Part 30 (1/2)

Chapter Thirteen.

Tatiana gasped for breath, looking over to where Marcello laid motionless next to her on the dining room table. Her body was sore and she was sure she couldn't move. Marcello had just made love to her in a dozen different places and in twice as many ways. His eyes were mere slits as he stared at the ceiling. His chest didn't heave with the exertions and she knew he wasn't really tired. He was sated, but not tired.

Taking her finger, she touched his jaw and delicately traced the line of it. He turned to look at her, his eyes questioning. She glanced up at the portrait of him, which stared eerily down at them, and s.h.i.+vered.

”I saw your past,” she whispered. ”I felt what you were like as a human.”

Marcello visibly stiffened. He followed her eyes to the portrait.

”I saw you in a garden in daylight. You, well I think it was you ... you were wearing a blue coat and a cream waistcoat talking with a group of friends. You were happy. I've never seen you happy like that. And you were laughing. I can't understand what you said, but I could tell it was a perfect day.”

Marcello said nothing, only looked at his likeness, at the demon he'd become. Her voice was soft, wistful. He was no longer that man of whom she spoke.

”The house was in the mountains. It was beautiful. I saw you twice, though it could've been your....” Tatiana hesitated, swallowing. Things were good between them at this brief moment. She didn't want to ruin it.

”My brother,” he stated coldly. ”He wore a red jacket, just like mine with the same waistcoat.”

”Yes,” she breathed. ”What does it mean? Why did I see it?”

”There is no meaning.”

”There must be.” Tatiana sat up with newfound energy. She rolled, pus.h.i.+ng up on her elbows to look at him. She laid a hand on his chest, over his steady heart. She wished his heart could still feel. But, as she looked into his dead, blank face, she didn't believe it could. He never once gave her reason to hope and yet foolishly she did. ”If you remember it ... it must--”

”No,bella mia ,” he interrupted. His hand lifted to stroke her flushed cheek. His eyes softened by a small degree. When she saw it, her breath caught in her throat. ”The day is of no importance. It was just a day. I only remember it for it was my last day as a human. That night I died.”

”Was it painful? Your death?” Tatiana began trailing small circles over his skin, skating her fingers absently over him.

”Yes,” he allowed without pa.s.sion. ”It was.”

Tatiana s.h.i.+vered. ”Did you sell your soul to the devil? Is that why you were made to be--”

Marcello's chuckle cut her off. She tried to pull back, but his hand on her fingers stopped her. He pressed her palm flat against his heart. ”No,bella , I did not sell my soul. I wasn't the seventh son of a seventh son. I wasn't cursed by a witch, born to a b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Those are old stories told to frighten children. I was merely chosen by one of the vampire kind, for he wished for his life to be quickened once more. He saw Leandro and my youth, our n.o.bility, our beauty and wanted it for himself.”

”Then, if you wanted, you could make someone to join you?” Tatiana asked carefully, horrified by the idea and yet strangely intrigued. It was the first time they ever spoke without anger or fear between them.

”I haven't,” Marcello sated. ”I can't say that I won't. Eternity is a long time,bella . Already, I have felt the strain of it.”

”And you'll never die?” she asked.

”I never grow old, will never be sick,” he answered, ”and, unless someone kills me, I will never die.”

”What if you stopped drinking blood?”

”I would go insane and attack,” Marcello said. Her eyes dipped away from his only to be drawn back. She s.h.i.+vered. Marcello lifted his hand and the fire blazed hotter. She smiled, grateful. His voice low, he admitted, ”No,bella , it is better to feed the beast than to deny him.”

”You won't make me into what you are, will you?” she whispered.

Marcello saw the look on her face and frowned. ”I give you my word, Tatiana, that even if you were to beg me, I will never curse you with what I am.”

Slowly, she nodded, taking him at his word. She laid her head down on his chest. Marcello stroked her hair back from her face, grazing his nails comfortingly over her scalp.

”Why was the man knocked unconscious in our booth? Was that why you were running away from me?” he asked softly.