and he had a good smattering of facial hair, which he almost never shaved off, he admitted.