Honeymoon Bite (Golden Vampires of Tuscany)

by Sharon Hamilton

  You are a rake. Consumed by my own selfish desires.

  He’d told himself to be patient, thought he was, but damn, was she right? Had he used Anne in his haste to end the years of loneliness and lack?

  Was it really the fating power, or my own hunger for a woman of my own?

  Would a true fated partner not even consider the consequences of his omission? Of his lie? Had he hidden his relationship with the boy’s mother from Anne, implying he was free to take her, join with her, just so he could spill his seed and perhaps create another progeny? Or worse yet, was he becoming the type of vampire like his dark brethren? The ones who used women as playthings and pastimes to distract them from an otherwise boring eternal life?

  Marcus was beside himself with self-loathing. He returned his attention to Anne.

  She was off the bed, seeking a robe, pacing back and forth in the room. Marcus donned silk pajama bottoms as he continued to watch her. Her head was down and he could tell she was counting the loops of carpet at the foot of the massive bed. This wasn’t a good sign.

  “Anne, let’s talk.”

  He reached for her arm, but she shook him off.

  “If . . . if you were in . . . the . . . chapel . . . you were there next to a woman.” She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “A woman, Marcus. You were not the priest. You sat next to a woman. You were participating in the ceremony with someone else.”

  “No, not actually doing the ceremony. We were planning—” He couldn’t bring himself to say more. Panic seized him. Why had he been so stupid not to think about this? “Please, Anne, let’s sit while I explain this all to you.”

  “You will goddamn explain it to me right now!” Anne’s face was contorted in a nasty sneer he’d never seen before. Her cheeks were flushed and red. Red with the passion his blood gave to her as it circulated inside her body, giving her life. But her body had been taken over by a range he didn’t know she was capable of. Her eyes were murderous. Accusatory. Devoid of the soft surrender he had just witnessed.

  She squinted. “What have you done?” She walked to within a foot away from him. He could smell sex and the revulsion—a painful elixir of dashed hopes and dreams. “You have bedded me for your own pleasure. But you are already taken? You have done the ceremony with someone else! How could you?”

  Anne flew to her clothes and began putting them on.

  “Don’t. Don’t do this, Anne. You have to let me explain this to you. You don’t understand anything. Oh, it’s my entire fault. I should have told you sooner. I am not married or taken. Please believe me.” He came over to Anne’s seated frame. She was pulling on her boots. In kneeling position, he begged, “Anne, I love only you, and I can explain everything so you understand.”

  She looked down at Marcus with the coldness of death in her eyes. “Do you deny you were there? With a woman? You intended to be fated to another?”

  “No, I don’t deny it, but I can explain.” He reached up for her hand and she slapped him across the face.

  “Don’t you touch me.”

  He ran over to the door, blocking her passage.

  Anne pulled back and took a deep breath. Her face became red and splotchy. “Now you’re going to force me, keep me captive? I am not sure how ugly you want to make this.”

  “I need to explain. Please let me do this.”

  “Move. I want out of this room now. I need to get away from your smell. I will come back later to get my things and perhaps you will explain, but not now.”

  Marcus moved to the side, heartbroken. Tears streamed down his face, covering his chest. He couldn’t get enough breath to satisfy his parched throat. Everything inside him felt constricted, like he was dying. Everything but his heart, which was racing wildly, ready to burst from his chest.

  She ran down the curved stairs into the foyer below, Marcus right on her heels. She yanked open the front door just as someone else burst into the room, almost toppling her.

  Maya.

  Oh, God, no. Not now.

  The dark vixen stood her ground, seemingly pleased with her sense of timing. Her eyes flashed to Marcus. She raised her nose to the air.

  “Ah, I smell puppy love. An afternoon of passion. And such a lovely little pup. You’ve created for yourself quite a little fuck buddy, Marcus. An enjoyable love puppet who will live forever. Was she as good as you’d planned? Hmm?”

  Anne spoke. “You are the filthy bitch who turned me.”

  The vehemence in Anne’s voice put Marcus on alert. In a direct attack, Maya would be able to defend herself, and she’d fight to the death. Anne’s death.

  Maya laughed with a cackle that must have been a throwback to her ancient ancestor. The echo reached all corners of the carved living room and made the monkeys smile. “Oh, this is too rich.”

  “Maya, I order you to leave this house immediately.” Marcus was on his way to forcibly remove her from the foyer.

  Maya hid behind Anne and whined into her ear, “So he has not told you, little one. He is your creator, not I. He lusted for your body, gave you immortal life so he could screw you forever. You are Marcus’s eternal whore.” Her laughter rumbled the glass windows of the whole house.

  Anne’s expression showed Marcus she was dead to him, as dead as she had been the evening he’d found her in the alleyway, after Maya had drained her of her mortal life. He watched as Maya’s words settled all over his fated female like acid.

  “Marcus and I have shared over one hundred years of passion. Did you know that? And, has he told you I bore him a child?”

  Anne whirled around, venom spewing from her eyes. Her lips were pale and parched. He could hear the bile collecting in her stomach. Maya eluded her and ran into the middle of the ballroom. “Marcus and I danced together in this room almost two hundred years ago. Has he told you this? He held me tight and we danced and danced. We fucked everywhere we could find. Ravenous. He was ravenous for me . . .”

  As Maya sang some tune and twirled, her arms outstretched, Anne turned to Marcus, obviously unafraid to show him the hatred in her soul. In a calm voice, she asked him the question he had not wanted to answer. “So, you have a child as well. Why am I not surprised?” Her sad face repeated the words.

  Marcus came as close to her as he dared. He suspected she wanted to do him real harm, and he didn’t blame her.

  “I am not sure the child is mine,” he whispered.

  “I thought you said the blood never lies.” She eyed him with steely conviction, and yes, some hatred.

  “I never felt the . . . the . . . fating with Maya,” he begged.

  “Well she bled. She bore you a child. What else is there? I find the fact that you never told me any of this to be all too convenient. You are a liar, Marcus Monteleone. No doubt your night of passion with her felt equally as . . . as . . . stirring.” Her eyes filled with tears.

  He reached out to grab hold of her, to reassure her, to ease the pain he knew she was feeling in her soul, but she drew away. He cursed himself. With the backdrop of Maya’s swirling and cackling, Anne barely spoke, but Marcus could hear every word.

  “I will be returning to California. The only thing I ask of you is to help me get there. I do not want you to follow me. I do not want to ever see you again.”

  Anne cried all the way into town as the limo driver brought her to a country inn and paid for a room. She thanked him, unable to tip him because she had no money. He informed her arrangements were being made and that in the morning some clothes and money would be delivered.

  “And I do not want Marcus here. You must come, not him.”

  “Understood.”

  “And I won’t take the jet back. I don’t ever want to set foot on anything he owns again.”

  “Pardon me, ma’am. Just to be completely honest with you, he owns this inn, but he has told me in case I had to reveal this, not to worry. He will not come to you again. You can feel safe in that, at least.”

  She nodded.

  “So sorry, ma’a
m. We all are.”

  Alone in the room, without audience, she collapsed. Suddenly she didn’t want to live any longer. And then it hit her.

  She was immortal.

  All the way back on her first class flight to New York, Anne tried to sleep. Every time she woke up, she started to cry. She began to wonder if she would have to start feeding on the plane because she had cried so much. She had cried herself to sleep on her first trip to Italy, on her honeymoon, and now she was bawling again on her way back to California.

  She was exhausted. She tried to watch the movie. She adjusted her sleeping chair, closed the window, and put the eye patch on. She drank more whisky than she ever had before, thinking maybe she could get good and drunk and then be able to sleep off the horrible pain in her chest. There was a hole where her heart should be.

  She hadn’t figured Marcus for the cad type. But, judging from her past taste in men, she shouldn’t be too surprised. She hadn’t seen anything but innocent randiness on the part of Robert. But his appetites clearly stretched long and deep in several very dark directions.

  No, what she needed was something else in her life. A new start. And she needed to be alone, away from anything that reminded her of the wine country, Italy, or from her former life with either Robert or Marcus. She would need to get a job, an apartment, and a new passion for life. And in that order, too.

  In the JFK airport, waiting for the flight to San Francisco, she walked down the halls between the shops, noticing the families. People were going to or from vacation destinations all over the world, or were like her, waiting for their next flight, carefully marking time until the next adventure. She saw the faces and happy chatter of children and the mothers and fathers who loved them.

  Something I’ll never have.

  Once again, she was grateful for her first class ticket to San Francisco. She noticed no one had a seat next to her and deduced two seats had probably been booked for her so she would be left alone or not risk the chance she would meet some millionaire or handsome prince that would sweep her off her feet. Funny, how in such a short period she had begun to know how Marcus thought, how he orchestrated everything in his life. Even as she was leaving him forever, he was controlling her every move.

  She sighed. He would be hard to forget. But she would. After all, she had spent the last three years of her life letting someone use her. Nothing could be more difficult than facing that again. And, if she were with Marcus, she would have to turn a blind eye to the fact that she had been used. While Robert had stolen her trust, Marcus had stolen her mortal life, and that could never be recovered. A broken heart then was something that could be fixed. No way was she going to be human again.

  Marcus could go back to Maya, his true mate, just as Robert was to go back to Monika. Good riddance to both of them.

  A car waited for her at the airport. She hadn’t planned on that. The sign had properly read, “Anne Balesteiri.” She looked down at her hand and saw the emerald she had forgotten to return. No doubt Marcus thought this to be a hopeful sign. But it wasn’t.

  The ring was a reminder of what could never be.

  Her eyes filled with tears. Perhaps she was mourning the woman who used to own this setting, the woman who had decided to remain human and die a human death with her husband. Anne also mourned the woman who had accepted the gift and thought her life would be perfect forever. That woman was dead as well.

  Casualties of life.Casualties of love.

  The two beautiful Italian leather suitcases were deposited by the front door of her old house. Robert’s truck was not in the driveway, but his green bomber was. She smiled in spite of her misery. She had missed that car. Anne tipped the driver from the wad of hundred dollar bills she had been handed in a perfumed envelope with her name written in Marcus’s distinctive script. She was at last home. Alone.

  Marcus had put her keys in the matching carry-on bag, along with a few things she had at the villa in Genoa, including a small bottle of her favorite hand cream that couldn’t be bought in the US, and the sample bottle of the Carpathian perfume she loved from Capri. He was funny about the details. Of course, everything was thought out with Marcus. Which was further evidence he had planned her seduction, the making of her new life. If she had stayed with him, she too would have become a jealous vampire female consumed with hate as he found another, and then another and another new bride to add to his collection.

  She could almost sympathize with Maya. Anne just wasn’t going to stay around for that chapter. The humiliation of being discarded. She wouldn’t be able to take that. Again.

  Her house was strangely comforting to her. Everything as it was before. Robert had taken a few things. She decided to let him have it. Sort of her present to him and his new life, too. Everyone would go on with their lives. Everyone would find their way. She had to be optimistic.

  Her top dresser drawer moved smoothly, revealing her favorite nightie. After drawing a bath and removing her clothes, she added lavender bath salts, remembering the bubble bath on the jet. With Marcus. And then came the tears again. But they didn’t last as long this time. The pain was getting easier to bear.

  The warm water soothed her bones and washed away the travel grime. The steam caused her face to sweat. She felt a delayed reaction to the whiskey she had on the two plane rides. Maybe this was how it works. As a vampire, she still would feel the effects of the alcohol, but perhaps it took longer to arrive in her system. So much she still didn’t know. She and Marcus had gotten so caught up in their “fating” that he’d forgotten to show her how to live as a vampire. Typical. He’d figured he would always be there to take care of her, show her everything. Arrogance. Total arrogance.

  She fell back into a warm, deep sleep.

  Anne awoke when the water was cold. She dried off and slipped on the white satin nightgown with the soft lining. She liked the way it hugged her body. She went to light candles in the bedroom, but omitted lighting the garnet red votive with the blood orange candle in it. Instead, she moved it to her dresser. She would throw it out tomorrow. Tonight, she just wanted to rejuvenate her body.

  No decisions tonight. Just get a little sleep. Maybe get up early and feed. Back to that again. One thing had not changed, at least. There were still probably plenty of bad guys out there who deserved to die. Perhaps some of her revenge could taste sweet after all.

  Her cell phone rang. She picked it up. Monika. That meant Robert. Good for him. Glad at least he has someone to share his life with.

  “Hello?”

  “Oh, hey, I thought I was just going to leave a message for you. You sound not so far away. You back from Healdsburg?”

  This actually caused Anne to smile. Her first genuine smile. She surprised herself.

  “Yes, I’m in the house tonight.”

  “Uh, Anne, I kind of know you have a new guy. Can’t say as I blame you. So, I was wondering, would it be okay if Monika and I move into the house?”

  “Sure, Robert.” So he had heard, after all. Well, thank God for small favors. She wasn’t upset. No reason to tell him “the guy” was in Robert’s league. No sense giving him that satisfaction.

  “Gee, Anne. You’re being really great about this. Monika says thanks. And she’s really sorry too about how all this went down.”

  “Yeah, Robert, I bet she is.” Anne shook her head. She partly blamed herself. Her own twisted logic created a world where Robert never belonged. So now he was reverting to the person he was meant to be, with the person he was meant to spend his life with. Things were going to work out just the way they should.

  “Well, honey. You have a good rest. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow. You don’t have to rush on moving things out. Just get to it when you can. She still has three weeks left on her rent here at the apartment, and we’re fine here until, until, until you’re ready, okay?”

  “Have a nice evening, Robert, and you too, Monika.” She knew her ex-maid of honor was listening to every word.

  Anne set the ph
one down on the dresser, next to the burgundy candle. She brought the votive to her nose. Why did she think it wouldn’t smell so sweet?

  She decided to unpack and then finally return to bed.

  When she unzipped the larger bag, there was a letter with her name on it in Marcus’s handwriting, lying on top of the neatly folded clothes. She sucked in breath at the sight of it, then quickly rezipped up the bag. No way was she going to read that until she had some decent sleep and a good feeding. Wouldn’t be fair to her.

  She set the leather bag on the floor, next to the smaller bag. She pulled back her comforter, pouring herself into the creamy linens that smelled of lavender. Finally surrounded by her own environment she fell asleep, with the faint acknowledgement she would have to wash the sheets tomorrow to remove the traces of his scent.

  She never wanted to smell it again.

  First thing she saw when she woke up in the morning was the dark form of another vampire standing at the foot of her bed.

  Praetor.

  Chapter 22

  Anne wasn’t about to let Praetor make the first move. He’d already let himself into her house, into her bedroom, without permission. That in itself was crossing an invisible line. Although numb from the long plane ride and the fretful night of sobbing herself to sleep, a tiny ounce of self-preservation remained.

  At least she still felt something.

  Fear.

  Pulling the covers to her neck, she wondered how long he had been there. What had he witnessed?

  She knew Marcus could trace, and had half expected he would come to check on her from time to time, though she had asked him not to. Perhaps he had sent Praetor in his place.

  Was the handsome golden vampire standing at the foot of her bed here to protect her, or help her forget? He was a completely unknown element in an already complicated life. The reality of finding a new place to live, a job, and some means of going on without Marcus suddenly hit her, bringing tears to her eyes. Did he see?