Honeymoon Bite (Golden Vampires of Tuscany)

by Sharon Hamilton

  “See, Anne, the grapes are still green.” He slowed down, leaned across her, and pointed out the window so she could see the clusters glowing in the early July sun. “Some of these will be deep burgundy in color within just a couple of weeks. The change happens fast.”

  She nodded her head. He pulled back his arm and she felt the airspace in front of her grow cool.

  “Everything changes, turns. The leaves turn colors. The grapes. The grasses in the fields. Even the sky turns from blue to gray to black, and then back to blue again.”

  She continued nodding, accepting the lesson.

  Teach me more. Her insides ached for a touch from him. She rested her hand on his as he maneuvered the gearshift lever. She felt the rumble of a groan emanating from his chest.

  “You touch me, female. You touch me.”

  “I couldn’t help it.”

  He pulled over to a gravel trail that led through a rusted gate he clicked open with the touch of a button on the dashboard. They climbed a small hill. He positioned the car so they could see the rows of vineyards stretched before them. The beautiful sight brought tears to her eyes. She was filled with emotion—both confusing and delicious.

  “I will kiss you now, my female.”

  She should resist, but found she couldn’t lift a finger to stop him. He leaned toward her face as she parted her lips. “Anne. Just say Anne,” she barely got out just before her breath was taken away.

  His lips on hers made the ground tremble. He was warm and seeking. There was not an ounce of hesitation in the way his mouth claimed hers, in the way he angled his head to gain more access to her. The suckling between them became more forceful as their tongues danced. He chased her, and she was so willing to be caught. She was aware of the faint smell of his light citrus cologne and the harsh sound of his breath as he tasted her.

  They parted for air, then repositioned their bodies to face each other. The car was unforgiving and the leather seats groaned. Her back and thighs were wet with the sweet sweat of arousal. She looked into his dark eyes but could not see the copper there. She studied his lips and mentally willed them to take her again. He must have known because he reached for her again.

  After a long moment, Anne put her hand to Marcus’s cheek and brushed her thumb over the prominent bone under his eye, then lightly rubbed her three middle fingers over his mouth to feel his breath there. She licked her lips, then touched the sharp tip of her fangs on her tongue. She was desperately hungry for him now and wasn’t afraid to show it.

  He moved her hand open so he could kiss the inside of her palm. He followed that kiss with others up to her wrist. His tongue traced the blue vein that throbbed there. The question was in his eyes before he said it.

  “May I taste you?”

  She inhaled and nodded.

  He closed his eyes, then very lightly pricked the vein with one sharp fang. He drew upon her. Her palm went limp but then pressed against the side of his face as she offered her wrist to his needy mouth.

  He didn’t take much. She almost wished he had taken more. Sensing this small snack could be dangerous, she allowed the moment to pass. He kissed the skin and left it slightly red and violated.

  “How do you feed?” She wondered why she suddenly wanted to know.

  “I have a delivery service bringing me fresh blood daily. I don’t like to hunt. I am like you that way.”

  She watched his tongue lave over the little red marks on her wrist and suddenly wanted the marks to show so she could trace her fingers over her sensitive flesh and see he had been there.

  “But Anne, you will feed from me.”

  “Will I be satisfied feeding only from you? I mean, can we each keep each other satisfied?”

  His face broke into a warm smile that lit up the afternoon. “In time, I hope to be able to satisfy your every need. But the answer to your question is we could do this for a short—a few days or maybe a week. However, one of us would need outside blood or else we would begin to get tired and perhaps age. You can feed from me without having to hunt, for the time being.” He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “And I hope you will be fully satisfied with my blood.”

  Anne knew she would be. Her lips were anticipating the taught texture of his skin. Her fangs ached and her throat was thirsty for the rich coppery taste of his life force.

  “Come, it’s time, my p— . . . Anne.” He smiled and got out of the car. It took an eternity for him to walk around the front, to come to her side and to open the door. He gave his hand, gripped hers, and pulled her from the vehicle. The car seemed to shudder as it released her.

  When she fully stood, they faced each other but did not touch. She felt the heat from his body as he carefully kept the space between them. She knew he did not want space between them. She understood the sacrifice offered. The gesture made her both grateful and stimulated. He dropped her hand.

  He pulled out a quilt from the rear of the car, wrapped it over his arm, and then held his other hand out to her to walk alongside him. They were at a hillside vineyard, and as they walked among the vines, Anne frequently turned to look at the display of the valley floor below them. Everything was alive and growing. Everything was green and golden, bathed in sunlight, as if she were looking through a tinted windowpane. The view and the moment were perfect. She felt the happiest she had ever been. The setting felt like Tuscany all over again.

  Marcus spread the thick quilt down between the vines and sat. She stood above him.

  “You may take me, Anne, but except for a little taste you’ve been permitted, I will not feed from you. I only do that when I make love, and I will not ask that of you today. You won’t have to worry about stopping. Come.” He held out his hand and she took it, then stooped to her knees. He put her hand on the buttons of his shirt and left it there.

  She unbuttoned the first one. He watched her in silence. Then she unbuttoned the second one. She looked into his dark eyes and felt his pulse quicken at the touch of her fingertips on the skin of his chest. She peeled his shirt back to the side and slid her hand up his neck, feeling the strength of the blood flow there. The touch of his skin gave her little jolts of pleasure. His eyes showed her his complete surrender.

  “Take me,” he begged, his voice husky as if he were barely able to speak. “You will see it won’t take much to satisfy.”

  Anne wished his hands were on her breasts.

  Marcus heard her words of apology, words she didn’t need to say. Just the same, he loved hearing them.

  “I will try to be gentle. I’m learning.” Anne flashed her dark eyes at him. Her eyebrows rose, making shallow creases form above the bridge of her nose. Her silky eyelashes sparkled and fluttered, fanning his cheeks. His desire flamed for her, just as he expected.

  “You won’t hurt me.” Though I wish you would. “Don’t be afraid to bite deep and”—he got distracted by her pouty lips—“suck hard.” His voice trailed off, wavering. He wasn’t anxious to hurry the touch of her lips, the feel of her fangs in his flesh. He had waited three hundred years and could wait a few delicious minutes more.

  Marcus lay back on the blanket but did not draw her to his chest. She was not yet his to possess. Anne adjusted her body, carefully leaning on him as if she could hurt him. Her long brown curls grazed his bare chest for the first time, sending him into ecstasy. He knew, but she didn’t, that in lying down she would have to press her breasts to his chest in order to feed. He could have merely seated himself in a chair and had her come at him from behind.

  I am not sorry for this little deception.I am not a gentleman. I am a scheming rake. But he wasn’t crossing the line. Not yet.

  With his gaze fixed deep into hers, he saw her quick little inhale when she scanned his chest, felt the side of his neck, and then inhaled his scent. He felt her change focus from lover to ravenous female in need of feeding. Her eyes swept up to the side of his neck, taking in his thick pulsating vein. He let his blood hammer hard and course lower, into his groin. Her thigh mov
ed in response.

  Swallowing first, she lowered her chin, then took a deep breath. When she placed her right palm against his exposed pectoral muscles, he felt her warmth all over his body. Her fingers lightly dusted his skin. Her breath came over him, timid and demure, belying something deeper inside. She hungered for him. After one last check and his nod of approval, she lowered her upper body onto him, laced her fingers through his hair, and then pulled it aside, giving herself full access to his neck. He got a glimpse of her fangs just before her lips touched him. He grew thirsty. Thirsty for her blood.

  And then she bit down on him.

  The fating was unmistakable. Her lips pressed against his skin and she suckled, drawing his life force into her body. It left him feeling delirious, invincible, and ageless. He felt the dust from years of loneliness fall away, as if he’d stepped into a warm shower. And then something wonderful happened.

  She moaned.

  Reflex action made him raise his hand, wanting to press her into him deeper, but he stopped just before he could touch the small of her back.

  At last! Worth the three hundred years of waiting. My fated female drinks of me. She tastes me. She needs me.

  The warm elixir, his life force, moved over Anne’s tongue and filled the caverns of her soul. What she drank almost didn’t taste like blood, but rather like a fine brandy, laced with something else that was more emotion than taste. She felt every cell of her body plump up with the vitality of his liquid, then scream for more. She felt places that had withered and her body and soul suddenly become alive and supple.

  She slowed down the taking to make it last and found that she could savor him. She moved one knee across his lap, which lightly grazed across his bulging pants. His shaft came alive with the stimulation. He groaned and pressed his cheek to hers. She straddled him and very carefully set herself down, placing her sex just above his. She tingled where her mound touched his erection.

  She inhaled one more time and took the last bits and found, with relief, she could stop without draining him. This was the first time she had been satisfied without taking life. Nothing had ever felt better.

  She kissed the two holes in his skin. A tear came to her eye at the sight of the damage she’d caused him. He pulled her with both his hands face to him, then rubbed the tears from her cheeks. His mouth came over hers. She sighed into his kiss.

  “Oh, God. Thank you. That was so wonderful,” she whispered, “I never knew about this.”

  His serious eyes almost looked sad. “It has been a long time since I first had this dream. You have no idea how wonderful it is to have my female love the taste of me.”

  He put his hands at her hips, then moved her over his crotch, watching her. She let him, and let him slide one hand up under her stretchy top. His fingers brushed across her nipples, which hardened and knotted under the flimsy fabric of her bra. She arched up at his touch. She drew close to an orgasm. Every part of her body was more sensitive than ever before.

  He withdrew his hand. “I’ve made you a promise. I will keep it.”

  “Yes, thank you.” Anne looked down. Somehow, she had become shy.

  “With my blood inside you, you will experience strong erotic dreams tonight.”

  Anne knew exactly what he meant. She was starting to feel the sexual intensity coming already. But there was no desire for anyone but this man before her. Just an empty room. Waiting. Waiting to be filled with the scent and body of this man.

  She bent down and kissed him again. He slid a finger up her thigh to the front of her panties, then rubbed her through the thin fabric. He could have dipped a finger or two under the elastic at the leg and felt her sex, but his hand remained still. He started to remove his hand, but she held him there, rubbing his hand against the thin fabric of her panties. But he did not violate the trust, even though he must have understood she would not deny him. He pulled her back from the brink.

  “Someday, Anne, you will be mine in every sense of the word. Until then, you can take me as often as you like. Drink only from me. I don’t want you in the company of strange men. It is safer this way.” His finger continued to rub her sex. “I promise I won’t hurt you. I will protect you and the man they call your husband. But drink only from me, promise?” He removed his hand and held her face. “Promise me?”

  “I promise.”

  Chapter 10

  Marcus drank his best red wine and warmed himself by the fireplace in his study, alone. The flames soothed his nerves. He saw her face coming to him, rising above him as she felt the power of his passion coursing through her veins. He hadn’t wanted to take her home, but he’d promised not to interfere until he was given permission.

  He felt the red bumps at the side of his neck where Anne had bitten him, noting that the swelling was going down. He almost wished the wound wouldn’t heal, but rather stay in all its painful glory, a living legacy, a celebration of the love he felt for this woman. She had tasted him and wanted more. And he had so much more to give her. For the first time in decades, he was filled with joy.

  Tonight she would feel the full force of his blood in her body. He had decided to let her experience it without interference. He wished he could go over to her house and share her passion. He thought about what they would do some day when they mated in the ancient way of the goldens, and his hard-on increased to painful proportions.

  He pressed the bumps again, a little harder this time, until it hurt. He wanted to relive that moment when her fangs had crossed the threshold and had taken something from him and made it a part of her. A part of his body would now be inside hers forever. Nothing else in the universe compared to the thrill of her feeding. And she had promised to use him as her sole source of sustenance and energy. He now had even more of a reason to live, to serve her. His new purpose would help soothe his anxious libido.

  He looked down at his cell phone. He’d given her an identical phone so she could call him when she needed him. He’d programmed only one number into it: his.

  She does need me. I bring her life’s blood. I will fill her every need in time.

  He rubbed his thumb over the plastic face piece as if he could will it to light up and ring with her beckoning. He could always go find her in the meantime. He had been finding her on his own for over a month now. But some time tomorrow, she would call and ask for him, as her vampire hunger overrode what was left of her doubt.

  He doubted she would sleep at all tonight. It was risky, knowing her friskiness could put her in harm’s way, but she’d promised only to feed from him. She would promise much more when their love came to full bloom, when he could claim her, but for now, this little victory was all he had. He’d wait. Even the genetic pull he felt toward her, his fated female, was delicious, albeit painful. He didn’t want to make himself unwelcome. It was important she be the first one to reach out.

  Anne bought extra pillar candles. She opened the Cabernet. She would put the steaks on later, after she called him. She had dropped by Victoria’s Secret on her way back and had bought a new black lace bra and panty set. She’d come home, showered, washed her hair, shaved everything she could, and rubbed her body down with almond butter cream. When putting on makeup, she did her eyes darker than usual and used red lip pumper in a cherry flavor.

  She removed her robe and felt the wickedness the black lacy underwear that squeezed her breasts and barely hugged her peach, which was bruised with desire. She wished it wasn’t so hot, or she would have built a fire. But there were enough candles around for two fires, since she wanted to spend the evening naked with him, and watch the flicker of light caressed his skin.

  She lit the row of pillar candles that sat on the window ledge behind the couch. Then she lit the ones on the coffee table, then ones in the guest bathroom. She lit the three candles on the tumbled soapstone vanity top in the master bath, and then moved to the bed. She was bent down, match touching a white ginger pillar wick on her side of the bed, when she noticed the burgundy red glass votive and the scent
ed reddish orange candle contained in it. She had not put it there.

  Holding the end of the wick, she raised the little stubby candle from its glass holder and read the foil label on the underside.

  Blood Orange.

  It shouted, “I am here. I wait by your bed at night.”

  His blood was in her veins, filling her with a sexual desire she hadn’t felt in years. She welcomed the change. She felt it as a gift given by someone who truly cared for her. It was a simple fact. Marcus was a welcome guest, and she was thrilled just thinking about seeing him again.

  She set the candle back down in the holder and lit it.

  Thank you, Marcus.

  There was no answer.

  But first, she had one more thing to do before she could lose herself in the evening. She needed to set up a meeting with Robert for tomorrow. She needed to put that chapter of her life behind her so she’d be free to—what? She picked up her cell and dialed Monika’s number.

  “Hello, Anne? Is that you?” Monika’s voice seemed far away.

  “Tell Robert I need to meet with him tomorrow, at nine.”

  “I don’t know anything about this,” Monika replied.

  “I’m sure he’ll fill you in. Will you tell him?”

  “Yes. Anne, I am so sorry about what has happened. Robert and I—”

  “Forget it, Monika. I don’t want to hear it.”

  Anne was grateful for the silence at the other end of the phone.

  “Monika?”

  “Yes. I understand.”

  “You need to get ready.”

  “For what?”

  “Robert is going to need a place to stay, to save him from himself.”

  “Not sure what you’re talking about.”

  “He has a lot of stuff. But I’m keeping the car.” Anne hung up. One thing to tell Robert he would have to find another place to stay, quite another to tell the other woman. She was proud of herself. There wasn’t an ounce of regret in her body.