Part 33 (1/2)

Tatiana gulped. Try as she might, she couldn't look away. She didn't answer.

”Are you jealous,bella mia ?”

”No,” she lied. His eyes narrowed in on her knowingly, searching. His hand moved to her throat, gauging the racing speed of her pulse. Weakly, she admitted, ”Perhaps a little.”

Marcello's gaze lit with pleasure. A slow smile began to curl his lips.

”Oh, don't look at me like that!” she cried, pulling away in anger. ”You don't have to laugh at me. I don't care for it anymore than you do. Fine, I said it. I'm jealous. I wanted to rip all of their eyes out of their pretty little heads. Happy? I'm jealous and I'm tired and I hate it. Oh, quit looking at me, I hate you too.”

Marcello's smile only grew, not so quick to believe her as she crawled over the bed. Making a wide arch to the wardrobe so she wouldn't have to go near him, she began to undress.

”You have no reason for jealousy,bella mia ,” Marcello stated. He came slowly up behind her as she tugged out of her gown.

She gasped to see him so close and held her gown before her in a maidenly act that amused him. ”They are only food to me. I did nothing else with them.”

”You didn't?” she asked, her jade eyes wide and vulnerable. She'd imagined him with them in so many ways. Tatiana frowned. What was suddenly wrong with her that she couldn't keep her mouth shut? Her face hardened, as she forced out, ”You should have. I don't care what you do--or who for that matter. Go sleep with them all, I really don't care.”

She wore only her chemise and corset, clutching her gown to her chest. Realizing how ridiculous it was to hide from him, she laid the gown aside and grabbed a red robe.

”Tatiana,” Marcello's smooth Italian accent came from behind her.

”What?” she demanded in irritation.

”Come here to me.”

She forced a heavy sigh. ”It is almost dawn and you will undoubtedly be out soon and I am exhausted from fighting off Lord Adolfe--”

Marcello's warm body pressed into her back stopped her rapid flow of words. His strong arm snaked around her waist and pulled her into his tight, naked body. His warm lips pressed along her neck in a delicate kiss that weakened her knees and caused a soft moan to escape her lips.

”Tell me I am enthralled by you,” she whispered. Her hand lifted to touch his face, encouraging his kiss. ”Tell me everything I feel for you is a dream, like what you did with Cesare.”

”No,bella mia , you are very much awake,” he whispered, licking at the delicate cords buried in her throat.

Tatiana turned in his arms, ready to receive his kiss with one of her own. She pressed her body into him, accepting his length along hers. There was no point in denying what they both wanted. It's not like it mattered or like anyone cared what they did.

Before her lips met his, she whispered, ”I was afraid of that.”

Chapter Fourteen.

Broderick looked over the dawn tinted streets. Paris looked much different in the light of day. No longer the bright wondrous nightlife of wicked pleasures, it now looked dirty and stale and reeked of human sweat and trash. Drunken humans from the night before snored in the gutters and alleyways. A few awoke to the kicks of patrolmen, only to stumble their way home, cursing and sputtering in slurring protest.

His vivid blue eyes gleamed with amber gold as he lifted the entry to Marcello's catacomb home. Glancing behind him, he saw his carriage was ready and waiting. Broderick took a pouch from his waist and opened it. Inside was a light brown powder.

Taking a handful, he blew the powder down into the opening and began to whisper an ancient spell in a language long dead to the human world.

Broderick closed his eyes and concentrated as he spoke. A slight breeze whipped his fas.h.i.+onably short dark hair around his head. He wore simple clothes, a light jacket. The morning sun had yet to reach overhead and the streets were shadowed because of it. He hated this deceit, hated that he must kidnap Tatiana, but knew no other way to lure the witch out.

Tatiana yawned. She blinked but couldn't see in the pitch black around her. Feeling the dead weight of Marcello's arm over her waist, she knew it must still be daytime. She sighed, feeling content in his arms. Then, frowning, she smelled a faint odor of flowers and dirt.

Without stopping to think, she worked herself out from under Marcello's arm. He tried to hold her closer, pulling her snug against his naked body. She lightly kissed his jaw and patted absently at his neck. The smell reminded her of spring, of home, of happiness and girlhood pleasures. She felt Marcello s.h.i.+ft and this time, when she tried to move, he let her go.