I Want You to Want Me (21 page)

“Wow,” Maggie murmured, her cheeks flushing to a deep red.

“Hi,” Erika said sheepishly, waving from amid the sheets.

Vittorio glanced from Erika to his brother, fully expecting Ren to quickly make an exit. Maggie had already caught his hand, and was pulling at him, trying to move him back toward the porch. But Vittorio should have known his brother well enough to know he wasn’t going so easily.

Instead he smiled broadly, and asked, “Bad timing?”

Vittorio glared at him. “You could say that.”

“I’m not even going to ask why you opted for cushions on the dining room floor.”

“Good,” Vittorio said, moving to open the door wider, a less than subtle hint, which Ren ignored. Ren sauntered to the sofa, easily tugging Maggie along with him. He sat down, even as Maggie hissed that they should really be going.

Ren smiled at her, then kissed her nose as a way of appeasing her. “But we’ve obviously missed a lot while we were away.”

“And now isn’t the time to get brought up-to-date,” Vittorio snarled.

“Well, we couldn’t have interrupted much. You still have all your clothes on,” Ren said.

Vittorio snarled. He should have guessed his smart-ass brother would enjoy this far too much.

“Umm, if you all will excuse me,” Erika said, managing to struggle to her feet and keep the sheet wrapped around herself, “I think I’ll go get some clothes on.”

Oh yeah, Ren was going to pay for this little stunt.

Vittorio watched with a combination of regret and irritation as Erika hurried down the hall.

“Ren,” Maggie admonished.

“What?” Ren said, giving her a wide-eyed, innocent look.

Maggie rolled her eyes. “It’s a darn good thing you are so cute.” She pressed a kiss to his lips, and then stood.

“I give you permission to punch him,” she said to Vittorio.

“Thank you. I will.”

“I don’t think so,” Ren stated, then he caught Maggie’s hand as she started to walk away. He tugged her back and pulled her down for another kiss. “I can’t believe you’d give anyone permission to hurt me.”

“Only when you deserve it, my love.” She smiled sweetly and slipped out of his grasp. She headed to the door, leaving the brothers alone.

“Well, this was a surprise,” Ren said to Vittorio. “You sly dog, you.”

Vittorio crossed over to the chair, dropping into it, realizing all hope of being alone and naked with Erika was lost for the time being.

“You are a pain in the ass,” he stated to Ren.

“Mmm,” Ren nodded. “So how did this all come to pass?”

Vittorio considered not answering him, but decided maybe Ren could be of some help, as unlikely as that seemed.

“What was it like when you met Maggie?”

Ren frowned. “How is this answering my question?”

“It’s not. So how did you feel?”

“Most of the time? Hit by a two-by-four—and helpless to stop myself from being with her.”

Vittorio nodded.

“Which is clearly where you are too, given that moony look on your face. God, I hope I don’t look so ridiculous.”

Vittorio didn’t bother to answer. “How did you handle all the weirdness of being what we are?”

“As you may recall, I sort of took the pressure off the lampir thing by nearly ruining my relationship with Maggie by being a total idiot.”

Vittorio nodded. That had been true. Ren had come up with the worst plan ever to protect Maggie. It still amazed Vittorio that Ren got out of that mess.

“If Erika is the one, she will understand who you are.” Ren paused after he spoke, then grimaced. “My God, that sounded so adult, didn’t it?”

“I don’t know about that.”

“So is she the one?”

Vittorio didn’t even pause. “Yeah, I think so.” Of course, aside from his overwhelming need to feed from her, being a lampir wasn’t his major concern.

Vittorio stared at Ren for a moment, then asked, “Do you think Mother is capable of killing anyone?”

“Our mother?”

Vittorio nodded.

“Oh hell, yeah,” Ren said. “Definitely.”

E
rika wasn’t ashamed to admit that she was hiding out in her bedroom, waiting until Ren and Maggie cleared out. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed about being caught in the act with Vittorio—okay, that was a little embarrassing—it was a combination of things that had her closeting herself away.

The embarrassment of being naked was one, but what worried her more was what Ren and Maggie would think of this whirlwind relationship. And then there was what she thought about it, which was definitely confusing.

When Vittorio left earlier, and she’d had time to think, with the water from the shower raining down on her and clearing her mind, she decided to just ask him about this other woman.

When she’d asked him outside of Philippe’s, he’d seemed genuinely confused by the question. But Erika couldn’t help feeling as if someone else had to factor into his hot/cold behavior.

Yes, she’d been determined to talk to him about all of this. Then he’d returned, pretty much crooked his finger, and she was tumbling back into bed with him, or rather into a pile of cushions.

She needed to get a rein on her desires. She did need to understand him better before she got involved. Or more involved. It was clearly too late to claim this was casual.

She pulled on pajamas, which consisted of cotton lounge pants and a matching T-shirt. Then she sprawled on the bed, trying to gather herself before heading back out there.

She was surprised that before long Vittorio appeared in the doorway. He leaned on the door frame, looking slightly dazzled and definitely sheepish.

She pushed up, resting on her elbows. “Ren and Maggie left?”

He nodded. “Yes. Sorry about that.”

Erika shrugged, giving him a small smile. “I’ve gotten to know your brother pretty well since arriving here and I know he’s a tease.”

“I guess that’s one word for him.”

Erika studied him for a moment, realizing that now that his sheepishness had diminished, he was pulling away again. There was a distant look in his dark eyes, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“What did you two talk about?” she asked.

He shifted, then his arms tightened even more, if that was possible. He was definitely withdrawing.

“Vittorio?”

He blinked at her, lost in his own thoughts.

“Can I ask you something?”

His expression immediately became apprehensive, but he nodded.

“Is there another woman?”

Vittorio didn’t know what he’d expected her to ask, but that wasn’t it.

“Another woman? No. Why?”

Erika fiddled with the edging of her duvet. “It’s just that—well, Philippe told me that you had a woman from your past that you were still involved with.”

“No,” he said automatically, then wondered who Philippe was. Then his mother, who was on his mind anyway, popped back into his mind.

“Well, he was rather insistent that you were still involved with a woman from your past.”

Vittorio took a step toward her, then paused. He did have a woman in his past, one that not only was he involved with, but now Erika might be involved with as well. Ren’s immediate affirmation as to the deadliness of their mother was doing nothing to dissuade him from believing his mother was a threat to Erika. But he didn’t know what to do.

Instead he asked, “Who is Philippe?”

Erika didn’t answer right away. “My psychic,” she finally said, her tone flat, as if she expected him to mock her.

“Ah,” he said with a smile, but not one of judgment. He moved over to the bed and sat down. Erika didn’t move away, but she didn’t look at him either. She studied the edge of the duvet where a little of the velvet had worn away.

“Well.” He started to open his mouth to explain at least some of the situation, but he couldn’t. How could he make any of this understandable for her when he would have to leave out half of his problems? Vampirism, crazed mothers, and other mortal women who likely lost their lives because of him.

So instead, he caught the hand plucking at her bedding. She looked up at him.

“I know you put a lot of stock in Philippe, but I can assure you there is no romantic interest from my past.” He pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

There were other things to worry about, but he’d take care of those too. When he figured out how.

Erika’s stormy eyes searched his, then she nodded. “Okay. Are you hungry?”

She obviously needed a change of topic, which he also welcomed, even though it involved feeding him again. Food was really becoming the bane of his existence.

“Turkey po’ boys and chips,” she added when he didn’t speak right away.

“That sounds great.”

She rose and he followed her. She moved around the kitchen, readying plates and the food. He could tell she was still distracted and he didn’t want that. When they were together, things should be okay. He’d fed, he was here to keep her safe. It would all work out.

“How did your meeting go with the woman who wanted a sculpture?” he asked, watching as she placed an enormous sandwich on one of the plates. She heaped on a mound of potato chips.

He swallowed, then focused on her.

She actually smiled. “Good. She is interested in a large piece, a full body sculpture of herself.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. What does she want it for?”

She smiled at that, following his train of thought. “For her boyfriend or husband, she didn’t say what he was exactly. But anyway—” She wiped her fingers on a napkin after she arranged her plate with food. “She wants a big piece, which means big money for me. That’s always good.”

He nodded, pleased for her. He knew she wanted her art to be her sole career, and he wanted that for her too.

“So was she nice?”

“Very.” She handed him his plate. “Nice, sweet and stunningly beautiful. Easily one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.”

Vittorio raised his eyebrow again. “Well, I doubt she has anything on you.”

Erika smiled, although he could tell she didn’t believe him. He accepted the proffered plate and leaned in to steal a kiss. She tasted salty and sweet.

She smiled at him when they parted, but he still sensed reservation, uncertainty, in her expression. She still wasn’t certain he’d told the truth about the woman from his past. Which he hadn’t—completely.

She pulled away from him, returning to the counter to get her own plate. She sat down at her yellow table.

“The best part,” she said, waiting for him to take a seat with her, “is that she said I could use her sculpture for my show, which means I can start on hers right away and still have enough pieces for the show.”

“That’s great.”

She nodded, taking a bite of her sandwich. They were both silent for a moment, she chewing, he poking at his chips.

“I don’t know how you do it. You have the body of a competitive swimmer, and I’ve seen you eat virtually nothing.”

He looked up at her, a wave of guilt nearly choking him. Oh, he ate. Just not food. Not sure whether it was for her or for himself, a little punishment for what he was, he took a large bite of the sandwich. The bread stuck to the roof of his mouth, turning to salty paste, thick and hard to swallow, but he managed.

She took another bite of her own sandwich.

“Are you willing to start posing tonight?” she asked after a moment.

“Of course,” he agreed. He forced down more food, this time a chip. Not much better.

Erika nodded, then smiled. “Good.” Suddenly the air changed as some of her uncertainty lifted. Oh, he knew she still had her doubts about him. And she should, but ever selfish, he didn’t want her to.

“You think Ren will burst in again?” she asked.

He laughed. “You never know.”

Again, they were silent as they both ate. Then Erika stood, leaving her plate on the table and going over to her work area. Vittorio followed, glad the meal was done.

She rearranged the pillows, fixing them after what had happened earlier. His body reacted, recalling how her curves had felt under his hands. Until they had been rudely interrupted.

He couldn’t stop himself from going up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. She froze, but didn’t pull away. In fact, after a moment, she leaned back against him.

He nuzzled her, kissing the side of her neck.

They remained that way for several moments, pressed tightly together. Then Erika turned in his arms, meeting his eyes. He expected her to speak, but instead she pressed her mouth to his, kissing him sweetly.

“Vittorio,” she murmured against his lips. “What are we doing here?”

He pulled back, without fully releasing her, to meet her eyes. She wanted to understand their relationship too.

And what could he tell her without making the situation more involved, more dangerous? Then he reconsidered. Who was he kidding? They were already involved—completely.

“I’m falling in love with you,” he admitted, saying those words for the first time in his whole eternity. He’d never even said that to Seraph.

Erika had the dubious honor of being his first.

She stared at him, her gray eyes totally unreadable. Then they slowly welled, tears making them seem larger, glittering.

“Vittorio,” she whispered, and he still wasn’t sure what her reaction meant.

Then she kissed him, the sweet cling of her lips saying what she felt.

But he was still relieved to hear the words.

“I’m falling for you too.”

Her eyes shone with happiness, but instead of a matching joy, all he felt was shame. He was putting her at risk. The first woman he’d ever loved, and a woman who loved him back—he was risking her life.

E
rika’s feet might have been on clouds versus a grimy and cracked sidewalk as she made her way to the address Isabel had given her. She was so happy.

After their little talk last night, Vittorio and she had finished what they started among the pillows on her dining room floor. Then she’d started her sculpture of him, working until the wee hours of the night, capturing exactly what she saw in him.

She should have been exhausted, but she was too giddy to be tired. She and Vittorio had gotten off to a shaky start, but he had opened up to her totally last night, and she was hopeful any remaining coldness and aloofness were gone.

She knew she was grinning like a fool, but frankly she just didn’t care. Life was good.

She double-checked the street address written in broad, flouncy penmanship on a napkin from the restaurant yesterday. Even Isabel’s handwriting was beautiful.

She searched the house closest to her for a street number. A few more houses up. She hastened her steps, then slowed as she reached the place where Isabel’s house would be.

Except house was an inadequate word. Isabel’s home was a mansion. Surrounded by wrought iron gates and cascades of flowers that still bloomed colorfully even this late into the autumn months.

She pushed open the front gate, the iron creaking as she did so. She gaped up at the beautiful verandas lining both the first and second floors, more flowers draping down over the railings.

She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised by the apparent wealth and opulence. Isabel had an air of class that had to have been bred into her at a young age.

She took the steps slowly, still busily admiring every detail of the architecture and the landscaping. It was just lovely.

“Ah, you’re here.”

Erika paused in the middle of the porch and turned to see Isabel coming, her arms filled with fresh-cut flowers in bright shades of orange and red and yellow.

“I’m not early, am I?”

Isabel’s smile was truly breathtaking above the wild array of flowers. “No, no. Right on time. I was out in the garden.” She held up the flowers slightly. “I’ve gotten so little chance to enjoy it over the past years. And the sun is just so lovely.” She smiled wider. “I believe I could easily turn into a sun worshipper.”

Erika smiled back, finding her impish smile endearing.

“Follow me,” Isabel said, stepping past Erika to the large oak front door. She wrestled with the huge bunch of flowers to reach for the doorknob, laughing as she did so, her laughter like the inviting tinkle of chimes.

Erika laughed too, moving around her to get the door.

Isabel thanked her and breezed into the foyer on a cloud of glistening blond hair, gauzy, flowing dress, and scent of wildflowers.

Erika watched her for a moment, again having the strangest sense of recognition.

“Let me drop these off in the kitchen, then we can get to work.”

“Great,” Erika said, moving to admire the portraits that lined the walls of the foyer. Old paintings of family members maybe. She peeked into the rooms on either side of the entryway. One was a sitting room with gorgeous brocade furniture and immaculate Persian silk rugs. A gilded chandelier with at least fifty small bulbs hung in the center of the room like one perfect earring on a flashy yet stylish woman.

The room on the other side of the foyer was a dining room still equipped with the old pull fans they used in the plantation houses, pre-electricity. A long ornate table took up a majority of the room, surrounded by matching chairs with curved backs and intricate carving.

Erika sighed. She’d love to live in a place like this. The history, the style, the utter magnificence.

They walked farther down the hallway that bisected the house, the walls covered with portraits, most done in dark heavy oils.

“I’ll be right back,” Isabel said, disappearing through the door into what Erika imagined was the kitchen.

Erika returned her attention to the paintings. Relatives maybe? She tried to identify any similarities between the vivacious blonde in the kitchen and the faces of the past. But interestingly, these people were mostly dark haired, with hard, cold eyes and grim, tightly-closed lips.

Erika grimaced. Definitely not a happy-looking lot.

“Okay.” Isabel strolled back into the room and it was as if the sun returned with her. “Are we ready?”

Erika smiled at her and nodded, but she couldn’t help asking, “Are these relatives?”

Isabel gave them a cursory glance, then nodded. “Yes. Several generations.”

Erika looked back at the dour faces. “Wow.”

“Your art supplies arrived this morning, and I had them placed in a room upstairs.” Isabel waited at the bottom of the curved staircase, her hand resting on the banister, her smile sweet and patient.

Erika followed, but as she climbed the steps, she looked back to the stern faces watching her from the walls and had the strangest sense they were trying to tell her something.

The room Isabel picked for Erika to work in was perfect, a bright space with pale gold wallpaper and gleaming hardwood floors. Three floor-to-ceiling windows allowed sunlight to flood the room and warm the air.

“This is lovely,” she said, wandering into the center and slowly turning to take in everything.

“I thought it would be nice. I love the sunlight here.” Isabel walked over to the window, looking out, lifting her face to the rays.

Erika watched her for a moment, wondering if that was the pose she should use to sculpt her. She looked stunning in profile, her long hair in curling waves down her back, gleaming gold in the light, her small, lithe body in a pale blue wispy sundress.

“Did you have any place in mind to pose? Right there is lovely actually,” Erika said as she moved to begin opening her bags of art supplies. She spread out a canvas tarp and pulled out a large sheet of the same framing wire she’d set up for Vittorio’s sculpture, waiting for Isabel to say what she wanted.

Isabel moved away from the window, a thoughtful look on her face. “I do sort of have an idea of what I might like.”

For the first time, Erika noticed she already had a stool in the room. Isabel pulled it to the center of the room. Then she perched on it, her hands behind her back, holding the seat. The pose was oddly sensual and demure at the same time.

Erika considered it for a moment, getting the idea in her mind of how she would create it. Then she nodded. “I think that will look great.”

Isabel sat up, a pleased grin on her lovely face. “Good.”

Erika smiled back, then returned to her supplies to find the wire cutters and the pliers. Locating them, she spun back around to refocus on the mesh, the design already clear in her mind. She actually made a few snips in the metal, before Isabel caught her attention from the corner of her eye.

Slowly she looked up. Isabel held her pose, except now she was naked. Utterly and totally nude. Erika’s mouth fell open, but she quickly recovered, although apparently not quickly enough.

Isabel straightened up from her pose, her cheeks staining to a bright pink. She clapped her hands over her breasts and crossed her legs.

“I—” Her blush darkened further. “I thought…You don’t do nudes, do you?”

Erika’s eyes remained on her face, both for Isabel’s sake and her own. “I do. I just wasn’t aware that you were expecting one. But that’s—that’s just fine.”

Isabel relaxed, her hands falling away from her breasts.

Erika nodded, giving her a reassuring look, which was far from what she felt. She really wasn’t unnerved by sculpting nudity—but for some reason, in this case, she was caught off guard.

Maybe because Isabel just assumed Erika would know that’s what she wanted. Or maybe because Isabel hadn’t necessarily struck her as the kind of woman who’d have no reservations about taking her clothes off right away in front of a virtual stranger.

Or maybe it was how utterly stunning she was. That kind of perfection was unnerving.

Erika couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but the room suddenly felt uncomfortable. She pushed the weirdness of the moment away, and concentrated on her work.

“So how are you and your beau?” Isabel asked, and Erika suspected she was trying to lessen the awkwardness.

“Really good.” Erika glanced up at her, but she quickly looked back down at her work. Why was this so embarrassing? She had done many nudes, from art class on. This shouldn’t be so strange.

“Does your beau have a name?”

Erika smiled at that, but she didn’t look up from the wires she was twisting together with the pliers. “Indeed he does. A very nice one. Vittorio.”

Isabel made an approving humming noise. “That is a nice one. What does he look like?”

“Beautiful.” Erika’s smile widened at the thought of him. She thought about how he looked last night as they’d lain face to face, just touching each other.

“Beautiful? How so?”

Erika glanced up at Isabel again, but this time not seeing her nudity. Now she only saw Vittorio.

“He has the darkest eyes. The eyes of an old soul. I can just get lost in them. His hair is a shade somewhere between golden brown and honeyed blond. It’s long, down to his shoulders.” She touched her own to demonstrate the length. “And he has the sweetest smile. A gentle smile.”

Erika fought back the urge to sigh. She really was crazy about the man. Totally mad for him.

And he’d said he was falling for her. That idea had the ability to make her instantly euphoric. She grinned to herself as she clipped more of the metal threading, then bent and molded the mesh.

She glanced up to see if she was getting the size and general form right. Isabel regarded her, her eyes narrowed, as if she was speculating about something not necessarily pleasant. But then the expression disappeared, and Erika wondered if she’d even seen it. But Philippe’s warning about a dangerous stranger suddenly popped into her mind. Then she dismissed the idea. Isabel was turning out to be a tad odd—but not dangerous.

“He does sound lovely,” she said.

“What about you? What is your partner like?”

“Partner,” Isabel laughed. “That sounds so formal. So unemotional. My love is just that. The love of my life. My other half, my world.”

Erika considered her words. Vittorio felt like her other half too, she understood that. He made her feel safe, protected, loved. When they were together, she just felt whole and right.

“Yes. Vittorio is like that to me too. Or at least he’s becoming that way, very quickly.”

“Isn’t that lovely,” Isabel said, her voice low and filled with emotion.

Erika threw her a quick smile, then concentrated on her work. Isabel fell silent, allowing Erika to give all her attention to manipulating the metal into the framework she wanted.

And the atmosphere suddenly felt less awkward, which was good.

Orabella watched Erika work, the way her hands molded the metal wiring. Those same hands had touched her son. Stroked him, caressed him. Satisfied him.

She wondered if the little whore had used those pink lips to satisfy him. The idea enraged her. And she wanted to just kill her now. But she couldn’t—yet.

She had to convince Maksim to cooperate with her plan. Which would not be easy. Her demon lover was very, very angry. And an angry demon was ever so hard to get to be obliging. Such ornery creatures.

But once she got him to agree, which he’d soon see was his only way out of her bedroom, he’d do whatever she asked. And then she would have what she needed to lure Vittorio back to her. She’d then deal with this pathetic mortal.

She could bide her time, she had for this long. And she was so close to getting what she wanted. It wouldn’t do to lose her temper and act rashly.

She needed to have her lure for Vittorio in place before Erika’s awful accident occurred.

Besides, it would be nice to have a sculpture of herself. A nice reminder of the woman she defeated to get her son back.

Erika dashed down the sidewalk, some of the giddiness she’d felt earlier in the day replaced by exhaustion. Isabel had been insistent that they work until the upstairs room lost all of its natural light.

Now it was already dark and because of her stupid cell phone, which was dead when she actually needed it, as usual, she hadn’t been able to contact Vittorio all day. He was probably wondering where she could be. He seemed to worry. Although last night was the first night in days she hadn’t had those nightmares. So maybe he’d stop fretting.

She unlocked her door to be greeted by Ren and Maggie sitting on her sofa. They both turned to look at her as she stepped into the room.

“Hey,” she greeted, “what are you guys doing here?”

“We don’t know,” Ren said.

Maggie shrugged, forced to agree with that assessment.

Erika frowned. “Where’s Vittorio?”

“We don’t know,” Maggie said. “He just asked us to wait here. For you to come home.”

“And he tore out of here like the hounds of hell were after him,” Ren stated.

Maggie seemed to sense Erika’s alarm at that description, because she quickly added, “He was in a rush, but it wasn’t that bad.”

“How long ago did he leave?”

“Not too long ago,” Maggie said. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” Erika said distractedly, going back to the front door to peer out. Dark filled most of the courtyard now.

“Are you sure he was okay?”

“Sure,” Maggie said.

“As okay as he ever is,” Ren said, which was followed with an “oomph” as Maggie elbowed him.

Erika frowned. “Then why did he have you wait here for me?”

Ren and Maggie looked at each other, clearly as confused as she was.

“What’s going on?” Erika asked, moving over to the sofa.

But before either of her friends could answer, the door opened and Vittorio barged in.

“I should have gotten—” His words halted as he spotted Erika standing there.

“You’re back.” His tense stance relaxed instantly.

“I am,” she said. “What should you have gotten?”

Vittorio glanced at his brother and sister-in-law, then back to her. Why did she get the feeling everyone was struggling for answers, not just her?