Venice Vampyr - The Beginning

He chuckled. “Because of you.”


“What do you mean?” She propped herself up on one elbow while continuing to stroke his erection. She liked the feel of it. Despite its hardness, the surface was almost like velvet, so soft and smooth.

He flicked his finger lightly against her nose. “You’re in my bed, as naked as the day you were born, and you smell so darn enticing that no man with any kind of heartbeat could refrain from getting hard at the sight of you. Do you have any idea how difficult it is for me not to sling you under me right now and fuck you so hard you’d faint?”

Shock coursed through her, and she couldn’t help her slight flinch. She remembered the pain when he’d done that before, and she didn’t want a repeat of it.

***

Dante stared into her widened eyes and realized instantly that he’d gotten carried away. He should have never said what he’d felt. She was still scared of being penetrated again, and he’d done the absolute worst thing he could by admitting he wanted to fuck her and drive his hard cock into her to the hilt.

“Oh, damn,” he cursed. “Viola, I’m sorry. Please forget I said that.”

Only now he noticed that she’d dropped her hold on his cock. But that didn’t even matter now. He just didn’t want her to be afraid of him.

She dropped her gaze and looked away from him. “I understand. And why shouldn’t you get what you really want? You’ve been a good teacher. You’ve shown me what I wanted to know. It’s only right that I pay for it.” Her voice cracked.

“Stop.”

“No, I owe you. And I’m not one to not pay my debts.” She pulled herself out of his embrace and laid flat on her back. “Go ahead. Do what you want to do.”

Dante jumped out of bed and rushed to the fireplace, far enough away from her to resist the temptation. “No. I won’t do it.”

“But I know you want to. You said so yourself. I don’t mind.”

She didn’t mind? He ran his hand through his messy hair. “That’s just it. I won’t fuck you just because you don’t mind it. I want to fuck you because you want me inside you. Because you desire me. Not because you don’t mind.” He spat the words, trying to rid himself of the bitter taste they left in his mouth.

What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never turned down an offer like that before. And his dick was as hard as ever. Not even her lukewarm offer of sex had been able to make him deflate. Yet, here he stood naked as a babe and randy as a sailor, refusal spurting from his lips. Somebody should stake him for his stupidity.

And since he was already on the subject of his own stupidity, why on earth hadn’t he bitten her yet? He’d had plenty of opportunities to take her blood without even using any of his powers of persuasion. Yet, he’d done no such thing.

Like a docile pet, he’d cuddled her and taken care of her needs instead of taking care of his own. Was that what happened to men when women trampled their ego?

Dante balled his hands into fists, wanting to kick somebody. He felt his jaw tighten and realized to his horror that his vampire side wanted to emerge. The itch that always accompanied the lengthening of his fangs was already spreading.

Feeling panicked, he searched for his clothes. When he stalked toward his garments and snatched them off the floor, he heard Viola’s hesitant voice from the bed. “Have I done something wrong?”

He didn’t look in her direction for fear he’d feast his eyes on her body and succumb to the temptation of taking her in the most savage way he could. And then he’d be no further than before. She’d never stroke his ego and build it back up if he hurt her now.

“Sleep. I’ll be back later.”

There were still several hours in the night left. After giving his servants instructions not to let Viola leave the house, he stalked into the night to hunt. He needed blood, and the more the better. Only when his thirst for blood was stilled would he allow himself to return home. Then he would be better able to control his carnal urges. Because unleashing those on Viola and hurting her would not appease his need to be forgiven.

Forgiven? Only when the word scrambled through his mind did he realize that guilt was driving him—guilt because he’d driven her to set the pistol to her head and pull the trigger.

That’s when he knew his actions and his feelings had nothing to do with his ego. It had to do with the fact that he’d saved her life—even if he’d been the one to drive her to take it.

Preserving it was his mission now.





Chapter Twelve