Venice Vampyr - The Beginning

Despite the fact that his brother and Isabella stood in the parlor, it was eerily quiet in the house. Neither had spoken a word since Dante had started the process. All his concentration was on Viola. If he missed the moment her body would accept his blood, she would die.

His body tensed as he waited for her heartbeat to slow even further, and the whole scene in the alley played out in front of him again and again. He’d seen Salvatore a split-second before Lorenzo had alerted him. He’d been unconcerned with his own safety—all he’d thought of was getting Viola out of danger. He’d never expected her to act so swiftly and shield him from Salvatore’s assault. She’d sacrificed her life for his, with no reason. Salvatore’s gun wouldn’t have hurt him. Only silver bullets could kill a vampire.

Viola’s heart beat even slower now.

It was time. He raised his wrist and set it against her closed lips.

“No!” Lorenzo screamed as he burst into the room. “Stop, you’re killing her!”

Dante reared his head and growled.

“The bullet is made of silver.” Lorenzo stretched his open palm toward him. It held a ring.

Shock coursed through Dante. He pulled his wrist from Viola’s mouth. He recognized the symbol on the black onyx ring: a cross intersected by three waves. The symbol of the Guardians of the Holy Waters, the group of wealthy Venetians whose mission it was to eradicate the vampires in their midst. A secret society that he and his fellow vampires had been fighting over the last years.

“I found it on Salvatore before I disposed of his body.”

“He was a Guardian?” Raphael gasped.

Lorenzo nodded quickly. Knowing that Salvatore had been a member of the elusive society could bring them a step closer in their search of the remaining Guardians. Later, when Viola was out of danger.

“You have to take the bullet out before you turn her,” Raphael said.

“Or she’ll die,” Dante whispered to himself.

If he left the silver bullet in her, the moment he turned her into a vampire, the deadly metal would burn her flesh from the inside and kill her. Had she been shot with anything else but silver, her new vampire body would merely expel the foreign object and heal itself.

Dante stroked his hand over Viola’s face. By shielding him from Salvatore’s bullet, she had truly saved his life. Now he had to save hers, or all would be in vain.

He gave his brother a desperate look. “Help me.”

Without hesitation, Raphael was by his side, his fingers lengthening into sharp claws. Dante shook his head. “No, you hold her. I’ll take the bullet out myself.”

He shifted Viola and transferred her into Raphael’s arms so her back and the gaping wound was exposed to him. Once she was a vampire, her body would heal itself within minutes. “Quickly,” Raphael instructed.

Dante’s fingers had already turned into claws. He sliced through the top layers of her skin and muscle, following the path the bullet had taken. When he touched the bullet lodged next to a bone, the silver sent a bolt of pain through him.

Hissing, he clenched his teeth and curled his claw, dislodging the silver from the bone. With a groan, he drew the bullet from her body, then dropped it to the floor. His flesh was sizzling where it had come in contact with the metal. But he ignored the pain.

There was no time left. He could not lose her.

Taking Viola from Raphael, he placed his bleeding wrist at her mouth and forced her lips open. The blood dripped, filling her mouth.

“Swallow, Viola,” he urged her. “Swallow, damn it.”

Her mouth didn’t move. His heart contracted. No, he needed her to live so he could live. She was all he wanted. “Please,” he whispered. He bent over her face, and a solitary tear dislodged from his eye. It dropped onto her lips and ran to the corner of her mouth before it followed the path his blood had taken earlier. “Don’t leave me.”

A gurgle from her throat startled him. She swallowed. She took a breath.

“Viola!”

The relieved breaths of his companions filled the room. But all Dante saw was Viola. How her chest rose as she took another breath. How her cheeks turned rosy. How her throat worked to swallow the rest of his blood.

“Viola, my love.” Her eyes flew open, and all he could do was smile at her.

“Dante, oh Dante, are you hurt? You’re bleeding.” Viola’s eyes stared at his wrist.

He shook his head and laughed, full of relief. It figured that her first thoughts would be for him. “No, my love, I’ve never been better.” Then he hugged her to his chest and squeezed her to him. “I love you, Viola, I love you so much.”

“Salvatore,” she stammered. “Did he shoot you?”

Dante pulled away just far enough so he could look at her face. “You took the bullet. You saved my life.”

There was a puzzled look on her face. “But … I don’t understand. I feel fine. Actually …” She paused. “I feel better than fine. He must have missed, even though … I felt the bullet hit me.”