Chapter Twenty-Five
Tatiana shivered. She was so cold. The freezing water of the stream washed over her skin. When she looked down at her body, her breasts were too small to be her own beneath the emerald tunic gown she wore. A heavy strand of overlong red hair spilled over her face. Her body was weak, too weak to fight.
Tatiana felt drained, nearly lifeless. She tried to wake up, yelled that she must, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t move. She was tied to a secured log that dipped into the icy water. Her hands were tied behind her, and she was sure her fingers were missing since they were so frozen. Snow covered the ground and dotted the icy stream where the earth rose above it. Her feet were bare, dipping into the frigid water, and she could no longer feel them either.
“Maighdlin.”
Tatiana froze, knowing that was her name in this vision. She tried to open her lids, not remembering how long they had been closed. Her eyes stung as the cold winter air hit them. She tried to speak, but her lips had frozen themselves shut.
She made out the blurry vision of the man in the alleyway that saved her from being struck by the carriage; only he looked younger, much younger. His vivid eyes shone out, tortured from a youthful face. They were red. He’d been crying. His lips moved to speak, but Tatiana couldn’t hear what he said. Her lips broke apart as she forced them open, and she began to bleed. A voice that wasn’t her own whispered past her throat, in some language she didn’t know, not even in her vision.
Whatever she said upset the young man with blue eyes, for he screamed at her. Then, taking his knife from his belt, he yelled at her angry and raw. He waved the blade before her face, screaming at her over and over again. She yelled back. This only upset him more. Suddenly, he lunged for her. His hand found her face in a strangely soft caress as the blade found her heart.
Tatiana gasped, feeling the piercing heat of the blade inside her chest. Her mouth opened wide, and the young man kissed her bloodied lips. He stepped back, leaving the blade embedded in her. He turned his back on her, and she watched him walk away as she died. He did not look back.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Tatiana’s eyes shot open in surprise. The rounded orbs searched wildly, glimmering with the strangeness of an inner light. They focused on the first thing she saw, Marcello’s handsome face, contrasted by firelight. His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear what he said.
“Bella...corvo...il...”
Tatiana gasped, finally able to breathe. Marcello smiled widely at the sound. He almost seemed relieved to see her awake. She was so glad to be back, back where she felt safe, next to him. She forgot all that was between them, about the woman at the music hall. Her arms lifted up and eagerly wound around his neck. She forcefully pulled him down to her, needing him close.
Marcello stiffened in surprise, and he moved as if he would pull away. Tatiana’s body was cold, and she needed his warmth. The thought left her breathless, holding a vampire for warmth. At any other moment, she would’ve laughed at herself.
As he pressed against her once more, she felt that they were already naked. Her hair was wet, and she instinctively knew he had bathed her again. He seemed to like bathing her, and Tatiana found she liked him doing it.
Feeling came back to her limbs, and it was the feel of him pressed tightly to her. The texture of his strong body pushed into her softer flesh, making her conform to him. Her hands began to roam, addicted to the glide of his muscles, and she couldn’t feel enough of him. Her body rubbed along his, intertwining his legs, pressing her stomach into the scalding hardness between his thighs.
Lifting up, she roughly captured his lips. Tatiana couldn’t think. He was so warm. His arms were so protective. She wanted to feel him on her, in her. She wanted to feel anything that wasn’t the ice cold of the stream or the white heat of a blade in her heart.
Suddenly, she began to laugh. It was a wild sound. Marcello pulled back, from where he devoured her neck with biting kisses, to look at her. Tatiana shivered to see his eyes flaked with purple and silver flecks. She chuckled again, unable to help it as she thought of the irony. For her to feel alive she had to embrace death, and she had to embrace Marcello.
“Too gentle,” she ground out at his confused look. Her lovemaking turned rough. She knew instinctively what he would want, what he would like her to do to him. He wanted her to quicken him, with pain, with pleasure. It was all relatively the same, so close in nature were the two emotions, so raw and full.
Tatiana pushed him, and he let her, rolling onto his back. His hand reached for her, and she stopped him, grabbing his wrists and forcing them over his head. She smiled a wicked smile, looking over the pale, smooth line of his chest. He was perfect, sculpted. His lips parted, and she saw the tips of his fangs peeking out at her. Holding him down, she leaned over and licked at his teeth.
His mouth lightly bit the air as she pulled back. She felt his pleasure flowing toward her. His heavy erection sat along the back of her buttocks, pushing her. Her body was wet for him, sliding along his stomach as her hips naturally moved in small circles.
Marcello’s penetrating gaze burned over her breasts and neck. Her black hair spilled over them wet and clinging, a cool shock against their heating skin. As she watched him lick his lips, her body jerked along his firm stomach, nearly climaxing at the heated intent in his expression.
Tatiana wanted to devour him, pleasure him, torment him. She raked her nails over his wrists, scratching him deeply as she moved over his arms. He didn’t try to stop her, throwing his head back instead and moaning in pleasure. Red trails were left in her wake as she scratched his arms, moving down to his shoulders, over his arching chest.
She stopped close to his small erect nipples. Leaning over, she let her body rub intimately along his arousal as she bit her flat teeth against his collarbone. Again, he moaned loudly as she left a mark on him. His hands didn’t move, staying where she put them.
When she bit his nipple, his body jerked violently. She licked it, only to bite him again. She moved her nails from his sides, scratching over his stomach.
“Do you like that?” she whispered along his lips. Her tongue reached out to trace the line of his mouth, flicking against his sharpened teeth.
Marcello quickly sucked her tongue into the hot depths of his mouth. Only his lips moved as he penetrated her with his tongue, exploring the depths of her mouth, claiming every inch of it as his. When he pulled back, he demanded harshly, his eyes glowing with hot fire, “More.”
“I want to taste you as you taste me,” she whispered, moving to his strong neck. She bit him hard, but couldn’t break his tough skin with her teeth. Pulling back, her eyes begging him, she whispered, “Let me taste you, Marcello.”
Tatiana leaned over to him again, sprinkling her light kisses over his jaw and cheek, refusing his mouth when it searched for her. Her hands again found his wrists, holding them down, liking the feeling of control. Marcello’s knees rose behind her. His hips lifted, pressing himself more fully against her, digging his erection into the soft cleft of her backside.
Tatiana moaned in delight, flexing her hips back so that he was forced to rub against her body. Her kiss again turned to little bites as she moved along his flesh.
“Let me cut you,” she whispered nipping his earlobe. “Just a small cut.”
Marcello groaned. He freed his hand from her hold. Tatiana frowned in momentary disappointment as he escaped. She liked being in control of the beast. The power was exhilarating. However, her disappointment was short lived as he took his own hand to his chest. With a quick slash of his finger, he opened a wound next to his heart.
“There, bella mia,” he whispered. She saw he was awed by her request. “Drink your fill of me.”
Tatiana’s gaze moved down. She opened her mouth to kiss him and then hesitated. Blinking, she looked at him, turning serious in her momentary panic.
“It will not change me?” she asked. Marcello’s eyes clouded. They both knew what she asked. She did not w
ant to become a vampire.
“No, bella, no harm will come to you, only pleasure.”
The answer was good enough for her. She leaned down and licked the salty trail. She instantly groaned, feeling him like she’d never felt him before. She didn’t think it possible, but her body wanted more of him. Her lips sucked hungrily at the wound, licking and tasting. Her body became restless as if his desire was now mixed with hers.
“I want you to take me,” she whispered hoarsely. Her jade eyes glowed in pleasure. She kissed him fiercely with her crimson stained lip, letting him taste himself on her. “I want you to take me there.”
Marcello followed her finger. She pointed at the ceiling.
“I want you to take me roughly,” she demanded. “Now, Marcello, I need to feel you, all of you.”
Marcello couldn’t deny her, and she knew it. Almost instantly, his eyes filled with black, burning out the white as they darkened. He growled an animalistic sound. His hands shot forward, and their bodies lifted up off the bed. He kept her on top of him, easily defying the earth as he pressed against her body, letting her ride him as they neared the ceiling. Tatiana felt her back hit the cold stone and shivered. Her legs draped along his waist, falling as she sat on him.
Marcello growled. His body angled itself. The smell of her womanly perfume was in his head. His member was hard and pulsating, ready to conquer. He angled his body to hers, holding her above him. With a strong thrust, he plunged himself inside her slick cavern.
Tatiana screamed in surprise. Her back hit the stone with the force of his claiming. Her cry only spurred him on. She saw the beast in his eyes, called out by her to play.
Marcello kept her suspended, pumping his naked body into her, as he clutched the ceiling by either side of her head so she couldn’t fall. The floor danced beneath her vision, making her heart beat faster at the dangerous thrill.
Tatiana couldn’t move, couldn’t return his thrust in such a position, but it didn’t matter. His strong hips moved enough for the both of them, reaching a furiously supernatural speed, pounding her hard and deep until she was sure he bruised her insides.
The pleasure of it was intense, like nothing they’d ever done before. Marcello didn’t hold back, didn’t wait for permission. He took her, forcing her body to accept all of him. Her muscles quivered, stretched to the brink by the size of his shaft. His mouth opened wide, and he bit into her, drinking her passion from her neck.
Tatiana screamed again, lost to him. He rode her harder, faster, deeper. Her body tensed, so close, so close...
“Ahh,” she cried, sure that all of Paris could hear her. Her body jerked so violently on his that his mouth was pulled free of her neck.
The feel of her quaking was more than Marcello’s body could take. The pressure of his need burst from his body, spilling his release into her, leaving him drained.
The hard tips of her breasts rubbed into his chest as she panted for breath. Tatiana fell against him. Marcello wrapped his arms around her, lowering their bodies to the ground.
With a sweep of his arms, he lifted her and laid her on the bed. He looked down, seeing the smudge of blood on his chest. It matched the blood on her chin. His wound was completely healed, and he bit his finger to do the same for her neck.
“Ah,” was all Tatiana could manage to say as her body stretched beside him.
“Yes, ah indeed.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“What happened to you tonight, bella?” Marcello asked, turning to lay his long length next to her. “Why did you run?”
Tatiana only now remembered why she’d tried to escape him in the first place. Hardening herself against him, she jerked when his fingers reached to stroke her exposed breast. Her body was covered in a light sheen of sweat. His was not.
Tatiana pulled away from him. Crossing over to the wardrobe, she grabbed a silk robe and tugged it over her body. When she turned around, Marcello was still on the bed, watching her. His eyes were blank, his face passionless.
“I hope you enjoyed yourself, my lord,” she spat at him, incensed. “For that is the last taste you will ever have of my body, blood or otherwise.”
“What are you speaking of, bella?” he asked, his gaze darkening to a demonic blackish red. “I own you. I will taste you whenever I wish. Besides, you weren’t complaining as you urged me deep inside you, begging me to fuck you roughly.”
Tatiana wasn’t sure what the word fuck meant, but she knew she wouldn’t like it. She gulped, turning red in her outrage. “Why don’t you go fuck one of your whores at the music hall? They appeared to be more to your taste, vampire.”
Tatiana thought of his hand on the petite blonde’s breast, his lips sucking her neck, his eyes boring forward to her, wanting her to watch him, trying to make her jealous. Well, it had worked beautifully. She was jealous, and she hated him for it. But, she hated herself even more for wanting him as she did.
“What are you—?”
“I saw you. You know I saw you.”
“Bella—?” he tried again. His eyes darkened even more so in warning. She felt the tension radiating off him though he held his temper back well.
“No. You can never call me bella again. I’m not your bella mia. I’m not your anything, except your whore,” Tatiana screamed at him. Her body still sang with the aftermath of his touch, and it only made her angrier to have to feel it. “That is what you think of me, isn’t it, my lord count? That is why you brought me to a bordello tonight, isn’t it? You wanted to show me that I was nothing more to you than a prostitute. Well, my lord vampire, if I’m a whore then I expect to be paid for my services rendered. Because anything I gave you did not come from any tender sentiment. For your soul and your heart are dead. And even if they weren’t, I would want anything from them. I want nothing from you. I detest you. I despise you. You disgust me. I hate you.”
Marcello shot up from the bed in anger. He flew toward her, gripping her arms in a bruising hold. His nostrils flared as he slammed her into the wardrobe. The contents inside the furniture crashed at the jarring motion.
Tatiana breathed heavily, but she did not back down. Her red robe fell open, showing him the valley of her breasts, her flat stomach, the curls of her nether hair. She waited for him to kill her, her pulse racing. She saw that he wanted to. His eyes were lit with demonic fire. To her surprise, he forced his fingers to uncurl from her throat. He let her go. His hands slowly pulled back and the strong lines of his brooding features became a dead mask.
“Padronissimo, baldracca,” he stated.
“What...?” she asked, not understanding him.
“I said it will be as you wish, my whore.” Marcello’s voice was dark as he turned from her to look at the floor.
Tatiana’s eyes devoured the strong, proud line of his naked back. The taut play of his muscles worked gracefully as he moved. She bit her lip, watching his hips, his tight buttocks. All too readily did her body remember the feel of him against her. Her nerves stung, reaching for him. She wanted him back against her flesh, wanted him deep inside. Her body ached, swirling with the fantastic sensations that only he could arouse inside her.
Marcello took up the necklace he’d bought for her as a gift. With a toss of his wrist, he threw it at her feet. The heavy strand of gemstones wrapped around one of her ankles before sliding to the floor. “Consider your services paid for.”
Tatiana gasped, suddenly unable to move.
“Sleep, baldracca, it has been a long day of work for you. Tomorrow, you will reorganize the mess you made in my wardrobe.” Marcello nodded over her shoulder. Tatiana glanced behind her, seeing one of the doors had opened and there was a trail of clothing strewn out onto the floor.
“This baldracca,” she spat, “doesn’t clean.”
“Ah, but my slave does,” he mocked cruelly. “You are duty bound as my slave to obey me, Tatiana. Being a whore was your choice.”
Suddenly, she was exhausted. She turned her back on him, knowing she couldn’t
sleep by him tonight. Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. She blocked herself from him, refusing to let him feel her. Looking down at the gemstones at her feet, she lifted them up. She weighed them in her hand. She’d been touched by the gift, but now the pleasure of the necklace was lost on her, now that it represented payment.
She thought of the man he’d sent to her booth, the big-nosed Frenchman. Marcello said nothing to her about him. Did he think she performed for the man? Did he care? If the French authorities sought her out, she would welcome them. Let them hang her. But, feeling Marcello laying on the bed behind her, she knew he would never let them take her. She was his possession, and this vampire wouldn’t willingly share his toys. It would take more than the armies of France and England combined to get her away from him. Her only release would be death, and Marcello might not even let that take her.
“No, my lord.” Tatiana gripped the necklace so tightly that her fist turned white. Bitter tears burned the back of her eyes, twitching her nose, but she did not let them fall. Her voice lower than a whisper, she said, “When you brought me to that place tonight, you made me a whore.”
Tatiana slept on the floor before the fireplace. Marcello did not bid her to move and, for once, the flames remained lit all night. She was plagued by nightmares so horrific that she would jolt awake only to see the contrasting faces of the black angels above her. Their solid eyes bore into her, reaching down with their arms. She stared at them for so long, the orange firelight dancing on their smooth skin, that she felt as if they moved. Tatiana refused to touch them again, remembering the vision she’d had of Thomas and Henry.
The nightmares were mostly about Alice—Alice in the cottage, Alice in the field braiding flower rings, Alice waking her gently and laughing, Alice doing any number of things. But, each dream ended the same way, with Alice’s garbled voice and bloodied face. Tatiana knew the girl tried to tell her something, but she couldn’t understand her. At first, she tried to run from her only to wake up in a panicked sweat. By the third dream, she tried to speak to her, tried to make her slow down so she could understand. And, by the end of the night, when Alice’s lips opened, she only understood one terrified word the woman whispered, danger.
Eternally Bound Page 17