Rubies, Sapphires, and Ivory

J.J. Massa

RUBIES, SAPPHIRES & IVORY

By J.J. Massa

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RUBIES, SAPPHIRES & IVORY

The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

RUBIES, SAPPHIRES & IVORY Copyright (c) 2005 by JJ Massa ISBN: 1-59836-219-4 Cover art and design (c) 2005 by Nix Winter All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. Printed and bound in the United States of America. For information, you can find us on the web at www.VenusPress.com

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Dedication:

To my husband Jimmy for his support and my editor, Tracey, for her guidance and support.

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RUBIES, SAPPHIRES & IVORY

Chapter One

Niccolo Ascosi hung up the telephone and turned, glancing at his manservant as he entered the room. “Did you book my usual table, Gianni?” The man took a step closer to Niccolo, running a lint brush unnecessarily over the flawless back of the dark dinner jacket Niccolo wore. “Yes, signore, your usual table in the corner at Lussuria Di Re awaits you. I also took the liberty of ordering your favorite wine, signore.” “Thank you, Gianni. I shall need you to drive me into town, I think, after my usual glass of wine. I will give you a call when I’m ready.” Gianni’s compliance was understood. His only role in life was to serve Niccolo, his employer. A very wealthy man, Niccolo Ascosi liked to spend his time traveling the world, learning new languages, and meeting interesting people. He no longer interacted overmuch with the many businesses he owned. Neither did he date anyone in particular or worry overmuch about appearances. He’d learned some time ago that the more money a man had, the less accountable he was to others. “As it is a Monday night, the clubs will likely be slow. Please see what venues are most active this evening.” Gianni would know what he wanted and why. In this day and age, there were many simpler ways for a vampire to obtain the sustenance he needed. It was, in fact, as easy for a man of his means to purchase plasma and platelets as if buying a carton of milk at the supermarket. The truth was, Niccolo considered himself a traditionalist, even a purist. Aside from that, cold and plasticencased blood was unappealing to his discriminating palate. It was sterile and bland, without any of the fine bouquet and flavor he’d come to relish and appreciate over the centuries. First things first, however, and tonight he had a craving for a fine red wine. He preferred the dark reds, served at room temperature and enjoyed in elegant surroundings. 5

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He straightened his elegant tie and turned to leave. Gianni held the door open for him as he left his country home, closing it quietly and preceding him to the car. Arriving at the exclusive restaurant, Niccolo followed the dignified maître d’ to his reserved table. The wine, one of his favorites, was already waiting there. Gianni had called ahead. This particular vintage, he found after a sip, had a finely poised structure; graceful and stylish, almost gliding across the palate. He had discovered some time ago that this restaurant had the best wine cellar in the district. Anytime he found himself at his ancestral home, it had become his custom to visit this place and indulge himself. It was not unusual for him to spend an hour or so at his usual table before moving on to one of the city’s many nightclubs and finding someone suitable to satisfy his other cravings. **** Ivory Allison sank beneath the hot, soapy water with a heartfelt sigh that sent bubbles drifting lazily upwards to the surface. Reluctantly, she re-emerged, gathering handfuls of long, slick hair, squeezing a torrent of excess water from the wet-darkened mass. She was not a small woman and her emergence caused water to slosh out of the tub and onto the floor. She sighed, slumping bonelessly against the cool porcelain. She’d clean up that mess later. In her opinion, there was absolutely nothing as nice as a long soak in a hot and fragrant bath to soothe aching muscles. Right now, her muscles ached more that she’d ever believed they could, especially in her line of work. As an interpreter for an international agency, this job had seemed relatively simple compared to most, and had even sounded like fun to her. In reality, there had been an awful lot of strenuous physical work involved, thanks to the active nature of the family she was interpreting for. She didn’t get a lot of exercise usually, though she would always be heavy regardless. Her ancestors were Nordic and built for labor, not for modeling the latest fashions on a catwalk. As a translator for hire, she usually found herself sitting in offices or courtrooms but seldom running up and down steps of famous landmarks. She’d taken this assignment because she’d wanted something different and more active. In fact, she’d certainly gotten her wish–and then some. Quite frankly, she had also taken this assignment because it paid handsomely. Her parents had died owing large hospital bills and she was still buried in student loans. This 6

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assignment would cover all of her bills and payments for a couple of months so she could tolerate a few aches and pains. The family she was working for had taken themselves off to a private dinner with friends so her services were not required this evening. She had a night to herself and felt like a little company, too. She didn’t want a date, really -- she just wanted to be out among people. Ivory sighed heavily, rubbing the sponge carefully over her protesting muscles. She decided that she would treat herself to dinner at a good restaurant, pick up a good book afterward and retire early to bed for the night. After soaking in the tub for another half hour and washing away the dirt along with the aches and pains, she hefted herself out, slightly refreshed to dress for dinner. Her choice of outfit was nothing special, simple and smart—a plain white silk blouse and a long black skirt. Piling her shining, long blond hair up on her head, she made her way to the lobby and caught a cab. **** The exclusive restaurant--recommended by the cabdriver–was situated on the ground floor of the best and most elite hotel in town. Ivory knew this was self-indulgent and uncharacteristically extravagant but she almost never treated herself. She’d been working so hard for so long that she sometimes forgot what it was she was working for. It had been a mistake, she realized, not calling for a reservation. Each table in the restaurant was occupied, a situation the maître d’ insisted would be temporary, should the lady care to wait. Ivory decided to take his advice and followed his sweeping hand as it indicated that she seat herself at the bar. The place was busy, but that was normal for the hour. Most of the patrons who were gathered at the bar seemed to be interested in nothing more than a quiet drink. She ordered a glass of red wine and perched on a stool near the bar. Any other time she might have given up and returned to her hotel, perhaps ordering from room service and going to bed early. It was too late now though. The mouth-watering aromas wafting past her nose from the direction of the kitchen were a temptation she couldn’t ignore. As she sipped her wine, she turned and glanced about the restaurant, enviously watching the diners eat. She hoped a table would be vacant soon. Sitting at the bar left her feeling a bit exposed. Her gaze scanned the room once and then again. Halfway 7

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through her third casual sweep of the room, Ivory’s attention was caught and held by a man who seemed to be regarding her steadily from a nearby table. He had thick, dark hair, swarthy, tanned skin, and a chiseled face. Although she couldn’t see his eyes clearly, she guessed they would be brown, or perhaps nearly black, judging by his classic Italian features. If he moved closer, if he looked at me, I would see beautiful, deep and soulful brown eyes that I could lose myself in. She turned away, embarrassed when she realized he was indeed staring back at her. Unsettled, she turned her attention to the row of wine and liqueur bottles lined up behind the bar. She focused on trying to read the labels and ignoring the handsome stranger. She’d almost convinced herself that she had forgotten him when the maître d’, in his immaculate black suit, cleared his throat courteously beside her. “Excuse me,” he said. “The gentleman in the corner instructed me to request you join him, if you are dining alone. Perhaps you would share his table?” Ivory looked around at the handsome, dark man. The smoldering, mahogany dark eyes were regarding her steadily, she could see them more clearly now, smiling an invitation. Ivory inclined her head in a brief nod of acknowledgment before turning back to the maître d’. “Do you know the gentleman?” she turned to him, speaking in a low tone. “Oh, yes, signorina. He is Count Niccolo Ascosi. He is quite well known and a regular patron,” he said with pride. He leaned forward to whisper, confidentially, “He is a member of one of the oldest families in this region. Very wealthy, he is, too.” Ivory paused to think. Why would someone offer to share his table with a total stranger? Did the man hope to “get lucky”? She glanced back at him. The nearly black eyes, filled with expectation, were still watching her. A wealthy Count wouldn’t want to get lucky with her. He was being kind to a stranger in his country. Making her decision, Ivory smiled and slipped from the stool, following the maître d’ across the room. They arrived at the table just as the handsome stranger was crushing out a thin half-smoked cigar into an ashtray.

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Chapter Two

Niccolo had noticed the blonde woman as soon as she came through the door. Of medium height, her fresh face and blonde hair set her apart from the other diners. Her lustrous gold hair and Rubenesque figure made her as distinct as a ruby in a bed of garnets. He had sensed, without too much effort, the young woman's evaluation of him, and now he smiled graciously at her, allowing her to see his eyes clearly. “Please, Arturo, remove this, won’t you?” He requested of the maître d’, absently nodding toward the ashtray. His gaze bored into his new companion’s blue eyes, compelling her. He knew his voice was rich and melodious--a deep, soft baritone. It was a most useful tool in persuading people to do as he wished. The maître d’ nodded politely, removing the ashtray as Ivory stepped out of the way. “Please, sit down,” Niccolo offered politely, returning his attention to his dinner guest. The young woman did so, stretching out a hand. “Hello, I’m Ivory Allison,” she said simply in introduction. “Niccolo Ascosi, at your service,” he stood politely, his hand caressing hers as he smiled down at her. He was taller than she by only a few inches. Ivory pulled her hand from her host's cool grip. “It’s very gracious of you to share your table, Signore Ascosi,” she said, her voice coming smooth and quiet, even, but...tense. Behind that calm, Niccolo could tell that she sensed something. Her subconscious seemed to be sending her warning signals. He could tell she was uneasy. He leaned toward her and purred, “Please, call me Niccolo, and I shall call you Ivory, if you don’t mind. And it is no imposition. Besides, I could see the hunger in your eyes from over here.” 9

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Ivory studied him, possibly trying to decide if there was a hidden meaning in his statement. “So you took pity on me. My stomach and I thank you,” she smiled finally, sliding into the chair he held out for her. “You are both welcome. Would you like some wine?” He asked, his breath puffing against her exposed neck as he scooted her chair in. Reseating himself, he indicated the bottle and her empty wine glass. He kept his smile bland and friendly but he’d noticed the warmth of her skin and her light flush as his breath had caressed her nape. Ivory looked impatiently around. “What I would really like is a menu.” Niccolo laughed, raising a hand towards one of the waiters. “Cameriere!” While she apparently thought her host distracted, Ivory took the time to look him over. Shamelessly, Niccolo listened to her thoughts. A handsome man, she labeled him. She likened his shiny black hair and neatly trimmed hair to a raven’s wing and admired his large, dark eyes set in what she termed a carved face. The waiter finally arrived, handing Ivory the menu and nodding politely to Niccolo. He waited patiently to the side as she glanced through the menu. “I think I shall start with an Insalata saporita, followed by the Pasta e ceci alla romana and manzo cotto ai ferri, thank you.” Niccolo bit back a smile as he read her thoughts. “It doesn’t matter if the pasta has garlic and anchovies, it’s not like I’m going to kiss somebody…and I don’t know when I’ll eat this well again. I’m having the steak, too. I’m going to indulge myself tonight.” Niccolo smiled to himself. Perhaps they would both indulge themselves this night. “And wine, signorina?” the waiter asked. Before Ivory could respond, Niccolo interrupted. “Please, share mine. It is an excellent accompaniment to the fish and the steak. Another bottle, Riggorio,” he said, gesturing to the bottle of 1961 Ch La Lagune, Haut-Médoc. The waiter nodded and smiled politely as he reclaimed the menu and left. When the waiter had gone, Ivory inquired, “You are not eating?” “No, I frequently dine late in the evening,” Niccolo said carefully. “My appetites are most… particular. I expect to fulfill my cravings later this night.” An odd silence descended for a moment as Ivory glanced around. As her gaze absorbed the room’s rich décor, Niccolo, in turn, steadily scrutinized her. Her thick blonde hair shone brightly in the muted light, her figure full and slightly rounded. He 10

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definitely approved. Feeling the weight of his regard, she turned back to him, eyebrow raised. Unabashed, Niccolo simply smiled back. She looked up as the waiter returned, smiling her pleasure as the dish of salad was settled in front of her. She picked up the fork and began to stab at the slivers of sliced cheese, walnuts, and pears, gathering several pieces before raising them to her mouth. She chewed slowly, savoring the food before swallowing. Her moan of gratification making it clear that she was enjoying her appetizer. Niccolo chuckled at her sigh of contentment and tipped the remainder of the wine into her glass. The waiter promptly appeared with another. “Thank you, Riggorio,” he praised him, earning a pleased smile as the young man hurried away. Ivory chased the salad down with a sip of the wine to clear her throat, indicating her approval by closing her eyes and sighing in pleasure as the wine touched her palate. “This is excellent,” she breathed, obviously savoring it. “It is a favorite of mine,” Niccolo confided. “The cellar here has one of the best collections in the district.” “You’re obviously a regular,” she observed. “Do you live in this area?” He shook his head. “Not really, I have a house in Milan but I travel a great deal. My family home is nearby. In fact, I was born in Rapallo, not far from here.” Ivory continued to eat, reveling in every morsel. After several quiet minutes of him enjoying her as she enjoyed her repast, she looked up again to continue their conversation. “So you travel a lot, you said? Does your job take you very many places?” she asked him artlessly. “As it happens,” he smiled genially at her, “I do travel a little for business reasons but mostly it is for my own pleasure,” Niccolo replied. “And what about you? What brings you to Genoa?” “Work,” Ivory replied ambiguously. “Just work,” she smiled. “Only work?” he asked, already knowing the answer, “Then your work is my good fortune. Tell me -- what is it you do for a living?” She answered him with a shy smile. “I’m an interpreter. I translate for businessmen, diplomats. Anyone who needs an interpreter and is willing to pay my employer’s exorbitant fees.” 11

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“Do you? How fascinating… Is Italian your only language?” he inquired, truly interested now. “I translate all the Romance languages,” she gave a wry chuckle. “Well, I specialize in the Eastern Romance languages because some of my Western dialects need work… my French isn’t bad but my Portuguese… ugh!” “It must pay quite well,” he smiled, tipping a little more wine into her glass. Interesting and attractive, she would do nicely as his companion and sustenance this night. “I’m sorry?” Ivory pushed her empty plate aside and the waiter promptly removed it. “Your work. Dining in one of the town’s most exclusive restaurants?” Niccolo suddenly stopped, lowering the glass to the table, surprised at the rudeness of his own comment. “I’m sorry. That was crass of me. I cannot believe I said…” “That’s all right.” Ivory leaned forward, whispering confidentially, “Eating out at my employer’s expense is my favorite part of the job.” Her warm breath puffed across his cheek and he felt himself harden instantly. Niccolo laughed, partly in appreciation, partly to cover the surge of excitement he felt with the closer proximity of her warmth and the scent of her blood. “Perhaps I should take a closer look at my own employees’ expense receipts,” he smiled, shifting to adjust himself. “Perhaps you should,” Ivory replied archly, softening her teasing remark with a smile. “What do you do for a living?” she asked, her twilight blue eyes wide and interested. I search the earth looking for a human worthy of being my companion. Those that are not provide me with nutrients as I continue my journey. Niccolo shrugged, an elegant gesture. “I own numerous businesses and many shares in quite a few others.” Ivory’s eyebrows rose at this. “I guess they keep you pretty busy?” Niccolo laughed. He’d found nothing that kept him busy enough. “Certainly, I pay attention to their activities. The fact is, however, that I am little involved in their management. For the most part, I collect the proceeds with very little contribution.” She considered him speculatively. “I can’t imagine living like that. I mean -- you have so much free time.” More than you could possibly imagine. He waited for her to 12

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continue as she framed her next thought. “So what do you do, then? You must get very bored. Do you sleep all day?” she asked, tempering the impertinent question with a smile. Unabashed, Niccolo grinned. “The simple truth, lovely Ivory, is that I do whatever I wish to do. After a point, money tends to make itself and those in pursuit of it do what they must to accrue it for me and for themselves. I merely enjoy it. I travel extensively, looking for the opportunity to meet and share time with interesting and intelligent people like you.” “Me?” Ivory asked, apparently surprised that he found her interesting. “Yes,” Niccolo replied simply, refilling his own glass. He raised it to his lips and swallowed a mouthful before continuing. “You’re obviously well-traveled, too. I can see in your eyes that you’ve experienced a great deal in your short years.” Ivory frowned, lowering her revealing eyes to the table. “I like to travel. The local history interests me.” Why are you so reluctant to admit your beauty and share the unique treasure that you are? It is plain to me… Ah, perhaps only because I sense your thoughts, beautiful Ivory. You hide a sadness deep within, and a determination to succeed. “You should not miss a visit to the historic downtown area of Genoa,” Niccolo suggested. “It is the capital of the northern Italian region of Liguria and the core of the Italian Riviera.” He paused, as if considering his next words. “Tomorrow evening, if you like, I could take you around. It would please me to show off our historic district.” Ivory’s blonde hair bounced and shone, golden waves flashing and slipping as she shook her head from side to side. “That’s very kind, thank you, but I’m flying home in the morning,” she smiled regretfully. “Oh, that is quite a shame,” Niccolo murmured, truly disappointed. Still fighting the hunger rushing through him at the sight of her shiny hair bouncing and the smell of her warm skin as she shook her head, he asked her, “Where is home?” “New York,” she told him with a shrug. “So far away, but what an exciting city. You must love it there. Please, let us speak English so you will feel more at home,” he offered, switching to her native language. “That’s not necessary, thank you. It would be rude of me, especially after you so generously offered to share your table. Besides, I think my Italian needs the practice.” 13

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Niccolo laughed. “You are being modest and you know it. Your Italian is… well, as good as my English, I think. But if it will please you, we shall speak in Italian.” They sat in comfortable silence as the waiter returned, placing a generously filled plate in front of her. Ivory picked up the utensils and started to slice into the meat. “You should try your steaks more rare,” Niccolo suggested. “It enhances the flavor of the meat.” Ivory’s nose wrinkled. “I don’t like the taste of the blood,” she confessed. Niccolo smiled to himself yet again. Perhaps she didn’t care for the taste of blood but it was all he could do to refrain from tasting her sweet and pounding life force right there. He struggled to think of other things, fighting the anticipation of what was to come. As his companion’s attention turned to cutting up her steak, Niccolo studied her face. Everything about her appearance was extraordinary to him, from the shiny gold knot of hair to those full red lips. The line of forehead, cheek, and jaw were stately, elegant, best of all, not gaunt. He admired her voluptuous figure as well, though he knew that so many would not in this age of starvation-thin bodies and compact everything else. But more than that, the one thing that Niccolo had first noticed from across the room – were her eyes, a rich deep shade of sapphire blue, framed by long, dark gold lashes. Those eyes looked up at him now, and Niccolo felt the breath catch in his throat as she caught his gaze. Ivory chewed the bite of tender steak, swallowing with pleasure. “The food here is so heavenly. No wonder this restaurant was so highly praised.” Niccolo was pleased, knowing that he would be enjoying the gift of a satisfying repast as well, and in her company. “I’m so glad you’re enjoying it,” his well modulated tones assured her. “The chef has come from an excellent school. I’ll see that Arturo offers him your compliments.” “He’s very good. I admit to enjoying a good meal. If I were honest,” she blushed, flashing him an embarrassed, dimpled smile, “I’d have to confess that it’s one of my chief vices.” “Oh, only one of your vices? And the others?” Niccolo probed playfully. “Perhaps my other vices shouldn’t be mentioned in public,” Ivory replied, flirting cautiously.

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She gave Niccolo an impish grin that lit up her face and ignited something deep in his soul. The hunger surged again and he reached for his wineglass, sipping carefully and rolling the sweet, balanced and juicy blend over his tongue. **** Ivory looked into Niccolo’s dark eyes, caught in their inky depths. She was drawn by a mixture of amusement and something else--a look of desire, a craving that she so seldom found directed at her. While she was no virgin, she wasn’t often the recipient of that speculative look and when she was, she generally ignored it--but perhaps not tonight. She’d kept her own pleasures and desires deeply buried, denying self-indulgence until she met her goals. But now she began to revise her earlier plans for this evening’s recreation. Perhaps there might be more on the menu tonight other than a good steak. Niccolo grinned, teasing her, seeming to know her mind “Is it possible that we have more in common than travel and wine, do you think?” “It is possible I suppose,” Ivory replied evasively, a hint of a smile curving her lips. She wasn’t going to admit any attraction to him. He seemed to know it anyway and she was enjoying his company. If he wanted her in any other way, he would have to make the first move and then she would decide what to do about that. “There are many interesting artifacts tied to Genoa. My clients had me visiting museums…” The conversation went on as she continued to eat. Ivory drew her companion into discussing favorite objects d’art, governments and politics. She dared even touch upon belief systems. It was a discussion that she would normally have found too heavy and intimate for someone she had only just met. She didn’t know why, it must be a fluke, but there was something about this man that invited a deeper sharing than she usually allowed. Ivory finished her treat to herself with a generous portion of warm, rich zabaglione, much to Niccolo’s amusement. “It would seem your appetites are indeed very healthy,” he teased her gently. Ivory looked up at him as she pushed the emptied parfait glass to one side. Niccolo’s words were full of double meanings, she knew. She had no doubt about where he hoped this evening would end. More and more, the idea began to appeal to her as well. He made her feel attractive and she would never see him again. 15

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By the end of her meal, Ivory was feeling unusually content and mellow. It was a pleasant contrast to the days and nights of stress and worry. In fact, Ivory seldom felt at ease in the company of strangers. She had to work hard to give the impression of unaffected nonchalance that was so often necessary in working with diplomats. Tonight, the wine had been good, the food excellent and the company– engaging and disarming. The two continued talking, comparing books they’d read and music they preferred, discovering numerous common interests. They shared a love of H. G. Wells and had just finished a conversation on the theories and paradoxes of time travel, when Ivory glanced at her delicate watch. Niccolo’s smooth and sexy voice had kept her spellbound and she had lost all track of time. “Speaking of time travel, I should leave,” Ivory gasped, alarmed at the late hour. “I’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time. I hope my company wasn’t terribly taxing,” she smiled warmly at him. “You were such a wonderful dinner companion. Thank you,” she said, meaning every word. Niccolo shook his head seriously. “Not at all. I’ve enjoyed your companionship very much, Ivory. In fact, it would please me greatly if you would stay a little longer and join me for a drink,” Niccolo entreated, his silky smooth tones keeping her from moving. So, now it was out in the open. Niccolo wanted her to stay, wanted… well, Ivory could guess what he wanted, and he surely realized that she wanted it too. A small shiver of anticipation ran up her spine. “Um, I don’t know,” Ivory glanced about, noticing for the first time there were only a handful of people left in the room. It was very late – much later than she realized. She’d been enjoying his company so much that time had flown by. Her attention was distracted by the sound of efficient wait staff clearing away and lifting chairs upside down onto tables as the bartender began flicking off the lights. “It looks like they’ve closed the bar already,” she shrugged regretfully; arching a brow at him and pushing her chair back slowly. “I keep a suite here, with a nicely stocked bar,” Niccolo informed her smoothly. “Let us not end our evening yet, just when we were enjoying each other so thoroughly,” he wheedled smoothly, his rich voice tickling over her senses and drawing her in. How could she refuse such a warm entreaty? Ivory nervously nodded her consent and turned to catch the eye of the waiter. “Could I have the bill, please?” 16

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The slip of paper was presented to her but as she picked it up, Niccolo told the waiter, “Please add this to my account.” “No,” Ivory protested, “really. You shared your lovely wine with me, at least let me pay for my own meal.” “You are a visitor in my country–my home. It would offend me deeply if you don’t let me take care of this.” Niccolo reached for the bill in Ivory’s hand, lingering a moment as their fingers touched. Ivory finally lifted her hand, leaving the small scrap of paper to him. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you,” she blushed, a little disconcerted.

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Chapter Three

Ivory began to feel nervous as they left the elevator and walked into Niccolo’s suite. As he held the door open and she walked in, a man came out of the adjoining room and she tensed. Seeing her apprehension, Niccolo explained. “This is my manservant, Gianni. He is many things to me: chauffeur, butler, and secretary--truly a man of many talents. I am lost without him.” He patted the large man on the shoulder. “You may retire now, Gianni. I shall not be needing you until the morning.” “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Gianni searched the eyes of his employer, and then looked more closely at Ivory. She felt a sudden anxiety. She had no doubt about Niccolo’s motive for the invitation. Her nervous tension climbed as Niccolo walked up behind her. Strong hands slipped over Ivory’s shoulders, massaging her gently through the thin silk of her blouse. Niccolo’s melodic and captivating voice murmured intimately into her ear, “Join me in a drink?” She vaguely realized how different Niccolo was as her desire for him overcame her pitiful resistance. As his cool breath caressed her cheek and his even cooler hands encased her shoulders, she wondered why he was so chilled and why his breath had no smell. “Our drinks,” Niccolo moved to a small bar, setting two delicate snifters on the top. He unscrewed the cap on a bottle of brandy and filled the beautiful, light glasses, handing one to his guest. He gestured towards the couch and Ivory accepted the invitation, perching on the edge of the plush cushion. Niccolo took a chair opposite and stared intently at his young guest, thinking, planning, anticipating. As a rule, he wasn’t choosy about the gender of his consorts, though by and large, he preferred women. They were easier to charm and much less likely to throw a punch at a misunderstood comment or a wandering hand. He liked a soft and sweet smelling meal. 18

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His preferred hunting ground was the local nightclub, always full of happy, transitory visitors, eager for a memorable experience out. Tourists were the easiest targets, never staying too long and happy for a brief, holiday romance with a handsome stranger. He’d never before invited anyone to share his table when he was taking his customary glass of evening wine, and the idea of inviting someone back to his suite had never been a consideration. Tonight however, Niccolo had broken all of his self-imposed rules. He’d been entranced from the moment he’d seen the lush blond enter the dining room. Niccolo broke his quiet contemplation with a warm murmur, “How many have told you of your beautiful eyes, lovely Ivory? They are sapphire perfection with your pale skin and lustrous gold colored hair.” Apparently, his flattery was unexpected. Ivory ducked her head as her color rose, a pink blush staining her cheeks. She glanced up at him before swallowing the liqueur in her glass. “Um, that’s a very sweet thing to say,” she smiled, shyly returning her gaze to her empty glass. It’s as if I’ve never spoken to a man before, Niccolo heard her thoughts. Next I’ll begin to stammer when I blush. “No, it’s true,” he assured her sincerely. “The first thing I noticed about you when I saw you were your beautiful blue eyes.” Niccolo rose, covering the distance between them in two quick strides. He reached down and gently cupped Ivory’s chin, turning her face up and toward him. His hands are so cold and his skin is chilled. Maybe he’s not well… “I do believe you hypnotized me, mia Bellissima,” he said quietly. His hand slipped away, leaving the pale face, and took the empty glass from Ivory’s unsteady hand. “Let me fill your glass.” The shock of the endearment was designed to turn Ivory's thoughts away from the cool touch. He knew right away that it had had the desired effect even though he found he meant what he’d said to her. As he walked back to the bar, Ivory asked, “Why would you call me that?” Niccolo bent, opening a cupboard under the bar top. “Bellissima? It means that I find you very attractive – I mean it affectionately. Do you mind? If you’d rather I didn’t…” He glanced up at her, knowing that she understood the language and aware that she wasn’t used to endearments. 19

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Ivory shook her head. “No, I was just surprised. Nobody has ever called me such a thing.” “There are more fools in the world than even I suspected if that is so.” Niccolo rose, showing her a very tall, triangular bottle. “You must share a taste of this with me,” he smiled warmly at her. The obviously old bottle was opaque with beveled glass and a peeling label. “What is it?” Ivory asked dubiously as she settled in comfortably into a corner of a pale blue velvet sofa. “It is a liqueur, prepared by a local winery, and blended with many local fruits and herbs. You will find it most pleasing. I shall join you in a glass.” He poured a generous measure into two rocks glasses, handing one to her. Ivory held the tumbler, waiting until her host tossed back the liquid in one gulp before carefully taking a sip. The liquid was sweet with a nutty flavor that held a hint of spice. It slipped down her throat, spreading a warm glow as it went. “Mmm,” Ivory sighed her appreciation and took another, deeper sip. Niccolo knew the liqueur was delicious and very relaxing as well. “Do you like it?” he asked her solicitously. “Here, have some more.” Niccolo began pouring another drink into her glass, managing to almost fill the glass before she halted him. “I have a flight tomorrow,” she reminded him. “I really can’t afford to miss it.” “Of course, but you haven’t really had a chance to really appreciate the full and intriguing taste. The intense flavor of the liqueur can be realized so much more with a second glass,” Niccolo replied, refilling his own with the strong alcohol. As Ivory raised the glass to drink, Niccolo halted her hand. “Wait a moment,” he murmured, moving behind the sofa. Niccolo struck a match, lit several candles, and returned to her carrying an ornate, old-fashioned candleholder, complete with a large, fat, flickering scented candle. “Some things are best savored by candlelight,” he said, placing the lighted candle in its holder on the coffee table. The candle was made of herbs designed to calm and soothe as the heat released them into the air. Although his companion seemed relatively unruffled, she spoke of leaving. He had no intention of allowing that. It would be much better for them both if she stayed by choice. 20

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Niccolo sat down next to her so that Ivory might get accustomed to his presence so close. It happened rarely, but from time to time, his quarry somehow knew and resisted when he closed in on them. Some people were just more sensitive than others and listened when their subconscious warned them that they were in the presence of something not quite human. This time he wanted more than sustenance. This woman, he would enjoy slowly and thoroughly. Dare he penetrate her by both tooth and cock? It would affect her, yes, but only slightly. She would be fine. He wanted her. He wanted to plunge into her and satisfy a need he hadn’t felt in many years. He craved her blood and her body. Yes, he decided, he would satiate himself. He shivered in anticipation as he considered, planning this delicious double conquest. To cover his preoccupation, his shiver of excitement, he picked up his glass and tapped it against Ivory’s, tipping it back quickly. “Salute,” he murmured as he touched the cool glass to his lips, not draining it, in fact, barely sipping at it. Ivory followed suit, gasping as the mouthful of strong liqueur took her breath away. Staring at her empty glass, a little befuddled, she barely noticed Niccolo as he reached out and gently tugged it from her, placing it upon a nearby table. Lightheaded, Ivory turned towards her host as Niccolo’s hand slid up her arm and gently coaxed her to face him. His cool hand traveled up the warm skin of her arm, pulling her closer until his chill breath caressed her lips. “Relax, Bellissima. You will enjoy what we do together this night, I promise,” Niccolo whispered. Niccolo’s advice was unnecessary. Ivory offered no resistance as Niccolo’s lips pressed against hers and a strong hand slipped around her waist, pulling her nearer, crushing their bodies together as the kiss became more intense, more demanding.

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Chapter Four

The combination of potent liqueur and the overwhelming sex appeal of Niccolo flooded her senses until Ivory felt lightheaded and overwhelmed. She was always so cautious when she drank but just now, she couldn’t bring herself to care. She could only feel the fiery heat of the liqueur and desire spreading outwards from the pit of her stomach, turning her limbs liquid and causing the heat to pool between her legs. Niccolo’s hand slid down to her hip, tentatively skimmed across her abdomen and stroked over her mound almost as if testing her reaction. She felt Niccolo’s satisfied smile but was helpless against it as she flexed her hips slightly against his roving hand. Without warning, Niccolo’s arms tightened around her body and Ivory gasped as he lifted her bodily from the sofa. His strength was surprising, and Ivory protested weakly as Niccolo walked across the room with her cradled in his arms. “Niccolo…” she mumbled unsure and discomfited at being swept away like a helpless child. “Hush, Bellissima. I should like to make love to you in the comfort of my bed,” he murmured, his velvet and satin baritone stroking over her, making her feel sexy and desirable. They entered the dark sleep chamber and Niccolo carefully deposited her onto the enormous four-poster bed before moving away. Ivory lay where she’d been placed, thoughts whirling in her head and butterflies churning in her stomach. Nervous tension grew in her as she watched Niccolo move about the room, setting a match to candles around the room. They gave off a warm, soft glow, enough to see by but not distracting. Ivory began to relax a little, her doubt receding again. She closed her eyes and breathed in the subtle bouquet of the candles, only vaguely aware of the hands that gently removed her clothing until she felt the slide of cool, naked flesh against her skin.

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“Relax, Bellissima. I know I feel chilly to you, but I will soon be warm,” Niccolo whispered, so hungry to partake of the heat the life of her. She was warm, soft, her blood pounding through her, an offering of warmth and joy, here for the taking. Niccolo easily skimmed Ivory’s thoughts prepared to becalm any fears she might have and pleased when he found that she felt safe with him. She wasn’t safe, not really, not at all, but he continued to soothe and calm her with light caresses and gentle words. He moved over her, loving the feeling of her warm and full body under his own. It had been a very long time since he’d enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh. Tonight he would share himself with her, he would enjoy this -- they both would. Niccolo looked down at the body he covered with his own. Ivory’s eyes were partially closed, showing just a glimpse of the stunning gem colored irises. Niccolo kissed one eye and then the other, knowing he could so easily get lost in her eyes. No distractions now, he decided. He was well past hungry for her. He was ravenous. If he wanted to, Niccolo knew he could take his nourishment with no further ado. Ivory would never know. Relaxed by a combination of the rare liqueur and the herbal candles, she would put up little resistance. A bit of light petting, a few kisses and a quick nip at her throat. Once the powerful calmant in his saliva entered her bloodstream, Ivory’s compliance–more than that–her willing participation would be assured. Niccolo had rarely needed or really even wanted to take an encounter further than a little harmless foreplay. He wasn’t, after all, courting these men and women consorts with a view to--marriage--his needs were far simpler and much more transient. This beautiful and fascinating soul was very different. The urge to couple with this woman was primal, almost instinctive. This desire overpowered his innate desire for caution. After only a short time in Ivory’s company, Niccolo had realized he wanted more than a taste of her blood–he wanted to feel her body beneath him, wanted to feel her flesh warm against his. He wanted--no he needed to bury himself deeply inside of her as he drank, sharing an intimacy with this woman that he hadn’t indulged in for so long. Yet, even after all this time, she’d awakened in him a desire to touch–to connect with another. The very idea was all consuming. Restless, ravenous, Niccolo’s mouth traveled from full and perfect lips to nibble at the delicate curve of her jaw nuzzling inexorably toward a perfectly formed ear. His hot mouth found and tasted a dainty lobe, teasing it gently with his teeth and tongue 23

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before releasing it to move on again. His explorations took him down the side of the pale neck, pausing in places to suck at the delightfully sweet tasting skin. Salty with a light sheen of sweat and a hint of lavender bath oil, Niccolo lapped at it, becoming more excited with every pale inch he surveyed. Ivory lay passive, her eyes remaining closed as his rough tongue rasped across a sensitive spot on her neck. Niccolo’s hands moved ceaselessly over her body, thumbs rubbing over turgid nipples, fingers insinuating themselves between her legs. Not quite insensible, she shifted, spreading her legs and pushing against his exploring fingers. As he licked her skin, tasted her unique flavor; he felt her slick juices coat his fingers. He plunged them deep inside her, drawing them completely out before thrusting in again. Later, he would taste her there--first he would dine, and then he would savor. Both their bodies were warm now as Niccolo began to share in the warmth pouring off the overheated body under him. He petted and caressed her as his hot lips and tongue tasted and tested the soft skin at the base of her throat. Niccolo could smell the blood pulsing through the veins beneath the skin, so close to the surface he could almost taste it. The warmth and aroma of her pounding life force teased and taunted him. Over the years, he had learned much about the creature he’d become, almost forgetting the man he’d been. Ivory’s generous body, the scintillating aroma of her blood reminded him of what it was to desire a woman. He inhaled deeply, tasted her warm skin again with his tongue, rolling the flavor around in his mouth. The blood beneath was pounding, rich with adrenaline and other body chemicals released by arousal, it called to him, a siren’s song for his senses. Ivory, relaxed and intoxicated by the local wine and other alcohol he’d given her, was ready for him, wanted him perhaps nearly as much as he wanted her. But Niccolo was intoxicated by more than her flavors. This woman was beautiful, her face a face like that of an angel and a body like a Rubens painting, so evocative of the way a woman should look–how they’d looked when he was alive. Niccolo wanted more than his ritual blood taking. He wanted to possess this body, to claim it, to bury himself deep inside. His mind burned feverishly with the thought even as he insinuated himself between her legs. His hand moved down between the fleshy and soft thighs, finding her yielding moist center. 24

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His nose nuzzled against the soft cheek, whispering into her shell-like ear, “I am so hungry for you, Bellissima. Tell me you want me. That you hunger for me as well.” “Yes, yes Niccolo…” Ivory breathed, the sound barely a sigh from between her lips. It was all he needed. Impatiently, he quickly guided his swollen cock to the soft and wet center as his mouth brushed along her pale neck, seeking just the right place. There, just above the juncture between neck and collarbone, where her pulse pounded with the pumping of her heart…Niccolo’s mouth hovered over the spot while he positioned his cock at the entrance to Ivory’s moist channel. The scent of blood so strong, pulsing only centimeters under the skin, pulled his needle sharp incisors forth, sharp and ready as he pinned his lover to the bed prepared for a struggle. He bit down quickly, his pointed teeth piercing the artery at the same time that he plunged into her tight sheath. Ivory jerked, struggling only briefly as a fast acting narcotic entered the vein sending a potent aphrodisiac racing through her blood stream For Ivory, the bite would be barely felt--a sharp prick, the peculiar feeling of twin needles at her throat. Before she would even be able to consider the fleeting sensation, a near orgasmic pleasure would race through her. It would amplify her senses, heighten her excitement and cause her to forget all but his touch, his length sliding slowly into her. Niccolo’s entire body shook at the warm blood flowing from the tiny wounds, sucking, sipping with an all-consuming need–one that threatened to eclipse the intense fulfillment of intercourse. With difficulty, he forced himself to move slowly, enjoying the sliding wet suction, the squeeze of the velvet perfection surrounding his throbbing length. Pumping in and out, in too short a time the liquid fire craving took him and his pace quickened. He had to make this last, he never wanted this feeling to end, but his needs, her needs, both were far to great to slow, to savor. The scalding, filling gift of liquid life, the magic of her fiery satin caress, all of it was too overwhelming, causing him to quicken his pace as the urgency climbed toward the edge, the top of his control. Oh, how he wanted this to last, to stay merged with this beautiful woman in this most ultimate of embraces, but the taking of too much blood would be a danger to his sweet lover and he couldn’t, wouldn’t, endanger her life. His hunger for blood satisfied, Niccolo allowed his elongated incisors to retract, sealing the tiny punctures with a warm glide of his tongue. One appetite met, he turned his attention to Ivory’s needs. His long fingers teased between her weeping labial folds 25

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and he tugged on the tiny bump of sensitive flesh between her legs. His hips continued to pump, her satin channel stroking him, he could feel her body tighten, the lightning peak just out of reach as both spiraled toward it, tighter, tighter, faster and faster. She bucked under him, arching up, arms and legs wrapped around him. Her eyes flew open, and when she looked at him, Niccolo was lost. Uncontrollably, he thrust deep, again and again, shouting out as the first hot rush shot through her, spurt after spurt gushing from him. Ivory body began to shudder her own orgasm building, rumbling like lava as waves of Niccolo’s eruption gathered her up, sweeping her in the hot torrents as together they crashed up and out, seeming to explode as one. She cried out as her own climax, almost painful, reverberated through her nervous system, wave after wave, leaving her trembling and exhausted.

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Chapter Five

Stunned and exhausted, Ivory closed her eyes, floating on the warmth and satiation that followed close on the heels of the initial overpowering sensations. Little more than a puddle of satisfied woman, spent to the very tips of her still humming nerves, Ivory was unable to move, unwilling to stir. She allowed herself to drift on the warm currents of contentment, only waiting for her breathing to slow and her heartbeat to return to normal. Finally, the sensation of long fingers gently tracing over her face, stroking her lips, and filtering through her hair roused her from her dreamy daze. Where was she? Oh, yes--in bed, with a man. With Niccolo, the handsome Italian she’d met at dinner. Groggily, she raised a hand against the glare of the candles. They seemed exceptionally bright, flickering yellow beams piercing her scrunched eyelids. In an effort to orient herself, she turned away from the brightness and forced open her eyes. Carefully, she tilted her head back and seeing that Niccolo lay beside her, propped up on his side, looking down at her with a tender yet slightly predatory smile. She released a deep breath, her mind full of making love with him as he pulled her into the circle of his arms. One of his hands slid to her back, pressing her soft curves against his hard body. He dipped his head, letting his lips linger just above hers, so close she could feel his breath mingle with her own. Intimate. Hot. Tempting. Her hands skimmed across his chest as he lowered his body over hers. He slid down took a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, using his teeth and tongue to bring it to a hard peak. Then he trailed a path of kisses from one breast to the other and down further, over her ribs, across her stomach and lower. He nudged her legs open with his shoulder, kissing and nipping down a fleshy hip and sucking at her thigh. She felt her juices gush when his breath puffed over her damp and swollen folds. 27

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He began to taste her as his tongue traced her outer lips and then the pink and dripping inner flesh, nipping at her hard little nub. He drew her clit into his mouth, sucking with pleasure, savoring her. She cried out, parting her legs wider and he lowered his mouth, sliding his tongue down her center. She pressed herself against his mouth, needing, demanding more. Finally, releasing her clit, he speared her once with his tongue, and she cried out, parting her legs wider for him. Then he was there, rising above her once again, she felt the large round head of his cock resting against her and she wanted him. She’d never wanted a man this bad, ever. His arm slid under the small of her back and he plunged, deep inside her taking her breath away. Over and over he pistoned into her. Moaning, she arched her hips, taking him deeper, wrapping her legs around his back. She clenched her sheath tightly around him, thrilling as he growled and pumped harder, thrusting again and again in near animal lust. She felt it too, clinging yet meeting each hard thrust with a hunger of her own, slamming into her climax like a fast car into a brick wall. He roared as with one ferocious lunge, he came, his hot seed shooting into her, thrilling her and nearly knocking her senseless with its force. **** Beautifully manicured fingers reached out to brush back her tangled blond hair where it clung around her face. Opening her eyes again, Ivory realized she’d been asleep. There he was, Niccolo, smiling down at her. Sleepily, she returned the smile, turning her face into his palm. “I should go, Niccolo. It must be very late,” Ivory told him, not really eager to leave his warmth and the comfort of the bed. Niccolo grinned. “Lei me incanta cosí, sono affascinato, Bellissima,” he confessed, with a gentle kiss, telling her how she’d charmed and enchanted him. “Do not go, even though it has become morning,” he entreated her sincerely. Morning? “It can’t be morning!” Ivory sat up, too quickly, her pounding head reminded her, and looked around. “Oh… I shouldn’t have had so much to drink. And how I behaved!” A rich chuckle wrapped itself around her. “I am most pleased with how you behaved, Bellissima mia,” he murmured into her ear causing tingles up and down her spine. 28

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The light that was now filtering painfully through her eyelids came from the early morning sun. With a loud groan, she flopped back down on the bed. This was so out of character for her, staying out all night with a date. The fine points of the previous night’s activities were somewhat unclear–that special vintage was certainly potent stuff–but her memory, and Niccolo’s warm hand stroking up her thigh, reawakened any latent hunger she’d been suppressing and causing a gush of heated desire between her legs. She looked up at the man whose bed she still shared. He was so easy to be with. Oh, how she didn’t want to move away from his solid strength, his warmth, his powerful body. Unfortunately, more mundane things called to her. Right now, her bladder demanded attention. Reluctantly, she tried to slide out of bed, but her lover tightened an arm around her waist. Lightly chastising, she said, “Niccolo, I need to get up.” The Italian grinned. “Mmm, but I am already up, Bellissima.” He leaned down to kiss her, but she quickly slipped away from him and out of the bed. After using the bathroom, Ivory showered quickly and, tucking a towel around her breasts, studied her reflection in the mirror over the elegant sink Ivory had to admit that her countenance appeared rather smug and self satisfied. And did she somehow look different? Niccolo was the first man she’d ever allowed to make love to her upon such short acquaintance. Looking back at the evening past, she couldn’t regret it, not a bit. She didn’t understand it, but somehow she felt whole, complete, as if an important hole in her life had been filled, as if a missing piece of her had been restored. Was this what love felt like? It was a ridiculous notion. She’d only just met him, had known him less than a day. Yet… there was an instant connection between them, a feeling of affinity. She shook her head resolutely, banishing the absurd thought away as she leaned forward. Was that a hickey she spied on her throat? Frowning, she turned her head to one side, leaning in to get a better look at the love bite that marred her otherwise flawless skin. Niccolo had certainly left an impression. The mark wasn’t all that large but it was very noticeable. She would have to wear higher collared blouses for a few days, to be sure. 29

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What was wrong with her? She had never allowed herself to be marked this way before. In morbid fascination, she touched the oblong purple and red blotch: it was puffy and a little sore. Taking her by surprise, a gentle hand covered hers and soft lips nuzzled her ear. “It will fade,” Niccolo promised her, his rich voice stroking her nerve endings as he pressed warmly against her from behind, his arm snaking around her ample waist as he hooked his chin over her rounded shoulder. “I apologize for leaving you with such an obvious and juvenile memento of our time together. I lost all restraint. Forgive me?” For a seemingly endless moment, they regarded each other in the mirror until finally, Ivory relaxed against him. “I forgive you,” she murmured. With a deep sigh, Niccolo squeezed her closer. “Stay with me. Come back to bed.” “I can’t,” Ivory replied, “I really wish I could…” She meant it, she truly did. The offer was tempting and, if she were anyone else, she might have considered it. Years of hard work and struggle kept her from taking him seriously. This was strange, alien to her, this feeling of welcome and contentment. How could she though? He couldn’t really mean it, could he? After all, she barely knew him. She was a one-night stand–in fact, so was he. “Go back next week, then--tomorrow. At least stay a little longer,” Niccolo pleaded. He loved the feel of her body and possessively crushed it to his chest. Mine, to have and to hold, he thought surprised at himself. For better or worse. “I have a job to go to, Niccolo,” Ivory replied reasonably. “Then quit – you can quit, Bellissima. Let the diplomats take care of their own needs. I will take care of you.” Niccolo’s hands worked purposefully, tugging at the towel around her and letting it drop to the floor. Was he begging this human woman to stay with him? He was. “I can’t,” she moaned with feeling, her head dropping back to rest against his shoulder as warm hands caressed their way around her body, dedicated to changing her mind. “Why can’t you?” Niccolo murmured, kissing his way down the pale and unmarked side of Ivory’s neck, already rapidly flushing pink with arousal. The fingers of one hand found and teased her moistening lower lips while his other hand plumped a burgeoning breast. 30

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“I can’t because I have to be at the airport in…Oh no! I’ll be late, I know it!” Breathless, she jerked away from him and scrambled into the bedroom. “What time is it?” she asked, frantically rifling through clothes on the floor, tossing those that weren’t hers. “It is barely past six in the morning.” Niccolo shook his head, chuckling. “Don’t panic. I did recall that you said you had a flight at eight-thirty.” He paused. “You may certainly cancel it at any time, Bellissima,” he wheedled hopefully and more than a little serious. Ivory shot him a glare as she tugged on her underclothes. “I must call my client. They’ll be wondering where I am. May I use the phone?” “Of course. I’ll ask Gianni to arrange breakfast. Is there anything in particular you crave this morning?” “Everything, anything,” Ivory said as she picked up the receiver. Niccolo grinned, remembering her honestly proclaimed love of food. She waited while Niccolo closed the door, allowing her some privacy, then picked up the telephone. **** In the car, on the way to the airport, Niccolo tried again to persuade Ivory to delay her return to New York. It was too soon after discovering her. Perhaps he’d want more or perhaps he’d tire of her. Most importantly, he wanted to find out for himself. He wanted more time with this woman. That almost never happened… and he always got what he wanted. They arrived at the busy airport, all too soon for Niccolo’s liking, and said their good-byes in the privacy of the car’s plush and roomy interior, hidden from the bustling outside world by tinted glass. One regret-filled kiss and then another, a few words of care, affection, sadness at parting after such a short time. Finally, Niccolo released Ivory’s hand and let her go. The door slammed shut and Niccolo felt bereft. Unlike the hundreds, no thousands more likely, of others before her, this woman had touched his soul -- if it was possible for a vampire to have one. She filled a need within him, an emptiness he hadn’t realized he’d felt. This wasn’t right, to lose someone so precious after only just finding her. One long finger glided over cool glass, stroking her receding image. Niccolo watched until the figure disappeared through the door and out of his sight, into the depths of the airport building. 31

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He saw Ivory glance back once as she walked toward the airport terminal. His Rolls Royce purred in front of the busy airport, its tinted windows hiding its single occupant from sight. After a moment, he pressed a recessed button and the large, elegant machine pulled away from the curb. As his car drove away from the airport, Niccolo’s mind refused to think of anything else except his recently departed lover. It was inconceivable that they would never meet again. No! This cannot be the end. I will not allow it, he thought. He leaned forward, sliding open the tinted glass that separated him from the driver. “Gianni, I have an assignment for you. I want you to find out more about Ivory Allison. Everything. Tell me where she lives, who she sees, and where she goes when she isn’t working.” “Yes, sir,” his manservant replied calmly. This wasn’t the first time Niccolo had asked such a thing of him. Neither man expected that it would be the last. With a sigh, he tapped the cane on the back of Gianni’s seat. “Take me home.”

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Chapter Six

Niccolo despised business meetings. In his opinion, they served very little purpose, were tedious, mind numbing and very, very dull. Once again, he reminded himself that he had a duty, not just to himself, but to the people who worked for him. He respected those who worked for him a great deal. Any of them could be a relative for all he knew. He’d had brothers and sisters that had lived after his natural life had ended. His vast fortune had been built up over many years, stretching back into the last century. His family had believed him killed in April of 1860 when he’d accompanied Giuseppe Garibaldi and nine hundred ninety-nine other red-shirted young men in an effort to unite the two Italys. He was, but not due to any military campaigns. He’d found himself the object of a vampire’s attentions and had been offered eternal life. Dependence on the blood of others had seemed a small price to pay. He lifted his gaze from the meeting’s agenda sitting before him, and stared at his Head of Finance, Camillo Occhetto, feigning interest as the thin and pallid little man gave his report on the annual accounts. He was shaking nervously; excellent at his job, he was painfully introverted and uncomfortable speaking to others. Niccolo looked at the nervous man giving him an encouraging nod. One should appear interested at all times – even when your mind longed to be elsewhere. Occhetto’s voice cracked as he struggled on. “… the figures all support this course of action and…” His report was interrupted by a loud knock on the solid oak door. Irritated, Niccolo snapped, “Come in!” The door swung inward and Gianni stepped in. With a nod to the room’s assemblage, Gianni headed straight to Niccolo, placing a blue folder on the table in front of him, and then standing quietly to one side. Niccolo opened the cover and glanced over the top sheet. Snapping it shut, he looked up at the room at large. Sweeping his intent gaze across every face he announced, “Gentlemen, it is time for you to leave.” 33

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Camillo exchanged puzzled glances with the other men around the table. “But, sir, the meeting…” “Is over. Something has developed which I must attend to personally. Thank you for your time and hard work. Please leave any reports and I will peruse them on the plane.” The gathering rose slowly, uncertainly. In general, these meetings were long, hours not minutes. No doubt they assumed that the communication that Niccolo had received must have been very important indeed for him to call such an abrupt halt to the proceedings. Niccolo waited until the room had emptied, then turned to his servant. “Well done, Gianni. I was beginning to think my elusive Bellissima had vanished into thin air.” “She has been very busy, signore. She works a great deal and has been to several different countries. The details are all in the folder, signore.” “I’ll read it while I travel. Contact my pilot and inform him that I wish to go to New York tomorrow. And book a room at the Imperial Suites Hotel.” Gianni inclined his head. “Yes, sir. How long should I pack for, sir?” “Pack for a month, initially. I’ll pick up anything else I need while I’m there.” “Very well, sir. If that’s all?” “That’s all, Gianni.” Niccolo dismissed him with a distracted wave of his hand. After he’d gone, Niccolo’s mind turned to thoughts of his brief encounter with Ivory Allison. He often replayed the memories of the single night he’d had with her. Were his memories clear? At times he doubted the veracity of his recollections, perhaps giving the experience significance that was not called for. Perhaps the bond that he shared with her was everything that he remembered or he’d embellished it to larger proportions over the last months. He sometimes cursed himself for not taking the opportunity to keep her with him while he’d had the chance. Over many years, she was the first human, man or woman, whose company he’d enjoyed, whose body he’d wanted more than once. He’d been a very active lover in his youth and up until he’d been turned. In fact, the man who’d turned him had remained his lover and companion for a half century. They’d parted ways amicably enough with plans to cross paths often. It was only a year or so after they’d gone their separate ways that he’d learned his erstwhile partner had met 34

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with an ill end. Since then, Niccolo had been alone, traveling the world, amassing his fortune. Seeking, never hoping to find, but always seeking another.

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Chapter Seven

Ivory stepped off the scale in the doctor’s office, dispirited. She had lost another three pounds and she couldn’t care less. In fact, although she worked as hard if not harder than she always had, she had no interest in it. The morning after her single wonderful night with Niccolo she’d felt sluggish and unwell, but she attributed that to the alcohol and the unusual, for her anyway, activities. The bruise on her neck had faded but the memory of how she’d gotten it had not. When a month had passed and she still listless, even nauseas in the morning, she visited a doctor. At the time she’d been in a foreign country, Portugal, in fact. She somehow convinced herself that she must be pregnant and the news would be easier to take in unfamiliar surroundings. She wasn’t pregnant and found herself just a little disappointed about that. Now, after another month, she’d lost a total of seventeen pounds, which would normally make her very happy. Today, she couldn’t care less. The doctor had no answer for her except to tell her to eat a little more and be careful. He’d already ordered a series of tests all to no purpose. There was nothing to account for her seemingly rapid loss of weight but she should take care. It was, her doctor informed her, unhealthy to lose too much weight at a time. No matter, she would take herself off to her favorite restaurant. She’d kept a standing reservation there for Friday nights and she really needed the perk. She’d been invited out by the agency’s resident lothario and, in times past, she might have enthusiastically accepted. Tonight, she preferred her own company. **** Ivory had been so engrossed in staring at the menu that she failed to notice the figure that had stopped by her table until a familiar, accented voice said, “Bellissima, is it really you?” 36

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Her head snapped up so quickly that she was certain that she’d pulled a muscle. “Niccolo,” she replied dropping her menu and staring at him, almost too dumbfounded to speak. Niccolo grinned that sexy curve of his lips that set her heart charging. “Well?” he purred. “Shall I sit down or are you expecting someone to join you?” Ivory struggled to regain her composure, trying valiantly to act some kind of normal. “I’m sorry, please, do sit. I’m not expecting anyone. Um…I didn’t order yet if…” She waved a fluttering hand toward a vacant chair. “Since you ask me so nicely,” he winked, causing her to catch her breath. Niccolo ignored the indicated chair and chose the one immediately next to her. Ivory suddenly felt uncharacteristically nervous again, like the first time she’d been in his hotel room with him. This man’s very presence had a strange effect on her. “Uh, would you like a glass of wine?” she asked the Italian, as she tried to catch the waiter’s attention. “No, I… No, Ivory, Bellissima, please, consider joining me for supper this evening?” He looked surprised, as if he hadn’t expected to tender the invitation. “I…” she had every intention of declining. He didn’t really want to have supper with her did he? His cool hand reached out and cupped her cheek and she found herself agreeing. “Okay, yes. Okay,” she heard come out of her mouth. His lips curved at the words and he murmured, “Buono, molto buono,” good, very good, he grinned, pulling her to her feet. He dropped a fifty-dollar bill onto the pristine white of the linen tablecloth and kept her hand tightly wrapped in his cool one. As they gained the sidewalk, she glance in the direction he towed her. Her eyes narrowed but before she could open her mouth to speak, he was urging her into the purring limousine idling quietly less than a block away. The moment the uniformed chauffeur closed the door behind him, he turned, taking her into his arms. Looming over her, he caught her face between his hands, bent down and covered her mouth with his own, kissing her hungrily. At the first touch she was on fire, never in her life had she wanted to feel another’s touch as much as this. She couldn’t get close enough. As if reading her mind, he pulled her that much closer, kissing her with such complete thoroughness that she would have collapsed if he let her go. 37

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Niccolo had forgotten everything he’d planned to say the moment he’d spied Ivory through the glass of the restaurant’s window. He’d strode through the door intent on sweeping her away with studied nonchalance when, in truth, he was as overwhelmed as she was. He’d been so afraid that she intended to decline his invitation to join him. The moment he’d heard the first doubts mumble across her thoughts, he’d taken no chances. Without remorse, he had enthralled her for just those few seconds. Now he held her in his arms, for the first time in months and he needed a new plan, definitely. This was right, he knew it was and he refused to let her go, he decided, for any longer than it took to get her up to his elegant hotel room. After that, his plan was a little uncertain. “Bellissima mia,” he kept his arms around her as the chauffeur expertly guided the long car through the New York traffic. “I have missed you so much.” “Niccolo,” she sounded nervous, awestruck yes, but nervous. “We only had that one night. How could you have missed me?” “It was for me a very memorable night,” he kissed her flushed and warm cheeks, his hunger welling in him again. “Perhaps it was not an unusual occurrence for you?” he pulled back, looking into her eyes, knowing that it had been, in fact an atypical event for her as well. “No, of course not, I mean…I mean yes, oh…” flustered, she hid her face in his neck. Niccolo couldn’t contain a deep chuckle. He was both amused and more so, moved. She was in his arms and against his heart--she filled his chilled body with warmth. Niccolo accepted in that moment that he would keep her with him under any circumstances. He only hoped that she didn’t force him to do something she would resent. He hoped he could convince her to stay with him.

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Chapter Eight

Ivory fidgeted uneasily in the elevator on the way up to Niccolo’s room. The hotel itself was very luxurious and obviously beyond her means. She sincerely felt out of her league. In Niccolo’s suite she moved to the enormous bank of floor to ceiling windows, trying to contain the attack of nerves that threatened to overpower her. So engrossed was she in her thoughts of inadequacy that she didn’t hear him come up behind her until his cool hands brushed the front of her gauzy half jacket. He quickly worked the knot holding the little shrug closed and eased it off of her shoulders. She felt the cool brush of his soft lips move up her nearly bare shoulder as one hand cupped her full, tight breast. The other hand was moving in her hair, releasing the loose coil so that it tumbled around her shoulders. She felt him nip at the juncture between neck and shoulder but didn’t have any desire to chastise him. She was just so glad to feel his arms around her again, to feel his hands on her. “Please, Bellissima, let me love you,” he murmured, his tongue tracing the line of her neck up to her jaw. “Yes,” she breathed, barely sighing the word out when he scraped her v-necked sleeveless dress off of her shoulders from behind. It had been warm in New York and for that she was now eternally grateful. Most had been complaining about the weather but Ivory was never so glad not to be wearing stockings as she was now. He pushed the dress down her body catching her satin bikini briefs as his hands slid down her hips and legs. He held her steady, helping her to gently step out of the puddle of dress and panties, sliding her shoes off at the same time. Still behind her, he turned her so that her back was to the window. She was surprised to see that he had removed his shirt and keeping a hand on her waist, while she watched him, he unbuttoned and lowered his pants with one hand. 39

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With both hands on her hips he drew her forward, sliding them down until he cupped her ample buttocks. She stood on her toes, seeking a kiss and rubbing her bare mound against his full erection. With a growl he lifted her and, as she wrapped her legs around his waist, he slid his hard cock into her. One strong arm supported her bottom while the other wrapped across her back holding her firmly as he pulled back and pumped himself into her again and again. She couldn’t help arching against him when his mouth lowered to her breast, and with a small pinch, he began to suckle there. Lifting her up and down on his aching cock as his hips pumped, Niccolo fed. Her blood was richer than the finest wine, her body more welcoming than any blazing hearth. Holding her tightly he thrust harder and harder, reaching his zenith as she began to climax, still drinking from her. She screamed her orgasm the same time that he roared his release. “Mine, Ivory Bellissima, my own!” She collapsed against him before he could close the small punctures he’d made. The oversight was quickly corrected when he shifted her to carry her in his arms like the precious rarity that she was. Cradling her against his chest as he moved into the bedroom, he leaned down and licked the tiny wounds and her other breast as well. Carefully he laid her on the soft mattress and climbed in next to her, pulling her against him. “Are you sleeping, Bellissima?” he murmured into her long shining hair. “No, Niccolo,” she answered and he found apprehension skipping through her thoughts now. “You didn’t just wander by the restaurant and see me there, did you, Niccolo?” she asked after a long pause. Gently, he turned her to face him, looking down into her jewel blue eyes. “You have the truth, Bellissima,” he sighed. Would she be angry? “I searched for you until I found you. New York is a large city in the middle of a very large planet.” “Why?” she asked simply. “Why?” he repeated, stunned articulate by her question. “For this.” He embraced her tightly for emphasis, relaxing after a second. “For sex?” Her voice went high. “You scoured the city, the world for me for sex?” 40

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He fought the urge to laugh aloud at such an absurdity. “No, gemma preziosa,” he asserted, kissing the furrow between her blonde brows. “I looked for you. For all that you are. The sex is…amazing, incredible, but you, just you, I want.” “How can that be, Niccolo?” she asked, unconvinced. She moved to sit up and he sat as well, keeping a hand on her, fully warm now. “I am not like you,” she leaned back and closed her eyes. He found no hint of knowledge about him in her thoughts. “No, you are not like me. Give me all that you are and I will make you like me,” he answered, tilting his head and watching her closely. Opening her eyes, she chuffed a laugh at him. “All that I am, is the overweight daughter of a poor, hardworking couple who had the ill grace to get sick and die, leaving me in debt. I have nothing to give you and I wouldn’t fit among your kind.” He chuckled, making her angry but he couldn’t help himself. “Money is only important when you don’t have it,” he informed her, rubbing his face in her golden hair. She pushed at him and he moved back, still keeping a hand on her arm. “Your poor unfortunate parents died, leaving a treasure more valuable than all the money in the world. You are my rubies, my sapphires, you are my rare and precious Ivory and I could ask for nothing more to be complete.” He knew it was true. He needed her. He only hoped that she would accept him for all that he was. “I…Just give me a minute,” she stuttered, pushing herself away from him and off of the bed. He nodded, unable to penetrate the twirling thoughts in her confused mind but pleased at least, that she was thinking about it. He’d made love with her. Love. And he’d sipped from her while they’d coupled. It would be so easy to have her drink while he did, to have her join with him and become the same as he was. He hoped she would choose to change because he didn’t know if he’d have the strength to let her go if she didn’t.

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Chapter Nine

Ivory turned the ornate taps in the elegant marble sink catching a handful of water. As she did, she looked at her image in the mirror. Could he love her? Was it possible that he really did want her? Some part of her wanted so desperately to believe that she was halfway there when she spied the bruise on her neck. Turning, she inspected it closely, sighing impatiently. She’d known it would leave a mark. A long thin mark, it seemed. Lowering her gaze to the sink again, she noticed a thin line of blood that had trickled down her left breast. The dried crimson streak twisted away from a similar love mark that was just above her left nipple. Frowning, she leaned closer to the mirror, examining the set of … bites. They were bites made in passion she knew, but there, in the bite above her breast, small but there, she found two tiny perforations, as if someone had injected her twice, an inch and a half or so apart. The bruise at her neck was faint but the one on her breast was unmistakable. There was blood leaking from it. Blood. Ivory shivered, fear scraping icy trails down her spine. The chill she felt made her think of Niccolo’s unusually cool body and breath. A nagging dread began to echo one word in her mind. Vampire, Vampire, Vampire… Frantically, she looked around the opulent and overlarge lavatory but found nothing. She had no idea how long she’d lingered there but finally, she forced herself to the door. With a great deal of trepidation, she pulled it open and stepped into the bedroom, not surprised to see Niccolo seated on the bed in a long silk robe and smoking a thin cigar. “So you have guessed, Bellissima,” he murmured. “I was sloppy. I am ashamed.” 42

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Her heart was thundering in her chest as she leaned against the door she’d just pulled closed. “That’s it?” she choked, horror flooding her. “You are sorry you were sloppy? You sucked my blood like a giant parasite and you apologize for leaving evidence?” She heard the note of hysteria in her voice but could do nothing to control it. Frozen in place and staring at him with some kind of horror she almost thought she saw hurt in his face. That couldn’t be though. He was a monster. He was a vampire. “A monster?” she realized with shock that he was reading her thoughts now. “If I am a monster, Bellissima, I am less of a monster than I myself would have believed.” She shook her head, eyes wide. Niccolo held himself rigid, unmoving as he held his smoldering cigarillo, unable even to look away from Ivory’s satin blue eyes to put it out. He would have given his fortune to the person who’d told him he would let her walk away, so certain had he been that he would stoop to any low deed to keep her. For the first time in his century’s long life, he was certain he understood the vast emotion called love. She looked at him in fear and revulsion, certain he meant to do her harm. Sorrow washed through him in hot waves. The heat and moisture in his eyes spurred him out of his frozen state. She cringed against the door when he moved; underscoring his knowledge that he had no other option. He could no more turn her into a thing she feared than he could chain her to him in her disgust. Heart breaking, he turned from her walking to the far side of the room. He cleared his throat but couldn’t force more than a choked noise from his throat. With a sweep of his arm, he indicated the door and she didn’t need a translator to tell her what to do next. Without a backward glance, she scrambled from the room. He heard her gasping breaths as she gathered her clothing. He stood rigid, bloody tears trickling down his face while she dressed hurriedly and ran from his suite.

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Chapter Ten

For three days, Ivory called in sick to work, frantic about what she should do. She’d had sex with a vampire. She’d let one drink her blood. Well, she hadn’t let him so much as she’d just not stopped him. She would have she was sure, if she’d known. That’s what she’d told herself for three days. On the fourth day she found herself in a more honest frame of mind. Would she have stopped him? Doubtful. She’d liked him. As a person, she’d liked him. He was fun, funny, interesting and … he had been nice. Maybe she could chalk that up to some special vampiric ability to make her think or feel what he wanted her to but she didn’t’ think so. Now that she was over her initial panic, she thought about the last thing she’d seen in his face, his dark, soulful eyes. He’d been hurt, sorrowful. He’d been in pain. Thinking about it, she remembered that he’d said she was “a treasure more valuable than all the money in the world”. He’d called her his rubies, his sapphires, and his precious Ivory. He’d made her feel beautiful and he’d made love to her. In addition to that, he’d said he’d searched for her. She didn’t know what he’d wanted to do with her, besides what he’d already done, she couldn’t imagine. If his plans included more of the same, she thought she could live with that. She could live with that for as long as he wanted her. If they included anything else, well… That was a chance she was going to have to take. Decisively, she began tossing clothing into her suitcase. She scooped up her cordless phone on her way by and called her banker, the newspaper, her employer and finally her landlord. She’d lived in a rent-controlled apartment and relinquishing it made her landlord very happy. With the refund he gave her on her deposit, she had enough money to store the important things that she couldn’t take with her. Her last paycheck and accumulated checking and savings would pay for an airplane ticket to Genoa, Italy. 44

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**** It took her three more days but finally, she found herself in the smallest, least expensive room available in the hotel that housed Lussuria Di Re where Niccolo had first asked her to join his table. Her sense of urgency in overdrive, Ivory paced the room, stopping to stare out the window facing the street once every minute. When finally, the big gray Rolls-Royce stopped in the street below, Ivory felt her breath catch in her throat. She cleared her mind completely and sat, waiting. She’d paid for her room for a week and given Arturo, the maître d’, every dime she had left to get him to convince Niccolo to come to her. The wait was interminable. Finally, she gave up. He wasn’t going to come to her. Wasn’t that just what she deserved? She moved into the small bedroom of the suite and lay, fully clothed, on the bed. What did it matter now, anyway? She’d thrown away the most important thing in her life when she’d rejected Niccolo’s love. Now that she’d quit her job and gambled all her money on the love she’d turned away, she truly did have nothing. How ironic, she deemed, that she should spend so many years certain she had nothing only to finally discover the true meaning of the phrase. She felt so beaten that she couldn’t even cry. **** Niccolo fingered the small mound of tiny rubies and sapphires that had poured out of the ivory colored parchment envelope Arturo had handed him upon his arrival. A small ivory card was inscribed with a room number. That’s all. Arturo had nothing else to add but that didn’t matter to Niccolo. He read the maître d’s mind and learned that an attractive, heavy-set blonde woman had paid him. Niccolo wanted to go up to the room. Equally, he wanted to run from the restaurant. This was to be his last glass of excellent wine. This was to be his last night. He had come here with every intention of ending his suffering by the light of the next day. He lined the minute precious gems up and moved them around with a fingernail, still considering. Ivory had been filled with horror at the very idea of him. What could possibly have changed her mind? He had no doubt that she was the benefactor of the minute riches in front of him. 45

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Resolute, he pushed his chair back and stood. It was time to go. He scooped his shimmering and colorful booty back into its envelope and held his hand aloft for the maître d’.

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Chapter Eleven

Ivory forced herself to sit up, scrubbing the sleep from her eyes with the heel of her hand. How long had she been asleep? She couldn’t believe she had actually fallen asleep. As she moved, her hand hit something hard and she heard a small tinkling, clinking sound of something falling… and falling. Something small and maybe, glass? Moving her hand again she found that she’d nudged an envelope and something was pouring out of it. Beads or…little gems. She shot to her feet and ran to the window in the darkened sitting room. For seconds, minutes, hours, she didn’t know how long she looked out the window into the empty street. As the full import of that vacant space washed over her, she began to sob. Noiselessly at first, she wrapped her arms around herself and rocked. He was gone and he knew she was here. It was over. That dawning broke the dam and she began to cry, loud, wracking sobs than stole her breath and her strength. Sinking to the floor she rested her forehead against the wall beneath the window, letting the heat of her tears and the pain of her bereavement, burn her from the inside out. Nothing mattered anymore, she breathed but she was dead maybe more dead than Niccolo the vampire could ever be. Blind, deaf and dumb to everything but her own misery, she wasn’t even aware of the cool hands touching her, the chill arms scooping her, gathering her up. “No, no, Bellissima, no,” crooned a deep baritone voice. “No, no, please, don’t. You will be sick, please, Ivory.” She wasn’t on the floor anymore but on a cushioned sofa and nestled against a broad, hard chest. Soft, cool lips brushed her forehead as hands stroked her hair.

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“Niccolo?” It was dark in the room but she didn’t need the light. She knew it was him. “I’m so sorry,” she still wept but not broken, gasping sobs now. “I do, I love you and please say you forgive me for…” “Hush, Bellissima,” he murmured. “No, Niccolo, please listen,” she begged frantically, gracelessly wiping her eyes and face on her right shoulder. “I want to be with you even if I’m not like you. And you can give me a job to do or something. Or, or you can just drink all my blood or you know… um…” she sniffed loudly, trying to frame her words and tell him her thoughts before he could get up and leave. “You can kill me or I can be your sex slave… whatever you want, okay? I guess that’s dumb, isn’t it? Of course whatever you want because you’re…” Her litany of self-offering was muffled by his mouth covering hers, but that was fine. She melted against him holding him as tight as she could. His kisses moved from her mouth to her face, her eyes, her hair, all punctuated by rapid flowing Italian. “Bellissima, how can you be sure when not a week ago, you were revolted by me?” he asked still kissing and stroking her, giving every impression of reveling in her. “I was hysterical, Niccolo. I couldn’t believe anyone could love me just for me and then I realized what the bites and the blood were about. I just went nuts. I’m sorry I hurt you, really sorry,” she would have kept on but he placed a cool, tanned finger over her lips. “My kind, vampires–we drink blood, as you know. It is what I must have to live.” She pulled his hand away, blurting, “You can just have mine, do you need more?” He chuckled deeply, kissing her again, holding her tight and rocking her. “You would be a parasite too, Bellissima, if you became as I am. You would have to drink blood as I do. You would need to stay inside during the sunlit hours,” he explained. She heard him. She was listening, she was. But his face that she’d been so sure she’d never see again, he was there with her and she just wanted to absorb him into her pores. “I can do that…” she stopped and looked into those velvet, onyx eyes. “I’d have to put my mouth on some guy’s neck and bite him though, huh? And then suck his blood. That just seems so intimate… and gross.” **** 48

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Intimate. Yes, intimate. The word seemed to fit what she was describing perfectly. And she would be his. His mate. She would not be intimate with someone else. He would switch to the plastic packages of refrigerated blood first--he would drink from a cow’s neck or a skunk. “There are other ways, Bellissima, but it is still blood. And it is still an eternity without being in the sun. And yes, it is an eternity with me as well. Perhaps you will tire of me?” he asked, still doubtful. “What if you get tired of me?” she countered, “How do you know you won’t?” Pushing her gently down on the sofa, he began to pull at her knit top and skirt. “I know I won’t because I’ve looked for you for almost two hundred years. I expect you will tire of me first, Amata.” When she eyed him dubiously, he explained, “That means beloved.” He lowered his naked body atop hers and slid his erect shaft between her legs, poised at her entrance. “Wait!” she stopped him and he was certain she’d changed her mind but he held himself still. If she didn’t’ want to change, he would live with her until she died and then… “Will I be able to read your mind, too?” she interrupted his train of thought. Grinning and feeling a little foolish, he kissed her nose. “You will. But now, if you’re sure?” he looked hard into her sapphire blue eyes. She stared resolutely back at him. She was sure. “I will make a small wound and you will drink from me, at my breast,” he tapped it and she nodded, serious as if she was concentrating hard. “I will drink from you as I have before, and we will make love at the same time.” She grinned. “We’ve done that before, too.” He smiled back, nodding -- sure he was blushing foolishly. He’d brought a steak knife from the restaurant when he suspected that she might want to change. He hadn’t been sure if he would do it, but he was prepared. Now he pulled it from his pile of clothing, holding the serrated edge against the pulse above his nipple and drawing it across. A line of red blood appeared and he pulled her to it, her lips brushing across the rich trickle of red. He heard her start of surprise as she opened her mouth to it, touching it with her tongue. He had supped from her twice, as recent as days prior, and her system was ready, even hungry for the sustenance he could provide. While he hadn’t had any living blood 49

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since he’d left her, neither had he starved himself. Gianni had provided him with the packaged plasma and he drank it. When he felt the pull of her sucking, he plunged his hard cock into her wet folds, hilting inside of her. At the same time, he traced her jugular with his tongue, feeling the heat of her racing pulse. His fangs extended and he penetrated her there as well, losing himself in the ecstasy of her sucking from him as his hungry cock slid in and out of her, his teeth buried in her vein. In and out of her slick channel he thrust, faster, harder, deeper, he felt her teeth, her very human teeth and then little pricks of fangs and he came, bellowing as she screamed. When he opened his eyes, she was unmoving and cool beneath him. He was still joined to her and he carefully pulled out. The cut over his heavy pectoral muscle was mostly healed but oozing just a little. Reaching out he found his shirt and pulled it up, dabbing at the dried blood on her chin. Finding it fruitless, he gave up and licked it off. So that’s what I taste like, he thought. That’s what your blood tastes like anyway, he heard Ivory say. He looked down at her to find her still cold and unmoving. As if she was dead. I think the politically correct term is Undead, she corrected him. He chuckled and lifted her. I think bed for us, he told her. He heard her sigh. Good. No coffins. He laughed. No, my other bed is a coffin. He heard her laugh back at him as he settled her into the soft bed. Happy for the first time in his memory, he joined her.

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About the Author

J.J. lives on the Jersey Shore with her husband, her teenaged daughter, his nineyear-old daughter, and his thirteen-year-old son. To complete this eclectic family, she has her writing partner and yellow lab, Cosmo, at her side all the time for plot twists and character advice. There are some visiting cats, aquatic turtles, and an assortment of hermit crabs just to keep things interesting. There's never a dull moment in the Massa household. Maybe that's why there's never a dull moment in J.J. Massa's books...

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