Hearts Unleashed: A Limited Edition Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by C. D. Gorri

  Mila startled herself by laughing, the achingly sweet silvery sound too loud and pure to be natural and unfortunately attracting the attention of several men and women who loitered by the narrow doors of the coffee house. She bit her lip in chagrin at her slip, and Dorian smoothly navigated them away from the confinement of the pavement under the colonnade and into the open square.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I am so very sorry. It is not like me to―”

  Mila looked up to see that she spoke to empty air beside her.

  Dorian was already halfway across the square, his aim clearly centered on a young mortal woman with dark hair. Before he reached her, he ducked back into the shelter of the colonnade, lingering there, his entire being focused on that one mortal.

  Mila stood very still, making herself unnoticeable to passersby as only a vampire could. Her gaze flicked between Dorian and the mortal girl. The girl was doubled over and panting for air. Mila studied her, waiting for her to straighten so that her face was visible. But Dorian didn’t seem to need her face to be enthralled. Perhaps it was her scent? She inhaled deeply, concentrating on only the smells in a straight line before her. Pigeon shit. Dust. Coffee. Cinnamon. Piss. Ah...there it was. The girl. Another deep breath. Lavender, but richer and deeper than the flower. Lavender as if it had been warmed by the sun, sweet and bright. There was another tang, salty and slightly acrid. Her sweat. She had been running.

  The girl’s scent was no better or worse on average than most mortals’. Why then was Dorian entranced? The girl stood up straight and looked furtively about the square, her expression faintly puzzled. She even tilted her head as if she were listening for something. Finally, Mila could see her face, and decided that the girl’s extraordinary dark beauty was most likely the reason for Dorian to chase after her.

  It was not unusual for Dorian to pursue and seduce a mortal, sometimes for the fun of it, and sometimes as part of a feeding.

  Dorian toyed with mortals like they all did. Perhaps he was a shade more tolerant of their foolishness and a shade more daring in his interactions with them, but everyone in the coven was free to do as they pleased so long as the secret of their existence was not exposed.

  Still, for him to be so taken, so quickly, without any obvious intent to feed. He hadn't seemed thirsty. He hadn't had the little nervous tic of drumming his fingers against his thigh when he was thirsty. He had been perfectly fine.

  Mila continued to stand perfectly still, letting the cool, salty breeze from the ocean make her veil and skirts flutter. It was easier to concentrate on watching than to think about the fact that for the first time, Dorian had simply abandoned her, running off after a mortal without a word of direction or farewell. Never in three hundred years had he left her alone. Never had he not made sure that she was safe before attending to his own needs.

  Yet there she was, standing in the middle of a square full of humans in a city she did not know, as forgotten as a pair of stockings with holes left at the bottom of the trunk.

  At last it seemed that the girl had composed herself. She was smoothing down her skirts and her hair. Dorian watched her from behind the columns. Then, he did the unthinkable. He stepped into her line of sight and stared at her, as if compelling her to notice him.

  And notice him she did. The girl's dark eyes went wide, and Mila's nose picked up hints of peppery fear and salty musk as attraction and caution spiked and warred in the mortal's reaction to Dorian. The girl's full pink lips parted slightly, and she looked somewhat dazed. Mila knew that in certain circumstances, vampires as old and powerful as Dorian could glamour mortals. Even Mila was beginning to sense traces of that power in herself. But she knew that he was not doing anything of the sort to the girl. It was the mortal herself who seemed caught in the spell of the moment with him.

  Dorian smiled slightly and gave the barest of nods, inviting the girl to follow him. As if she were a somnambulist, the girl took halting steps forward, matching him step for step as he drew further back. Mila tried to feel relief and tried to think that he was simply luring her away to a more secluded place for seduction and feeding. But there was something in his eyes that she had never seen before. It wasn't only lust or thirst. It was longing. True and deep longing. No matter how she tried, Mila couldn't convince herself that it was anything different. She knew him too well to fool herself.

  The girl was picking up her pace, following after Dorian as he slipped through the shadows under the colonnade and toward the back of the square. Mila felt as if she must be under a spell as well, for she was compelled to go after them. She didn't want to. She simply had to.

  She tracked them out the back of the square where the labyrinth of Venice's streets twisted in nonsensical circles around San Marco. Keeping enough of a distance so neither Dorian nor the girl would notice her, she followed. It was easy now to ignore the slightly seared feeling of passing churches and the dizzying, churning sensation of being so close to the water of the canals. Her entire being was focused on this moment.

  Dorian had abandoned her.

  No.

  No, she shouldn't think that yet. She shouldn't accept that yet. There might still be another explanation for why he had done what he had never done before.

  Yet, as Dorian pulled the girl into a narrow, shaded alley, all Mila could think was yes, yes he could abandon her and had done exactly that.

  And, for the first time since the night before Dorian found her, she remembered what true terror felt like.

  She closed her eyes against the sight of Dorian with the mortal. She didn't need to see any more. Her thoughts were too full and too tumultuous to absorb any further shocks.

  Perhaps it was only this once. Perhaps every vampire must eventually have that moment when they break the habit of centuries. Mortals were inconsistent all the time, changing their choices with every vagary. Still, the danger with deviation for a vampire was greater than for a mortal. The worst that a mortal could do is die. For a vampire, deviation from habit could mean exposure for himself and his coven, and the death of them all.

  Mila tried to be at peace with her decision to watch him and watch over him. If this impromptu departure from his wonted behavior were to go any further, he would need someone to protect him. After all he had done for her by giving her the Favor and caring for her all these years, it was the least she could do.

  Hopefully, he would feed from the mortal girl soon, and all would be as it was before.

  Chapter Five

  Sophia ran until her lungs burned. She came to an abrupt stop and pressed her hands to the wall of one of the buildings, allowing her head to fall lax. She heaved air into her body and expelled it as fast. Pushing against the wall, she turned and relaxed her back against it. Her chest continued to rise and fall from her run. She looked up to her surroundings and had not run far enough. She pushed off the wall and ran farther, down the thin alleys, across two bridges until she found herself in the Piazza San Marco.

  She breathed deeply and bent over, pressing her palms to her thighs. The fear still pumped deep in her chest and her body shook. From the vision to the captain’s ship arriving with passengers no one knew about. This could not be a coincidence. This vision of hers had come to pass.

  Expecting to hear the sounds of people visiting the square, birds chirping, children playing, she found herself surprised by the quiet in the air. She lifted her gaze and gasped. A man stepped out from behind a pillar. The man from her vision stood before her, in front of Café Florian. He stood there and stared at her.

  The same black coat, black hat, hair to his shoulders, and rose-tinted spectacles. He stood here before her as if plucked from her mind. She thought of the strangling, the recognition on his side.

  And now, wait―did he smile?

  He nodded and indeed, he smiled to her. His clothes were elegant and rich. He cocked his head to the side in a way that could either mean nothing or beckon her to follow him.

  She looked down at herself and felt a fool
believing anyone of his stature would desire a visit with her. Glancing behind her, she hoped no one was there, as it would explain his attention―perhaps he simply spied someone else.

  No one stood nearby. She turned back to him and imagined a king longing to court a housemaid. She could imagine no reason for it other than those that did not involve marriage but could involve a round belly in nine months. It simply did not happen. Now, he walked away from the cafe, but lingered in the shadows of the columns, still looking directly at her with a sly half-smile on his full lips.

  She blinked and her breathing began to slow. One foot, then another―she felt herself drawn toward him, and she moved. Not quite floating, but almost. A fog began to settle over her mind and she resisted it. The fog slowly crept down her body. She imagined it like warm water spilling over her in a bathing tub. The feeling was exotic, imaginative, something she had never before experienced.

  Sophia shook herself and looked to her feet. She had moved several steps. She glanced back up to the man. Did he beckon her? No, she simply followed of her own will...but the possibility the man had been pulling her forward sent a shock of excitement through her. As he turned a corner and moved out of sight, she quickened her step to find him, discover who he was, and learn why he was in her vision.

  As she turned the corner and found him once more, she breathed a sigh of relief. She felt as if losing this man would be like losing a favorite item, maybe article of clothing. Once it was gone, she would not be able to find its like again.

  She followed him through the backside of the piazza and into the maze of the streets as if an invisible string had been tied to her. He stepped left, so did she. He moved right, she followed. Sophia never lost sight of him. She felt her heart beat steadily, but her mind screamed something was awry. She pushed the threatening thoughts to the side and continued the path against her own better judgement.

  A shadow fell over the square through which they passed. She shivered from the sparse sun. Perhaps the storms that brought in the ships finally arrived. The further they ventured into the maze, the emptier the streets became. Most likely it was due to the oncoming storm; however, her senses spiked with warning.

  Reason dictated running in the opposite direction and seeking shelter, going to locate Gavin and seek his protection. Her reverie came to the forefront of her mind, as if she were hallucinating the event as she followed the man in black. The need to follow, the longing to pursue him, took over all reason. She needed answers to her vision, to this man.

  These thoughts were viscerally shaken from her head when someone grabbed her arm and yanked her with bruising force into a narrow alley filled with shadows. She screamed at the sudden impact and became temporarily blinded in the dark passage.

  Her eyes adjusted to see the man from her vision directly in front of her. Dark eyes stared directly into hers, his lips pressed together in a smirk. A euphoria-inducing scent billowed into her nose and she inhaled. Broad, straight shoulders rose above her, and long arms, their strength evident even hidden by layers of black velvet, braced against the wall on either side of her head, intimately caging her with him.

  He leaned in, closing the scant space between them. The flat light of the stormy autumn afternoon painted angles of alluring menace on his face. The light leached the color from his eyes, leaving the grey sharp and shallow. But nothing could diminish the fierceness and intensity of the way he looked at her.

  He inhaled deeply, registering a puzzling mix of ecstasy and doubt on his classical Roman features. He smiled, the expression spreading with agonizing slowness across his lips, so that it seemed as if one moment, his face was sternly set, and then in the next breath, a vision of holy joy.

  She watched him, unsure if she should push her aggressor back, or consider bringing him closer. Her chest rose and fell with the quick breaths she took, her breasts pressing firmly against the edge of her corset. She flinched as his hand rose quickly to touch her.

  He pressed his gloved finger to her lips, the gesture turning into a caress as he drew his forefinger along her lower lip, pulling it down slightly, then in a movement too fast to follow, leaning in so that his own lips were but a breath away. He inhaled deeply again, as if to suck in the air she expelled, to fill his lungs with it. A low, rumbling noise came from the depths of his throat, and she reached for him by tilting her head up to him as his eyes narrowed to slits of steel.

  He moved ever so slightly so that his lips brushed the corner of her mouth, the tip of his nose touching her cheek. The sound he made turned from a purr to a moan as he drew his nose along her cheekbone, down her jawline, and then finally, further down along her neck. His lips touched her collar bones, and his breath felt cool against her skin.

  When had his fingers crept down from the wall to rub the frayed edge of her blouse where it lay against her shoulder? The leather of his gloves was smooth and soft, softer than anything she had ever felt before. She shivered as he slipped his fingers barely past the edge of her blouse, his thumb caressing her bare shoulder.

  Her head fell back and rested on the wall behind her. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest against her body as he continued to nuzzle her neck, treating each inch as undiscovered country to be conquered. Her lips parted and she inhaled sharp breaths in an effort to calm the rising storm he ignited inside her. Her legs began to tremble and she pressed her back harder against the wall, praying she did not faint.

  He raised his head and looked at her, capturing her gaze and holding it mercilessly. His fingers on her shoulder tensed, digging into her skin on the edge of pain. “You,” he breathed, his voice and seductive, luring her further into the trance of a promise of lust. “It truly is you.”

  She stared into his eyes and as she blinked, she found him looking into her with absolute wonder and longing. She blinked again, and his face had the same expression, only this time there was stubble, soot, blood, and tiny cuts over his face. She blinked once more, and he appeared as he was a moment ago, clean. Hearing his words, her head nodded of its own accord. Whoever he thought she was at this moment was of no consequence to her. She longed to have him upon her, here and now.

  He pulled his other hand from the wall and roughly cupped her cheek, his large hand holding nearly half her face in his palm. “I had not thought…” His words trailed off, and he folded his lips into a tight, grim line.

  She quickly grasped his arm as he held her. She felt herself pulling toward him, wanting his lips upon hers. She wanted him to claim her with a desire she had never felt.

  He pressed her back against the wall once more, the entire length of his body flush against hers, his grip now truly painful. Doubt warred with something darker in his eyes.

  Fearing the sudden change in his demeanor, she closed her eyes as panic took her, the trance quickly lifted and death crossed her mind. Her heartbeat quickened and a whimper escaped her lips. Then the pressure against her vanished, his presence gone before she could breathe twice.

  She blinked, slowly, and stared at the opposite wall before her. She took a deep breath and forced herself to breathe evenly. Her chest burned with fear, and her body longed for the contact that had ceased.

  Yet she felt very much alive. Every sense in her body became alert, as if propelled by an inner light she had not realized she had, until tonight.

  She pushed herself away from the wall and regained her balance, then looked up and down the slender alley. She was alone, but felt surrounded by the man. Even in his departure, he still consumed her. Something about him seemed odd, but as she tried to make sense of it, the thought escaped her.

  Typically, she could concentrate on a person and feel their future. In his presence, he had no future....no present. Every person had a life force that gave evidence of their presence on this earth, but with him, there was nothing.

  She felt a pull and as she glanced over her shoulder, he again stood there, at the end of the alley, watching her. As the sun set, the shadow of his body elongated upon th
e stone. She took a small step toward him as he turned and he disappeared into the crowds behind him.

  She took another step forward and, as if calling forth the name of a person she could not remember, she realized what she sensed about him. He had a past, she could feel it. Why not a future? Fear crept up her spine and she shivered.

  She longed for this man, this stranger for whom she had no name, of whom she had no recollection, knew nothing about. She wanted him in the worst of ways. She bit her lower lip, then with a heavy sigh, leaned against the wall. This man woke something inside her that had been dormant her entire life. He called forth a sleeping demon inside her.

  Chapter Six

  The sound of the girl’s gasp snapped Mila out of her depressing reverie. Instinctively, she breathed in, expecting to smell fresh, hot blood. Why else would the girl make such a sound unless Dorian were feeding from her?

  That first moment fangs broke the skin tended to sting a bit. At least, that is what she had been told.

  Sweat, cinnamon, and sawdust hung in the salty, damp air. But no blood. Mila shifted slightly so she could get a better view of the alley. The girl stood with her back pressed against the wall, eyes closed and breathing heavily. Mila could hear the ragged inhales and forced exhales, but she was instantly transfixed by the sight of the jumping pulse in the girl’s throat.

  Her fangs dug into the tender insides of her lips as she clenched her teeth. It was still some hours yet until it would be safe to feed, and courtesy demanded that Signor Fanti be the one to ‘release’ the hunt, since it was his territory. Mila reminded herself that though she thirsted, she was a civilized being and could certainly control her baser instincts.

  The girl’s pulse slowed as she calmed, and she pushed herself off the wall. She looked around her, but something at the end of the alley caught her attention, and she moved toward it, out of Mila’s line of vision.