Venice Vampyr - The Beginning

“I’m not sure, but he was different. He avoided being alone with me. He had terrible mood swings, outbursts of temper. And he would stay away all night, then shut himself away all day. It wasn’t normal. He even shunned Massimo, and they’d always been as close as brothers. One day he tossed the onyx ring in the corner as if it was worth nothing. It was his temper.”


The smooth strokes with which Raphael brushed her hair soothed her memories. But something else still bothered her. “I think he took a mistress. He wouldn’t bed me anymore. Maybe that’s what happens to men when they are married for a few years. They lose interest in their wives.”

Raphael set the brush on the table and turned her body to him. “Is that what you’re afraid of? That I’ll lose interest in you?”

She didn’t want to answer him. What would it serve? Only to expose her heart. He would break it one day—one day soon when she discovered his true motives for marrying her. She didn’t want to meet his eye, but he shelved her chin on his hand and tilted her face up.

“I’ll never lose interest in you. How could I? You’re the most engaging and passionate woman I’ve ever met.”

His kiss was tender, but within seconds it turned heated and consuming. Despite her reservations about him, her uncertainty of what he wanted from her and from this marriage, she melted into him.

Raphael lifted her into his arms and carried her to their bed, where he covered her with his own body. “Now, my sweet wife, let me show you how much you interest me.”





Chapter Sixteen




This was the third night that Isabella had awoken and found herself alone. Raphael was nowhere to be found. Just like the two nights before: he’d come to bed and made love to her, only to disappear sometime when she slept. At first she’d thought she would find him downstairs in the study or the parlor having a glass of grappa or reading a book, but the house was empty save for the servants.

Yet, every morning he was by her side again, sleeping, his body pressed closely to hers as if he’d never been away. Despite his assurances that he wouldn’t lose interest in her like Giovanni had, she couldn’t help but speculate where he went in the middle of the night.

But she wouldn’t make the same mistake she’d made with Giovanni. She wouldn’t allow him to treat her like this. If he disappeared again, she would follow him and find out what he was hiding from her.

***

Raphael entered the parlor in his own home and noticed that he had a visitor. Lorenzo, one of his closest friends, was sprawled in one corner of the sofa.

“Lorenzo, it’s good to see you.”

Lorenzo gave him a crooked grin, mischief twinkling in his blue eyes. His loose, shoulder-length hair and open shirt attested to the fact that he’d been waiting for a while, and the drops of blood on his chest indicated he’d fed recently. Very recently.

“Likewise. I hear congratulations are in order.”

Raphael’s nostril’s flared as he scented the fresh blood. In fact, it was very intense. He glanced around the room and found Dante in his favorite chair in front of the fireplace, a young woman in his lap. Her gown was open in the front, exposing her small but firm breasts, which Dante fondled while he suckled from her neck.

Drops of blood ran down Dante’s cheek, evidence of how greedily he drank from the woman. Her soft moans drifted to his ears. She was under Dante’s thrall. Raphael knew that she wouldn’t remember anything his brother did to her. The persuasion skill his brother used was what had helped him and his fellow vampires avoid detection over centuries. Every vampire used it when feeding.

He felt his trousers tightening at the thought of feeding from a woman. Not any woman. Isabella. With a grunt, he pulled himself away from the sight and embraced Lorenzo who’d risen from the sofa.

“Thank you, my friend.”

Lorenzo made a sideway’s glance at Dante. “Would you like some? I brought her for Dante, but as we both know, he doesn’t mind sharing. Do you, Dante?”

As much as he would have liked to accept the offer, he’d decided to only feed from men now that he was married to Isabella. He didn’t feel that it was right to touch another woman.

“No, thank you.”

“My brother is smitten with his wife, you must understand, Lorenzo,” Dante drawled, having dislodged his fangs from the woman’s neck. “It appears he doesn’t want to give into temptation by touching another woman.”

“And Dante seems to stick his nose into things that don’t concern him. Who I feed from is entirely my business,” Raphael shot back. “Now, if you’re quite done with feeding, can we get down to business? What did you find out about Giovanni Tenderini?”

Dante licked the puncture wounds on the woman’s neck, got up and carried her to the sofa where he laid her down. Then he wiped his mouth and looked back at Raphael, his face serious now. “He was a Guardian alright. But I’ll let Lorenzo tell you the story. It’s quite interesting, by the way.”

“Yes,” Lorenzo confirmed. “A Guardian turned Vampire.”