by Sharon Page
“What do you mean, destroy yourself?” Mia whispered. She had sat up, facing him.
“I fully intended to see you one last time, then stand outside in daylight. Sunlight would burn me to ash, love.”
“Goodness,” she gasped. “That is what you would have done if you had been imprisoned? Perhaps . . . perhaps if your sire desired you so much, perhaps in truth he had fallen in love with you. Maybe he imprisoned you so you couldn’t destroy yourself.”
He stared at her. How had she seen something he had never dreamed of? “He imprisoned me to save me?”
“Do you think he has come back for you? That he wants you back?” She faced him bravely. “When you leave me, will you go with him?”
“No. When I leave you, I’ll be alone for the rest of eternity. But what I will have to do is stop my sire. He hasn’t killed yet, but he will.”
“How can you stop him?”
“Vampires can be destroyed. Ask Mr. Jones about that. There are various ways. However, sometimes a vampire can’t destroy his own sire.” He’d spoken thoughtlessly there, and she jumped upon his careless words at once.
“Why not?”
He could invent a lie, but he’d already told her so many truths, he found another coming off his lips. “Not without causing his own destruction.”
Fear flashed in her eyes. “And you would be willing to do that, wouldn’t you? I can see it in your face. You are willing to die to prevent your sire from killing.”
“Of course.” He managed a rueful grin. “But only after we are married.”
The next night, Dante gave her three French kisses. That was what he called the passionate kisses where his tongue thrust sensually into her mouth. On the fourth day of Christmas, he admitted he’d been at a loss at first, then drew four beautiful necklaces from his coat pocket. Before he gave them to her, they made love—once with him on top, once with her astride him, once against the wall, and once on top of the vanity. After each breathless climax they shared, he gave her first a ruby necklace, then one of sapphires, then emeralds, and finally a beautiful, stunning circlet of diamonds. Each one held an enormous center stone shaped like a bird.
On the fifth night, he secured five gold rings to the headboard and bedposts of their private bed at the House of Pleasure, and they indulged in exotic games of bondage all night. By dawn, Amelia decided it was very pleasurable to be tied up while making love.
She was apprehensive about the sixth day. What could he possibly think of that involved geese? Goose-down pillows? Or feathers again? When she opened a small gold box, she was startled to find six small ivory eggs nestled inside, with gold chains attached.
She knew Dante was trying to make her forget the future. Forget that after he married her in two more days—on the eighth day of Christmas—he would leave. She feared he would not stay for a few months—he wanted to stop the vampire who had made him. Perhaps as soon as they said their vows, he would desert her to hunt down his vampire sire.
She gazed up at him quizzically. “What are these for?”
He winked. “Lift your skirts, love. I’ll show you.”
He licked the first egg and stroked it against her clit until her legs quivered and she was sopping wet with need. Then—pop—he slid the little ivory piece inside her cunny, with the chain dangling out. He did it with another. Then he had her turn around, and he shockingly popped one inside her bottom.
The sensation was stunning. Her legs were as shaky as parchment pages. She couldn’t stand, so he carried her to the bed. Then, as she watched, he rubbed warm oil over the remaining eggs and slipped them inside his bottom. Goodness! His face contorted with pleasure, and he moved over her, so his face was above her quim, his wobbling erection over her face. His bollocks, dusted with soft golden hairs, hung above her. Each movement sent jolts of pleasure from her quim and bottom. She wrapped her hands around his taut thighs and lifted. Opening her mouth, she took his cock deep within.
He bent and nuzzled her quim.
Goodness, again! She could hardly focus on sucking on him when he licked her. But she tried. Tried not to forget to please him as she shook and shivered with pleasure, tried to ensure she didn’t scrape with her teeth. He suckled, teased, licked, until she came, moaning and gasping around his thick, rigid cock. He brought her to orgasm three times before he finally surrendered himself.
Laughing, he took out the precious eggs, then put them in a basin of water. He brought another basin to clean her, his hands stroking lovingly with a wet cloth. Then he lay beside her, pulling the covers over them. “Let me stay with you tonight while you sleep.”
Oh, this man knew how to break her heart. She rested her head against his chest. His heart beat slowly, but so strong. “I wish you would stay with me every night. Forever.”
“There’s tomorrow night first, love. One night at a time . . .”
“Swans,” Amelia whispered. “What are you planning to do in bed that involves swans? Is it going to be feathers? There couldn’t be anything done with the birds—”
“Perhaps I trained them to tease you with the beat of their wings.”
“What?”
Dante almost laughed at the panicked, stunned look in her eyes. “No, angel. I planned to make love to you in a heated bath, one decorated with swans, and give you seven special surprises.”
“What kind of surprises?”
“If I tell, it won’t be a surprise. But I will give you a teasing glimpse at my plan. I’m thinking of tasting you, pleasuring you with my mouth in seven places.”
“Seven places,” she echoed. “Where?”
“Your lovely mouth. Your nipples—that makes three. Your sweet quim. Your delectable bottom.”
“Five,” she said breathlessly. “That is five.”
“Perhaps the back of one knee. Or your sensitive toes. Or your throat.”
“Oh, no,” she said swiftly. “Not my throat.” Then she flushed with embarrassment and Dante’s heart cracked.
The Seventh Day of Christmas
A soft sound woke her.
Amelia sat up, blinking, and the covers fell from her. She was certain she had heard someone whisper her name. But the fire’s glow in the hearth lit her room softly, and she could see she was alone.
Had it been Dante?
She slipped out of bed. Something inside her yearned to go outside. It was like an itch that would not be ignored. She had to go.
She drew on a woolen dress and wool stockings, then crept downstairs. The house was quiet. The merrymaking of New Year’s Eve was over now that it was almost dawn. Amelia slipped out through the kitchen door, into the rear gardens. Her breath puffed; the cold went right through her. There was no sign of Dante.
But as much as she wanted to turn and go back inside, her feet would not obey.
A brilliant white light glowed in front of her, like an enormous diamond, low in the sky. The Christmas star? No, that couldn’t be possible. The light expanded and turned to a rainbow of colors. It burst, so blinding, she had to shut her eyes. Warmth radiated and embraced her.
Amelia . . .
Her name, spoken softly, forced her to lift her head and open her lids. Three women stood before her. They had appeared out of nowhere! White robes swirled around them. Angels?
“Oh, no, my dear.” The tallest, who had dark hair curling down her back, laughed. The sound echoed lushly in the crisp air. “We are most certainly not angels.”
“We are vampire queens,” the redheaded one said. She crooked her finger, and Amelia’s feet took her closer, against her will.
“Do not fear us,” said the blonde. “I am Ophelia.” She pointed to the dark-haired woman. “That is Cardiamillion. The third of our trio is Lausanne.”
“Vampire queens. I did not know there was royalty among vampires. Dante did not tell me—” Amelia stopped. Did they know of Dante? They must. But why were they here?
“Yes, we know of Dante.” The blonde rose into the air and floated. The train of her robe
rippled behind her. “That is why we are here. To help you plot a way to keep him. You see, it is important that you do not let him leave you.”
Amelia blinked. “Why does it matter to you?”
Cardiamillion smiled gently. “It matters to us because the vampire who sired Dante is very dangerous. And we all adore Dante—”
“You do?” she asked sharply. Jealousy, sharp and painful, spiked through her heart. “Were any of you his lover? Were all of you?”
Ophelia shook her head. “No, but we are fond of him. He is so beautiful, and his sire wishes to claim him back. We cannot let that happen. His sire needs Dante’s submission to give him power. The power to survive. But you have seen what he does—he brutalizes mortals. He feeds from young women and men and kills them. Dante has learned the skill of taking blood without hurting his prey.”
Prey. What a horrible way to think of people.
“If you keep Dante,” Cardiamillion said, “if you lure him to stay with you, his sire will wither and die. What Dante must do is openly declare his intention to stay at your side. His sire carries an ancient curse, one bestowed by his very ancient maker. The curse means that once Dante’s sire gives his heart to another vampire, he must claim that vampire as his eternal mate. Otherwise, he dies.”
Amelia’s wits whirled. Eternal mate? Dante’s sire had given his heart to Dante? “But Dante is determined to leave me. For my own protection, he says.”
“No!” Ophelia cried. “We cannot let that happen. His sire is a rogue vampire. He refuses to obey the rules for existence in the modern, mortal world. He must be stopped.”
“You”—Lausanne pointed her long finger at Amelia’s heart—“you must make Dante fall so deeply in love, he cannot leave.”
Amelia shook her head. She wanted to stamp her feet in the snow. They spoke as if she had a choice. “I wish I could. But Dante is stubborn. I don’t believe I can convince him to do it. He’s resisted so far.”
“We are four women,” Cardiamillion declared. “Surely we can find a way.”
“Miss Amelia Ann Watson, whilst thou have this man to be your wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish ’til death do you part, according to God’s holy ordinance? And thereto to him you give your troth?”
This was the most unnerving moment Dante had ever known. Waiting for Amelia. For her to look to him, to glow like the moon above them, and say, “I do.”
And as she smiled at him and those two precious words hung in the cool night air, Dante lifted her into the air and kissed her. Reverend Rutherford cleared his throat and looked away as Dante tipped Amelia back and gave her the hottest kiss he could manage. Soft furs framed her face and tickled his skin. She gave the hungriest, loudest moan as she fiercely kissed him back.
He had given a generous donation to the local church to convince the reverend to marry him and Mia at midnight. He did not dare wed her in the church. For all he knew, he might explode into flame. And given the amount of money he’d donated, he knew the clergyman would overlook the eccentricity of marrying outdoors in the middle of the night.
Finally, he knew it was time to draw back. She looked dazed, and he must look every bit as drugged with desire and delight. He loved this woman, and she was now his wife. But there was business to attend to first. He drew out a bag of coins, an additional gift for the clergyman. “Thank you, Reverend.” He deposited the weighty sack into the man’s hand. “I’m sorry to have brought you out into the cold. It was a whim on my part—to make a memorable wedding for my bride. I hope I’ve recompensed the church well for my eccentricity.”
“Indeed you have, my lord.” Reverend Rutherford bowed to both him and Amelia. “Best wishes for happiness for you both, my lord. My lady.” The man stomped his feet to warm them, then hastened back to the manse and no doubt to his warm study.
They were alone in the churchyard. Dante turned to Mia, who blew out a frosty breath. He hoped she wasn’t frozen stiff. He wanted to get her to bed at once and begin warming her. “It’s our wedding night, Mia. But also the eighth day of Christmas. I was thinking of giving you the gift of eight buxom dairy maids.”
“For me?” She eyed him with suspicion. After all, he had told her about the orgies he’d attended with his sire. “Are you certain that gift was not one you wanted?”
“No, my love. I have made my vows to you, and I intend to keep them.”
He was now a married man. Each smile he shared broke his heart. He didn’t want to leave her. He never wanted to leave her. But he had no choice.
He lifted Amelia into his arms, drawing her tight against his chest. The fur surrounding her hood brushed his cheek, and a bittersweet smile curved her lips.
“I was just thinking . . . this is how we began, five years ago,” she whispered. “You swept me into your arms and carried me into the cottage so we could have our wedding night.”
“We’ll have another wedding night now. Mia . . .” There was no way to say it to make her understand how deeply he felt it. So he simply said, “Mia, I love you—”
“Damnation, I’m too late.”
The furious shout from the edge of the church grounds made Dante jerk around. He had been so focused on Amelia he hadn’t heard the sound of footsteps.
Now the damned slayer Jones stood there, holding a crossbow, wild hatred flashing in his eyes.
6
With care, Dante lowered Mia—his wife—to her feet and glared at the slayer. “If it was your intention to slay me, what has taken you so long?” Quickly, he assessed his options. He scented the air and strained to hear other heartbeats. There were none. The slayer was alone. He could attempt to fight, but it would be hard to combat a crossbow. He could shift his shape into the form of a bat to evade the arrows, then launch an attack on Jones.
He turned to Mia, horror-struck to see her face was as pale as the white fur of her cloak. “Go back to the house, Mia. The church will have record of our marriage. You are my wife now and entitled to a generous portion and all the protection of my family and name.”
“Oh, no,” she declared. Color rushed over her face swiftly. “I love you, Dante. I did not marry you just for your name. I want you.” She spun and faced Jones with furious eyes. “I am not allowing Mr. Jones to hurt you.”
He would have applauded her if he were not scared of what the slayer might do. “You just vowed to obey—”
“No woman who promises to obey in her wedding vows actually intends to. In my heart, I promised to stand at your side.” She wagged a finger at Jones, who was standing motionless, listening to their debate. “Put down the weapon, Mr. Jones! This is absurd. Dante has done nothing wrong.”
He adored her. How was he going to leave her and live an eternity without her? On the other hand, if the slayer shot him with the crossbow, his forever was going to prove short.
Jones stepped forward and peered at Mia contritely. “Vampires are predators, my dear. They have no regard for human life. We are prey to them, and this one has been attacking innocents throughout the village.”
“He hasn’t,” she cried. “His sire has.”
Dante saw the quick pulse of tension that flowed through Jones. He heard the slayer’s heart beat faster in excitement. Now he knew why Jones had spared him for so long. “You were waiting for my sire, weren’t you? You didn’t stake me because you believed he would come back for me.”
Jones gave a false bow. “Brilliant, vampire. Yes, I let you live to use you as a lure for your sire. I’ve been hunting him for a long time. As I tracked him across the Continent, I learned about his curse. An ancient curse placed upon him by his sire.”
“What in Hades are you talking about?” Dante snapped. “He is a vampire. How more cursed does he need to be?”
Mia turned large blue eyes to him. “I learned about it, too, Dante. The curse means that once your sire gives his heart to another vampire, he must claim th
at vampire as his mate. If he does not, he will die.”
She spoke with calm certainty, but Dante’s gut clenched in fear. “How do you know this, love?” That was what frightened him. Had his sire come to her and told her this? Was his sire luring her, trying to destroy her?
“Three female vampires came to me last night. I had an uncontrollable urge to walk outside, and then they appeared in front of me out of thin air. They were vampire queens, and they told me about the curse.”
While he focused on his wife, Dante tracked Jones with his preternatural peripheral vision and his acute senses of smell and hearing. The slayer was creeping forward, no doubt seeking a better shot.
“What did they want? What did they ask you to do?” he demanded.
“They did not ask anything of me. Though they did want me—” She stopped, and a scarlet flush flooded her cheeks.
Damnation. “What, Mia?”
“They wanted me to entice you so you would never leave me. So you would not go back to your sire. They want you to openly declare your intention to stay with me.”
That was impossible. How could he stay with her when he was a vampire? Eventually, the population would notice he never aged, never went outside in daylight, and never ate food. He’d have the villagers storming his home with torches and pitchforks. Mia could get hurt. What if people believed he had changed her? They could put her to death.
He snarled at Llewellyn Jones. “Give me a wedding night with my bride. After all, Jones, it is Christmas.”
The crossbow jerked up. “A wedding night? You had no right to marry her. Hades, you used your bloody vampire magic on her and lured her to marry you. If you had left her alone, she would never have gone through with this farce of a wedding.”
“What vampire magic?” Mia asked, confused.