Sensual Danger (9 page)

While the blood was as nourishing as any blood he’d had in his long life as a vampire, it didn’t give him the satisfaction he’d hoped for. He knew why: after making love to Oriana for two days and two nights, he craved her blood more than anything. Had he stayed another minute, he would have attacked her and taken her blood no matter how much she protested. Luckily, he’d had just enough strength left to flee the house and her tantalizing scent.

However, even now her scent seemed to follow him. Even in the dark streets of Venice, where some of the canals smelled viler than others, Oriana’s scent filled his nostrils, as impossible as it was.

Knowing his body had gotten all the nourishment he needed, he let go of the woman’s neck and licked the tiny incisions with his tongue, closing them instantly. Then he pressed a few coins into her palm—more than she would have earned had she serviced a dozen men tonight—and wiped her memory of the event.

Nico exited the alley and walked to a small piazza. On one side, a small fountain provided water. He cupped his hands and filled them with the cold liquid, then splashed his face and neck to wash away the whore’s scent.

When he dried his hands and face on his cloak and lifted his head again, his nose twitched. Oriana’s scent was back in the air. Clearly, his own body still smelled of her after he’d practically bathed his hands and mouth in her arousal for hours on end. He’d never been so crazy about a woman, and he’d certainly never thought he’d take to marriage so quickly and with such enthusiasm.

Turning away from the fountain, he crossed the piazza and walked over the small bridge that led in the direction of his home. Like a beacon, Oriana’s scent guided him, but when he reached another fork and would have turned right to continue to his house, Oriana’s scent seemed stronger to the left.

He hesitated when a scream suddenly echoed through the narrow alley.

Oriana!

It was her voice, he was certain. His entire body went on alert, and he ran in the direction from which the scream had come, her scent becoming more intense with every step he took. When he rushed around the next corner, he saw her: his proper wife was engaged in a battle with a thug, who had his hands on an item Oriana was gripping with both hands. He focused his eyes: it was some sort of apparatus he’d never seen, and it was emitting an orange light.

A few steps away from her, Giuseppe, the footman he’d inherited from her father, exchanged blows with a second man.

Not losing a second, Nico barreled toward them, his hands clenching into fists. He charged the man who was attacking Oriana, and, in slamming him backwards against the wall, broke his hold on the item he and Oriana were fighting over.

Behind him he heard Oriana scream once more, then he heard a crash. He swiveled, his hands releasing the thug, when he saw Oriana fall. Her hands were flailing as she tried to hold onto her balance, but she was still holding onto the apparatus as she fell backwards.

He rushed to her and reached for her, but all his fingers caught was a rod sticking out from the item in her hands. At the same time he noticed that the glow it emitted now changed to blue. He pulled on it, thus lessening the impact of her fall, but her head hit the wall behind her nevertheless.

“Oriana!” he screamed.

Her hands released the machine and it rolled to the floor beside her.

“Run!” he heard one of the thugs shout to his accomplice, and from the corner of his eye he saw the second thug push Giuseppe to the ground then run out of the alley, following the other one.

Fury coursed through him, and he was ready to kill those two, but there was no time. His wife was injured, and he had to take care of her.

Nico crouched down next to her, frantically touching her head and torso to feel for any injuries. He smelled no blood, a fact that filled him with relief.

“Oriana, my love, can you hear me?”

But she didn’t respond. He placed his hand on her chest, feeling for her heartbeat. It was as strong as always. He released the breath he’d been holding. Oriana was alive.

“Signore Angelotti?” the footman’s voice came from behind him.

He turned and glared at the man, pointing his finger at him. “You!”

How could his servant allow his wife to leave the house in the middle of the night?

“I’m s-s-sorry, signore. They c-c-came out of nowhere.”

“Not another word now! I’ll deal with you when we’re at home!”

He picked up Oriana in his arms and rose, then his eyes fell onto the contraption she’d fought over so bravely. Why?

“Giuseppe, pick it up. Follow me!”

“Yes, signore,” the servant answered meekly.

Listening to Oriana’s breathing and heartbeat, Nico carried her out of the dark alley.

13

After assuring himself that Oriana’s heartbeat was strong and she had no external injuries, Nico placed her on her bed and called for the maid to tend to her needs. His senses told him that the shock of the attack, together with the violent encounter with a wall, had knocked her unconscious. He picked up no other signs of a serious injury.

When he closed the door to her chamber behind him, he walked down the stairs. In the foyer, the footman stood, hanging his head, still holding the contraption Oriana had fought over in his hands. Only it wasn’t glowing anymore.

“Follow me. And bring this . . . thing!”

Nico marched into the parlor and heard Giuseppe follow him and close the door behind them. He turned slowly, fury still charging through his veins.

“Look at me!” he ordered, his voice building like a distant thunder.

Giuseppe raised his head, his eyes displaying fear. “Y-yes, signore.”

“Tell me what you think you were doing out there!” He pointed toward the window, indicating the dark streets past the safety of his walls. “Have you no sense? How could you take my wife out there in the middle of the night, subjecting her to the vermin that roams the streets at such an hour? How could you put her in such danger?”

The footman trembled. “I’m sorry, signore. B-but your wife, she demanded—”

“Demanded?” Well, Nico could picture only too well what it looked like when Oriana demanded something. He’d been subjected to her sharp tongue on their wedding night. “I don’t care what my wife demands! You should have come to me!”

“B-but, signore, you were o-o-out.”

“Ah, well, yes.” Nico took a quick gulp of air. “Then you should have made her stay until I was back! There is no excuse for allowing her to put herself in danger.”

“But the other t-t-times,” he stuttered. “Nothing happened before.”

Nico glared at the man. “The other times?” He took a step closer. “What are you saying? That my wife has done this before? That she goes out on her own on a regular basis?”

“Never alone,” Giuseppe assured him. “I’m with her a-a-all t-t-the time.”

Nico clenched his fist. “Yes, and we all know how well that worked out tonight! Had I not come upon her, that cutthroat would have seriously hurt her, maybe even killed her!”

As he said it, he felt a stab in his heart as if somebody had driven a stake into it. In that moment he realized that losing Oriana would mean losing his heart. Because he loved her. For an instant, he froze, stunned at the realization. How could this have happened? How could he have fallen in love with his own wife when three days ago he’d fought tooth and nail against this marriage?

“Why was she out there?” he thundered, then pointed to the contraption in the servant’s hands. “And what is this? Why was she fighting with that cutthroat over this thing?”

The servant’s eyes widened, and he nervously looked around the room as if looking for a way to escape his master’s scrutiny.

“Speak! Or I’ll make you regret the day you were born!”

Shaking, Giuseppe’s mouth opened. Only a croaking sound emerged.

“Now!”

“Y-y-your w-w-w-w-wife she has a l-l-l . . . ” His voice died.

Nico’s heart stopped. “A lover?” How could this be? She’d been a virgin until he’d deflowered her only two days ago. With disbelief, he stared at the stuttering footman. “I swear, man, I’ll crush you with my bare hands if you don’t tell me the truth immediately.”

“L-l-laboratory. Your wife has a laboratory,” Giuseppe answered.

Relieved and confused at the same time, Nico questioned him again, “What do you mean, a laboratory? For what purpose?”

“The signora tinkers.”

“Tinkers?”

Giuseppe raised the apparatus in his hands. “With s-s-science. She built this to proof that v-v-v-vampires exist.”

The room suddenly began to turn before Nico’s eyes, as if the earth beneath him were shaking. “No, no,” he mumbled breathlessly. It was impossible. His wife? She was the one who was rumored to have a way of ferreting out vampires? “No,” he repeated.

“Y-yes, signore. I speak the truth. You have to believe me.”

Nico looked at him, then dropped his gaze to the machine. “Show me.”

“Show you what, signore?”

He made a throwaway gesture. “Everything: her laboratory, her science, how this contraption works. Everything!”

Meekly, the servant nodded. “There’s a secret passageway.” He motioned Nico to follow him as he stepped out into the hallway.

A secret passageway? What else was in store for him? He was unable to even contemplate what this news would mean for him. If his wife was the person who was trying to find a way to discover vampires, then she was their enemy. He couldn’t live with his enemy. One day she would find out what he was. One day she would discover his secret and kill him. Because there could only be one reason why she had built this machine: to aid the Guardians of the Holy Waters, the vampires’ sworn enemies. Maybe she was even one of them! Who was to say that the secret society of the Guardians only consisted of men? What if women had joined their ranks?

With a heavy heart, Nico followed his servant through a hidden door in the paneling in the hallway. It led him along an old, musty, narrow corridor to a single door. Giuseppe reached above the sill of the door and pulled a key from it. Unlocking the door, he pushed it open and entered. Hyperaware of his surroundings, Nico entered behind him.

The room was dark. Nico heard a match being struck, then watched Giuseppe light a candle. The light now illuminating the room revealed a multitude of bottles, jars, and tools, as well as an abundance of scientific books and papers.

Nico pointed to the machine Giuseppe now placed on a work bench. “I saw it glow when we were in the alley. It’s not glowing now. How does it work?”

Giuseppe pointed to a cylinder in the middle of the contraption. “Your w-w-wife fills it with a l-l-liquid and when a vampire touches it, it will g-g-glow a certain color. If the p-p-p-person is human, it glows a d-d-different color.”

Nico nodded. He’d seen the machine in action: it had glowed orange when the cutthroat had tried to take it from his wife, but when Nico had touched the rod that protruded from its front, it had started glowing blue. But he wasn’t going to share this revelation with Giuseppe, since he was almost certain that the servant had been too engaged in fighting off the second thug to have had an opportunity to observe what had happened.

“Why doesn’t it glow now?”

“The cylinder is empty. M-m-maybe the liquid spilled, w-w-when your wife fell.”

Nico stretched his palm out to Giuseppe. “The key to this room.”

Giuseppe quickly obeyed and placed the key in Nico’s hand.

“Nobody enters this room. And not a word to my wife that you told me about this. Do you understand?”

“What if she is looking for the k-k-key?”

“Then you know nothing!”

Giuseppe nodded. Nico motioned him out the door, then after following him, locked the door behind them and put the key into the pocket of his waistcoat. In the hallway he turned to his servant once more.

“I will be back shortly. In the meantime, you’re responsible for seeing that nobody enters or leaves this house. That goes for everybody, especially my wife. If my orders aren’t followed to the letter, I will find you, I promise you that.”

A frightened look on his face, Giuseppe nodded quickly. “E-e-everything will be done as you w-w-wish, signore.”

But at this point, Nico wished only one thing: for this nightmare to be over. However, it was a wish his servant didn’t have the power to grant him.

14

A sudden silence fell over the parlor in Dante’s and Raphael’s house, where the two brothers, their wives Viola and Isabella, as well as Marcello, Lorenzo, and Bianca were assembled. They had been poring over the list of Guardians’ names once more.

Nico nodded gravely. He’d arrived ten minutes earlier and relayed what his footman had told him and what he’d observed with this own eyes when coming upon Oriana in the dark alley where she’d been attacked. “It’s true. My wife is the enemy we’ve been hunting for the last few days.”

The enemy—the word sliced through his chest.

Raphael sighed. “There can only be one reason why your wife was attacked.” He exchanged a look with Marcello.

“The cutthroats you chased off must have been working for the Guardians,” Marcello continued. “Nobody else has a reason to want this machine.”

Nico shifted restlessly from one foot to the other. “But why attack her if she’s working for them?”

“Maybe she isn’t. Maybe she’s working on her own and will sell the machine to the highest bidder. If the Guardians are aware of that, they’ll want to intervene before somebody else gets hold of it,” Raphael ventured a guess.

Marcello made a hand movement, indicating his impatience. “Be that as it may. It’s clear what we have to do: destroy the machine and erase her memory.”

Nico’s heart began to race, but before he could even protest, Lorenzo rose from his seat and protested, “No!”

All eyes landed on him.

“You know my position on this. Erasing a human’s memory should only be done if it is to erase a single moment in time, not entire weeks or months of a person’s life. It’s too dangerous. You all know what can happen.”

Nico locked eyes with Lorenzo, knowing only too well what lay in his friend’s past. He’d been forced to erase his lover’s memory after she’d tried to stake him. Elle had ended up in an insane asylum, her mind destroyed, because of the amount of memories Lorenzo had erased. Ever since then, Lorenzo had cautioned all of them not to make the same mistake.