Part 8 (1/2)

Marcello felt Tatiana slipping in and out of consciousness. He adjusted her weight in his arms, maneuvering easily with his vampiric strength as if he carried air. He'd stayed in this mausoleum once before and knew it would accommodate them easily. Inside, spider webs hung in the corners. A large stone slab sat over a vault. With a push, Marcello thrust the stone aside.

Within the vault was a large mauve coffin, plush with fine silk padding.

Gently, he laid her within the coffin's fold, before coming above her. For a moment, he paused, letting his legs thread within hers. He was still eager to claim her in the most physical of ways. With a quick flip of his body, he turned them so she was facing his chest. Her leg rested intimately over his hip and he smiled slightly. He adjusted her arm about his waist and the other beside her cheek on the pillow. Then, reaching for the lid, he closed them within the coffin and shut his eyes to sleep.

Tatiana's body jerked weakly, bouncing repeatedly in heavy thuds. Her limbs felt numb, cramped. With a gasp, her eyes flew open and she sat straight up. The jostling didn't stop. Blinking through the darkness, she realized she was again in the carriage and it was night. Had she dreamt about being taken into a graveyard?

”Bunasera, bella mia.”

Tatiana flinched at the calm voice, feeling peckish and tired. Her body ached as if she'd slept for weeks and eaten for none of them. Then, remembering Marcello's vicious bite that had almost killed her, she reached for her neck. The skin was smooth, but the memory of what he did came back full force. Feeling a chill behind her back, she realized he'd laid her head on his lap to sleep.

”You ... insufferable demon,” she hollowed, outraged and unable to think of anything better. Turning on him, she lashed out, extending her fingernails like claws. She went for his face in the darkness, or at least where his face should've been. Her hands. .h.i.t the empty cus.h.i.+ons. She couldn't see in the dark, but she could hear his mockingly obscure chuckle of amus.e.m.e.nt.

Tatiana was too angry to stop. She screeched loudly, jumping to catch him on the opposite seat. As she landed, she again hit an empty seat with a thud.

”Hold still, you coward,” she hissed. ”So help me, when I get my hands on you, I'll--”

”What? Kill me?” Marcello laughed, thoroughly enjoying her anger. She was spirited and he found he liked it very much. His words held much humor, as he said in the most irritatingly logical tone she'd ever heard, ”Il mio amante, I am already dead.”

”I'm not your lover,” Tatiana growled. She pounced again and this time her hands. .h.i.t the black silk of his s.h.i.+rt. She really hadn't expected to catch him and hesitated when she did. To her amazement, she realized he wore no waistcoat or jacket. The folds of his muscles were revealed easily beneath the soft glide of material and she found her fingers exploring the feel of his hard body. Marcello wasted no time as he grasped her hips and pulled her to straddle his lap.

”Is that a complaint,bella ?” Marcello murmured, leaning forward to nuzzle her throat. The sound of his rumbling voice sent chills racking through her body, or perhaps it was the way his lips instantly found the base of her throat and began kissing.

She gasped to feel his tongue licking a wicked trail over her jaw to her mouth. Without thought, she slapped him, hard. He merely laughed and she could feel his body responding favorably to her rough handling. She gasped, feeling him harden beneath her.

Realizing she sat indecently across his thighs, Tatiana tried to push away. His grip only tightened on her hips and he refused to let go. His fingers slid around to press into the soft cheeks of her backside.

Tatiana liked what he was doing and it terrified her. Her body stirred to him, gravitating itself naturally closer. She couldn't see his face, but she could feel his hard length. She hated him, despised him, yet wanted him desperately.

Closing her eyes, Tatiana put herself far away from the carriage into a sunlit field. She could feel the warmth of early summer soaking into her limbs. It was so different than the cold flesh of the vampire who held her trapped. Wildflowers dotted the landscape in magnificent yellows and blues, hidden beneath the rolling gra.s.ses of the plain. Everything was bright and beautiful.

The air was fresh, fragrant, pleasing. She held herself very still in the field and felt the wind stir her gown and whip her hair over her shoulders. She felt calm, connected to everything around her. It was as if she could feel the earth moving, the flowers growing, life building naturally all around her.

Tatiana smiled. The daydream was so real, so vivid. A cloud came from the sun, making her blink at the full cast of light on her features. A strand of blonde hair flew before her face, flowing long over her hips. With a start, she realized it was hers. She turned her head down. Her toes were bare and she wore a gown from centuries past. The dark blue tunic fitted tightly to her frame, pressing against her limbs.

Tatiana's breathing deepened. The feeling of connection was severed from the world around her. The ground began to shake with the steady beat of horses. She looked into the distance to see knights astride large, snorting destriers. They saw her and charged. Their swords rose high into the air. Tatiana screamed and ran from them. Her bare feet hit against the ground. The field was so long, stretching for what seemed like miles. She glanced over her shoulder.

”Esprit Malin!”one of the knights cried, pointing viciously at her with the tip of his sword. She knew they called her 'evil one'.

The horses seemed to charge faster at the man's words.

Tatiana couldn't see their faces beneath their helmets. Her blonde hair whipped straight back from her head. The wind had picked up, hitting against her, slowing whatever progress she might make. The horses only grew louder. The leader pulled up along side her. Suddenly, she heard the singing of a blade whistling through the air. Tatiana screamed, feeling the abrupt sting of the sword as it lopped off her head.

Marcello felt Tatiana go limp and unmoving. Her fingers slid off his chest and didn't lift to touch or fight him. Her chin fell down, bouncing to the side. He tried to read into her, see what was happening. He could tell she'd removed herself from him, letting him have her body as he would, but not being there to witness or feel it.

Suddenly, she stiffened on his lap. He felt her muscles tense as she arched back from him. He held tightly, forcing her forward into his embrace. Tatiana screamed, a loud piercing yell of fear and outrage and helplessness. Marcello wasn't worried about the noise. Cesare would hear it, but wouldn't care or think to answer.

Just as suddenly, her body relaxed, falling forward into him. A light moan left her lips, brus.h.i.+ng his neck, as she whispered,”Esprit Malin.”

Tatiana blinked, coming out of the strange vision. Her body sung with life, with a current of strange and heady power. Her lips moved, panting and harsh. She felt the cool texture of silk against them. Arms held her closely and a light feminine moan of near contentment escaped her body. Realizing the silk was masculine flesh, she trembled in delight.