Desired: A Vampire Blood Courtesans Romance

by Monica La Porta

  Between getting used to the new jarring speed and starting to breathe again, it took me a few heartbeats, but I finally realized that he had answered my “Why?”

  “What’s a sirra?”

  “My maker.”

  “That horrible woman is the vampire who changed you?” I caught my breath and hastily added, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend your maker.” For what I knew, that woman might have been the equivalent of a mother to him, although, I truly hoped it wasn’t the case.

  “No offense taken.” His mouth curved in a mischievous grin. “She’s the most horrible person I know.”

  “She must have been nice when you met her—”

  “Because otherwise I wouldn’t have let her change me?”

  I nodded.

  “No, she was horrible even then, but I was a man and didn’t use my brain often. She offered me riches and immortality, and the gift package was wrapped in long legs and dark eyes. It was enough for me to say yes and offer her my vein. I have regretted my poor choice ever since.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. At least she passed her day-walking gift to me. I am the only one of her nest who inherited it, and it makes being undead easier. It has also been useful for my career.”

  “I can only imagine,” I said, but in truth, I had no idea what it meant to be a vampire in the first place, so I changed the topic. “Where are we headed?”

  “First, to Ciampino. I need to talk to my pilot.”

  The small civilian airport housed private jets as well, and it was well-known that Fabian owned a few airplanes.

  Turning slightly to look at me, he sighed. “I had this plan to fly you tonight to my villa in Capri, but it’ll have to wait. I’m sorry.”

  “Where are we going then?”

  “To the only place where she won’t look for me. Santa Severa Castle.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Malvina changed me there and she knows I hate that place with all my heart.”

  Always so composed, he gulped as if he were shoving an unwanted thought out of the way.

  I shivered. What would it feel to harbor such strong sentiments about himself or another person for hundreds of years?

  Fabian misunderstood my morose silence. “I promised. I’ll keep you safe. Malvina won’t hurt you again.” His eyes cut toward my throat, and my hands instinctively reached for the spot where the woman’s fangs had pierced my skin, close to my twin scars.

  A shred of memory came forth; darkness and shrieks, blood, pain. Now or then? I pushed the thought away. My fingers lightly skimmed over the wound and encountered smooth flesh. Only drying blood remained from the attack. “How?” But I knew.

  His gentle lips probing my flesh. His tongue cleaning the blood away. The memory affected me, making me blush.

  I was glad my face was in the shade, but then he said, “Don’t be ashamed of your reaction. It’s only normal,” which made me blush deeper.

  His hand shot to my cheek for a caress. “You are so beautiful.” His voice was rough and stole my breath.

  At my short pant, his eyes lowered to my mouth. He leaned closer, pressing his lips against mine as his fingers traced the contour of my jaw. He then trailed to the side, to my earlobe, and continued down, under the collar of my cloak, and lower still to the front of my dress. I stilled when his finger slid inside my bodice and lingered over the swell of my breast. His touch ignited a fire I didn’t know existed in me, and I pressed against his touch because I wanted more. Gone was my usual fear of him.

  His green eyes flared in surprise. Laughing, he said, “Maybe I should be watching the road.”

  Only then did I remember that he had been driving all along, and when I checked the speedometer I gasped, “Slow down!” The numbers on the dashboard read two hundred and fifty kilometers per hour.

  His only response was to smile at me and press down on the accelerator for good measure. Several heartbeats later, he was still smiling. “You are safe with me. I could drive at twice this speed, but there was no Formula One car handy, so this will do.”

  In a matter of minutes, we were outside Rome proper and at the outskirts of Ciampino. Fabian drove around a hill and entered the airport that was deserted but for a small jet waiting on the tarmac, outside a hangar.

  “It will only take a moment,” he said before parking the car parallel to the plane.

  I watched as he exited the car, briskly walked to the jet, and climbed the retractable steps. He disappeared inside the plane and reappeared a few seconds later. As he strolled back to our car, his black limo entered the airport. His driver, Martino, nodded at him from his lowered window, then drove inside the hangar.

  Once he took his place behind the wheel once again, Fabian commented, “Now we can go to Santa Severa.”

  While he backed away and turned the car toward the airport gates, I saw his driver entering the jet.

  “Where is he going?” I asked.

  “I sent Martino to Vienna to let Malvina think I flew there,” he answered.

  Fabian drove back to Rome, heading toward Aurelia Way, where he unleashed the stolen car on the highway.

  If I had thought we were driving too fast before, I was wrong. We covered the eighty kilometers from Rome to Santa Severa in less than fifteen minutes, when it would have usually required about forty. A police car patrolling the freeway lit its siren and tried to give chase to us, but Fabian lost them easily. He finally slowed when the castle appeared from behind one of the curves following the stretch of coast bordering the Mediterranean Sea.

  The moon illuminated the square structure reflected in the placid waters of the sea and lit our way to the parking lot behind the pine forest surrounding the castle on two sides.

  No sooner had Fabian brought the car to a halt under one of the pine trees, than he was opening my door. I had barely seen him moving. Before I could exit on my own, he reached under my bent legs, wound his other arm across my shoulders, and took me in his arms.

  “I can walk,” I said. The salty breeze from the ocean bathed my exposed skin, covering the heavy fabric of my cloak in dew.

  “I know.” He cradled me closer to his chest and dipped his mouth to kiss my crown, then my forehead, then my nose. “This is for me.” At my lips, he lingered, then pressed, his tongue seeking entrance.

  I opened to him, accepting his deeper kiss, moving in his arms until I was straddling him. His invasion was sweet and filled with a restrained intensity I could detect in the way his body hardened. But soon he leaned away, pressing his forehead against mine, and we were both panting. I immediately felt the loss of his touch, wanting so much more than just a kiss, and I wondered at my primal physical reaction. Was it normal after the horrific attack I had sustained? I heard such responses happened after a battle. A close encounter with one’s mortality had the power to make you rethink your priorities. But deep down, I didn’t know why I wanted him to press me against a wall for more than a kiss, and I honestly didn’t care in the least.

  Without a word, he strode toward the portcullis at the castle’s entrance. The rusted grate sported a lock and a large, yellow sign saying that the ancient fortress was going through yet another restoration and was currently closed to the public. With a smile, Fabian freed one of his hands, grabbed the lock securing the gate, and with a jerk of his wrist, broke the metal.

  Fascinated, I looked as Fabian threw the torn lock away; it landed on the cobblestones with a thud and skidded over the pavement made sleek by the humidity permeating the place; it only stopped against a wall several meters farther away. A sudden thought entered my mind: the hands that so gently held me could as easily break me. Again, such an idea should have terrified me—and I could remember that only a few days ago the mere sight of him had scared me—but it didn’t now. Instead, I appreciated that this strong vampire was treating me with such care.

  The castle’s walls were illuminated by bright, industrial lights, and scaffolding occupied most of the na
rrow medieval streets and alleys. Walking the cobblestone paths with soft steps that made no sound, Fabian headed toward one of the smaller backstreets and leaned under an arch that would have been tall enough for any other man. He then climbed a steep set of worn stairs ending in front of a door with rotten wooden panels.

  Fabian pressed his palm against the door, and I heard a click. Not what I was expecting. In my mind, I had already seen the wood splintering under his touch, like the vampire’s chest had. Instead, the panel slid inside the wall on hidden hinges, revealing a reinforced metal door of the kind I had seen in bank vaults—when my family still possessed antiques, paintings, and jewelry that required armored protection.

  Still holding me, he turned the dials on the combination lock with his free hand. Another click followed by a huff signaled that the door was opening. Fabian stepped aside on the narrow landing, waiting for the thick panel to move to the side and leave enough space for us to cross the threshold.

  Placing a finger under my chin, he made me look at him. My heart thumped loudly against my ribcage as his eyes locked with mine, and his beautiful smile graced his full lips. My only thought was that no man should have a mouth as inviting as the one he possessed.

  He dipped his head and kissed me. It was but a brush, yet it left me dizzy again. Then he was crossing the entrance, and I couldn’t help but think that he was holding me like a bride. The thought was silly, and I immediately recognized my folly. The metal door closed behind us, and lights turned on, making me focus on the now.

  Fabian let me down on my feet, and I slowly took in the sight before my eyes. Under my too-high heels, a polished concrete floor set off the white walls and the modern furniture and light fixtures. From the Artemide lamps to the glass bookcase and the transparent chairs, to the silk rugs in rich, earth shades, every single detail in the open space apartment screamed Soho Loft, not medieval-dungeon in a castle.

  “Not what you expected,” Fabian said. The first words he had spoken in several minutes, and there was the unmistakable trace of amusement in his tone.

  “I thought you hated coming here.”

  The apartment had been decorated for a person who liked to spend time there.

  “I do—” He placed his hands on my shoulders and lowered my cloak to my arms, slowly, like a caress. His eyes followed the path of the fabric, and at my elbows, his hands stilled, pressing tighter. “But I needed a place off the radar for those occasions when I wanted privacy, and Santa Severa Castle was perfect. I just made do with what I had.”

  My chest rose and fell, and I was breathless because I didn’t remember how to pull air into my lungs. I heard of the star-struck phenomenon, but I had never thought I would be that girl who would go all weak-kneed before a famous person. Yet, here I was, turned into gelatin by his gaze.

  His green eyes darkened, and he parted his lips, making me tilt my head up, exposing my throat.

  “Not now,” he whispered. “Not like this.” My cloak was gone a moment later, but so were his hands on me.

  My only consolation was that he sounded as winded as I felt, and I wasn’t even sure he needed to breathe at all.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Fabian

  Now what? I thought, unable to stop imagining the detailed scene I had envisioned when she offered me her throat.

  Had she realized what she was doing? Had she known how close she was to having her gown ripped off? I would push her down to the Persian rug, and press my weight between her legs, pinning her wrists over her head. She would let me. I knew that, and it made me feel sick that I could barely control my bloodlust. Thankfully, I had kept my eyes from becoming red.

  “Why did you stop?” she asked, bewilderment in her hazel eyes.

  Stella’s direct question surprised me.

  “The truth?” I asked.

  “Always.”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I’d like to hear it.” She shrugged. “After all, even though I wouldn’t go through with it, you still bid five million euros for me.”

  “Does that displease you? That I bid for you?” I gestured for her to take a seat on the white leather sofa by the fireplace. I sat opposite her. The less contact, the better if I wanted to finish this conversation. And we needed to have the talk before anything else happened.

  “It makes me wonder.” She lowered herself to the sofa, sitting straight with her legs angled to the side, chin high, and her hands resting on her lap. Regal. Like the princess she was. But she was also nervous. The rapid blinking and elevated heart rate betrayed her inner turmoil.

  Sexual tension that could be cut with a knife was also still permeating the air between us, and I was so hard, I didn’t know how long I could resist before my nature took over. Thinking ahead, I had fed earlier in the morning, but having her so close was playing a number on me.

  “About what?” I finally asked, focusing back on her question. We need to talk, I reminded myself.

  “Why?” She worried her lower lip. “Why would you spend that kind of money on me?”

  I almost laughed. I would have spent fifty times that amount for her. Fortunately, I realized she would think I was laughing at her and answered with the truth, “Because I want you—” I leaned back against the backrest of my sofa. “And I made sure nobody else would win you tonight.”

  Stella frowned. “You want me?”

  Her breasts pushed against the bodice of her elegant dress. It was just a brief gleam of her softness underneath, but the sight aroused me, provoking thoughts of what I would like to do to her.

  “I do.”

  She narrowed her eyes.

  I slowly nodded. “Two years ago—it was a summer afternoon—you were going out as I was coming back home. You wore a yellow sundress and strappy sandals. Your hair was loose. No makeup. A large straw hat. I saw you, and I wanted you. Since then, my longing has only grown.”

  It wasn’t the first time I saw Stella but all of a sudden, she had become a woman. A glance across the street, and she stopped being my responsibility to become so much more.

  Stella brought her hand to her mouth. “I—”

  Was she going to run for the hills?

  “You asked for the truth.”

  She nodded. “I did, but—”

  Crossing my legs at my ankles, I let her collect her thoughts. Inside, I was dying to leap and press her down onto the cushion.

  “You never spoke to me.”

  I wanted to so much, it hurt. But you were off-limits. “I thought you were better off without having anything to do with me.” Then I couldn’t resist adding, “But make no mistake, I wanted to do more than talk to you.”

  “You’ve always had all those women at your place.”

  I liked the way her expression changed, and her chest constricted. “Were you jealous of them?” I asked.

  “How could I be? We didn’t know each other, and you are this big, famous actor—vampire.”

  “I was thinking of you.” I left it there, for her to understand I was referring to those times when she saw me on the terrace.

  When she realized the meaning behind my words, her eyes widened, and a soft blush pinked her creamy skin. My hands grabbed the edge of the sofa. I mentally counted to twenty. “It was your mouth I imagined on me. Your hands. Your skin.”

  “Why didn’t you—” She paused, her breathing irregular and her color rising. “I don’t know, knock on my door, present yourself, stop me in the street, something, anything?”

  “Because I can’t afford to care for you.” I tilted my head. “And yet I can’t afford not to.”

  “Why can’t you?” she asked.

  “Because you are mine.” Would she run now? I was giving her any excuse to stand up and ask to be released.

  Stella did stand on uncertain feet, but she didn’t walk to the door. Wordlessly, she kept staring at me.

  “Are you scared of me?” I asked, still sitting.

  “I should be. I was,” she answered after a
prolonged silence.

  “But not anymore?”

  “No, not anymore.” She shook her head. “And I keep asking myself why.”

  “Do you have an answer to your question?”

  She hesitated.

  “The truth,” I reminded her.

  Stella lowered her eyes, her hands playing with the fabric of her gown. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you. You scared me, but deep inside I would have given anything to be with you.”

  “I am here.” I opened my arms to the side.

  She surprised me yet again by taking the first step. “Why are you making me come to you?”

  So smart, my princess.

  “Because I need you to want me. To desire me as much as I desire you. I don’t want you to come to me under compulsion.” I didn’t lean toward her but wrapped the backrest with my arms. “That’s why I was going to talk you out of being a courtesan.” I would still deposit the auction money in her bank account, but she didn’t need to know that.

  She stopped. “I don’t understand—”

  I shook my head. “There’s nothing to understand.”

  “You want me to come to you by my free will.” She hugged herself, pushing those soft mounds up.

  “That’s what I want.” I sighed.

  She slowly nodded. Then, her high heels moved on the floor, her gown brushing the concrete, and she walked toward me as if gliding over the polished surface.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she said when she stopped in front of me.

  I could have raised my hand and pulled her down. “Sit on my lap.”

  Stella obeyed me. She didn’t have to, but she did.

  She finally was where I wanted her, but I needed her to understand the rules. “I want you, but I won’t take anything that isn’t freely given.”

  Her eyes were big and liquid, and her heart galloped against her ribcage.

  I smiled. “Breathe.” My arms still hugging the sofa, I mimed the action of breathing for her.

  She lowered her eyes for a moment, then her lips turned up in a smile, and her chest started working again.