Venice Vampyr (6 page)

Chapter Eight

Raphael had never had such an elaborate dream like this one: of angels and heaven, of ripe woman and sexual bliss. Even his sense of smell was still drugged with the scent of her, the beautiful Isabella who’d rescued him. He couldn’t even remember how he’d gotten home after their intoxicating encounter. Had he taken her again after she’d ridden him into oblivion? And to think that it had been his hands and his mouth that had coaxed all that passion out of her.

He shifted in bed and encountered lush curves and warmth so familiar, he instinctively pulled her into the arc of his body, delighted to realize that his dream wasn’t over yet. Yes, he could indulge once more, take the sleeping woman in his arms and make sweet love to her again while she slept. He could drive his aching cock into her and imle her with it until his orgasm claimed him. And then he would do what he couldn’t do to her in reality: drink from the plump vein on her graceful neck, gorge himself on her rich blood.

Yes, even in his dream he could feel the draw her body had. And even now, with the ghost of her form pressed into him, he was getting hard. Hard for her body and thirsty for her blood.

Raphael took a deep breath. Her scent was still around him, and it felt so real it nearly undid him. Not wanting to wake up from this, he kept his eyes closed. His hand traveled to the soft globes of the imaginary woman in his arms and squeezed. Her nipple rubbed against the palm of his hand and tightened.

His cock pressed against her warm buttocks, and he pulled back to readjust himself. Yes, he could slide into her, his dream woman. Because in his dream, she’d be all wet and ready for him, open to any kind of debauchery he had in mind. He could ravish her even without her knowledge, because she was merely a figment of his imagination. A very beautiful figment.

With his hard length poised at the entrance to her cave, he noticed the warmth and wetness of her honey and pushed forward. Like a tight glove, she engulfed him in her dark depths.

“Oh, yeah,” he grunted to himself. “Let me fuck you.”

The woman in his arms stirred. Her ass moved back to take him deeper.

“Yes, take my big cock into your cunt.” To his dream woman he could talk dirty, and it excited him. He didn’t have to pretend he was refined. “And after that, your ass is next.”

A startled cry came from her as she pulled away. He gripped her hips harder and pushed her back onto his cock.

“Raphael!” Isabella’s voice was so real, it made him stop in his tracks.

Then he felt her hand on his – too real to be a dream. His eyes flew open. Despite the dim light, he could clearly make out where he was: in Isabella’s bedchamber. He’d never left.

Raphael cursed and pulled himself out of her, for once not listening to his throbbing dick. A quick glance at the windows confirmed the worst: it was daytime, and while the shutters and the drapes kept out the rays of the sun, he could see light seep through the sides.

He’d slept in her arms – and slept better than he’d ever had – and missed sunrise. He was screwed.

“You promised you’d leave before sunrise,” Isabella said. He couldn’t even fault her for the accusatory tone in her voice.

When he looked at her, he saw fear in her eyes. He knew what she was thinking: if anybody saw him leave her house now, her reputation would be ruined. And if he stayed, sooner or later her servants would discover him.

But what she didn’t know was that he didn’t have a choice in what to do. His only choice was to stay. The rays of the sun would burn him, and within minutes he’d turn into a pile of ash.  He knew, because there had been moments when he’d taken short dashes from one hiding place to another – mere seconds – but nevertheless, his skin had burned painfully. He wasn’t keen on repeating any of it.

He couldn’t leave, no matter what. And somehow he had to make this clear to her without exposing what he was.

“I’m so sorry, my angel. I fell asleep in your arms. I don’t know how it happened.”

“You can’t stay here. My servants. They’ll find out. You have to leave. Please. But nobody can see you.” Her voice shook, and her eyes darted around the room as if to try and find a way out for him. Then she gasped.

He followed were her eyes had traveled. The clock over the mantle showed it to be past ten o’clock.

“Oh, no!”

“Please, Isabella, calm down. We’ll find a solution to this. But I can’t leave the house. Not now. The streets will be teeming with people. There’s no way I can leave unseen.” And remain alive. As much as he hated his next suggestion, it was the only possible solution. “You’ll have to hide me here. Maybe in a dark storage room nobody uses?”

***

Isabella’s mind clicked frantically. How could this have happened? Hadn’t they agreed this would be only one night and nobody would ever find out? And now she was facing a disaster. How could she hide him from her servants? The only one she trusted was Adolfo; all others were liable to gossip.

“Maybe Adolfo can hide you in the small workshop he keeps for the gondola. But how will I get you down there without you being seen?” She pushed back tears of desperation.

A moment later, she felt his hand cup her cheek. “We’ll figure it out. Now, let me help you get dressed.”

Raphael jumped out of bed. Her eyes followed his nude form as if drawn by a magnet. His firm buttocks flexed as he walked to her dressing table. He pulled a fresh chemise and silky drawers from one of the compartments.

When he turned, he grinned unashamedly. How he could find humor in the situation, she couldn’t fathom. “How can you –?”

“Because this allows me to spend another few hours with you that I wouldn’t have had otherwise.” He stepped toward the bed and turned back the covers, exposing her to his hungry eyes. Yes, she could clearly see the hunger in them and was instantly reminded of how she had awoken: with his hard length inside her, thrusting deep, and the most indecent words whispered in her ear. Words that had excited her nevertheless. More than she would want to admit to him. If she did, she’d be no better than a common whore.

Raphael’s hands were gentle as he helped her into her undergarments. Her corset followed. As he laced her up in the back, she felt his loins press into her buttocks. His cock was as hard as before.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered into her ear, then started nibbling on it. For a moment, she lost all senses.

A commotion on the stairs brought her back to reality. She jolted, and so did Raphael. He’d heard the voices outside in the corridor too.

“Quickly.” He snatched her dressing gown and helped her into it.

“No, Signore, you can’t see her now!” Elisabetta’s indignant voice penetrated.

But a moment later, the door swung open without a knock, and Massimo burst into the room, his valet on his heels.

Elisabetta tried to push into the room too, but was prevented by the two men. “I’m so sorry, Signora, I tried to stop them.”

But Isabella didn’t listen to her maid, because Massimo’s booming voice took all her attention.

“Look at you, you whore. How you drag my cousin’s name through the mud!”

“Massimo,” she echoed in shock.

Raphael grabbed her and pushed her behind his naked body as if to shield her from Massimo. But he couldn’t shield her from the accusations that rolled off his tongue.

“Caught with her lover still rampant and ready.” Massimo sneered and pointed his finger at her while Raphael held her behind his broad back, seemingly unconcerned about his nude state. “By tonight all of Venice will know what a whore you are! I can’t wait to attend the ball.”

Then he turned on his heels and left, slamming the door shut behind him. She was ruined. Not only was it her word against his, he’d brought a witness. Everybody would believe him. Her whole life was lost because of one night. Nobody could help her now.  Not even Raphael.

“Leave,” she choked out and turned away from him.

Chapter Nine

Raphael stood frozen, still staring at the door. Massimo, she’d called him. Her dead husband’s cousin. But none of that mattered, not after Raphael had seen the ring the man wore. He’d recognized the symbol on it. The black onyx was graced with a cross intersected by three waves – the sign of the Guardians of the Holy Waters. Holy Waters, because they had made it their mission to eradicate vampires and drown every single one of them.

He and his brethren had not been able to find out who the members of their secret society were, as least not so far. They were far too careful. This was the first time he’d actually seen someone wear the elusive sign. He could only imagine that it had been an oversight for Massimo to wear the ring in public and give himself away. Unless, of course, he didn’t consider Isabella’s house to be a public place, but rather a place where his secret was safe.

Had fate just handed him the key to dealing with the threat the Guardians represented? Was this why he’d been given a second chance and been thrust into this house and this woman’s arms? So he could discover who they were?

A sob behind him made him turn. Isabella sat at her dressing table, trying to comb her hair, a look of quiet resignation on her face. The woman who’d given him such pleasure only hours ago was a bundle of nerves.

When he met her eyes in the mirror, she looked away. “You should leave. There’s nothing more to do for you. By tonight, all of Venice will know what a whore I am.”

Her lips trembled as she spoke, and Raphael couldn’t help himself but walk to her and lift her into his arms.

“No,” she protested, “it’s no use. You’d better go.”

He tipped her chin up with his hand and made her look at him. Unshed tears stood in wait around the rim of her eyes. He wouldn’t let her cry them. “There is something I can do.”

A flicker of hope appeared in her irises.

“Do you have a servant you trust implicitly?”

She gave him a curious look, then nodded. “Adolfo, my gondolier. He’s loyal to me.”

“Good. Send him for a priest.”

“A priest?” She tried to pull away from him, but he didn’t allow it. Her eyes widened, and he knew then that she understood. Her breath rushed out of her lungs. “No. You can’t do that. I won’t allow it.”

He hadn’t pegged her to be this stubborn, but no matter, she would not win this fight. “You have no choice. Only if we can prove that we’re married can a scandal be averted. You know it as well as I do.”

She shook her head. “But you can’t just offer for me and sacrifice yourself. All you wanted was a tumble. It’s not fair to you.”

“Fair? Isabella, I put you in this position. I ruined you. I would be a cad if I didn’t take you as my wife now that our affair has been exposed. Surely you can’t want a scandal?”

She was backed into a corner, and he could kill two bi with one stone. By marrying her, he could insinuate himself into her family.  He would be able to get close to her despicable cousin and hopefully find out who the other members of the Holy Waters were. Nobody would suspect him. However, he would have to be careful.

“Of course I don’t want a scandal, but I’m not going to ruin your life in addition to mine.”

“Ruin my life?” He pulled her closer to his chest, crushing her bosom against him and sliding his hand onto her ass. “My sweet angel, if I get to spend every night with you in the way we spent the last one, I can see how my life would indeed be ruined.” Yes, his second reason for marrying her was right there: he didn’t yet want to let go of the passionate woman in his arms.

Raphael smirked and ground his cock against her. It was still semi-hard, and the way her barely covered ass felt under his palm made sure all available blood was flowing to it now to bring him to another raging hard-on. “So, here’s your choice: marry me so we can spend every night of our future giving each other pleasure, or –” He paused and stroked her intimately, knowing he had no second suggestion.

“Do you mean it?”

“Yes. Now get dressed before I drag you back to bed. The next time I ravish you, it’ll be as your husband.” His chest swelled as he said the words, words which should have scared him and made him run the other way. But to know she would be his wife in a few short hours filled him with unknown pride.

***

Isabella spent most of the day in a trance. Raphael had done the honorable thing and married her. She hadn’t expected it. There was no reason why he should. He had nothing to lose – only she did. But she wasn’t brave enough to reject his kind offer, despite the fact that she feared his kindness would wear off soon when he was stuck with the reality of marriage.

She allowed Elisabetta to fuss over her hair as she piled it high on her head. She’d chosen a dress made of red silk for the ball. It had been made for her only weeks before Giovanni’s death, and she’d never before worn it. But when Raphael had discovered it in her closet, he had assured her it would be the right gown for the occasion. She needed to make a statement: she wouldn’t cower in the face of vicious rumors.

“Ready, Signora?” her maid asked and met her eyes in the mirror.

She nodded and stood.

Raphael waited for her at the foot of the stairs. She watched him as she slowly glided down step by step, holding her gown slightly off the floor so she wouldn’t trip.