by Michele Hauf
“Hang on. The keys are in the kitchen.” She quickly retrieved the keys.
Nicolo leaned against the car, hands on the trunk behind him. The pose showed off his ripped abs. And she could not look away. Nor did she.
“It’s odd, isn’t it?” he said as she realized her gaze was glued on his midsection. “I’ve never had such toned muscles. I like this new life.”
She sucked in a breath and steeled herself not to stare. “Move aside.”
He did so. Summer clicked the trunk release, and it popped open. They both gasped upon seeing what sat inside.
Chapter 10
Summer watched Nicolo’s hands move toward the violin. She grabbed his wrist, wrenching him away from the trunk. “Do not touch that thing.”
“How did it get in there? I saw you hand it to the dark witch last night.” He rubbed his bare arms, then reached toward the trunk again and recoiled. Yet his hands shook and his breathing had increased.
It was as if he was compelled, and Summer feared that compulsion. It had been activated when she had discovered the violin. It may not stop until the instrument was destroyed.
“Yes, we’ve got to destroy it.”
“No!” Now he was the one to grab her by the shoulders and pull her away from the trunk. “Bring it back to your Archives. Just get it away from here.”
“It has to be destroyed or it will continue to whisper to you. I’ve heard those whispers, Nicolo. It wants you to play it. Don’t you understand that?”
“Yes, I understand that. Do you realize how difficult it is for me to stand here and not grab that abomination?” He shoved a hand through his hair, clenched his fingers and then shouted. Slamming a fist on the trunk edge, he cursed. “I have to play it!”
She struggled with him as he grabbed the case. He was strong, but she was, too. An elbow to his ribs forced another curse out of him.
“Summer, it is mine!”
She managed to jam her foot against his knee, bringing him down, and he released the case. Summer slammed the trunk shut with the violin inside. He lunged for her, gripping her around the throat. But he didn’t squeeze. Eyes wild, he shook his head and released her as quickly as he’d grabbed her.
“I’m sorry! The cursed thing wants me! Please, get it away from me!”
“I’ll take care of it,” she said.
He stood back, nodding resolutely. Fingers clenching and unclenching by his sides, his jaw tightened. He was not defeated, but she sensed he would not harm her to get to it. Unless the compulsion grew too strong. Then what would he do? He was capable of defeating her; she had felt his strength.
“Go...play Domingos’s violin. Maybe that will satisfy the weird compulsion you feel,” she said. “I’ll be back in a bit and when I return, I’ll take you shopping for some clothes.”
He slapped a hand to his bare chest, nodded, then silently turned to the kitchen. But he paused a few steps away and looked back.
Summer shook her head at him. She had brought this black violin up from hiding; it was now her responsibility to put it back into hiding.
“Thank you,” he muttered. “I truly do not want to harm you, Summer. I admire you. I...I desire you.”
She gulped hearing that statement. They were both on the same page—when they were not at each other’s throats.
“And while I am smart enough to realize it is the violin that unleashes my wicked temper,” he continued, “I also know I can’t fight that compulsion.”
“I get that. I’ll get rid of it. Just stay here. Okay?”
“Yes, I will pick up the violet violin.” He staggered toward Domingos’s violin.
And Summer saw then how helpless he was to fight the compulsion. It spoke to him in ways she could never imagine. It had been connected to him, since the nineteenth century.
She jumped in the car and shifted into Reverse. As she backed onto the street she knew she had to drive...somewhere. Where? If she brought it back to the Archives the violin would return here, she felt sure of that. It had to be destroyed. And buried.
“Yes,” she muttered and steered toward the vast city park, the Bois de Boulogne.
* * *
Nicolo paced the floor. He repeatedly passed the violet metal violin, glaring at it. It was an abomination. Electrified?
“No,” he muttered. Not an abomination. The violet instrument produced exquisite sound. Nothing about it was wrong, if he overlooked the crackles that Summer said she could fix. It was a veritable work of art for this new age in which he found himself.
The abomination was the black violin Summer had found in Cella Monte. Why had Achille not destroyed that violin? Had his son tried? What dark evils had kept his son from accomplishing that task? He didn’t want to know what Achille might have suffered to accomplish the task he had asked of him.
Who owned the home in Cella Monte and had taken care of the horrible thing all these years? Would knowing provide him a clue?
If it did, what would it matter? It still called to him—he could sense the wicked lure rushing through his veins—yet the whispers had faded. Thankfully. Still, he worried about Summer alone with the thing. It was pure evil. Would she be safe? She had been alone with it once already. And that event had brought him back from death.
Perhaps he should have gone along with her.
No. He turned and paced a line before the gray divan. He wanted to go along only to get his hands on the thing and play it. Because he must. His fingers yearned to hold the neck and glide the bow across the strings. It was all he could think of. It was as if he had been resurrected only for that purpose.
Had he been? Had his resurrection merely been the first step? And then to play the thing would grant him the power he had denied so adamantly all his life. Sure, he was strong now, and he had some strange ability to read people by touch.
He’d seen Himself. Had witnessed the creature’s dark, ineffable powers. And...now he felt those very same powers as a seed within his own body. Just waiting for germination via melody.
Yelling in frustration, he turned and punched a fist into the wall. It dented inward, and the thick layer of white paint cracked under his fingers. Drawing back the fist, he rubbed his knuckles. Foolish. He was a musician. He hands were his greatest asset. And the punch had done little to alleviate his aggravation.
Summer had been gone over an hour. Where was she? He should go looking for her.
Yes, he would go out and find the violin—er, Summer.
He paused on his route to the shower area, where his shirt and shoes waited. Shook his head.
Just sit. She will return. Without the evil thing. Play the electric violin. Get lost in that feeling. And all will be well.
The garage door glided upward, and Nicolo jumped and turned about.
Summer parked and got out with a smile on her face. “Just me. Didn’t mean to give you a fright.”
She shoved blond strands from her dirt-smeared face and wandered toward the kitchen. Nicolo followed on her heels, noting her jeans were dirty and her hands, as well. With a glance to the wall he’d punched, she turned to give him a lift of brow.
“Sorry. I’ll see to the repair of that.”
“Don’t worry about it. I know you’re frustrated.”
“Yes, well, what have you been up to?” he asked.
“I buried it,” she said without fanfare. “In a big wooded area.”
“You—” Offended that she take such a fine instrument and bury it, Nicolo stopped himself from protesting. Much as his heart pleaded against the travesty, she had done what she felt the right thing. “Your Acquisitions will not be upset?”
“I tried to contact the director, with no reply. He’s in meetings with some bigwigs all day. So I had to take matters into my own hands. That violin is dangerous.”
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“What if someone were to dig it up?”
She paused before the shower and slid her fingers down the glass wall. “I made sure it would be unusable. I need to take a shower. If you don’t mind giving me a bit of privacy by maybe taking the violin over to the corner of the garage?”
“Yes, but—Summer.” He touched her arm, pausing her again. He smudged her cheek with a thumb, wiping off some of the dirt. Could he find the instrument? If he followed the whispers—no!
Forcing himself to accept what she had done, and knowing it was what was right, Nicolo nodded resolutely. “I thank you again. I know you are trying to protect me. It means very much to me that you care.”
“I got you into this mess. I should probably do my best to get you out of it.”
“I can keep myself out of it by refusing to play the violin.”
“But do you have a choice?”
“I’m not sure.” He took her hand. Images of her life started to assault him. He could see her digging a hole in the park, and he swiftly pushed that away. Yes, he could control it. Good. “I don’t like to feel so ineffectual. I’ve always taken charge of my life, be it good, bad or mistakes made I lived to regret.”
“Like gambling?”
“You know about that?”
“History records you opened a casino right here in Paris.”
“Yes, what a fabulous failure. I do love the thrill of a wager. Does it still stand? Are there yet casinos in this new age?”
“Everywhere. If you’re nice to me, I might even take you to a modern one.”
He straightened. “I would like that. Something to distract my mind from other things.”
“Like wanting to play music?”
“Oh, I always want to play. It’s just I’ve to be careful which violin I do play. That electric one seems safe, yes?”
“Yes. Play that one all you like. But I’ll have to get it back to Domingos soon. They have another gig next weekend.”
“Yes, you must return it to its owner. Perhaps I could purchase my own? Though I haven’t any money. I’ll have to make due with listening to others perform. I’d love to see the opera.”
“We could do that this evening. They usually offer last-minute ticket sales on cancellations. But I’m a mess. If we’re to get you some new clothes none of the shops on the rue Royale would allow me in looking like this. Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be a new person.”
Nicolo asked, “Might I...join you?”
He looked around the shower wall to see she had paused from lifting her shirt and turned to look over her shoulder. The tiniest smile curved her mouth. And then she said, “Yes.”
Chapter 11
Watching the man remove his clothes while she stood beneath the shower spray was a lesson in, oh yes, give me some of that. Summer wasn’t a prude, and she wasn’t one of those women who needed to have a relationship before she could have sex with a man. If she wanted to get some, she fed that need with a shameless and empowering jump in the sack with a man she trusted (no strangers, please).
And what better way to really get to know the man who had just dropped his trousers to reveal a very healthy, upright, hard cock. No zombies here, folks.
He smiled at her, flipped his hair over a shoulder and stepped into the shower.
“This is good for you?” he asked.
“It will be. Come here. Let me show you how the modern woman takes her pleasure.” She captured his wet penis with one hand and pulled him closer. Gliding her fingers along the shaft, she met his approving gaze with a raise of eyebrow. “No love necessary,” she said. “We both get what we want. From someone we know and, hopefully, trust. And I know you want this.”
“Uh, oh...yes,” he growled. Clutching her hand to stop her strokes, he leaned in and kissed her mouth. “But allow me to show you how a really old man takes his pleasure. Yes?”
“You like to be on top? I’m going to have a problem with that.”
“Is that so? Doesn’t bother me. But we are standing, and I...” He slid his fingers up her stomach and circled her nipple. Summer bit her lip and closed her eyes. “I like to be the one who gives pleasure.”
“I’m cool with that. Oh yeah. That. Is. Good.”
“It’s much like learning a new instrument,” he said, moving closer to nestle his nose against her wet hair and ear. His fingers slipped over her nipple. “Just the right touch, for the right pressure and right amount of time.”
She sighed as an erotic zing flashed through her system and burst in her core. A giddiness curled her mouth and she sighed.
“Slowly and curious, yes?” he whispered.
“Curious is good.” She tilted her head back, and he bent to take her nipple into his mouth. And her world rocked in the best way possible. She wrapped her hand over his shoulders, gliding them along his slick skin and prompted him forward. The man could take all he wanted.
Thankful the glass walls were heavy-duty and secured with steel corner beams, she laughed when her back hit the slippery glass and dislodged his suctioning kiss from her breast.
“Oh yes?” he said on a tease as he knelt before her and kissed the inside of her left knee. “We’ll see if you laugh after I try this.”
A lash of his tongue tickled at her inner thigh. He glided higher until a tender kiss to her labia whispered out another sigh from her. Summer raked her fingers through the man’s wet hair and did not so much guide him closer as she followed his lead. He opened her with his tongue and tasted her. A long taste that teased and promised, then delivered as he kissed her clitoris and gave it due attention.
She hadn’t realized men of the nineteenth century were so educated regarding a woman’s pleasure, but—mercy—he knew what he was doing. She almost lost her footing, so she gripped for the top of the glass wall and held firmly as she allowed her thighs to relax and her core to surrender to the sweet, demanding lure of his motions.
When his fingers slicked over her pulsing button she knew exactly how it felt to be played by a skilled musician. And it didn’t take him long to bring up her song in a throaty, hoarse shout of pleasure. Her body shuddered against his fingers as he kissed his way upward, over her mons and stomach and to her breasts. She gripped at his skin, digging in as she rode the orgasm to its final, whispering tingle.
“Nicolo,” she gasped.
“Not so bad for an old man, eh?”
She chuckled then and pushed him against the opposite wall.
* * *
After a remarkable round of sex in the shower they had moved to Summer’s bed, still wet, but not minding that the sheets got a little moist. Nicolo had been flabbergasted that the modern woman was so at ease with the male anatomy. In the shower Summer had knelt before him and taken his cock into her mouth. Of course he’d had women do that for him before, but they had been bought and paid for. No respectable woman would even think to do such a thing for her man back in his time.
But Summer was respectable. And talented with her tongue. He did appreciate the forward movement that women had made over the years. And the up and down movement. And that part where she’d taken him in both hands and had gently twisted—mercy. Maybe it was a vampire thing?
“What are you thinking about?” she asked. Rolling up to hug him from the side and crossing one of her legs over his groin, she bit playfully at his biceps. “You think a few orgasms for each of us was enough?”
“Oh most certainly. I was thinking how much I favor your talents.”
She chuckled and rolled to her back, so he adjusted to his side to look over her naked body in the muted afternoon light. Small breasts with tight nipples. Sleek waist and hips and the longest legs he’d seen in—well, almost two centuries. She was a work of art.
“Do you ever have sex with those you bite?” he suddenly asked. The my
stery of her blood drinking ever nudged at him. He was a curious man. And he wanted to know everything about her. This seemed a good time to ask the intimate questions.
“Rarely. I can’t drink a lot. It’s a weird thing with me. So it’s usually poke ’em, suck ’em, get the hell out of there.” She turned her head, eyeing him with a falling smile. “I...” A heavy sigh preceded “...do things to those I bite. I’m not like other vampires.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“It’s not something I’ve ever had someone explain to me. My family and I have sort of figured it out over the years. My dad was the first to notice because he went along with me when I started drinking blood. I change the donors I drink from. They go a little mad.”
“Really? Like...” He tapped his temple. “...touched in the head?”
She nodded.
“That’s quite remarkable.”
“Not in a good way. I think...” She sighed, then trailed her fingers along his thigh. “I’ve never told anyone this...” She closed her eyes, and he sensed her reluctance.
“Tell me,” he whispered. “Give me your confidence. I won’t spoil it. Promise.”
“No, you wouldn’t. You are an honorable man.” She tapped her lower lip with a hematite-beringed thumb. And then a fang lowered, which he marveled over. So sharp, and yet it fit nicely against her other teeth and didn’t seem to cause her a disturbance. “When I bite a person, I think I do something to their soul. I can feel the soul shiver when I pull my fangs from their neck. It frightens me. So that’s why I try to take a quick drink, with hopes I won’t leave them permanently damaged.”
“I can imagine it must be difficult, seeing that it is something you must do for survival.”
She nodded, turned her head away from him. And Nicolo swallowed back a rise of compassion that loosened tears in his eyes. She may be considered a creature, but she was a real, living, feeling being. And she had such an awful handicap with which to deal.
“If there’s anything I can ever do to help,” he whispered, then leaned over to kiss her shoulder. “You are an exquisite being, Summer Santiago. I am glad it was you who found me walking along the road. I believe we were meant to meet.”