Shadow Keeper

by Christine Feehan

  He wanted to get her home. He needed to get her home. He turned his head and stiffened. In the doorway of the hotel ballroom, Valentino Saldi stood framed. He wore a suit, and his shoulders nearly touched from one side of the frame to the other. He paused there, his gaze sweeping around the dance floor and tables until he found what he was looking for.

  Emmanuelle. Giovanni nearly stopped dancing right in the middle of the song. He caught sight of Ricco dancing with Nicoletta. They had decided to take turns, making that first declaration to her that she was part of their family. Each one would dance with her at least once. Giovanni included. She was Taviano's. He'd made that clear. No matter whether she was or wasn't, they'd brought her into the family and it was time she accepted it.

  Valentino walked across the floor, weaving in and out of the people. Everyone liked him. He was a good man, no matter that he was part of the Saldi organization. His family owned the meat company, and he often delivered their products himself. The Ferraros were convinced he did it in order to see Emmanuelle more, but he was always friendly with everyone. Still, there was an aura of danger about him and everyone knew he was a Saldi.

  His cousin and bodyguard, Dario, paced behind him, also in a suit. For just one moment, his gaze shifted to follow Nicoletta around the dance floor and then he was all business, and Giovanni wasn't certain he actually saw that momentary breach.

  Emmanuelle stood to one side of the room, talking with Signora Vitale. His sister turned her head slowly just before Valentino reached her side. He held out his hand to her. Giovanni willed his sister to walk away. She didn't. She just stood very still. Frozen like a statue. Valentino was the one to step forward. He pulled Emmanuelle into his arms and brushed a kiss onto her forehead.

  She jerked her head away, said something to him. Giovanni knew that look. She was angry. Hurt. More hurt than angry. "Baby," he said softly. "I have to help Emme."

  "Of course." They hurried over to the couple. He'd been dancing them closer and closer so it wasn't far.

  "Emmanuelle. You promised me this dance." Giovanni took her right out of Valentino's arms and turned his sister into his chest so she could hide her face.

  Emmanuelle went with him as he guided her across the room. He just held her, feeling the tremors running through her. He didn't talk. There wasn't anything to say, and he wasn't going to put her on the spot. No one could pry anything out of her if she didn't want to share, and so far, she hadn't said a word to any of them about Valentino, or why she was so upset with him.

  Valentino immediately held out his arms to the bride. He expected her to turn him down, but she smiled at him and let him take her out among the whirling couples. He kept his eye on Emmanuelle, making certain to stay close enough that when the music ended, he would be able to claim her again.

  "You're very brave to come here when you hurt that girl," Sasha said. "Her brothers would very much like to teach you a few hard lessons."

  He was a little shocked that she spoke to him at all. "I'm sorry. I read the papers so I know your name is Sasha, but we haven't been formally introduced. I'm Valentino Saldi. My friends call me Val. I had to crash your wedding reception, which I'm very aware is terrible manners. And I'm also aware her brothers would like to throw me into the nearest river and drown me. Dario, my bodyguard, knows it, too. She won't take my calls."

  "Emmanuelle isn't nearly as tough as everyone thinks she is," Sasha said. "Nor has she had the easiest time. I don't know why you keep pursuing her when you make her so miserable. It doesn't make any sense."

  "It doesn't? Why does any man pursue a woman?"

  Sasha recalled the conversation at the Ferraro table half said in jest. "Sex?"

  "For any man," Valentino agreed. "But to risk one's life, it has to be more than sex."

  She agreed with that assessment. "That's the general consensus. But some men do like the adrenaline rush, and what a feat it would be to defeat your rivals by going after their sister."

  "I wasn't aware we were rivals."

  Sasha shrugged. She felt very protective over Emmanuelle. "How many times have you broken up with Emme and then gone after her again?"

  "Emmanuelle does the breaking up. I have never sent her home. She goes back again and again. I'm unsure why. When I ask her, she just cries and leaves me. I've tried to live without her. I've tried dating other women. God help me, I even tried fucking another woman. That was a disaster in more ways than one." He sighed, his eyes on the woman in Giovanni's arms. "I do know that if she does what she says she's going to do, there's going to be bloodshed, and she needs to know that up front."

  "What do you mean? You wouldn't dare hurt her."

  Valentino stopped on the dance floor, looking down into her face. For the first time a shiver went down her spine and she was a little afraid of him. "I would kill any man who threatened her or touched her. Never her. Never Emmanuelle."

  Thankfully, the music ended, and Valentino took her hand and gave her back to Giovanni. When Emmanuelle tried to turn away, he caught her wrist. "You're dancing with me, Emme."

  Sasha saw Emmanuelle take a deep breath and then she turned back to him. "There isn't anything to say. I don't want to keep doing this."

  "You have to hear me out."

  She shook her head. "I saw you, Val. With my own eyes. I saw you." Tears filled her eyes and she looked to Giovanni. "I need you to get me out of here."

  There it was. His sister never asked for help, and she was asking. Giovanni gently took her hand out of Val's. "Excuse me, Sasha. I'll be right back." He strode away, his arm around Emmanuelle. He took her out of the ballroom.

  Sasha followed Valentino and Dario at a distance because they were trailing after Giovanni and Emmanuelle. Giovanni went straight to Stefano's private elevator, put in the code and kissed the top of his sister's head. He stood there like a silent sentinel until the doors closed and then he turned toward Valentino.

  "You're a good man, Val," he said. "But she means it. No is no in my world."

  Sasha knew it really wasn't. No, to the Ferraros, meant "try harder." She wasn't certain that Giovanni really understood that they had a double standard.

  Valentino shook his head. "She's hurt, Giovanni. You know she loves me. You know she belongs with me."

  "The sad truth is," Giovanni said, "she can't ever be with you. I don't know what happened, but you're going to have to respect her refusal. This isn't like the ten times before. This time she's adamant. I've never seen her refuse to dance with you. Nor has she ever asked for our help in dealing with you. Not ever. Leave her alone, Val, and let her heal."

  He held out his arm, and Sasha moved quickly under his shoulder, her arm around his waist. The two of them faced the bodyguard and Valentino, who shook his head and turned to walk away.

  "Val?" Giovanni called.

  He turned back.

  "I'm really sorry."

  Val nodded and walked toward the front of the hotel.

  "You really do like him. I thought there was some feud and you were all ready to do him in for some reason other than Emmanuelle." She rubbed his chest over his heart because she felt his hurt for the other man.

  "The feud between our families goes way back, well over a hundred years. The Saldis are a crime family. That's the bottom line. Valentino stands to inherit it all. He's the prince in that family. He was born into it and brought up in it. Emmanuelle can't go there. She's expected to carry out her duty. She has to have children, riders."

  "She can't be happy? Your family wants to turn her into Eloisa?"

  "Why would you think Eloisa wasn't happy in her marriage?"

  She rolled her eyes. "Anyone can see she wasn't happy. She didn't want children. Her family forced her to be someone she wasn't. That's what is going to happen to Emmanuelle."

  Giovanni stood there for a long time staring at the elevator, his arms around her. Tight. "That's true, but I didn't realize others could see it so easily in Eloisa. I'm going to talk to Stefano and the others about thi
s. I've never thought of it this way. Never. She isn't going to be another Eloisa."

  "Having said that ..." Sasha backpedaled a bit. "Valentino really hurt her. Whatever he did, she isn't going to forgive."

  Giovanni let out his breath. "Believe me, baby, that's a good thing. Our family would never accept him, and his would never accept her." He nuzzled the top of her head. "Let's go home."

  "I thought we'd never get home tonight."

  At last. Giovanni carried Sasha over the threshold. He kept the age-old tradition to ward off bad luck. They'd had enough of that and he wasn't taking chances. He set her in the large chair in the great room, turned on the fireplace with the remote, added music and closed all the drapes. Sasha started to remove her shoes.

  "Don't, Sasha. Not yet." He removed his jacket and loosened his tie as she slowly straightened. "I want another dance with you, baby. Are you too tired?"

  She shook her head and stood up. "It was a beautiful day and I don't want it to be over. I did drink a little too much champagne though."

  "That's good. I wouldn't mind a little drunken sex with you." He pulled her close and reached behind her to find the little hooks holding the nude-colored slip under the beautiful transparent layer of sequined embroidery. The silk slithered down her body, leaving her in only a pair of nude lace panties that were little more than a strip.

  Sasha laughed and stepped out of the slip. "Did you know about that little trick the entire time?"

  "Of course."

  He pulled her into his arms and began to guide her in a series of intricate steps that kept her hips pressed tightly against his. He loved the way her body felt against his. Through the transparent material, her skin felt like silk, sliding over him. His cock grew hard. Hungry. He slid his hands down the curve of her spine, found that indentation where her back met the rounded curves of her buttocks. His hands moved lower, found her cheeks. Firm. Soft. He kneaded, massaged. He loved that she savored his touch.

  She threw her head back, pressing her breasts into him. Her nipples pierced the delicate fabric, rubbing along his shirt. He wanted to feel them against his skin.

  "Take my shirt off." He stopped right in the middle of the room.

  Firelight played over her body, over her skin, so that she glowed. She reached up immediately and began to slip each button out of its hole. She undid the cuff links, and he slipped them into his pocket. After opening the cuffs, she dropped her hand and rubbed over his hard length. Then she pushed the shirt from his shoulders. Giovanni slipped out of it.

  "Now my shoes."

  She crouched low without hesitation and undid the laces so he could step out of the shoes. One hand resting on her shoulder, he lifted his foot so she could take off his sock. He did the same with the other side but was very careful of the spot where her shoulder might still be sore. He reached for her, helping her to her feet.

  "I love how you look right now," he said as she unzipped his trousers. "Our wedding night, dressed just for your husband."

  "I have a few more surprises," she confessed. "I actually went shopping."

  Her blush intrigued him. She liked sex. She was adventurous. He couldn't imagine what she'd purchased that had her blushing. His cock jerked hard as she pulled his clothes down his legs so he could step out of them.

  He caught her hand and tugged until she was on the other side of the long couch. Very slowly he pulled up the long translucent sheath that covered her body. When she stood only in her high heels, garters and stockings with that tiny strip of lace for panties, he stepped back to look at her.

  "Do you have any idea how much time I spend thinking about ways to take you?" He turned his finger in a circle, indicating for her to turn around.

  She did so. His heart clenched. His cock throbbed and pushed harder against his stomach. Even his balls reacted, feeling tight and hot. He loved the way that little strip of cloth disappeared between her two cheeks. It had to go, but it was hot. He caught at it and jerked, knowing the action forced the strip to rub against her clit.

  She caught the back of the couch with both hands and gripped hard, a little cry of pleasure escaping. Giovanni couldn't wait another minute. He shoved with his foot until her feet were wide apart. Catching the nape of her neck he pushed her head down so she was bent over the back of the couch. He waited, holding her there, admiring the way she looked.

  "I don't want you to move, baby. Stay just like that for me."

  A little groan escaped. "You want to play."

  "I always want to play."

  He rubbed her cheek and then his hand went lower. Found hot liquid. His. He tasted her. Savored her. Devoured her. Spent time painting his name on her with that hot liquid. All the while she pleaded and begged for him to take her. His fingers went deep. His tongue. He drew that honey out of her and striped her with it. When she made that little keening sound that drove him crazy, he took her, plunging deep, holding nothing back, taking her the way he'd always wanted to. She was his woman, his private miracle, and he was going to love her until the end of his days and beyond.

  She screamed out her orgasms, one after another until he couldn't wait one more second. He flew with her, soaring, his body shaking with the strength of his release. It took some time to recover enough to step back and help her out of her shoes, garters and stockings. He left them on the great room floor and carried his bride to their bed.

  To his astonishment, there were a few items lying on the bed. He hadn't bought them so he was fairly certain his woman had. He put her down right on the edge and picked up the nearest little toy. "Baby. Do you have any idea what this is for?"

  She nodded, watching him carefully.

  "You ever tried this before?"

  She shook her head.

  Heat swept through him. Joy. He was so damned lucky to have found her. He carefully examined each toy. Three had remote controls. For him. He loved that idea.

  "My wedding presents?"

  She nodded, looking a little shy. "You like to play. I wanted you to know that I was willing to play with you, however you wanted to."

  There was a pair of handcuffs, fur-lined, but she had realized he wasn't that into bondage. Her comfort was too important to him and he couldn't relax enough if she was in bonds. He worried that she might not tell him if she was hurting. But maybe if the cuffs were fur-lined and not tight ... The rest of it though ... He looked at the toys. She was willing to play whenever and however he wanted.

  Dio. His cock was already rising. Apparently just the thought of what he was going to do with those toys was working on him. He wasn't going to wait until later. "It's going to be a very long night, Sasha." Warning her seemed a good idea.

  "I've been thinking about this from the moment I bought everything. I'm hoping the night is long. I love you, Giovanni Ferraro."

  "I'm so in love with you, Sasha Ferraro." He didn't know how he got this lucky but he was going to cherish her forever. His woman.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from the next Carpathian novel by Christine Feehan

  DARK SENTINEL

  Coming September 2018 from Piatkus

  Contemplating allowing himself to die made Andor Katona feel a coward. He had never believed that sitting out in the open, waiting to meet the dawn and have the sun fry him was an act of nobility. He--and a very few others--had always believed it to be an act of cowardice. Yet here he was, deliberating whether or not to give himself permission to die. The sun wasn't close, but the loss of blood and near-fatal wounds he'd sustained battling so many vampires at one time had weakened him.

  The human vampire hunters hadn't recognized him as a hunter and had attacked while he'd left his body an empty shell so he could try to heal those wounds. A stake close to the heart--they'd missed--hadn't felt so good. They really weren't very good at their self-appointed task. They'd torn open his chest and more blood had spilled onto the battle ground. He'd never thought he'd die in a country far from home--killed by a trio of bumbling humans--but dying seemed a good al
ternative to continuing a life of battle in an endless gray void.

  The three men, Carter, Barnaby and Shorty, huddled together a distance from him, casting him terrified and hate-filled glances. They were trying to convince themselves they'd done it right and he was dying. Of course, they'd expected him to die immediately and now wondered why he hadn't and what they should do about it. He could have told them they'd need another stake and a much better impaling technique if they wanted him to die. Did he really have to instruct others on how to kill him? That was ridiculous.

  Sighing, he tried weighing the pros and cons of dying in order to make a rational decision. He'd lived too long. Far too long. He'd killed too often--so much so that there was little left of his soul. He'd lived with honor, but there had to be a time when one could let go with honor. It was past his time. He'd known that for well over a century. He'd searched the world over for his lifemate, the woman holding the other half of his soul, the light to his darkness. She didn't exist. It was that simple. She didn't exist.

  Carpathian males lost all emotion and the ability to see in color after two hundred years. Some lost it earlier. They had to exist on memories, and after so many centuries, even those faded. They retained their battle skills--honed them nightly--but as time passed, all those long endless years, even the memories of family and friends faded away. He lived his life far from humans most of the time, working in the night to keep them safe.

  Vampires were Carpathians who had given up their honor in order to feel again. There was a rush when one killed while feeding. Adrenaline-laced blood could produce a high. Vampires craved the high, and they terrorized their victims before killing them. Andor had hunted them on nearly every continent. As time passed, the centuries coming and going, the whispers of temptation to turn increased. For a few hundred years, those whispers sustained him, even if he knew the promise was empty. Eventually, even that was lost to him. Then he lived in a gray world of ... nothing.

  He entered the monastery high in the remote Carpathian Mountains, a place where a very few ancients locked themselves away from the world when they were deemed too dangerous to hunt and kill, and they didn't believe in giving themselves to the dawn. Every kill increased the danger of turning and he had lived too long, and knew too much to be a vampire. Few hunters would ever be able to defeat him, yet here he was, nearly done in by a trio of inept, bumbling human assassins.