Venice Vampyr - The Beginning (15 page)

Servants circulated to supply the guests with beverages and, by the state some of the guests were in, it was clear that alcohol flowed freely. Men lounged on sofas, some fully dressed and perfectly respectable, others with their cravats loosened and their chests partially exposed. Women could be found draped over men’s bodies in more than indecent poses.

Hadn’t her informant said this wasn’t a brothel? Viola felt her heartbeat rise. She was nothing like the women she saw in this place. They seemed unconcerned with modesty or privacy. This was not what she’d expected. Maybe the man had misunderstood her. She’d sought a place to find a man who would bed her in the privacy of a bedchamber and let her experience what it was like to feel a man’s body joined with hers.

This was a mistake. Viola took a step back and bumped into something solid behind her. She swiveled.

“Ciao, bella,” the handsome stranger greeted her as he swept her with an appreciative glance.

Viola swallowed, unable to answer, the pulse at her neck beating so frantically she was sure her vein would burst and drench the man in her blood.

Her silence didn’t seem to bother him. “I see you’re new here.” His hand came up and traced along the seam of her décolleté. Viola gasped at his boldness and pulled back.

“I’m Salvatore. And I’m happy to spend the evening with you.”

She took a steadying breath and gave him an assessing look. He was slightly taller than the average man. Well groomed in his dark suit and fashionable necktie, not even her mother would have any objections to him were he to come courting. But he wasn’t here to court her. Nor did she want him to.

All she wanted was a tumble. Was he the right man for it? Would those elegant hands caress her and make her feel like a real woman, or would his touch leave her indifferent? Was her fluttering heartbeat indication of her interest in him or merely telling her she was scared of actually going through with her plan?

She couldn’t be sure. But if she simply stood here without making a decision, she’d never attain the goal she’d set herself.

Viola summoned her courage and forced a smile onto her lips, pushing back her rising doubts. “That would be charming.”

Chapter Two

Dante was furious.

He looked at the bruises on Benedetta’s face. “How often have I told you not to go to that club?” Sure, she was only a girl who sold her father’s carvings on the street, and he was only very loosely acquainted with her, but somehow he felt protective. She was poor and so young. Every time he passed by her stand, he felt compelled to purchase one of her father’s ghastly carved figures.

“I’m sorry,” the girl whimpered, her split lip making her speech slurred. “But business was so bad this month. We needed the money.”

“Who did this?”

Benedetta looked away, but Dante took her chin and made her meet his glare. She winced. “I asked who did this.”

“Salvatore.”

“Fuck!” Dante ran his hand through his dark hair. “Have you no sense of self-preservation? Of all people, you had to let Salvatore touch you?” He wasn’t acquainted with the man personally, but he knew he wasn’t fit company for Benedetta.

She closed her swollen eyes. “He was the only one willing to pay.”

“Damn it, girl. If you were my daughter, I’d lock you up at home for your stupidity. No woman in her right mind would let Salvatore touch her. Why do you think he was willing to pay for it? Everybody knows of his reputation. He loves to beat women.”

Tears ran down Benedetta’s face. Dante pulled out a handkerchief and patted her face with it.

“Thank you.”

“Now, go home. I’ll buy all the carvings you have left for tonight.” Dante glanced at her cart. Tonight, the wooden figures she was selling were particularly ugly. They’d turn into firewood at his home just like all the others before them.

Her face lit up. “Oh, thank you so much, Signore di Santori. You’re so kind.”

Kind? It wasn’t an adjective he was often graced with. No vampire was kind, least of all he, but if Dante hated one thing, it was men who beat women. He loved women in every shape and form they came. Especially when they came—in his bed.

He liked them even more when he fed from them.

A woman’s blood was richer than a man’s. And it was even more intoxicating when he fed from a woman while he was fucking her into oblivion. In fact, it was his preferred way to have dinner. There was nothing kind or civilized about it. When it came down to it, he wasn’t that much better than Salvatore—a mere human—but he drew the line at hurting women.

In fact, he lived to give them pleasure.

His bite was painless, and his powers of suggestion made it possible for him to conceal what he did. After a night in his arms, the women he bedded didn’t remember the passionate man who’d driven them to ecstasy or the bloodthirsty and insatiable vampire who’d gorged himself on their necks.

Dante’s anger failed to simmer down by the time he reached the club where Salvatore usually spent his evenings. He arrived spoiling for a fight. A real fight, not one where he would use his superior vampire powers to crush the human. He longed for a brawl in which he’d use his fists to pummel the man.

He pushed inside the club, ignoring the demands of the hostess to pay the fee. He would only stay long enough to find Salvatore and beat the living daylights out of him. Make him look much worse than Benedetta did.

Dante’s entrance and the hostess’ angry complaints behind him caused several heads to turn in his direction. He ignored them and instead scanned the room. It didn’t take long for him to spot Salvatore in one of the booths that lined the room. And Salvatore wasn’t alone. He was already working on his next unsuspecting victim.

Dante took no notice of the other guests’ stares and marched straight toward Salvatore, stopping only a foot away. The man had his hand on the woman’s skirts and his head close to her ear, undoubtedly whispering sweet-sounding lies to her. Dante cleared his throat loudly.

Without looking up, Salvatore tried to dismiss him. “I’m busy.”

Dante clenched his jaw. “You won’t be for much longer.”

The woman snapped her head to him, her eyes widening in fear. She’d clearly heard the threat in his voice. Dante ignored her and snatched Salvatore’s wrist, ripping it away from the woman’s skirts and yanking him up. Startled, Salvatore glared at him.

“What the hell?” Salvatore’s eyes narrowed. “Get your own woman. This one’s mine.”

“I’m not interested in your tart. I’m interested in you.”

Salvatore tried to wrestle from the grip Dante had on his wrist but couldn’t. “Leave me alone, you fag, or I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

“You mean the same way you beat the shit out of Benedetta?”

At Benedetta’s name, a flash of fear crossed his face. He knew he was caught, but the bravado hadn’t left him yet. “None of your damn business.”

“She’s a friend. So it’s my business.” Dante released the man’s wrist and swung. His fist landed in Salvatore’s face, snapping his head back in the process.

Collective gasps went through the assembled guests. In the background, Dante could hear the hostess’ shrill voice. “Gentlemen, take your disagreement outside.”

But it was too late for that. Salvatore had recovered from the first hit and now swung his fist at Dante, grazing his chin. Dante laughed. “That’s all you’ve got?” The human was weak. This would barely be any fun at all. No wonder the asshole liked to beat up on women since men were no match for him.

Dante launched his fist into Salvatore’s stomach, making him double over. “Next time you decide to beat a woman, you’d better think twice.” With an uppercut to Salvatore’s chin, Dante turned. Before he could walk away, the man jumped him, slamming him to the ground.

Inside, Dante rejoiced. Finally, the jerk was fighting back, making this a little more interesting. Jerking his elbow back, Dante jabbed him in the ribs, then rolled, throwing Salvatore off his back. Within seconds, they dealt each other blow after blow. Dante barely felt any pain, but the human winced with each hit he received.

“Stop it! Stop beating him!” a woman’s voice came from behind him.

Holding his victim down with one arm across his neck, Dante turned to look at the woman Salvatore had been with. She stood over him, her fists at her hips, a scowl on her face. “Signorina, you’d do well to keep out of this.”

“I will not let you beat up my companion.”

“Well, would you rather he beat
you
like he did the last woman he fucked?”

A red blush colored her skin at his crude words. He gave her another look. Now that he perused her closely, he noticed something strange about her. She didn’t belong here. She wasn’t the kind of woman who frequented clubs like these. Her manners seemed refined, her dress understated yet expensive. Her face was fresh and innocent, her hair held up in a tight bun at her nape with not a single loose strand framing her elegant features.

He inhaled her aroma. Yes, she smelled of innocence and goodness. But there was something else—something foreign that seemed to cloud her rich scent. And it made him want to protect her. And keep her close.

Dante tried to shake off the strange sensation while his gaze lingered on her face for a few seconds longer. The most striking things about her were her eyes. Their dark chocolate brown would have looked dull on any other woman, but combined with her porcelain skin and those red lips, she looked like an enticing tableau. What was a woman like that doing in a hell like this?

“You should leave,” he advised her and turned back to Salvatore.

With one last blow, he knocked him unconscious. As he rose, the hostess blocked his way. “Signore, I do not tolerate this kind of behavior in my—”

Dante held up a hand. “I’m leaving.”

With long strides, he left the club and stepped into the cool night air.

Chapter Three

Viola stared at the hostess. “But you can’t throw me out. I had nothing to do with this.”

The hostess pressed the coin back into her hand and pointed to the door. “Out.”

Suppressing her tears of desperation, she walked outside, pulling her cloak tightly around her. If that terrible man hadn’t beaten up her companion and knocked him unconscious, she would have lost her virginity tonight. And now? She was back where she’d started. And worse: she was banned from the club. It was the only place she knew where she could find what she wanted. Where would she go now?

Viola let out a frustrated huff and raised her head. Her gaze fell on the man who’d started the fight. He was standing a few yards away, arranging his cravat. Before she could lose her courage, she approached him.

“That was a terrible thing you did.”

He gave her a bemused look. “You should be grateful to me, not badgering me.”

“Grateful? You got me thrown out of the club.”

“As I said, you should be grateful for that. You don’t belong there. You’re an innocent.”

Anger churned up in Viola. “I’m not an innocent,” she lied. “I’m a widow, and I’m here to find some … pleasures.” It was the same lie she’d given Salvatore, even though
he
hadn’t questioned her motives.

The man arched an eyebrow and raised one side of his mouth, mocking her.

“Now you’ve destroyed my chances of being with a man tonight.”

The man took a step closer, his body almost touching hers. His voice was low when he replied, “And you listen to me now, woman. The man you wanted to be with tonight beats the women he beds. It’s part of what get’s him off. He’s violent, and he enjoys seeing women suffer. Was that what you were looking for?”

Instinctively, Viola took a step back.

Was the stranger telling the truth? Had he truly saved her from being beaten? She shook off the thought. No, the two men probably had had some prior quarrel. “No matter. Now I have to go somewhere else to find what I need.”

“Are you crazy? Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

“I heard you loud and clear. Now, would you please direct me to where I might find another place like this? You owe me that much.” She thrust her chin up and waited.

The stranger shook his head. “I will do no such thing. Go home and be glad you didn’t get hurt tonight.”