Dark Rapture (59 page)

And what did he know of Federico and Catrina Bellange?

But of course, their generous nature had just been revealed. They took in sick children to ease the family’s burden. They gave poor families joy in knowing their children’s dying moments could be lived in luxurious, clean surroundings. Could two people be more charitable?

Sebastian inadvertently caught the glimmer from Federico’s left eye. How odd. Twins. Born of a shared womb, though not alike in looks. Federico was tall, a stately shape that towered over his sister. His frame was sturdy and rugged, yet agile. Catrina, a good half foot shorter, was delicate and fine, though her eyes flashed a menace that made Sebastian uneasy. The only resemblance that would indicate their shared birth was the shiny mahogany that crowned their heads in lustrous unnatural vibrancy and the mismatched eyes that perhaps should have been exchanged with one another before birth so they each would have had a matched set.

Ahh, but they had offered to
pay
. And though he was not lacking in money—he had no need for food or drink—he certainly could use a little extra to purchase a decent home for himself. As it was, he spent his nights in fire-warmed taverns watching drunkards nod off over their steins, or if he was lucky, he passed the night with a lovely signorina. During the day he slept in an abandoned warehouse in his coffin.

Sebastian glanced about the lavish walls of the music room. The air was warm and comforting; the presence of two who sought his skills, a dream. Oh, to have the companionship of a warm human soul again, and after roaming the French countryside for years, alone, and feeling a beast in man’s eyes. Friendship.

That is all I want.

“I shall be honored to provide my services.” Sebastian stood and received Federico’s kiss to each of his cheeks. It was strange, but normally Sebastian found it hard to make physical contact with another person without feeling…the temptation. There was none with Federico. Though there was something else. Something different. An attraction, almost mortal, like the feeling one gets when they swoon over an attractive woman.

“Ah, good man. Catrina, you hear that? Very soon my lovely sister shall be performing for our guests instead of my having to engage them in droll, witty conversation. You shall be greatly appreciated, Sebastian, my friend.
Ombra
!”

A house servant bearing wine rushed to his master’s command and the threesome toasted their new friendship.

***

A mangy black cat let out a vicious yelp as Sebastian’s boot met its mark. He slipped in the snow and stumbled onward, cursing the beasts that ran rampant about the frozen
calli
of Venice. Even in the winter months, constantly doused by the
acqua alta
and the occasional snow storm, one was not saved of the incessant meows of the Venetian cats.

He approached the bridge that crossed the Rio del Noale and carefully ascended the ice-slicked steps. The street sweepers, who dug out their shovels in the winter, had not emerged this morning to chip the ice from the bridges. Traveling by foot, which was the only possibility since the lagoon and a few outer canals were frozen, was treacherous. Even for a vampire.

But Sebastian was not upset over the weather. How could he be? His life had taken a complete swing for the better.

It had taken only two weeks of daily lessons before Sebastian began to feel the comforts he had once known. Federico and Catrina Bellange were generous with their favors. Too generous. But having lost all suspicion of their friendship with Francesco, and feeling quite sure they had no idea as to what sort of creature he really was, Sebastian resigned to relax and let them do as they pleased.

From what he had discerned of the elaborate palazzo they lived in and their lifestyle, they were quite rich, and could easily afford to pay him well. They enjoyed gifting him with fine presents. A gold clip for his sheet music turned in the shape of a G clef; money, which had allowed him to rent a small one-room apartment a fifteen minute stroll from the Palazzo Bellange; and precious wines from Rico’s private stock. And with the greatest gift of all, their cherished friendship, there was nothing more he could ask for.

Yes, he liked Cat and Rico, and had taken to calling them by the intimate names they used for one another. They in turn called him Bastian, a name only his mother had called him.

Oh, mother.
The memories rushed forward unbidden. He had left her the day after his abrupt transformation and unwanted introduction to the vampire life.

“
Mere
, I must go. Please, I cannot explain.”

Angelique de la Courte’s eyes had watered with tears as she shook her head. “I do not understand, Bastian. What is wrong? Have you done something awful?”

“No,
mere
. It is nothing like that. Please.” Sebastian buried his face into the warm folds of Angelique’s woolen gown. He couldn’t bare leaving without an explanation, but he knew the truth would be his mother’s death. How could he ever begin to explain what he had become?

Angelique pulled a golden chain from the pocket hidden beneath her skirts. On its loop dangled a shiny pocket watch, one Sebastian had seen her caressing many times, touching its cold surface to her lips in silent adoration of the memories the trinket brought her.

She pressed it into his palm. “You are my one true love, my son. I know you would not be doing this unless there were a very good reason. Take this…it was your father’s.”

Sebastian rubbed his eyes, wiping away the cooling tears and Angelique’s pale smiling face. The pocket watch was hard against his heart.
Your father’s.
Yes, the father he had never known, the Portuguese singer with whom Angelique had an affair. A sense of calm and gladness filled his heart to know Roberto LeReaux, Angelique’s legal husband, was only his stepfather and not his blood relative.

“She must never know,” he whispered now as he stepped across the slippery snow. “I will die before I let her find out that I am a vampire.”

Sebastian tromped through slushy snow, his thinning leather boots ruffing against the exposed Istrain stone used to pave the
campi
.

The closeness Rico and Cat offered was a dream, something no mortal would offer him if they knew what he was. But the Bellange twins had no idea of his true identity. And Sebastian strove to never let them learn his dark secret. This was his first chance at having some semblance of family since the loss of his own. And he would do anything to keep it.Shaking icy flakes of snow from his tricorn and coat, Sebastian stepped inside the Palazzo Bellange, handed his things to the footman, and looked about as a stream of servants passed him by. They carried in rococo-styled chairs and tables, cabinets lacquered in subtle pastels and delicate flowers, a gilded floor mirror, and rolls of carpeting.

“But what is this? Everything is coming in so I assume they are not moving?”

“Bastian!
Ciao
! Come in if you can.”

Sebastian slipped past a wide screen of golden chintz that made its way up the marble staircase.

He followed Cat’s swishing peach skirts down the long portego that stretched the entire length of the palazzo. Once inside the music room, he slipped a freshly transcribed manuscript from under his frockcoat and placed it on the harpsichord. “What is going on? Have you gone shopping again, Cat?”

Catrina sidled up to him on the music bench. “You are a silly one, Bastian. It is not me who is the shopper. They are gifts from Rico, he is redoing my study.”

“Your study? And what, pray tell, do
you
use a study for?”

“Bastian.” She ran a manicured nail under his darkly stubbled chin, sending a delightful shiver down his neck and a flush through his cheeks. “Are you implying I might be one of those unthinking silk-stuffed dolls who parade about the city on the hand of her rich lover?”

“
Per favore,
Cat, don’t think I am insulting your intelligence. Never. You are by far an extremely intelligent woman.” He gestured to the sheet music, an original piece he had written out last week after securing the warmth of his own apartment. “Look how much you have learned in a fortnight. I should imagine you’ll be ready to play this piece at your next dinner party.”

“Oh, yes!” She clapped her hands together once. “Federico has already planned it. The Duc d’Allini is attending, along with his wife who has been writing those silly stories about fairies and elf children. I hear they’re absolutely horrendous.”

Sebastian laughed. She looked so childlike and innocent when she wrinkled her nose. “And why does your brother invite these people if you do not like them?”

“It doesn’t matter whether either of us cares for them, Bastian. All that matters is they make for interesting conversation.” She fingered the silver buttons on his frockcoat, moving up successively as she spoke. “Each guest is chosen carefully to provide enough conflict against the other guests. This careful selection leads to sparkling conversation and perhaps, or rather, hopefully, a witty argument or two. Would it not be so dreadfully dull if everyone sat around sipping wine and all agreed with one another?” She tapped him on the chin, ending her trek with a giggle. “Contrast is a great joy in life, Bastian.”

“I believe you and Rico take a bit of wicked joy in arranging these battles of the minds. I could see the spark in your eye last week when the Duchess la Poozan was insulted by Marcus for wearing her animal furs. You both love it, don’t you?”

Cat ran her fingers along the black harpsichord keys producing an ascending scale of chromatics. “Don’t you?”

“Yes, I imagine I may, occasionally, but—”

“But, I fear you tend to leave our little parties just as they are getting started.” Cat leaned across the keys, resting her chin in her cupped fingers “Why did you rush off so scandalously early last time, Bastian? It wasn’t even dawn. Did you not enjoy seeing the Duchess turn red?”

There was a full moon, he thought, with a glance toward the window that overlooked the Grand Canal.
I had to leave before sinking my teeth into the Duchess’ reddening flesh.

“I wasn’t feeling well,
chère
. I am sure I told you so that night. I didn’t want to stay and spoil the festive mood, if you will, with my own less than festive spirits.”

“Yes, well…oh.” Catrina gasped suddenly and pressed her fingers to her tightly stitched stays.

“Are you feeling well? Is it the air?” Sebastian glanced to the window; it was open, allowing a fresh chill into the room. “Come over here, sit down.” He helped Catrina to the divan and she lay back, clutching her breast.

“It came…so suddenly,” she panted. “I can’t breathe.”

Her face paled quickly. Sebastian looked about, not sure what to do as he knelt by her side. Of course, it was the dress. The Venetian women followed the French fashion of pulling their corsets tightly to ensure a slim figure, not caring for their health.

“Please,” she gasped. “You must help me. Unlace this for me, quickly. Oh, I feel faint.
Per favore
.”

His hands hovering before the woman’s bodice, Sebastian noticed with a deep gulp how her breasts swelled above the soft peach silk with each heaving breath. He was sure that they would spill out if he were to loosen the stays.

A familiar ache stirred in his mouth as his fangs threatened to come down of their own volition. The blood hunger spoke fiercely; he had yet to feed. But it was not welcome right now. He closed his eyes, concentrating intensely as he fought to spread the teasing pain.

It worked. Perhaps too well. Now the tingling had descended to his breeches where his erection grew hard. Lust always accompanied the blood hunger.

“Please.” Catrina gripped his hand and pushed it to her breast where her skin was hot beneath his palm.

Unable to resist her pouting red lips, Sebastian nodded and began to undo the top hooks, each one gently releasing her bound flesh. He stopped abruptly and looked up the great marble staircase. “Federico?”

“He’s out,” she said and gestured for him to unhook another.

Ready to release another hook, he noticed there was more flesh exposed than should be for a lady. “But…you’ve no chemise.”

“I cannot breathe, Bastian,” she urged.

It seemed to him she probably should be able to breathe, he having undone three hooks by now, but an innocent flutter of her lashes and the warm softness of her breasts caressing his hand enticed him further. Sebastian undid another, and another, each time exposing more of the tempting flesh. And then, without a thought, he bent to kiss the warm mounds beneath his fingertips, pulling the rosy buds into his mouth and sucking them to rigid alertness.

“Ohh, Bastian,” she cooed. “I have wondered how long you would admire me from afar before finally deciding to taste of my offerings.” A wicked groan whispered from her painted lips. “It is so sweet your touch.”

“You’re sure your brother is out?”

“
Sì
, he is gone. But you’ve no worry, Federico would not mind. He likes you very much.” She pushed her fingernails through his hair, dragging them across his scalp, which sent shivers to his tormented groin. “Federico speaks of you often. I know he would be pleased you’ve finally come to your senses.”