Mortal Bite (Golden Vampires of Tuscany)

by Sharon Hamilton

  She shook her head. “Whew, don’t know what came over me. I got dizzy there for a second.”

  “Why don’t you sit down, then, and I’ll come along with our drinks? Maybe the fire will warm you.” He pointed to the corner again.

  “Yes. That’s a good idea.” She shuffled with tiny steps, holding her palm to her forehead and mumbled to herself.

  He watched her body move under the silken gown, her hips, her small waist, and the small of her back outlined by a row of lacings that stretched all the way up to her shoulders. He wanted to see her naked. Wanted to rub his hands all over her flesh and kiss every inch of it.

  If she’ll let me of her own free will.

  And if that didn’t work—well, he could always use his vampire powers of charm and confusion. He could make her see him for the first time all night long. He could conquer her over and over again.

  And no one would be the wiser.

  He suddenly didn’t want the evening to end.

  Chapter 2

  Cara sat in the corner and thought about how the evening was progressing. Her heart was pounding, a tympanic rhythm she felt all the way to her fingertips. She wasn’t here to meet someone. She already had a date—Johnny, the sexy research assistant all her professor girlfriends lusted after. That’s why she’d asked him. She wanted to be the talk of the department. What she was doing right now? She was waiting for a handsome, very tall, masculine creature to bring her some refreshment and indulge her senses. It wasn’t something she wanted her girlfriends to find out about.

  I’ll worry about my coworkers and all the rumors tomorrow. Tonight she felt soft, compliant. Sexy.

  Her friends used to speculate that Johnny must be gay, he was so good looking. When she asked him to accompany her to the ball, he enthusiastically agreed, and then had enticingly curled a strand of her hair around his tanned finger, letting her know non-verbally that he was definitely interested in more. In the past they’d shared dinners, and accompanied each other to University functions, but never to a costume ball.

  And then, as soon as he’d accepted her invitation, he blew his bubblegum into a huge, pink bubble, and then grinned mischievously. Johnny was like that. Still a kid at twenty-five.

  Cara hadn’t been looking for a sexual liaison. At least, not with Johnny. He was five years her junior. Tall and athletic. Well-defined abs she’d seen beneath t-shirts while they studied together at the library. Earlier, she’d watched him show off his dance moves. He was attracting great attention under the strobing lights and heavy beat. Ordinarily, she’d be right there, by his side. They’d have been backup for each other.

  But not this time. Cara was being led to a dimly lit corner by a dark gentleman with a whole set of mysterious intentions. Johnny was daytime to this man’s night. And right now, she was lingering in his shadowed influence, in a lustful, confused state.

  I love the way he makes me feel.

  How could that be? She was focused on her career and hadn’t found time for a lovelife. Was something else looming on the horizon? A new adventure, perhaps?

  God, yes!

  She asked herself for permission to follow her hormones several times and came up with the same answer every time: Johnny could take care of himself, and she needed to learn more about this man she’d just—met? Is that the right word for it? She felt herself melting into his sphere, somehow being enveloped into his sexy, Continental aura. She felt starved for his affection for some strange reason.

  The gentleman was coming back to the corner table she had claimed. He made a perfect vampire, tall and brooding, with a devilish smile that made her knees wobble even while sitting. She smiled, enjoying the play-along.

  His body had seemed muscular and firm when he drew her close at the bar. He smelled of spice, and something else, an exotic mixture of lemon, nutmeg and cinnamon, like an incense from an ancient land. She remembered reading about exotic fragrances and their pheromone-like effect on the human body.

  His breath had been cold, but his lips warm as they’d nibbled on fingers she couldn’t help offering up to him, as though she wanted him to taste her. Had she felt the slight touch of his tongue on the knuckle of her third finger? Had he tasted the flesh between her third and fourth fingers? He’d studied her afterward, the clear black eyes searching her face, seeming to search for traces of a reaction, as if he was asking permission. His slow, sexy smile and fluttering of his long lashes, seemed to request approval to advance. To walk through her doorway.

  Yes, she felt her heart whisper.

  She decided to allow herself to be explored. Her soul tingled with each gentle nod of his head as he looked at her hair, her earlobes, and the soft tissue beneath her jaw, his eyes wandering down to her throat when she couldn’t help swallowing. His almost old world charm encouraged her to trust him. A door she usually kept closed and locked had opened.

  Normally, she’d be afraid. But not tonight.

  Tonight she felt positively immortal

  He leaned forward, his shadow falling over her face and shoulders. Their fingers touched as he handed her the little blood-red short-stemmed glass of glittering port.

  “To us,” he said as he clinked their glasses together and bowed to her.

  Please sit with me, she said to herself.

  As if he heard her thoughts, he sat, not across the table, but next to her on the burgundy plush cushion, then leaned against her. When he lifted the glass to his lips, she felt compelled to do the same. His eyes drew her to hm. The dark brown edges were tinged with a ring of golden fire at the outsides. His lips tasted the sweet liquid as hers did. He licked his lower lip and she did the same, from right to left. Just as he was doing. If he leaned into her, she knew she would let him…

  “Do you like the port?” he asked. Did she see a tiny effort, as though he tried to bridle himself? Tiny creases at the sides of his eyes gave him away.

  “Yes. I do.” She was rewarded with his smile. She saw the tips of his…fangs? Her eyes fluttered again as her pulse quickened. “Your costume is quite realistic.”

  “Yes?” He raised his eyebrows and hid the fangs.

  “Those. Do they come off easily?” She pointed to his mouth.

  He smiled, and there were no fangs. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “You can make them go up and down like that? I’ve never seen fangs that can do that.”

  “Indeed.” He smiled again and they were back.

  “You must show me how they work.”

  He leaned into her. The lemon spice flooded her head with erotic images of bonfires and soft music. His lips were close, but not touching. Her flesh craved a caress, and, as if on cue, his fingers wandered to her cheek and stroked her there. “I can show you many things, my dear.”

  Yes, I want you to—whatever am I doing?

  Abruptly, she sat up and pulled away from him. What is going on?

  She found her glass and took a sip, not wanting to stare into his eyes. An alarm was going off somewhere in the back of her mind. It had broken the moment.

  He crossed his legs and moved slightly away from her. The left side of her body noticed the lack of warmth immediately. When she ventured a look back up to his face, he was smiling, his obsidian eyes twinkling in the shadows, as he stared not at her, but into the fire just over her shoulder.

  “I’m Carabella Sampson,” she said as she extended her hand.

  “Paolo Monteleone,” he said. His fingers slid into hers, entangling her, making her heart sputter. The touch was intimate.

  She withdrew her fingers from his and took another sip of the delicious red port. “I like this. I don’t usually drink sweet drinks.”

  “But you should. Contrary to popular fiction, sweet wine is good for your blood.”

  She had to chuckle at that one, working not to burst out in a full belly laugh. “You are a method actor. You play the part of a vamp very well.”

  “Ah. And you are experienced with vamps, no doubt?”

  “Very,�
�� she said.

  At this he started, and his dark sparkly eyes widened. The edges of his full red lips curled up like a thin moustache. “Do tell. I want to hear all about it.”

  Her face warmed as she looked down at her port. She could tell he was smiling as he watched her. She toyed with him. She wanted to make him wait. She heard something deep and low in his throat. Was there a rumble, a small earthquake?

  One of his fingers touched the top of her shoulder and drew a line down her upper arm. “Has another vampire touched your flesh before?”

  She shivered, loving the game Her body scooted away from him, yet craved to be chased. He waited. She experienced the distance between them he must have also felt, and she could tell he was having difficulty with that. She was suddenly aware of his heavy breathing.

  “I’m an expert on vampire mythology.” Cara spoke to her nearly empty glass. “I teach legends and mythology at Sonoma State.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” She looked back up at him. “Vampire mythology dates back to pre-biblical times. We’ve had vampires as long as we’ve had angels. Did you know that?”

  “How very interesting.” He blinked and she thought he made an effort to keep his smile pasted to his face.

  “They are a symbol of something that can never be. Of people’s desire to delve into the unknown, the dangerous. Does that make sense?”

  “Entirely.”

  “We want to believe in things that we can’t see. Religion is all about believing in things we can’t prove, either.”

  “Like angels, for instance.”

  “Oh, yes, people have seen angels and lived to tell about it.

  “As opposed to vampires.”

  “Good point. So there you have it. Because they aren’t real. Just myth.” She threw her head back, downing the rest of her port. Cara loved being in the presence of this man, a man who didn’t run away, or scoff, when she told him of her interest in the vampire myths. “I think that’s why you find pictures of angels in churches, but not vampires.”

  “So there’s a vampire religion, too?”

  Now he was toying with her. “Somehow I think not.” She smiled at her empty glass.

  “You would like more?”

  “Yes…no. I—I’m not sure what I want at the present time,” she said.

  He took her glass in his long fingers and stood. “I know exactly what you want,” he said. He was at the bar in seconds.

  She sat back and relaxed into the velvet seat cushions, feeling the warmth of the fire on her face, her upper arms and her thighs under the tapestry fabric of her dress. As he stepped onto the brass boot rail of the bar with one long leg, she noticed the shape of his ass and the straightness of his spine. His long, elegant neck and broad shoulders made him a giant specimen of devastating masculinity she’d have noticed anywhere. The fact that he was now coming right towards her, with that crooked smile revealing one fang, thrilled her. Something about their play was natural.

  But it defied logic.

  He slid in to sit close, one long thigh against hers. He extended his arm over her shoulder in a possessive gesture she didn’t fight.

  “Let’s drink again to us,” he said.

  “Why not?” She took the first sip, but he did not, seemingly caught in watching her swallow. He looked mesmerized.

  “Something wrong?” she asked.

  “Not at all.” He sipped and then set his glass down on the black tabletop. “So, tell me about your vampires.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m completely serious” he replied.

  Cara slipped comfortably into professorial mode. “Vampires throughout history have been used to describe pure evil. To describe things too horrible to consider any other way. Like missing children. Vampires were said to steal them from their beds.”

  He nodded. “But you don’t think they ate children, do you?”

  “Of course not.” She looked at him. “Vampires aren’t real, you know.”

  “Of course not.” His answer triggered a flood of visions of her lying in a huge bed by a raging fireplace as he looked down on her body, with exactly the same expression as now.

  She cleared her throat.

  “Children were much more likely to become prey to wild animals, or evil members of their own population. But this was a way to blame horrible things on despicable creatures, not members of one’s family.”

  “Despicable?”

  “Totally. It’s really been in the past few decades that vampires have been thought of as sexy or even desirable, in a crude, repulsive way.” She looked at his blank face. His eyes had gone somewhere else.

  Had he lost interest? She continued anyway. “Who would want to fall in love with one of the undead? A cold corpse who sucks the life blood from your body? When you think of it, someone who entertains those kinds of thoughts is probably filled with self-loathing. A truly flawed person. Someone whole and sane would never desire it.”

  “I see.” His flat monotone concerned her.

  “But we can pretend. That’s what’s so fun about dressing up. For one night of the year we can be anything we want. Halloween is when we dare to be what we would otherwise be repulsed by.”

  He had truly gone away, mentally. Well, he was probably tired of the subject. She’d done it again. Bored yet another handsome man to distraction. The charming fellow at her side was suddenly interested in anything or anyone but her.

  “Are you feeling okay?” she asked.

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Well, you seem so, well—so different. Have I said something that offended you?”

  “I didn’t realize you knew so much about—I guess I had a tiny bit of regret at having chosen this costume, now I know how you feel about vampires.”

  “But we’re just play acting. You don’t repulse me like the vamps I study do.”

  It wasn’t working. Something was off kilter. His eyes were still dull, like he was forcing himself to smile but didn’t want to. She decided perhaps she had picked a scab and didn’t want to wait around for the blood and gore. Her common sense returned as she realized she shouldn’t have been so trusting.

  “You know, I’m sorry—what was your name again?”

  “Monteleone. Paolo Monteleone.”

  “Mr. Monteleone then. I should be returning to my date. I feel like I’ve ignored him, been impolite.” What had she been thinking? She wrinkled up her nose and patted his hand. She felt a faint jolt of electricity at the touch of his flesh. And she heard him hitch his breath.

  They both stood. She wasn’t sure what was happening, except that she suddenly needed to create distance between them. She needed to think. “Thank you for the port. It was delicious,” she said.

  “Made even more so by your presence,” he said, and bowed.

  “Oh, now that was the perfect touch,” she said, pointing to him. “You really have it down. You must be an actor. Are you?”

  “How did you guess?”

  “I can tell. I read people very well. It’s a gift.”

  “Indeed.”

  “There you are!” Johnny’s flushed face appeared before her at the perfect moment. His hairline was dripping with sweat, and he was fanning himself with a cardboard coaster and grinning like the devil. “You’ve got to come out on the dance floor with me. This band rocks! Please save me, dear, sweet angel, from these women who want to leave their men behind and take me home to have their way with me.” His straight white teeth and dimples made him look entirely kissable.

  She disliked that she’d been so caught up in conversation with this stranger that she’d let her good friend down. A friend she would normally love to flirt and tease with, perhaps a little more.

  But not tonight.

  She turned and said a polite goodbye to Paolo, then allowed Johnny to lead her away by the hand. She lost herself in the crush of bodies, the heat, sweat and flashing lights. But just before the crowd filled in behind her, she felt the mysterious dark eyes of th
e gentleman she’d just met. A gentleman who made her pulse quicken just by being near him.

  Chapter 3

  Paolo was stunned. The blow Cara had delivered had felled him as quickly as a sword. Of course any sane woman would be repulsed by the thought of being with him. The only things in this world that craved him were half-witch vampires who wanted to suck him dry.

  I am truly lost.

  His glamour had worked on her. She might have been warming to him on her own as well. Things had been going along so beautifully. Then he had to go ask her about what she did and learned that she studied vampires and had decided they were despicable beings.

  Am I despicable? Am I a cold, blood-sucking monster who preys on little children?

  With horror, he realized perhaps the answer to his question was…

  Yes.

  He’d fathered a child. Was he now leading that child to a life of loathing? Could he bear to hear Lucius tell him that some future woman had found him repulsive? How could he be honest with his son, or would he simply not tell Lucius how much he regretted his own decision to become vampire? How could he counsel Lucius when the time came for the boy to make his own irrevocable, permanent, life-altering decision?

  What would he say if Lucius asked about how he was created? It hadn’t been with love, an act of love. Paolo’s cock had lurched, and his balls had constricted and spewed forth the seed that would become Lucius. That’s all. It had been a loveless, animal act, a betrayal, he’d believed, of his brother. He’d used Maya, the woman he’d believed was his brother’s fated mate countless times with abandon over a lost weekend in an animal mating he was powerless to stop.

  He’d copulated frantically and repeatedly, despite his revulsion for the object of his animal desire, with the woman who proved to be his—not his brother’s—one and only fated female, because only a fated mate could have borne his child. And he still hated the mother of the child he loved so deeply, even now, after her death.

  Despicable? Yes. He would shoot his seed into anything. His fating had completely owned him, taken over completely during those fateful days. He had been nothing more than a set of balls wanting to heave. Afterwards, when the urge finally released its grip on his soul, he fled back to America and into the arms of his dying mortal wife. He regretted ever having come over to Tuscany for the wedding.