Venice Vampyr - The Beginning

“You figured you’d lie to me. I get it. If this is some trick of yours to get me to marry you then—”

Her eyes widened in shock, and she sat up while nervously pulling on the bed sheet to cover herself up. “How dare you insinuate I wanted to trap you? I have no interest in you. All I wanted was one night of passion.” She jumped out of bed and snatched her chemise from the floor.

He noticed how her hands shook as she pulled it over her body. “Viola, stop. What are you doing?”

She pulled on her drawers and reached for her dress. “I’m leaving.”

“And where are you going?”

“What does it matter? I got what I came for. You’ve done what I wanted you to do.” She sniffed, and he rather suspected she was on the verge of tears. Damn, how he hated crying women.

“I haven’t done anything yet. You think that was all there’s to it? You truly are an innocent.” And for some odd reason, he liked her innocence. So did his still rampant cock.

Viola pulled her dress up, and he was surprised at how fast she tied the laces on the front of her bodice. “I’m not an innocent anymore.”

Dante jumped out of bed, unconcerned with his nudity. “All I did was penetrate you. This wasn’t fucking.”

“Well, I don’t care to know about the rest.” She grabbed her cloak and the small satchel she’d brought with her and dashed for the door.

Dante stood frozen. What had just happened? He’d deflowered a virgin who’d hightailed it out of his bed before he had even properly fucked her. All she would know was the pain associated with his invasion of her entirely too tight channel. Damn, how she’d gripped him for so brief a time. Had he known, he would have prepared her better. What was he saying? Had he known, he would have never touched her.

Damn it to hell, this was not how he wanted to be remembered: as the man who’d hurt her.

Dante cursed and grabbed his clothes.

***

The moment the cold night air hit her heated body, Viola sensed a dull ache in her head. Like a clenched fist, the pressure in her head built: as if the growth inside her tried to push through her skull and crack it like a young chick cracked its egg to be born.

It had all been too much for her after all: the anticipation and nervousness when she’d first entered the club, the fear and devastation when the fight between Dante and Salvatore had broken out, and now the loss of her virginity. It had been painful, even though the sharp pain had only lasted for a moment. The moment he’d penetrated her with his manhood, which was clearly too large for a woman like her, all the delicious sensations his kisses and caresses had caused had fled her body. If this was what sex was, then she was no longer interested.

Well, at least she wouldn’t die a virgin. Now that she knew she had experienced everything she had set herself to do, she felt empty. But instead of a pleasant emptiness in her head she felt a throbbing ache. For hours, she would be in the throws of excruciating pain if she allowed this to continue.

But she didn’t have to allow it. All the items on her list were ticked off. There was no reason to stay. It was better to end it now.

Viola walked to the next corner, where a gas lamp provided more light and stopped. She loosened the bow to her small bag and opened it. Apart from a handkerchief, a few coins and her pills, the only other item in it was the pistol she’d taken from her father’s study. She’d watched him often enough when he’d cleaned and loaded it. She’d even shot it once before in Switzerland to make sure it was working. Then she’d reloaded it.

Her fingers suddenly felt icy when she pulled the weapon from her bag. She recognized her slow movements as a symptom of her cowardice. She was a coward for taking her own life, but she was also a coward for hesitating to put the pistol to her temple.

She forced herself to steady her trembling hand. It had to be done. She would not sit idly about, waiting for her death when there was nothing more that she wanted from life, when all that was going to happen from now on would be painful. No more joy would come her way.

Viola gave a rueful smile, remembering the few moments of sheer and utter bliss she’d felt when Dante had kissed her. Those were the minutes she wanted to remember in her hour of death, not the pain that had followed or the ugly words he’d hurled at her.

A tiny sob tore from her chest as she raised the weapon to her head and closed her eyes. She cocked the pistol, and the sound echoed in the alley, ricocheting off the stone walls to tell all the world that she was leaving. Her finger on the trigger trembled, but she took a steadying breath, then another one.

Tears pushed passed her closed lids and rolled down her cheeks. She squeezed her index finger and felt something impacting her body the moment the shot rang out.





Chapter Six