Venice Vampyr - The Beginning

And not only that, now that her intoxicating scent wasn’t flooding his nostrils any longer, he noticed that his own skin didn’t smell of the murky waters of the canal like he would have expected. Somebody had bathed him. His eyes scanned the lavishly decorated room, his gaze instantly honing in on the four poster bed and the endless possibilities it suggested. Down, boy, he cautioned himself and continued his perusal of the chamber. Clearly, her chamber.

When his eyes fell onto a bowl with water and a sponge, he smiled to himself. Isabella had been the one who’d washed him, taken the sponge into her elegant hands and laved his body with it. Had she cradled his balls? Had she taken his cock into her hand as she’d performed this intimate task?

No wonder she’d blushed like a debutante. Now he understood. She’d touched his body intimately, more intimately than anyone had in a long time, and now she felt embarrassed about it. Had she liked what she’d seen? Had she maybe even stroked him, caressed him? Had her lips followed where her hands had explored first?

By God, he was hard just thinking of all the things she might have done to him while he was unconscious. He didn’t feel violated in the slightest by the knowledge that she’d exploited his vulnerability. No—all it served was getting him aroused. All he could think of was whether she would do it again.

Clearly, as a widow she was familiar with the pleasures of the flesh. She was no shy virgin, but a grown woman who must recognize her own carnal needs. He’d felt them boil under her skin, those passions she kept locked away. Finding the key to unlocking those desires and ensuring she unleashed them on him would be his greatest challenge. Yes, that’s what he would do: seduce her into his bed (or hers, as the case might be) and make her surrender to him.

He hadn’t had a challenge like this one in a while. Most women fell into his arms and his bed without much ado, without much more than a smile and a wink from his part. Despite the kiss she had allowed him to steal, she wouldn’t fall easily. Her stern reprimand had hinted at that. She’d brought herself under control again. And he’d do anything to snap that control from right under her nose like a mere twig a hunter crushed with his feet. All because he could. And because she was the choicest morsel he’d tasted in a long while.





Chapter Four




Raphael found the elegant parlor in which Isabella was waiting for him after he’d gotten dressed. The clothes of her late husband fit him perfectly, and the fellow had had taste too. And just as perfectly as he’d slipped into the man’s breeches, shirt and coat, Raphael wanted to slide into his widow. He was sure she’d fit him just as perfectly.

Isabella stood near the fireplace with her back to him as he entered. Her hair was now tied in a tight bun low at the back of her neck. And she was dressed in a gown that was fit for any noble in Venice. If she wanted to pretend that she was all prim and proper, he’d let her, and then he’d expose what lay beneath her respectable exterior: a passionate woman.

“Signora Tenderini,” he greeted her.

A visible shudder went through her body. Had she not heard him come in? Perhaps he was so used to being silent when approaching humans that it had become such a habit he barely noticed. He made a mental note to try not to startle her again.

Isabella turned and looked at him. Her features were tense as if she’d been thinking long and hard about something. A frown disturbed her pretty face. Her pursed lips were evidence that she contemplated her next words.

“I’m glad to see that your near drowning seems to have produced no lasting injuries.” While she spoke, her spine remained stiff, as if she was forcing herself to remain formal.

Raphael nodded and gave a slight bow. “I’m grateful to your servants and would like to bestow the man who pulled me out of the canal with a little monetary gift if you allow me.” Whoever had been so brave as to jump into the icy waters and had the strength to pull his heavy body out of it should be rewarded.

“My gondolier has already been rewarded by me. No further reward is necessary.”

He would still give the fellow a handsome sum of money. His life was worth it. But to Isabella, he only nodded, not wanting to alienate her. “I thank you for your generosity. And if I may, I profusely apologize again for my inappropriate behavior toward you. Let me assure you that—”

“No assurances are necessary,” she interrupted him. “The traumatic circumstances explain your behavior. I’m a respectable widow and have a standing in Venetian society I care not to jeopardize. I trust in your discretion.”

Raphael bowed and grinned to himself, wiping the grin off his face as soon as he straightened. She’d asked for his discretion? It could only mean one thing.

She wanted him for a lover.

He hadn’t expected her to make an offer like this. Maybe he had underestimated her. Maybe she was a widow who took lovers frequently. The thought disturbed him—why, he didn’t know. “My discretion precedes me, Signora.”

“Good. Then I bid you farewell. My gondolier will take you home.”