The Vampire's Protector (17 page)

She shoved down her pants. The T-shirt fell below her buttocks, concealing her modestly if anyone should walk by. She unbuttoned his trousers, and her fingers wrapping about his cock felt like coolness to molten steel. He lifted her and she wrapped her legs about him and allowed him to glide inside her. She pressed her lips to his neck, and a star-filled shock of pleasure raced through him. And he pushed deeply inside her, chasing the high, the magnificent release.

“Goddess, that's good,” she said on a gasp. He caught sight of her face, and she dashed out her tongue to lick away a spot of blood. His? No, she hadn't pierced him yet. “Your cock. Us. Yeah, I think I could love you, too, Nicolo.”

“What if I were evil?”

“You're not.” She closed her eyes as he continued to glide in and out of her. “You could never be, even if you did play the black violin. Your soul is good. That's all that matters.”

His soul? She'd forgotten he was missing one. But he didn't want to spoil her hopeful mood.

“I hope so, Brightness. Ah! I can feel you squeeze me from inside.”

“You like that?”

He nodded, words unnecessary. Instead he clasped a hand over one of her breasts and pinched the nipple through the soft shirt fabric. She rocked upon him, harder, faster. She drew him out almost all the way and leaned forward. He knew she was gliding her clitoris along his shaft. Her fast breathing told him she was right there, along with him, ready to fly.

Shudders built in his body. He gripped her upper arms. Clenched his jaws. Summer cried out and quickly pressed her mouth against his neck to muffle the sound. The dash of her tongue over his vein caused him to release. The world went bright, then all colors and then all sound ceased save for his pounding heartbeats.

He was in his homeland. Alive. Vital. And in love.

* * *

Hours later they pulled in to the Parco Sempione, the large park behind the castle Sforza that had once been hunting grounds to the Sforza dukes. They stood in a shady copse listening to a street performer. Or rather, Summer stood back in the evening shade. Nicolo was currently chatting with the violinist, who had taken a break and put up a sign that he would resume in half an hour.

Nicolo had been impressed with the musician's tonality and dancing. He'd done a jig while performing, and it must have reminded Nicolo of his own performances. History told he had been very animated while playing, bending this way and that as the music captured him. Summer couldn't wait to see him perform.

“Achoo!”

She hastily glanced around but didn't see anyone with red eyes lurking about. Much as she knew she could sneeze from pollen or dust or other irritants, she was always cautious for demons.

The crunch of footsteps across the loose pebbles under the tree alerted her, and she turned. A tall blond man grabbed her about the upper arm. Only when he spoke did she know exactly who he was.

“So you two
are
in love. Happened much faster than I could have hoped for. Excellent. Once again you'll serve as useful bait to dangle from the hook, Soul Piercer.”

Before she could scream, Himself swiped his palm before Summer's eyes. She blacked out.

Chapter 21

T
he cloying scent of sulfur alerted Nicolo. He paused in the middle of conversation with the violinist and scanned about the park's green scenery. A family accompanied by a small dog tossed bits of bread to a flock of pigeons. Lovers kissed after a sip of wine from an amber bottle. An elderly gentleman wearing plaid slacks tilted his hat lower to shade his eyes from the sun as he reclined on the lush grass.

Summer had been standing beneath the palm tree. Where had she gone?

A silvery whisper slipped into Nicolo's ear as the violinist took up his bow and kicked down his out-to-lunch sign. He soared into a Mozart concerto. And Nicolo walked swiftly toward the palm trees. The distraction of the music did not lessen his senses. He might not be able to hear her, but he could scent her. She wore that delicious, sweet, after-sex musky smell that he'd know miles away and recognize even after decades away from her side.

And yet, sulfur pervaded the atmosphere.

Were demons in the area? He hadn't heard Summer sneeze. Had he been too involved in the discussion of Paganini's inventive harmonics with the musician to notice?

“Damn it, where is she?”

And why now had those diabolic whispers returned to him? Where was the black violin? When they had been at the Archives in Paris Himself had disappeared with it in hand. That bastard could place it anywhere in his path now, Nicolo knew that.

His father had said they would meet again.

“No.”

And in a heartbeat, Nicolo knew the whispers were telling him to follow them. They would lead him to Summer.

And Himself.

* * *

Summer didn't know where she was. It felt...underground, for the musty, chalky scent. And yet the ceiling, a dome looming perhaps three stories above her head, seemed to let in daylight. Some kind of strange illumination lit the dusty air. The circular cell was vast, yet she could see the walls, fronted by equally spaced columns that looked carved out of red stone or clay. The floor was packed red dirt.

Sulfur whispered into her nostrils.

A tall, Nordic man with a blond, buzz-cut style and angular cheekbones leaned against one of the columns, arms crossed high over his chest. An ice-gray suit looked a fashion mistake stretched onto his muscular physique.

Summer knew it was an illusion. A glamour. And not one that particularly appealed to her.

“What's with the Zoolander look?” she asked of Himself.

“You do not care for it? I was trying to blend in.”

“A blond? In Italy? Achoo! Damn it!” She hated that he'd so easily taken her away from the park. Must have used some devilish thrall on her. Asshole.

The man morphed into a tall, bearded looker with piercing blue eyes and a striped red-and-white shirt. An Italian gondolier?

“Oy.” Summer paced. “I thought you appeared to people in the guise of their greatest temptation?”

“How's this?”

Suddenly Nicolo stood by the column, long dark hair curling over his shoulders. A rich velvet suit coat revealed a lacy-cuffed white shirt. His arms spread as he waited her summation.

Summer gulped back a gasp. “That's not fair, or ethical. He's your son, for the goddess's sake.”

“Touché.” Spreading back his arms, the image of Nicolo was shed, seeming to peel back and away from the black leathery flesh and muscle beneath, until finally the devil Himself stood before her in all his wicked incarnation of horns, hooves and glinting razored fangs. “Better?”

“Absolutely. I prefer you that way. Least I know what I'm dealing with. So you got a thing with kidnapping me? Really. Last time we did this you had taken an innocent little baby to do your dirty work. Didn't go very well for you, did it?”

“Now I remember why I find you so distasteful.”

“Please. I was a freakin' baby. There was not a distasteful bone in my body then. I'm still a pretty cool chick, if you ask me.”

Himself rolled his red eyes. “So says the vampiress who drives men to madness with a single bite.”

“Not all the time!” she protested.

“Yes, all. You don't track their lives after you have taken what you want from them.”

“No.” She slunk back against the wall. He was a liar. Nothing he said could be trusted. And yet, he'd always told Nicolo his truths. She rubbed her upper arms and shivered. “Why am I like this?

Himself grinned. “I did it.”

“What?”

“It was a little going away gift to you as a baby. I do shit like that. It's my job.”

“I hate you.”

“Wouldn't have it any other way.”

“It's not going to work, you know. Nicolo has resisted you for decades. And look at him now. He's alive and doing well. He looks and feels better than he ever has, and he's starting a new life. He doesn't need any fabulous powers.”

“Bringing him back to life wasn't my doing. When you bowed the violin that fateful morning you raised a facsimile of my son from the grave.”

“A facsimile? What, you mean like a clone or doppelgänger?” Summer caught her forehead in a palm. Oh, please let her have made love with a real man and not some creepy golem. Or something worse. “Please, tell me he's not a zombie.”

Himself chuckled. A tilt of his head caught the overhead illumination on his horns and they gleamed. “He is demon in a human shell. Trapped like those pitiful corporeal demons who feed off any soul's shell they can inhabit. Though Nicolo is quite soulless.”

“I don't get that. I don't sneeze around him. I'm allergic—”

“Not really. It's merely a traumatic residue you carry around with you. You don't have to sneeze. If you were mentally strong you could accept that you don't need that crutch.”

“It's not a crutch. I sneeze before I even know there's a demon near me. That can't be psychosomatic.”

“It is. But then, you are but a miserable and hapless vampire.”

“I am not hapless!” Summer thrust out her arm, splaying her fingers, as if to throw magic at him. She'd give anything to have such power as to knock the bastard off his leathery black ass.

“You wish it?” Himself queried. “I can make that happen. Give you magic untold.”

“Fuck you.”

“My son's girlfriend? I could manage that.”

“You're disgusting! Goddess to hell, I hate you!”

Himself's satisfied moan roiled in his throat. “Your hate feels delicious.”

Truly? Was the sneezing thing all in her head? As for the soul piercing...

“Take it back. I don't want to be a soul piercer.”

“Ah. A bargain, perhaps? What will you offer me to lose such an ability?”

She squeezed her eyes tight. No making deals with the devil. Just. No.

“As I suspected, you are too weak to be so bold. As for Nicolo,” Himself continued, “he won't survive much longer in the human host without dire physical consequences. So your zombie theory is partially true. He needs to come fully into his legacy, you see. This second life is not as you would believe—a second chance. It is his only option. If he does not choose that option he will falter and—sooner rather than later—degrade. Unless he accepts his power.”

“And turns into something like you?”

The bastard actually puffed up his chest proudly. “He would be exactly as me.”

“That's gotta annoy you. Can't there be only one of you? One Dark Lord. One big, ugly, disgusting—”

A swipe of his hand through the air sent Summer flailing backward. Her shoulders hit a red stone column, and breath chuffed from her lungs. She dropped, landing on the ground on her ass, which hurt like a mother. If she hadn't seen the demon move, she would have guessed it had been a Mack truck that had instead hit her. Whew! Yet with the appropriate oath on her tongue to fling at the bastard, she had the sense not to give it voice.

Instead she prayed Nicolo would not find her. But if he did not, then he would degrade? Did that mean die? Probably. He was demon? Hell, this day just got better and better.

“If he does find me,” she muttered, “it won't matter. He is determined to never play the violin.”

“That was
before
he confessed his love to you,” Himself said. “Now he's invested his heart like some poor sob story of a human. He has someone to protect. A reason to relent his steadfast refusal.”

Ah fuck. Would Nicolo ransom his life for love? The other option, of course, was not playing the violin and degrading. Neither was any better than the other.

Summer dropped her head onto the dirt floor and closed her eyes. Never had she wanted to sink her teeth into someone—some Dark Lord—so badly and then tear and rip and annihilate.

* * *

Following the whispers, Nicolo strode swiftly out of the park. He passed people on the street, brushing their shoulders roughly as he could not be concerned to actually watch where he was going. He was being led. And he was not going to like what he found at his final destination.

But he couldn't move fast enough to get to her. If his father had Summer he couldn't imagine what she must be going through. Pray, the bastard did not harm her. Of course, if the old man wanted him to agree to the bargain, he had best be sure she remained untouched and safe.

Because that was what this was about. He would not be able to free Summer without first succumbing to the brimstone bargain. And he would do it. She was an innocent in this horrible nightmare he'd been summoned to act upon. He would sacrifice his freedom to free her. No question about it.

Because the other option, to let the devil have her and him go on living? Unthinkable.

“Quicker,” he muttered.

And in that instant the world blurred and his body moved by the massive buses and buildings, and then it soared into the sky and he felt the flick of tree leaves as he moved over the canopy of green. Faster, wind rushing through his hair. His eyes open, he spread back his arms and for one moment allowed himself to feel the joy of flight. Of weightless transport through the clear, pale sky.

It will be yours
, assured the whispers.

And Nicolo smiled in anticipation of such a skill being his to command.

But too quickly his mirth regained presence of his fear and frustration. He would not let Summer down. She had not let him down from the moment she had found him wandering the Italian countryside. Even if becoming like his father meant he could never see her again, at the very least, he would know she was safe.

Suddenly, Nicolo's body righted in the air and he dropped. Falling what seemed parasongs, he wrapped his arms about his chest as the velocity increased and the rush of the passing world bruised his skin. Settling into darkness and then a dimly lit cavern, he came to land with a gentle touch of shoes to a red dirt ground.

Inhaling dust and dry air, he straightened, taking in the surroundings of the circular auditorium crafted from stone and dirt. His eyes fell upon Summer, lying on the floor. He rushed to her and rolled her to her back. As he smoothed a palm over her cheek, she felt warm, alive. Her hair slipped softly through his fingers. Tears choked at the back of his throat, and his heart burst with relief. Pulling her up into his arms wakened her, and she slipped her arms about his waist and hugged him tightly.

“I knew you would come for me,” she said. “But I wish you hadn't.”