Desire After Dark (Page 53)

Lost in thought, he walked through the heavily wooded area that surrounded the outskirts of the land bordering the castle’s perimeter. Maybe he was wrong to turn her away. There was no reason why they couldn’t spend a few years together. He could give her pleasure for a little while, ease his own loneliness. And when she tired of living with him, she could return to her old life, find a husband, settle down, raise a family…

A low growl rumbled in his throat. Who was he kidding? Once he possessed her, body and soul, he would never let her go. He was a vampire, not a saint. What was his, he fought for and protected. What was his, he kept. He wasn’t noble or kind. He couldn’t love her for a year or two and then just let her go.

You could make her what you are.

The possibility had been in the back of his mind since the first night he saw her, but this was the first time he had dared put it into words. With a savage cry, he thrust the thought from his mind. She would never agree to be as he was, and he loved her too much to force the Dark Gift upon her. And yet… It would do away with so many of the barriers now standing between them.

Then ask her, urged the same persuasive voice in the back of his mind. All she can do is say no.

Yes, perhaps that was the answer.

And if she says no, then you can force her to accept it.

No! Never that. But perhaps there was another way. If he gave her a little of his blood from time to time, it would prolong her life, keep her young.

But eventually she will grow old and die and you will be alone again.

But at least they could have a life together.

What kind of life would that be for either of you? Like must marry like for true happiness, true understanding.

Victoria, a vampire… He pictured it in his mind. She was lovely now. Touched with the Dark Gift, she would be even more beautiful, every feature enhanced and perfected.

She would be a goddess… But would she still be Victoria?

Have you changed? the voice asked. Are you not the same as you were before?

And therein lay the answer. He had changed. He was a hunter now, a killer, and though he had not taken a human life in years, the urge to do so was always there. It had taken decades of self-denial and discipline to overcome the savage need to devour the blood and steal the life of his prey. Even when he knew he didn’t have to kill to survive, the urge to do so remained strong within him. Almost, he had become like Falco, a creature without remorse, without compassion. A killing machine that took what it wanted with no regard for the hapless mortals it preyed upon, no thought for the pain and grief of loved ones left behind.

He remembered the night when he had made the decision to turn his back on killing. He had been a vampire for no more than seventy-five years at the time. He had been hunting the docks along the coast ofItaly when he had come upon a woman and her child. Smiling in anticipation of an easy kill, he had pulled the woman into an alleyway.

She had struggled in his arms, begging him to spare the life of her child. He had ignored her pleas as he bent her back over his arm and savaged her throat. There had been no tenderness in him, no effort spent to give her pleasure or ease her fears. Like a wild beast, he had no thought but to ease the pain of his hunger. The woman was limp in his arms, her heartbeat almost nonexistent, when he happened to look down into the face of the little girl still clinging to her mother’s skirts. Brown eyes wide with fear had looked up at him.

"Mama! Mama!" Tears ran down the girl’s dirty cheeks as she tugged on her mother’s skirts. "Please, signore, do not hurt her."

The pain in the child’s eyes, the note of tender pleading in her voice, had penetrated the hard shell he had erected around his heart. Until that moment, he had intended to dine on the child as well. Now, he saw himself through the eyes of that child. What he saw sickened him.

He looked at the woman in his arms. Her face was deathly pale, her breathing shallow.

Biting his own wrist, he held it to the woman’s mouth and commanded her to drink. A few drops brought the color back to her face. Her heart beat grew stronger, her breathing less erratic.

After lowering the woman to the ground, he had taken the child into his arms and looked deep into her eyes. "You will not remember this night," he said. "You will not remember me."

She nodded.

Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew what money he had and pressed it into the little girl’s hand. "Take care of your mother, ragazza."

The child nodded again.

Antonio had looked at the woman and the little girl one last time, imprinting their memory and the memory of what he had almost done in his mind. And then he had fled the scene. He had never killed again save to preserve his own existence.

Lost in thought, for a moment he did not realize he was no longer alone. Thrusting the past from his mind, he lifted his head, his senses probing the night.

They were on him before he could defend himself. Heavy silver chains whistled through the air, wrapping around his neck, his chest, his arms and legs, until he was trussed like a turkey bound for market. The silver burned through his clothing, scorching his skin, rendering him helpless to resist.

Laughter rolled over him, filled with malevolent delight.

And then Dimitri Falco strutted into view, preening like a peacock. He circled Battista, rubbing his hands together like a miser about to count his gold.

"Well done," Falco said to the six hulking creatures standing in the shadows. "Well done. Perhaps, when I’m through with you, I will let you go."

Antonio stared at the zombies. They stood unmoving, their faces expressionless, yet he detected a faint trace of comprehension in their eyes. Did they remember who they had been before Falco enthralled them? Were they aware of being under Falco’s malevolent spell? Did some last bit of humanity cling desperately to the hope that he would free them from his spell? That he would grant them their freedom once again?

He fought the urge to give voice to his own pain as the silver burned deeper into his skin. It was the worst agony he had ever endured save for the one time he had not made it to his lair before sunrise. That had been a pain so intense, so excruciating, that he had never forgotten it. But this… He was panting now, unable to draw a deep breath.

This was almost as bad. In time, it would be equally lethal.

"Bring him."

With one accord, the six zombies lifted Antonio and followed Falco into the deep woods.

Vicki wandered through the house, her emotions in turmoil. At first she was angry with him. How dare he arouse her again and then abandon her! If he didn’t want her, why did he hold her and kiss her until she wanted him, needed him, more than breath itself, and then just walk away? It was cruel and thoughtless. And besides that, he did want her.