Venice Vampyr - The Beginning

She didn’t respond, and he didn’t expect her to. For now, all he wanted was for her to enjoy the tour. Since she’d admitted that she was staying in a hotel, she was not native to Venice. It had given him the idea of taking her on a little sightseeing tour along the picturesque canals. Even at night, she would be able to see many of the magnificent mansions and palaces the city was famous for.

As he started pointing out different buildings and retold little anecdotes about the inhabitants, he felt her relax next to him. From the corner of his eye, he noticed how she looked at many of the impressive homes with awe, her mouth open in obvious admiration. Illuminated on the inside by massive chandeliers, Dante and Viola caught glimpses of the grandeur inside.

“Beautiful,” she whispered.

Dante was pleased with himself. Viola seemed to enjoy the gondola ride. It was part of his plan to show her that life was worth living, that there was beauty and excitement all around her.

When she suddenly shivered next to him, he pulled her closer. “Cold?”

She nodded, and he reached for her folded hands. They were like ice. He cursed himself. Just because he didn’t feel the cold as severely as a human would didn’t mean he could forget about her well-being. “I’m sorry, Viola.”

He opened his own cloak.

“No, you’ll be cold then,” she protested.

“No, I won’t. Come.” Before she could protest, he lifted her into his arms and settled her on his lap. He scooted back onto the bench before he closed his cloak over both of them.

“But—”

He killed her protest by pressing her closer to his chest, keeping his own arms inside his cloak, away from prying eyes. “This way we’ll both be warm.”

“Is that why?” She tilted her chin up in challenge.

“There’s a second reason.”

“Which would be?”

“Did you like it when I kissed you last night?”

She dropped her lids at his question but said nothing.

“Do you want me to kiss you again?”

An almost unperceivable nod was the answer. Excitement coursed through him. He hadn’t misread her the night before. He had another chance. “Then lift your head and offer me your lips.”

She did just that. But instead of stealing a passionate and demanding kiss, he pushed back his hunger for her and only lightly brushed his lips against hers. They were almost as frozen as her hands. He nibbled on them, stroking over them with his hot tongue in an attempt to warm her.

***

Viola closed her eyes and savored the gentle touch. Dante was different than the night before, less urgent, less demanding. Gentler, softer. Yet in no way less intoxicating. She breathed in his rich scent, a mixture of musky cologne—the same she’d smelled in his bed—and a deep earthy and leathery scent.

His lips were tentative against her, merely touching lightly, barely pressing against her. A frustrated moan escaped her. She wanted him to kiss her the way he’d kissed her the night before.

“Something wrong?” he whispered against her lips.

“No.” She couldn’t very well tell him what she wanted. Instead, her hands went to his shirt and pulled, forcing him to put more heat behind the kiss. Hadn’t she just told him she was cold? Did he think his little timid kiss would get her warm?

When she pressed her lips against his mouth, a startled moan came from his throat. Suddenly, he angled his head and nudged at her lips, requesting entry with his tongue. On a relieved sigh, she parted her lips and welcomed him.

Her hand dug into his shirt to hold him close to her so he wouldn’t stop too soon. In seconds, his kiss had turned from innocent to demanding. Instantly, she felt heat build in her belly and ripple through her body, reaching all her cells. She relaxed into him, melted against his mouth and tongue, opened up for him so he could explore her more thoroughly. All the while, her hands stroked him through his shirt. She marveled at the hardness of his muscled chest and the warmth his body radiated. She wanted to soak up all of it and cocoon herself in his warmth and closeness.

When his hand moved up the side of her torso and reached the underside of her breast, she gasped into his mouth. But he didn’t stop. On the contrary, he increased the demand in his kiss, making her forget where she was.

His hand cupped her breast and gave it a soft squeeze. She yelped and pulled away from his mouth. “No, not here. People can see.”

“Nobody can see what I’m doing under the cloak,” he assured her and took her mouth again, stifling her next protest. As if to underscore his statement, he tugged on the bodice and managed to free her breasts, letting the material bunch just under them. It now provided a shelf on which her breasts rested for him to do with as he pleased.

“Dante!” She tried to tell him that it wasn’t decent but he kissed her again. With every kiss, she was less able to resist him. Her body seemed to melt more and more with every second he exerted this sweet torture on her.