“You must call me Toni,” Antonietta said.
“A pleasure to meet you,” Vlad acknowledged. He lowered his voice. “Josef, I asked you to remove that beret.”
“She’s blind; she can’t see it,” Josef whispered back.
My nephew is wearing one of those silly berets, a smock, and a kerchief. It is obvious he thinks he looks like a painter.
Byron was very careful to keep his mental path private. The last thing he needed was for Eleanor to know he was describing her son’s attire to his lifemate.
Antonietta laughed. “I’m blind, Josef, not deaf. It’s good to meet you. Your uncle has told me so much about you. He’s says you’re very talented musically.”
Mischief maker. You are going to be sorry you said that.
Antonietta heard Byron’s mournful moan in her head. She had the image of him throttling her. She had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing harder. Byron made her feel so alive. His teasing, the way he shared his innermost thoughts. He was casual about their strong telepathic link.
“Josef is very talented,” Eleanor agreed. “We have come to Italy, as Josef is eager to paint your beautiful country.”
“I love the palazzo,” Josef said enthusiastically. “I would love to try to paint it.”
“Well, of course you’re welcome to come anytime,” Don Giovanni invited. “The courtyard would be a good place to see a good portion of the architecture.”
“
Grazie, signor
, I appreciate the offer.”
Byron’s teeth snapped together in frustration. The last thing he wanted was for Josef to spend any more time around the Scarletti family than strictly necessary. He could hear the police downstairs, interviewing the housekeeper. Alfredo was nearly hysterical, talking so fast it was difficult to understand what he was saying. Byron was well aware his family could hear every word, but they continued a pleasant conversation with Don Giovanni and Antonietta as if they were completely oblivious to the drama unfolding in the lower regions.
He let the conversation flow around him, Eleanor trying to draw Antonietta out in vain. Antonietta was far too conscious of the police in her home. She had a vivid imagination, and the thought of Enrico stuck in the laundry chute was distressing to her.
A second disturbance at the courtyard French doors caught Byron’s attention. He heard Franco’s startled cry, broken off. There were hurried footsteps rushing through the palazzo, calls for Tasha. A soft scream from Justine.
Something is wrong. What else can go wrong?
Antonietta wanted to yell in frustration.
Franco opened the door to the conservatory, smiled at their guests, and leaned close to his cousin. “You must go to Paul immediately,” Franco whispered. “It’s urgent, Toni, you must hurry.”
Do you know what is wrong?
Antonietta automatically reached for Byron.
Byron took her arm even as he smiled at his sister. “Please excuse us for a few minutes. I am certain Don Giovanni and the others will entertain you in our absence.”
Paul is injured. It is severe. Franco’s concern is very real, and Tasha is crying. Justine is radiating tremendous fear.
He guided her quickly from the room, and they hurried up the stairs to Paul’s rooms.
They could hear Tasha’s muted weeping and the murmur of voices. Justine’s raised in alarm. “We have to call a doctor, Paul. You’re going to die if we don’t.”
“Just get Antonietta. She can take care of this,” Paul’s voice was weak.
“You’re being unreasonable. Tasha, you’re his sister. Call a doctor. I swear you Scarlettis are so stubborn. Don’t you understand? Paul is dying. If you let him die, I swear I’ll have you all arrested.”
Antonietta and Byron entered the sitting room. The door to the bedroom was wide open. Tasha and Justine hovered near the bed.
There’s blood everywhere. Antonietta. If it is all Paul’s, he has lost far too much.
It was Byron’s matter-of-fact voice that steadied her. Antonietta took a breath and walked with confidence to the bed. “Paul. What have you done?”
“I have to talk to you alone, Toni.”
“Paul…” Justine protested. “Toni, please, I’m begging you to call a doctor for him. He says no, but it isn’t too late. It can’t be too late.”
“A doctor cannot help him, Justine, you already know that,” Byron said softly, his voice as mesmerizing and hypnotic as his eyes. “You must leave this to Antonietta.”
Tasha wrapped her arm around Justine’s waist. “Toni can help him. Let her, Justine. We’re wasting time he doesn’t have.” She led Justine from the room, firmly closing the door behind her.
Eleanor, I need herbs now. Hurry. Vlad, I will need your help, too.
Byron didn’t try to keep his communication from Antonietta. She had every right to know Paul’s life was seriously at risk.
“What is it, Paul?” Her hands were already moving over his body. Byron crowded close, applied pressure to the worst of the wounds.
“He has been stabbed several times, Antonietta. He needs blood fast. I can help him. Eleanor will bring what I need.”
“I need to tell you, Toni.” Paul caught at Antonietta’s arm.
“Don’t talk until we get this bleeding under control.”
“It’s too late, you know that. You always know. This is important.”
“Shut up, Paul,” Antonietta hissed. “I mean it. You’re not going to die on me. Byron, do whatever you have to do.”
“I have to give him blood, Antonietta.” Byron waved his hand to still Paul’s struggles, continued to apply pressure to the wounds. “If I do this, we will be connected for all time. Do you understand?”
“I want you to save him. I don’t care how you do it, just do it.” Antonietta stroked back Paul’s hair. “I love him as if he were my brother.”
“You do not have to say anything else, lifemate. Lock the door. No one must come in this room. Set Celt on guard. Then open the window about two inches.”
“Your sister—”
“Has her own way of getting in. She will be here soon. Sit by Paul and listen to my voice. I want you to join in. You are a strong healer.”
Antonietta didn’t understand, but there was an urgency about him. She trusted Byron where she might not have any other. She locked the door, gave the order to Celt, and obediently cracked open the window.
Almost immediately Byron saw mist creeping through the crack. “Eleanor. Good girl. Go around to the other side. See if you can pack the wounds. Antonietta, I am going to place your hands on him, and you have to press hard. I need my hands free.” He guided her palms to Paul’s stomach.
Antonietta could feel the warmth of the blood. She smelled a strange, soothing odor. She knew Eleanor was close to her. It didn’t matter to her how Eleanor had gotten through a locked door or why Byron thought she could help, only that they save Paul. She merged with Byron, determined to follow his movements.
Byron was detached from his own body. She could feel his spirit soaring free. His energy, white-hot and glowing, moved toward Paul. It was strange to feel how small and huddled and tired Paul was. He was moving away from them, his energy dismally low. Antonietta’s heart began to pound loudly at the realization that Paul was dying. She forced herself to remain still and quiet, to trust in Byron. She could feel determination, confidence even.
Voices began a chant in an ancient tongue. The words felt familiar to her. When she knew she had the correct pronunciation, she added her voice to the others. All the while she concentrated on sending Byron her strength. What he was doing was demanding physically and mentally. He meticulously began closing wounds from the inside out, paying particular attention to detail, removing bacteria from the gashes to prevent infection.
Antonietta felt a female presence joining them, working with Byron even as they chanted. Another joined in, Vlad, strong and sure, providing a steady flow of energy to the two working on Paul. Eleanor
remained behind when Byron pulled out. Antonietta took the opportunity to wash her hands in Paul’s bathroom, feeling slightly ill with so much of her cousin’s blood on her. She hurried back to Byron’s side.
“Antonietta. I have to give him my blood. Even a mortal transfusion would not save him. Are you certain you can live with this decision? Perhaps it would be better if you broke off the contact with me while I do this.”
“I’ll see it through. You’re doing this for me. The least I can do is provide you with energy.” She reached out her hand, finding his face unerringly. “I know you’re tired, and I feel you’re afraid that whatever you have to do will upset me, but it won’t. I trust you, Byron.”
He leaned into her, brushed her lips gently with his. She was in darkness, but she felt every sensation, as closely connected as they were. She felt the burning pain as he cut his wrist, a terrible, gaping wound. She felt the way Paul’s mouth clamped on, the drawing of Byron’s lifeblood from his body. Shock numbed her, protected her, just for a moment. She fought her way past that protective barrier. There was realization that Byron had used his own teeth to tear his wrist. That Paul was devouring the lifesaving blood instead of being transfused. That the smell of blood was producing a craving she couldn’t understand in herself. Instead of being repelled, she was fascinated. She was also very aware that Byron was monitoring her reaction.
Antonietta lifted her chin, continued to chant, fought her human reactions, and concentrated on what they were doing, saving her beloved cousin’s life. Byron had taken an enormous chance in allowing her to know what he was. He had entrusted her with a secret even larger than her own. She had Jaguar in her lineage. He was something altogether different. Something loathed and feared by humans. He was… vampire.
No!
Byron’s protest was sharp.
Never that. I am not undead.
Deliberately, Antonietta leaned into him again, framed his face with her hands. While her cousin fed from him, she found his mouth with hers.
You amaze me, Byron.
She poured her gratitude and her feelings, as confused as they were, into her kiss, trying to tell him without words what it meant that he trusted her enough to save Paul’s life in the only way possible.
Tears glittered for a moment in Byron’s eyes. He had to look away from his sister and her lifemate. Antonietta had given him a gift more priceless than seeing in colors. She gave him acceptance.
“No more, Byron,” Vlad said abruptly. “You are already too weak.”
Antonietta felt him sway, his energy gone, his body drained of his enormous strength. He staggered and sat down abruptly, despite her trying to catch him.
“What’s wrong with him? Eleanor? Vlad? Tell me what’s wrong with him?” Panic rose fast, a terrible fear in her heart and lungs.
“He has not fed this night,” Vlad answered calmly. “Healing as he did, holding Paul to earth while doing so and giving him blood, takes a toll. I will take care of his need. Eleanor will need help, too. You are being very brave, Antonietta.”
“I haven’t done anything to help at all. If Byron needs blood, he can take mine.”
There was a sudden stillness in the room. Even Eleanor, deep within Paul’s body, was quiet. “
Cara mia
, you steal my heart with your generosity. Vlad will provide what is needed.”
“Vlad is not your lifemate. I am. I am quite able to provide for you.” Her neck throbbed and burned. Her breasts ached. Sexual hunger swirled in the pit of her stomach and spread a slow, burning heat through her body. Excitement blossomed, yet at the same time she tried to analyze why she would feel such a need to provide blood for him.
Byron pulled her into his arms. “There is no other like you,
bella
.” In truth, just the thought of you giving me your blood fills me with a hunger I dare not name. We are not alone. Allow Vlad to give me his powerful blood, and when we are alone, I will thank you properly.
She could hear the aching sexual hunger in his voice. “Is Vlad’s blood more powerful than mine? Will it make a difference?” She tried to ignore the answering fire in her bloodstream.
“Yes, his blood will give me energy very quickly.”
“What does it feel like?”
“Merge with me, Antonietta.” Byron wrapped one arm around her waist and took Vlad’s wrist to his mouth.
The rush hit him hard, hit her. Power pouring into his starved body. Cells and tissue, muscle and bone soaked up the life-giving fluid greedily. She tried to detach herself, to feel horror at the thought of Byron drinking blood, but she saw his power, felt his power. When he had taken what he needed, she realized she was barely breathing.
“How do you stop the blood from flowing?”
“We close the pinpricks with our tongue. The healing agent seals the wound and if we desire, the skin itself.”
Antonietta felt a blush stealing up her neck and face. There had been a bite on her neck; Tasha spotted it. “You’ve taken my blood, haven’t you?”
“Of course; you are my lifemate.” Deliberately, Byron caught the nape of her neck and dragged her to him, his mouth taking possession of hers, sharing the flavor and power of Carpathian blood. His tongue swept inside her mouth, tangling with hers, a primal mating while her senses leapt to life, every nerve ending on overload.
Eleanor pulled out of Paul’s body and into her own, swaying with weariness. “It is done, Antonietta. He will live.”
Vlad swept his lifemate into his arms. “You are a miracle worker, Eleanor.”
“She is,” Byron agreed. “
Grazie
, both of you. I could not have saved him without your help.”
“I guess my dinner party is thoroughly ruined. You must have such a bad impression of my family.” It hit Antonietta that if Eleanor and Vlad were like Byron, they would have heard the police in the lower stories, conducting interviews with staff with sealing off the crime scene. “Poor Enrico deserved better than being shoved down a laundry chute. I have no idea what is happening in my own home.”
“At least they wrapped him in the best lace available.”
“That’s not funny.”
Vlad kept Eleanor firmly in his arms. “Welcome to the family, Antonietta. It has been our pleasure to meet you. I need to take my lifemate home and care for her.”
“
Grazie
for all you have done, both of you. The next time we meet, hopefully things will be back to normal.”
“Until then.”
Antonietta listened, but there were no footsteps. She knew they were no longer in the room. “How do you do that? Just vanish into thin air? Not use doors?”
“I will teach you.” He pulled a chair to the edge of the bed. “Paul will be different, more aware, as you are. His hearing, his sight, everything will be that much more acute. And I can always touch his mind. It will be a different path than ours, but the connection will be there.”
“Did you pick up on what happened to him?”
“I am going to wake him briefly so we can talk. He will be weak. His body does not have the ability to heal as quickly as mine does.” Byron took her hand. “I know you have many questions for me. I will answer all of them before the night is over.” He brought her fingers to his mouth, nibbled on the sensitive pads. “Paul. Paul, come back to us now. You can rest soon, but you need to speak with Antonietta. You want to tell her something. It is very important to you to tell her the truth.”
Antonietta heard the compulsion buried in his voice, was astonished that she recognized it for what it was. “Your voice is hypnotic, isn’t it?”
“Yes, when I choose.”
Paul stirred, moaned softly. “Toni?”
“I’m here, Paul.” She tugged her hand free to rest her palm on her cousin. “You’re going to live, but you mustn’t move around too much.”
“I had strange dreams.”
“I know. It can happen that way, Paul. How d
id this happen? Tell me. We need to talk to the police.”
“No. You can’t do that, Toni. Promise me. Please promise me you won’t go to the police.” His agitation rose sharply.
Byron rested a hand on his shoulder, calming him instantly. “Tell us, Paul. We will handle whatever it is together.”
Do not mention the authorities again. He will undo all we have wrought.
“I know you thought I was stealing from the family, Toni. I don’t blame you for believing that. I wanted you to think I was gambling again.”
“Why, Paul?” There was hurt in her voice, pain in her heart.
Byron’s fingers curled around the nape of her neck, began a slow, soothing massage to ease the tension out of her.
“I went to a party a few months ago on a yacht. The owner had a priceless painting on display. It was one of ours, Toni. I went immediately to the police, and they told me they had been investigating the theft of treasures from prominent families for months. I knew someone in our family had to be helping whoever was behind the thefts. No one knew the way to the vaults, let alone the codes to get in, except you,
Nonno
, and Justine. I knew you and
Nonno
would never sell out our family. So I volunteered to help the police find the thieves.”
“Paul, what were you thinking?”
“I was perfect for it. I already had the bad reputation. I always needed money. I was believable. It was easy enough to start paying attention to Justine.” Paul’s voice was weak, his breathing labored. “She was under suspicion, the one person who would have access to all the security codes. And she would know the way to the art rooms and the vaults.”
“This is too hard for you,” Antonietta said. “We’ll talk later when you’re stronger.”
Paul’s hand covered hers. “I fell in love with her, Toni. I know you’re angry with her, and she probably deserves to be in jail, but I’m asking you to let her go. Tell her to go back to America. Just don’t put her in jail.”
Byron shook his head.
She is not involved in any conspiracy other than trying to help Paul find a way to pay off his gambling debts. She has never stolen anything from the Scarletti family. Unlike your family, Justine is easy enough to read.
Dark Symphony (Dark Series - book 10) Page 26