Venice Vampyr - The Beginning

“Not tonight. You slept for almost twenty hours after Dante brought—”

Startled, Viola stared at her. “I’ve been here since yesterday?”

“You were unconscious when Dante put you to bed. I dare say, he was quite worried about you. It’s not like him.” There was a puzzled look on Isabella’s face. She was a stunningly beautiful woman with silken skin, mesmerizing green eyes, and long dark hair which was piled loosely onto her head.

“He has no reason to worry about me. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

“Since you raise that subject, why did you attempt to kill yourself?”

Viola clenched her jaw. She hadn’t expected the outwardly pleasant woman to be so blunt. “Nobody in this household seems to have any tact.”

Isabella made a dismissive hand movement. “Oh, that. Blame my husband and his brother. Their behavior tends to rub off on others. We are a very unconventional household to say the least.”

“Does that mean Dante kidnaps unsuspecting women quite often?” She crinkled her nose and lifted her chin in a blasé kind of way. If the lady of the house couldn’t keep up proper decorum, why should she? She was merely a prisoner, not even a guest.

“Whatever you want to know about Dante, I’m sure he’ll be happy to tell you. But it’s not my place to do so.” Then she changed the subject. “Do you enjoy the pheasant?”

Viola chewed the divine meat thoroughly and swallowed. “Passable.”

“I’ll have cook prepare something different tomorrow if you’re not into fowl.”

“I’ll be gone by tomorrow, so don’t trouble yourself.” They couldn’t watch her every second of the day and night. She’d sneak out soon when their defenses were down. But in the meantime, she took another fork full of meat. There was no reason to go hungry.

“Making plans without me, Viola?” Dante drawled from the door.

How had he managed to sneak up on them like that? She didn’t give him the satisfaction of showing him how startled she was by his appearance and took another bite instead.

“Well, eat up then, my sweet, we’re going out. I’ll see you in the foyer in five minutes.”

She snapped her head in his direction, but he’d already left. What in hell was he planning?





Chapter Nine




Dante waited for Viola, his long black cloak slung around his shoulders, the girl’s cloak in his hands. He needed to get out of the house. If he stayed under the watchful eye of his brother and his sister-in-law any longer, he’d never get to kissing the girl and starting her education in the carnal arts.

It was time to remind her of what they’d done the night before—not when he’d penetrated her without much preparation, but when they’d kissed. If he wasn’t mistaken, she’d liked the kissing part well enough.

He picked up her scent even before she exited the dining room. Just as her blood had tasted different when he’d licked it off her temple, her scent had something foreign to it. Something that made him want to protect her. He didn’t understand his strange sentiment. After all, he was a self-proclaimed rake whose only interests lay in fornication and imbibing in rich blood until he felt the same kind of high drugs would produce in humans.

When he laid eyes on Viola as she resolutely swept into the foyer, his protective instinct toward her increased even more. The aura he sensed around her seemed fragile and in stark contrast to the sharp tongue she wielded against him so easily. Not that he minded. He’d spar with that tongue any day—or night.

Dante cleared his throat and pushed his thoughts back into the dark recesses of his debauched mind. “There you are.”

“Where are we going?” Her voice was assessing.

He took a step toward her and secured the cloak around her shoulders, tying the ribbon under her throat. Then he dipped his head to whisper in her ear. “Exploring.”

Before she could protest, he swept her outside into the night. Minutes later, he secured a gondola and a gondolier who promised him a smooth ride through the canals and a discrete look in the other direction when necessary.

Dante helped Viola into the gondola and squeezed onto the comfortable high-back bench next to her. She was a dainty thing, yet his massive proportions assured there wasn’t an inch of space between them.

As the gondolier pushed off and navigated them down the canal, Dante made himself comfortable and slid his arm around Viola’s shoulders to press her closer to him.

“Signore!” she protested.

He dipped his head to hers. “Please call me Dante. I’d hate for you to scream ‘Signore’ when you come apart in my arms. Now, enjoy the ride.”