Mortal Bite (Golden Vampires of Tuscany)

by Sharon Hamilton

  “Let’s not fuck with each other Uncle Colin. Tell me what you know.

  “Well, the book was shipped to a post office box in Sonoma County, just north of here.” Colin sounded pleased with himself.

  “Ah. Very good. And to whom was it shipped?”

  “Ah, let me see,” Dag could hear the rustle of the slips of notes Colin had pasted all over the wall behind his desk. “Here it is. Carabella Sampson in Santa Rosa.”

  “They shipped a rare book to a post office box?”

  “I suppose so. That way it requires a signature, I believe. Here is the box number. Perhaps you can get more information from the postal authorities.”

  Dag smirked at the thought. “Not likely. But I think a night visit is in order, and their customer service desk will be closed.”

  “Well, I wish you luck. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  “I appreciate that, Colin.”

  “If that is all, then—“

  “Wait a minute. Did you tie up dark Vicky?”

  Dag felt the pregnant pause on the other end of the phone. He could barely hear the response. “No.”

  “You’re a lamb playing with a coyote. She’ll scratch your eyes out and leave you for dead if you don’t control her.” Dag glanced at the blonde and gave her a wolfish grin, showing his fangs. Her eyes momentarily got huge and he felt his cock lurch. God, he wanted to fuck her till dawn, but now the book was calling to him.

  “Please, Dag, she hasn’t been home in a day. Over a day now. I had no opportunity.”

  Dag knew it was a lie. “Then I suppose I’ll have to do it and show you how. You will bring her to me in a few nights, understood?”

  “Dag, I don’t think that is necessary—“

  “Of course it’s necessary. I’m going to show you how to control a woman. Make her come until she wishes for death.” His upper lip twitched, as the blonde understood the meaning of his words. Tears began to stream down her cheeks as she gave him that soft, pitiful, waif-like look. It tore a hole in his heart, for some reason. And it made him damned mad at the same time. He didn’t like anyone to show weakness. He wanted her to defy him so he could break her. So he could scare her to death. Then he’d decide if she could live. Her life was putty in his hands, and he wanted her to know it. Wait for it. Not know what the outcome would be.

  “Uncle Colin?” he asked as he licked his lips and crawled onto the bed.

  “Yes?”

  “Bring her by Friday night around eight. This will be a life-changing event. For both of you.” Dag flipped the phone closed and tossed it onto the bear rug on the floor. “Where were we?”

  She said nothing. Her tears did not stop in defiance. She bore her fear and pain like a mantle of gold. Her pride made her breasts swell. He sniffed the air, filled with the scent of her. “Shall I ravish you now? Or later?”

  “You are going to kill me. What difference does it make?” Her tears had stopped. Her lower lip quivered as her moist lips framed the words.

  Dag bent down and kissed her hard, forcing his tongue down her throat until she gagged. “Would you swallow my cock this way?”

  “Please.”

  Dag was filled with the power of his dark passions. His phone rang again. “Fuck!” he shouted and was going to throw it against the wall until he noticed the display. His first lieutenant was trying to reach him.

  “Rhys? This had better be important or I’m going to cut off your left big toe, which I understand might not seem like much of a punishment, considering the state of your toenail.”

  Rhys had a chuckle, and Dag found himself suddenly lighthearted as well. The delay in sexual satisfaction had become pleasurable all of a sudden.

  “Supreme, we wanted to be sure we did the right thing by letting the girl into your chambers. She is no longer mortal. But she insisted you’d made her for your own pleasure, and had summoned her.”

  “Yes, I thought you rather would. You didn’t mind sneaking a little something while you cuffed her to my bed?”

  “We thought it best she be restrained so she wouldn’t get into things. And we figured you wouldn’t want us to wait by her side, watching her.”

  “You did well. Except for the drugs.”

  “Not my idea. It was hers.”

  Dag swiveled around and stared at her eyes looking back at him innocently. She is such a liar. I’m going to be extra rough until she tells me more lies.

  Rhys chuckled again. The blonde raised her sex as high as she could. Her buttocks hung beneath her and quivered. He could hear the slick moisture between her legs.

  “Hurry it up or I’m going to come in my pants. Anything else?”

  “You sending us out on a mission tonight? I can get Rubin and we can go back and do Rory. Thought you might like that.”

  “Rory’s mine. But you can get the executioner and call on the Librarian. He has a name and a post office box to look up in Santa Rosa. You could go do that. See if you can find the person who has the book. Colin will give you all the details.”

  “The Post Office will be closed, sir.”

  “Then open it. You do know how to do that, don’t you?”

  “Yessir. Will do.”

  “And Rhys, what did she take?”

  “Don’t know, sir. She brought it with her.”

  Dag signed off and turned off his phone. The next person to interrupt him would pay for it with his life. He’d come out when he was good and ready. He hoped to get drunk with lust, and the girl’s blood. If she was lucky, and very good, he’d let her live.

  Chapter 26

  Cara awoke with a start and then realized she’d slept so soundly, probably in the same position all night long, that her body ached. Daylight had produced a pink blush on the blue-grey sky. Checking the time, she decided to get up early and prepare for a long day of classes and meeting with Johnny.

  She smiled as she thought about her research assistant and his proposal the night before. Could she consider him a welcome distraction? Someone she could pass some pleasurable time with as she tried to rid herself of the vision of Paolo? And how awkward would it be if she experienced a wonderful evening of sex with someone else, knowing Paolo would also feel every ripple, shudder and her body’s inner explosion?

  Would she be able to let herself go, feel the joy of sex with any other man? Ever? Could she beg that he stay away, stay out of her head?

  “I am vampire,” he’d said. Incredible as that idea was, she could not trust herself right now to believe him. Even though all the evidence pointed to that undeniable fact. Maybe he could be some kind of psychic who could control her thoughts. Maybe he’d convinced himself he was a vampire and she was falling under his mental spell. That she might be able to wrap her mind around and believe.

  She lathered herself with shower gel, enjoying the silky feeling of her own skin, letting her fingers slide over areas he’d kissed. Her nipples were taught and tender, her pulse boomed throughout her body as she remembered him beside her, inside her. He was, after all, the man of her dreams, but a vampire? No way.

  Cara pushed the visions of him in the shower with her out of her head and concentrated on getting clean.

  She hardly thought Paolo could be the sort to suck the lifeblood from unsuspecting females in the night, she decided as she toweled off. Besides, she’d been with him in the day, in the sunny afternoon. There were no ill effects, other than the craving she felt for him and his lovemaking, how he satisfied every sexual desire she’d ever had and a lot she’d never imagined by herself. Something just yesterday she’d have thought was heaven-sent.

  She hung up her damp towel and looked at herself in the mirror.

  I’ve had sex with a vampire? No. It wasn’t true. There must be some other explanation for the things happening around her.

  But how could she explain the sudden disappearance, right before her eyes, she wondered as she slipped on her black lace panties and matching bra. She brushed her hair, staring again into the mirror. Woul
d he like the way she looked right now?

  Stop this, she scolded herself. Cara tried to focus on the facts, the details of his disappearance. There had to be something she was missing.

  Must be some trick. Some sleight of hand. But, she’d checked her room last night, and he simply hadn’t been there. And yet she still heard him respond to her, telling her where he was after she questioned it. She knew if she asked him right now, he’d answer her. Should she try it again?

  This is crazy.

  Cara finished dressing. She had chosen a little black dress and patterned stockings with black pumps. She scrunched her hair up with a crystal-embedded black clip, and wore bright red lipstick.

  My version of Elvira, she thought. Yes. He would love the way she looked. Only things missing were red fingernails, and she wouldn’t go that far.

  Paolo had watched the sun rise, sitting at the kitchen table by himself. He was filled with loneliness and regret. She hadn’t called to him, although he’d stayed awake most of the night. He wished she had needed him in her bed. Maybe she was going to be able to live without him. He knew he was going to have to prepare himself to live without her. Question was, who would be stronger?

  But then he felt her hands smooth down the black wool dress, over her breasts, her hips and her flat tummy. He closed his eyes and could feel the heat of her body as he imagined her standing in front of him, as he bent to kiss her lovely neck so nicely exposed for him. He imagined his palm sliding up under the black fabric to feel—no—to need to feel the softness of her flesh encased in black panties. She wore black for him today. His groin became granite.

  Would he be able to concentrate on anything today except the thought of her? He decided he’d better learn to.

  Marcus entered the kitchen in his boxers, bare-chested.

  “Morning, brother,” he said to Paolo.

  “It is a beautiful morning. I watched it being born.” Paolo tried to sound cheerful.

  Marcus went to the coffee maker and poured himself a fresh cup Paolo had brewed. The smells of the Mocha Java blend swirled around the room as Paolo sensed his brother was hesitating to speak of something. Marcus joined him at the table and sipped the hot, black liquid.

  “Got a disturbing call from Lionel Jett last night.”

  Paolo felt alarm spread up and down his spine as he sat up straight and focused on the handsome face of his older brother and the worry lines between his eyebrows.

  “Oh? How so?”

  “You know Rubin, the executioner?”

  “I can hardly say I know him, but, yes, I’ve seen his despicable work. Don’t tell me Lionel had to experience one of Rubin’s trophies.”

  “Rubin was emasculated in front of a whole crowd of onlookers at Press. Not physically emasculated, mind you, but it appears he has a new master,” Marcus’ dark eyes focused on Paolo’s coffee cup, avoiding his brother’s questioning gaze.

  “Who might that be?” Paolo knew it before his brother answered.

  “Dag Nielsen.”

  Paolo looked out the kitchen window to the garden and bare-limbed orchard that spread down the hill. This was definitely not a good sign.

  “Rory Monteleone confronted him about the death of young Thomas. Dag stopped the fight.”

  “What happened to his protection team?” Paolo wanted to know.

  “They were there, but outnumbered by Rubin’s men and some new dark vamps Lionel had never seen before. I think they were hoping the fight would just die on its own, but when Dag showed up, Lionel decided to stand down. He was with his brother, Huge.”

  Paolo nodded. “You sent him out?”

  “Not exactly. Took it on his own.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “I’m assuming they’re sleeping, hopefully alone.”

  Paolo found light amusement in the fact that the Jett brothers were extremely attractive to human females and had never had trouble finding fleeting companionship without strings over the decades. Something he was unable to do.

  Good for them.

  “I have to tell you Lionel is worried. Very worried,” Marcus continued. “It appears the numbers of darks are increasing at an alarming rate, almost like an army is being assembled here in California.”

  “Why here?” Paolo asked.

  “Good question.”

  “So the executioner is now Dag’s man. Hard to imagine Trevor Farnsworth would relinquish him,” Paolo said.

  “Which means Trevor Farnsworth is dead. As is Dag’s former Coven Supreme Leader.”

  Paolo wondered how the other dark coven leaders were handling this turn of events. He suspected there could be an ally or two amongst them, but wasn’t sure who he could trust.

  “In case you’re thinking of getting further involved, I forbid it, brother,” Marcus said over the top of his coffee cup.

  “I already am, Marcus. As long as I’m in your household here in California, if you are a target, I am certainly the secondary.”

  “Not true.”

  “Excuse me?” Paolo knew he wouldn’t like what Marcus was going to say next.

  “Brother, search your heart. Look at what they have been doing, picking a fight, luring out the younger Goldens. You know as well as I do that the real target is Lucius.”

  Paolo didn’t want to agree, but he had to.

  “Leave the research and covert stuff to us. I think Lionel was born for this kind of caper. Your primary responsibility is to your son, to see to it that nothing happens to him. Mine is to Anne and little Ian. I’ve asked Lionel to find us some human ex-special forces guards he can trust. We may need the protection both day and night now.”

  “So living in idyllic Sonoma County with heavily armed guards—will this be the kind of lifestyle you wanted, brother?” Paolo asked.

  “I have no choice. Not until they come out in the open. I think this will become an all-out assault soon. Don’t think we have much time. I’ve already notified the Council, and they are sending an ambassador.

  Paolo knew this had not happened in more than a hundred years. Their species had enjoyed a relative peace with the mortal as well as the dark vampire world, allowing the Goldens to blend into human society and amass great wealth and power. But he knew nothing human could stop the dark forces looming in the distance.

  Best keep my wits about me. Humans have gods they can pray to. Right now I can’t be bothered with such drivel.

  Cara parked her car in the employee lot. She was a half hour early for class, so decided to stop by her office to see if Johnny had thought to do the same. Oddly, she felt happy to get back into the routine of teaching, being of service to her students. It would give her delicious moments away from thoughts of—

  The moment she opened the glass door to Montgomery Hall, she noticed that a small group of people had formed a semicircle outside her office door. Her pumps clacked down the shiny vinyl tiles of the otherwise deserted, wide hallway.

  The circle parted and left just enough room for Cara to insert herself. She looked down at the floor, where everyone’s eyes were focused. Seeping from under the locked door to her personal office was a puddle of thick, red blood. It was getting larger.

  She dug in her coat pocket for her keys, setting down her computer. As she reached for the door handle, ready to insert a brass key into the lock she heard a shout from the opposite entrance to the hallway.

  “Stop! Wait. Don’t touch anything.” Two uniformed policemen were running down the vinyl hallway, their equipment jangling on their leather utility belts. “I must ask you to step away—all of you,” the heavyset older officer said, scanning the crowd and finally landing on Cara with a scowl. “You have the key to this office?” he said to her.

  “Yes. It’s my office.”

  “Any idea what’s gone on in there? Who I might find on the other side of this door?” the officer said.

  “The only other person who has a key, other than someone in Admin, is my research assistant, Johnny Davis.” Cara stared at th
e blood and for a brief moment, thought she would lose her breakfast all over the policeman’s shoes. She inhaled sharply and added, “I was to meet him here, or in the classroom this morning.”

  “He acting funny or out of sorts?” the officer asked.

  “No. I talked to him last night. He seemed fine.”

  “Let’s see your key,” the other officer held out his hand. It was clad in a plastic glove. Cara deposited the keys in his palm, isolating the office key. The officer stepped wide to avoid the puddle of blood and knocked on the door while the other officer dispersed the crowd. Sirens were shrieking in the background. When there was no answer, he tried the handle and found it locked.

  Cara felt strangely disconnected, and numb as the officer inserted the key into the lock and turned the handle. She watched the other officer with his gun drawn, holding it with both hands with mild detachment. As the door creaked open, the limp body of Johnny fell out into the hallway. His face was caught in a grimace, lips beginning to turn blue, his face ghastly white and not the tanned, healthy look Cara was used to. His head rolled at a weird angle, barely connected to his neck.

  Someone had practically ripped Johnny’s head from his torso. Cara’s blood went ice cold. She couldn’t stop herself from staring into the glassy blue-grey eyes of her once fun-loving assistant. It was as if she expected him to sit up and tell her he was playing a prank.

  But this was no prank. Death stared back at her and for the first time in her life she was terrified, frozen in place, unable to do a thing about it.

  A woman onlooker fainted and another started to scream. People began retching and racing through the hallway doors to the outside. More uniformed officers arrived and took control of the crowd. Cara remained transfixed. She slowly began to wonder if the person who had laid in wait for Johnny had intended her to be the target. She wondered how someone managed to get out of the office without leaving the door unlocked, since the door could only be locked from the inside without a key, almost as if someone could walk through walls.

  Or transport.

  “That’s—that’s Johnny, my assistant…” Cara heard her voice waver. Tears had started to collect in her eyes. The sickly smell of fresh blood singed her nostrils. She turned her face to the side and examined the inside of her office door.