Venice Vampyr - The Beginning

A moment later, she felt his hand cup her cheek. “We’ll figure it out. Now, let me help you get dressed.”


Raphael jumped out of bed. Her eyes followed his nude form as if drawn by a magnet. His firm buttocks flexed as he walked to her dressing table. He pulled a fresh chemise and silky drawers from one of the compartments.

When he turned, he grinned unashamedly. How he could find humor in the situation, she couldn’t fathom. “How can you—?”

“Because this allows me to spend another few hours with you that I wouldn’t have had otherwise.” He stepped toward the bed and turned back the covers, exposing her to his hungry eyes. Yes, she could clearly see the hunger in them and was instantly reminded of how she had awoken: with his hard length inside her, thrusting deep, and the most indecent words whispered in her ear. Words that had excited her nevertheless. More than she wanted to admit to him. If she did, she’d be no better than a common whore.

Raphael’s hands were gentle as he helped her into her undergarments. Her corset followed. As he laced her up in the back, she felt his loins press into her buttocks. His cock was as hard as before.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered into her ear, then started nibbling on it. For a moment, she lost all senses.

A commotion on the stairs brought her back to reality. She jolted, and so did Raphael. He’d heard the voices outside in the corridor too.

“Quickly.” He snatched her dressing gown and helped her into it.

“No, Signore, you can’t see her now!” Elisabetta’s indignant voice penetrated.

But a moment later, the door swung open without a knock, and Massimo burst into the room, his valet on his heels.

Elisabetta tried to push into the room too, but was prevented by the two men. “I’m so sorry, Signora, I tried to stop them.”

But Isabella didn’t listen to her maid, because Massimo’s booming voice took all her attention.

“Look at you, you whore. How you drag my cousin’s name through the mud!”

“Massimo,” she echoed in shock.

Raphael grabbed her and pushed her behind his naked body as if to shield her from Massimo. But he couldn’t shield her from the accusations that rolled off his tongue.

“Caught with her lover still rampant and ready.” Massimo sneered and pointed his finger at her while Raphael held her behind his broad back, seemingly unconcerned about his nude state. “By tonight all of Venice will know what a whore you are! I can’t wait to attend the ball.”

Then he turned on his heels and left, slamming the door shut behind him. She was ruined. Not only was it her word against his, he’d brought a witness. Everybody would believe him. Her whole life was lost because of one night. Nobody could help her now. Not even Raphael.

“Leave,” she choked out and turned away from him.





Chapter Nine




Raphael stood frozen, still staring at the door. Massimo, she’d called him. Her dead husband’s cousin. But none of that mattered, not after Raphael had seen the ring the man wore. He’d recognized the symbol on it. The black onyx was graced with a cross intersected by three waves—the sign of the Guardians of the Holy Waters. Holy Waters, because they had made it their mission to eradicate vampires and drown every single one of them.

He and his brethren had not been able to find out who the members of their secret society were, as least not so far. They were far too careful. This was the first time he’d actually seen someone wear the elusive sign. He could only imagine that it had been an oversight by Massimo to wear the ring in public and give himself away. Unless, of course, he didn’t consider Isabella’s house to be a public place, but rather a place where his secret was safe.

Had fate just handed him the key to dealing with the threat the Guardians represented? Was this why he’d been given a second chance and been thrust into this house and this woman’s arms? So he could discover who they were?

A sob behind him made him turn. Isabella sat at her dressing table, trying to comb her hair, a look of anguish on her face. The woman who’d given him such pleasure only hours ago was a bundle of nerves.

When he met her eyes in the mirror, she looked away. “You should leave. There’s nothing more to do for you. By tonight, all of Venice will know what a whore I am.”

Her lips trembled as she spoke, and Raphael couldn’t help himself but walk to her and lift her into his arms.

“No,” she protested, “it’s no use. You’d better go.”

He tipped her chin up with his hand and made her look at him. Unshed tears stood in wait around the rim of her eyes. He wouldn’t let her cry them. “There is something I can do.”

A flicker of hope appeared in her irises.

“Do you have a servant you trust implicitly?”

She gave him a curious look, then nodded. “Adolfo, my gondolier. He’s loyal to me.”