“What’s the matter?” His hand was still stroking her head and a new set of shivers accompanied her trembling.
“I can’t bite you.”
“Yes, you can.”
She leaned toward his hand. “I don’t want to.”
“Then you leave me no choice but to open my wrist for you.” He reached over her to open the top drawer in the nightstand.
When Diana saw the sharp edge of the knife he had picked up, she felt like fainting. The feeling almost became reality the moment he took the blade to his skin and pressed down. “No, please, don’t. I’ll find a way to feed myself that doesn’t involve mutilating you.”
He stopped and turned to look at her. “What do you have in mind?”
She worried her bottom lip. “Maybe I can track down a few of my old clients. There were two or three who were… adventurous. I remember they liked role playing and sometimes asked for—”
****
He shot to his feet. “Absolutely not!”
Her eyes became wide and she jumped back, then scooted toward the headboard, a pillow already hugged before her chest.
He wanted to take back the harshness from his command, but images of Diana biting and feeding from other men went straight to his head. He turned to face the wall and the closed curtains. The room was too small and the air was stale. He yanked the curtain open, then unlatched the venetian blinds and let the breeze from the early morning in. “I can’t risk letting your nest know you’re alive by feeding from humans. Sooner or later, rumors would start.” He couldn’t bear the hurt he knew he was putting on her face and stood by the window, his eyes on the barges down at the riverbank, but not seeing anything. “I still need you to lead me to Claudius.” He gave her his wrist. “You must feed because I’m going out.”
She reluctantly bit him and lapped at the two punctures, then suckled for a few seconds before stopping when he emitted a choked sound. As an electric current had shot them both, they jumped to the opposite direction.
When, a moment later, he conquered his racing heart and turned around, she was clutching the pillow like a shield once again. Her eyes were big and liquid, but she wasn’t crying. He couldn’t stay in that room a moment longer.
“I must leave and I can’t be worried about you trying to escape while I’m out.” He marched toward the curtains, then grabbed the heavy cotton cords used to tie them to the wall. “Those will do.” He walked to the head of his bed. “I’m sorry.” He silently asked for her hands.
She didn’t move. “Do I have a saying in this?”
He shook his head.
“Then do your worst.” She raised her hands, united them at the wrists, her palms up, and a defiant look on her face. “You are not so different from the rest of humanity as you like to think.”
He tied her wrists before her and secured the cord to one of the bedposts. Then left, went to the bathroom looking for a bucket, but didn’t find any. Next, he went to the kitchen where he found a colorful plastic bowl he decided would do just fine.
When he presented the bowl to her, she raised one eyebrow. “For the popcorn?”
Marcus gave her a puzzled look.
“Never mind. I thought you might want to entertain me.”
He almost laughed at her joke. “I could be out for a while, and even as a vampling, you still have physical needs.”
“Well, aren’t you a caring person?” Despite her flipping tone, she blushed.
He left before he would do something he’d be sure to regret later. Once out of the house, Rome welcomed him in its chaotic embrace. Sounds, colors, and smells assailed him, and Marcus thought that was exactly what the doctor had prescribed. He sprinted into a moderate jog that soon became a run. He let his legs reach the point of fatigue, hoping he would exhaust his body and get rid of her scent at the same time.
Three hours later, ache pervaded his every action, but Diana sprawled in his bed was the only image he saw with his eyes opened or closed. It didn’t matter how he punished himself, his body was still reacting to her on a level he hadn’t thought he would ever experience again. When his treacherous heart would have pushed him back home to her, he sprinted to the opposite direction. The sun was high on the horizon, casting the tall buildings with the most brilliant white light, when he breathlessly stood before Alexander’s gym.
His friend had opened his boxing place in the fifties and then hired people over the years who would pass for the owners of the historical place. Several great boxers had trained under Alexander’s personal tutelage. The gymnasium hadn’t changed much since its inception. Alexander had bought a garage in the heart of Trastevere and added mats and mirrors and the few items needed to train his athletes.
“Look what the cat dragged in.” It was Alexander’s usual greeting for Marcus. He held the double door open for him, then led him to the corner where he had his accounting studio—no more than a shallow alcove where once wine was stored. “You look like shit.”
“Thank you.” He ducked his head so not to hit the lower ceiling.
Marcus couldn’t understand Alexander’s devotion to that place. He could have bought any real estate in Rome besides the Vatican, yet he had kept that hole all those years unchanged. Not only had the garage-turned-gym been small to begin with—there was barely enough space to park a car, but it had been built by excavating the tufa rock sediment under an apartment complex, and Alexander used to wax poetic about how the temperature inside never reached the summer highs outside, even without a destructive air-conditioning system. From previous visits, sixty years before, Marcus knew how freezing and damp the gym was during wintertime.
“Care for an espresso?” Alexander had the moka already prepared on the camping stove he had wedged into the rock.
“Yes, please. I could use some.” Marcus sat on the frail-looking white folding chair, adjusting its legs between the grooves on the terracotta tiles to give it stability, but it still rocked.
“So, what did you do with the vampling?” Alexander reached for a shelf on the wall and took down two small espresso cups and the matching saucers.
Marcus looked at the flower décor on the delicate china his friend had laid on the mosaic table and raised one eyebrow. “She’s fine. Don’t worry about her.”
The moka hissed and spat some coffee from its spout.
“As in ‘you took care of her once and for all’ kind of thing?” Alexander turned off the gas and gave him his back while he cleaned the spilled coffee from the white stove.
Marcus closed his eyes and breathed slowly for a few counts, then opened them and sighed out loud. “She’s a woman, you idiot. I’d never—”
Alexander pivoted on his heels, moka in one hand, coffee-stained rag in the other. “Is she a woman now?” The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lip. “Last time I checked, she was a vampire in the making.”
“She still is.” Marcus took one of the cups and raised it toward the moka.
Alexander poured the espresso for him, then proceeded to add a spoonful of sugar.
“Make it two, thank you.” Marcus reached for the silver spoon on the linen napkin elegantly arranged on the table.
“One of those days. I see.” The smile reappeared on Alexander’s face. He obliged Marcus’s request and deposited the cup back on the saucer resting on his palm.
The cup clinked on the plate and a few drops of coffee landed on Marcus’s shirt and pants. He dismissed the incident with a shrug. “You rarely see anything worth a damn.” He raised the cup to mock-salute Alexander, who, still smiling, mock-saluted him back.
“So, where is she?” Alexander brought the cup to his lips and drank the content in one prolonged sip.
Marcus tilted his wrist in controlled circular motions to make the coffee swirl around the edge of his cup. “At my place.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.” Marcus pressed one finger over his right eyelid, hoping the dull pain throbbing underneath his eye wasn’t one of the
harbingers of the migraines he sometimes experienced. He deposited cup and saucer on the table.
Alexander stared at him. “You’ve a kidnapped vampling every vampire in Rome is looking for and are keeping her in your house?”
“How do you know they’re looking for her?” Marcus straightened on the chair and the sudden movement derailed it from the groves in the floor.
Alexander’s left arm shot outward to grab Marcus’s elbow. “The nest hasn’t been subtle about wanting their vampling back. They’ve sent word out that there’s a substantial reward for anyone who can give them the vampling’s whereabouts.” He refilled his cup, took a look at Marcus’s, threw the now-cold espresso in the sink—a big sea shell jutting from the wall—and poured a new cup for him. “They want to be sure she is executed.”
“But why? What did she do to the nest? She doesn’t even know what’s happening to her and never asked to be turned into one of them.”
“I’ll ask around about that. But you must promise me you’ll get rid of her.”
Marcus looked into the black liquid he was letting cool again.
“Please, tell me you didn’t sleep with her.”
Marcus put the cup on the saucer, and raised his eyes to Alexander. “I’d never sleep with a vampire.”
Alexander didn’t flinch at his tone. “Well, we’ve already established she’s a woman though.”
“I won’t give her back to the nest. I need her to find Claudius.”
“You need her alright.” Alexander adjusted his frame on the chair, tilting its back against the wall. “Be careful, my friend.”
Marcus stood and moved his chair out of the way. “Let me know if you hear anything else.”
“I will.” Alexander raised his right arm above his shoulder before him, palm down, fingers united. “Ave, centurion.”
Marcus reciprocated the formal salute. “Ave, Alexander.”
In times like these, he missed his days as a military commander. Ordering soldiers about was tedious, but he had always known what was wrong from what was right. Now, he was keeping a vampling jailed in his house and he wasn’t sure what was right anymore.
After two thousand years, he felt tingles running up and down his spine at the idea of going home. He started walking, but it would have taken hours to reach Milvio Bridge even at a fast pace, so he hailed a cab. Fists tightly wounded in his lap, he watched as the taxi driver navigated the midday traffic. Marcus counted the red lights they encountered and yelled at the car in front of them if it didn’t sprint away as soon as the green appeared. He asked the driver to make a brief detour on the way to the house. The man told him he wanted ten percent more for the stop, and Marcus promised him double the fare if he could drive faster. The man laughed and hit the accelerator in response.
Once he reached his building, he ran the stairs four at a time, two plastic bags swaying from his hands. He almost sprained an ankle, but powered through the steps without breaking his pace. He opened the door to his bedroom without thinking what frightening sight he must have offered.
****
Diana could barely keep her eyes open, but heard Marcus before he entered the room. From the ruckus he made, it seemed he opened the door with his shoulders and then barreled through it, only stopping before the bed. When she finally managed to remain awake for more than a handful of seconds, he was staring down at her, his eyes shining with a light too intense to bear.
She was weak. The hunger overpowered her, her senses muddled by a longing for blood that would have ashamed her had she been in possession of all her faculties.
“Little thing?”
A throbbing vein at the base of his collarbone was all she could see. She thought she could smell the scent of his blood and screamed in frustration.
“Are you with me?”
Diana closed her eyes, her mouth wetting at the mere idea of plunging her fangs into his throat. She wanted to bite his skin and drink his blood. She wanted to feel him, his essence, inside of her with an intensity that was growing by the moment. At the complete mercy of her senses, her back arched toward him. “Please.”
Marcus nodded, then kneeled on the bed and leaned over her, his chest close to her face, the scent of him adding to her intoxication. His fingers touched her tied hands and swiftly freed her. She felt his lips brushing her skin where the cord had marked her wrists, but the touch was so soft and swift, she wasn’t sure it had ever happened. Then his wrist was to her mouth. She cried when her fangs bit into his skin, perforating the hard first layer, only to find the softness beneath welcoming her. The first draw of his blood gave her a jolt of pleasure so intense she let him go for a moment, but he pressed himself against her. At every gulp, she felt him pulling closer, his body and soul merging with her.
“You must stop now.”
The plea was a hoarse whisper that lingered at the edge of her consciousness.
“Little thing, I think you’ve had enough.”
Her eyes snapped open, and she saw Marcus slumped by her side, his skin an unhealthy white. The whole scene a déjà vu she didn’t want to live through again. The high and the exhilaration had left her already. “I’m sorry. I can’t control myself.”
He smiled at her. “Feeling better?” He slowly moved to the edge of the bed, his bulk weighing down the mattress, his head angled toward her. “How was your day, honey?” He mumbled the words, chuckled at his own joke, then closed his eyes, the smile still there.
His heartbeats resonated in Diana’s ears, as if she were lying on his chest. At first erratic, they soon slowed down along with his breathing. She went to his side and arranged her body alongside his. A few heartbeats later, dreamless sleep claimed her as well.
When she woke, he was sitting on what she thought of as his couch. He was looking at her from under thick black lashes, his hazel eyes more on the green side now. She didn’t like that he had left the bed; it made her feel empty. All of a sudden, neglected physical needs made their presence fully aware when she felt the urge to go to the bathroom. She scooted over, her legs asleep, and her limp arms knocked over the plastic bowl he had given her before storming out of the house in the morning.
Marcus gave the empty bowl a look. “Oh—”
“Exactly.” She didn’t know how she had managed not to pee herself during the long hours he had left her alone.
To her surprise, he passed his arms under her knees and raised her bundled form from the bed.
She was too relieved to be in his arms to complain about his poor manners and suppressed a sigh against his chest. She was also shocked by her growing feelings regarding this man. “That’ll be all, thanks.” He had gently seated her on the toilet and wasn’t walking out of the bathroom. “I can manage it.”
“Right.” He turned and exited the room, closing the door behind him.
She finally relaxed when she heard his steps move away in the hallway. Taking advantage of the privacy, she doffed her makeshift toga and took a shower after she had regained feeling in her legs. Although he had bathed her only a day ago, she needed the refreshing cold water to cleanse the sweat from her hot skin. She felt the change taking place in her body, but didn’t want to believe what was obvious. It terrified her. Yet, the hunger for blood was still there, even after feeding.
“Are you okay?”
She heard the knock on the door and the question being repeated twice before she turned off the water. “Yes.”
A moment of silence was followed by heavy pacing outside the door. She could see his shadow walk back and forth in the hallway from under the door.
He stopped. “May I come in?”
Diana laughed. “Really?”
He entered before she could give him the permission he had asked for. She couldn’t help but shake her head, then peeked out of the shower curtain, keeping her body behind the fabric. “Yes?”
“Here.” He was carrying in his bent arms a pile of clothes neatly folded. “I wasn’t sure about your size—”
�
�Hand me a towel.” She exited the shower stall, covered herself with the white towel he had pushed at her, and stepped closer to him to examine the bundle.
“It’s been a while since I last bought clothes for a woman.” He shifted the pile from both hands to one, using the freed one to pass his fingers through his hair.
She wondered what his hair felt like, and wished it were her fingers caressing his head. “Thanks.” She reached for the clothes and brought them to her chest.
He nodded and left, forgetting to close the door this time. She pushed it with her foot, sat on the edge of the tub, and blew out a long breath when she saw his shadow looming outside. “What do you want from me?”
Chapter Four
I don’t know what I want from you. Marcus backed against the door and let himself slowly slide down. The geometric pattern of the small tiles forming a black-and-white décor on the floor caught his full attention for a long while. At some point, the house had been renovated. The flooring was probably two hundred years old, brand new in his eyes. The night breeze Rome was well-known for came through the window in front of him and messed up his hair. He idly thought it was past time he had a haircut. Maybe he could shave his head like Diana. “It’s nice outside. Do you care for a bit of fresh air?” He heard movements from inside the bathroom, but she didn’t answer. “I thought we could talk.” With a loud sigh, he rested his head against the door. “We really should talk. There are things you should know.”
The door suddenly opened from behind him, and he almost fell backward. Diana, fully clothed, wearing the purple tank top and faded jeans he had chosen for her, walked barefoot around him and headed to the bedroom. He jumped up from the floor and followed her to the window on the side of the bed, the one overlooking the terraced roofs and the hanging gardens. The scent from the night blooms mixed with her scent. The soap she had just used to bathe herself covered her more intimate essence and he longed to lean down and breathe her in. Marcus had to stop himself from acting on his whim while she stood motionless, looking outside, and he wondered how she could remain unaware of his struggle.
The Lost Centurion Page 5