Raucous laughter followed. Everybody was assembled: Silvano, Francesco, the brothers Dante and Raphael, Lorenzo, Andrea, Carlo, Paolo, Enrico, and of course Marcello himself. And not an eye remained dry as all of them laughed about Marcello’s raunchy comment.
Not wanting to give his friends any reason to believe that his wedding night hadn’t gone according to plan and that his marriage was already in shambles, Nico shut the door behind him and added, “What if it wasn’t her cunny I was having trouble disentangling myself from? What if her lips were so tightly sealed around my prick that I couldn’t pull out for fear she would bite me if I left her?”
He should be so lucky, he thought, as his friends erupted in yet another round of laughter. A woman like her would never suck his cock. She’d never debase herself like that. After all, she was a well-bred woman, and he was as debauched as they came. He couldn’t even get her to accept marital relations; teaching her to enjoy other diversions such as sucking his insatiable cock would be an impossible feat. It was best to accept the inevitable and admit that his wife was disgusted with him.
“But enough of the fun and games,” he heard Marcello cut through his thoughts. “We have a serious matter to discuss.”
Everybody looked expectantly at Marcello. Nico leaned against the door and crossed his arms over his chest, curious why Marcello had demanded this meeting, which after all, was taking place in broad daylight.
“My spies have heard of a vicious rumor. Apparently somebody in this city has come up with a contraption, some sort of device that makes it possible to identify vampires.”
Nico dropped his arms to the side, his body hardening and straightening instantly. Air rushed from his lungs, and he took another breath. He noticed the same sort of reaction in his fellow vampires. Shock rippled through them.
“How can that be?” Dante asked.
“Are you sure?” Raphael added.
Marcello nodded gravely. “You all know that my spies are reliable. I bloody well pay them enough. I believe it to be true. This rumor has been circulating over the past week and only just came to my spies’ ears. And if
we
know about this, then it’s safe to assume the Guardians know about it too.”
“And they’ll want the machine,” Nico added calmly, even though he felt agitated. If the Guardians of the Holy Waters, a secret society of Venetian men who wanted to eradicate vampires, got hold of a means to detect vampires more easily, it would put them all in danger.
“What if it doesn’t work?” Andrea threw in.
Silvano tossed him a concerned look. “What if it does?”
Marcello lifted his hand. “No matter whether the answer is yes or no, we have to find the machine first. If it falls into the Guardians’ hands and it does indeed work, then we’ll have a very hard time remaining in hiding. None of us will be safe. Once they have one device, they can duplicate it. Soon, all Guardians will have one and hunt us down.”
His friend had a point. Every time one of them ventured out of their houses, the risk of detection would be multiplied. So far, vampires only had to be careful when out hunting for blood, so they wouldn’t be detected when they drank from a human. But if the Guardians had another method of recognizing them even though their vampire side was hidden, then a simple walk in the evening would become hazardous.
“What are we going to do about it?” Nico asked, looking at his host. “Do your spies have any information as to the whereabouts of this detection device?”
“Nothing concrete so far. As we speak, they’re using their contacts to find out more. But they’re being careful, because we can’t risk their questions being traced back to us.”
“Marcello,” Dante suddenly threw in. “Tell them what you told me about the list of names earlier.”
Marcello cleared his throat. “As most of you know, the list is a parchment with the presumed names of the Guardians of the Holy Waters that Bianca found hidden in her late father’s house. Only, the names don’t exist: they’re made up. Code names. We know this because we know three dead members from this list: Giovanni, the first husband of Raphael’s wife, Massimo, her cousin, as well as a known rake, Salvatore. They aren’t on the list, even though they were members of the Guardians.”
Marcello looked dejected. “Unfortunately there’s no logic behind the way they chose their names. Even with using common ciphers and searching for the most common letters appearing in the list, I wasn’t able to figure out what names those three known Guardians chose. I’m not sure what else to try.”
Lorenzo nodded. “I worked on a copy of the list, but haven’t come up with anything either. There might not be any code hidden in the list. It could be a hoax.”
Nico balled his hand into a fist and slammed it against the door. “Damn!”
“Never mind that now!” Raphael cut in. “Let’s deal with the problem at hand. I suggest that at nightfall each and every one of us search out his trusted contacts in the city and see what else he can find out. Somebody must know something else. Nothing remains a secret forever in this city. Servants talk. Let’s use that to our advantage. Let’s find the ones who’ll tell us what we want to know.”
The others nodded, mumbling their agreement to Raphael’s plan. Nico did likewise. At least it gave him something to do rather than go home.
He wasn’t ready to face his wife and find out the reason for her tears, for he guessed it: he disgusted her, and she hated his touch. Having his suspicion confirmed would only force him to act upon it: he would have to do what he had planned all along. Send her to the mainland. Why this revelation didn’t make him feel relieved, he didn’t know.
After all, sending her away would mean he could resume his old life: fuck a different whore every night. However, that prospect made him recoil. He didn’t want to fuck a whore, he wanted to bed his wife. On clean sheets. In their marriage bed. Every night. And every day.
Something was seriously wrong with this picture. Because Nico liked variety, he liked the conquest, and he liked his women experienced and adventurous.
Not virginal. Not shy in bed. Not disgusted with him.
So why did his cock rise every time he thought of Oriana? Why did his heart beat faster when he caught a whiff of her scent?
“Nico!”
Dante’s voice pulled him out of his daydreams. Nico rolled his shoulders. “Yes?”
“I said, if you want to spend the evening at your home—I mean considering you’re practically on your honeymoon—nobody is going to fault you for it.”
Nico shook his head. “There’s no need. I’ll do my part.”
At the very least, it would distract him, though roaming the city at night wouldn’t dull the hunger he felt for his wife. The hunger for her luscious body and her rich blood. A hunger she would never allow him to still. He had to end this charade now: he would send her to the mainland as planned. At least that way, he wouldn’t make her cry again. She would get what she wanted, and he would simply return to his bachelor life. If he could get Oriana out of his mind.
9
Oriana couldn’t believe that her husband had simply left without a word. He hadn’t even told the servants where he was going or when he was coming back. Cook had looked at her almost accusatorily when she’d served Oriana’s supper and Nico still hadn’t returned by then.
She’d waited impatiently, but when the clock in the sitting room had chimed the twelve strokes of midnight, she’d yawned and ascended to her room. After her maid had loosened Oriana’s corset, she sent her to bed. She continued undressing, draping her dress over the screen. When she was wearing only her chemise and drawers, she let her hands glide over her torso. Instantly, the same desire flared up in her again as when she’d lain on the dining table being pleasured by Nico.
Would this remain the only time he touched her like this? Had she done something wrong? Was that why he hadn’t come back yet? He’d called her his wanton wife. What if she had disgusted him with her behavior? After all, he’d married a lady, and he’d gotten nothing better than a trollop dressed in lady’s clothing.
How she could have behaved like this, Oriana couldn’t explain. Maybe some temporary insanity had gripped her and controlled her. Would it happen again? Would she again lose all her good senses and behave like a whore the next time her husband tested her like this? Because that was all it could have been: a test to assure himself that she was the virtuous wife she’d promised him she’d be.
Surprised at herself why she was even concerned about what her husband thought of her, she shook her head. She didn’t care what he thought.
Liar!
she chided herself.
At the very moment when he’d looked at her with such untamed passion in his eyes while taking her on the dining table, something had changed. Even now she felt her heart race at the thought that he wanted her. A rush of power surged through her. Confusion followed. She’d never been so torn in her life. One minute she wanted to throw herself in her husband’s arms, the next she wanted to profess her virtuousness and assure him that she would never again behave in such a lusty way.
While she tried to understand what was happening to her, Oriana turned to the chest that contained her finest garments. Among the items was a negligee she had saved from her mother’s things. Why she’d taken it before her father had given all of her mother’s things away after her death, she wasn’t sure, because the garment was positively scandalous. She couldn’t imagine that a proper lady like her mother would have ever worn such a thing.
Yet, she couldn’t resist the temptation to take it out, look at it, and wonder what she would look like wearing it. Would it even fit her? Feeling the silk between her fingers, a yearning came over her. Maybe she could simply try it on, only to see it for a moment. Afterwards, she’d slip into her virginal nightgown, the one that reached up to her neck and covered her completely.
Oriana rid herself of her chemise and drawers and slipped the silken negligee over her head. To her surprise, it fit her perfectly, clinging to her aching breasts and hugging her bottom. A large slit ran all the way up her thigh, making it possible for her to take normal steps.
She walked around the screen and looked into the mirror, seeing a woman there she’d never seen before. A woman who personified lust and passion. She felt different, more alive, more aware of her body. Wicked thoughts invaded her mind—of things that she couldn’t find words for. Things no decent woman should want. Her craving for those wicked things grew stronger with every second she watched herself in the mirror.
What would Nico do if he found out about them?
***
Nico closed the heavy door of his new home behind him and walked upstairs, treading quietly so as not to wake the whole house. The sun would rise in two hours, and he needed sleep if he wanted to face his wife tomorrow.
He entered his bedchamber and threw his cloak onto a chair, then stepped out of his shoes. His jacket followed. When he opened the top button of his shirt, he cast a look at his empty bed. If only the beautiful Oriana were waiting in it for him. But that would never happen. He sighed and turned his head to the door that connected their rooms.
Surprise made him stumble backwards: the door was open!
Without conscious thought, he moved toward it until he could peer into Oriana’s bedchamber. His eyes instantly fell on the bed, but it was pristine and unused. Shock made him storm into the room. Had she left him?
Frantically he gazed about the room, when he saw her lying on the settee in front of the fireplace. He almost didn’t believe what his eyes perceived: his wife wore a scandalously low cut negligee that not only made her bosom practically spill out, but the cut in the long skirt reached so high up her hip that he could get a glimpse of her bottom. Why was she sleeping on the settee? And why was she wearing such a revealing garment?
His legs carried him to her, and he crouched down in front of her. Oriana’s hair was fanned out, her long chestnut tresses spilling over the couch. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled her heady scent. Instantly, his cock stiffened and his hand palmed one breast.
Underneath his touch, she stirred. Quickly, he removed his hand. He wouldn’t do anything against her will. He’d done enough damage already.
“Nico?” her sleepy voice asked a moment before she opened her eyes.
When their gazes met, she rose to a sitting position, her face flushing. As a result of her hasty movement, one strap of her negligee slid off her shoulder, making the fabric that covered her left breast slide down. It was caught by her nipple before it could slide down all the way.
Nico’s eyes were drawn to it, and an involuntary groan escaped his throat.
Oriana gasped in response and pulled back, quickly adjusting the strap.
Her reaction confirmed that he was making the right choice: she didn’t want his attention, and sending her away was the only solution. Nico rose to his feet and looked down at her. Unfortunately this position gave him a perfect view of her plunging neckline. More blood shot into his cock—a cock that was now eyelevel with her. Could the situation possibly get any worse?
Quickly he whirled around, facing the fireplace instead.
“I beg your pardon, my dear wife. I wouldn’t have intruded on your privacy had I not seen the door open and been worried about your safety. But now that I see that everything seems to be in order, I shall take my leave.”
He took a hesitant step toward the door, unable to tear himself away completely. This would be the last time he saw her like this.
“About what happened earlier today,” she started.
He stopped in his tracks. “We can talk about it tomorrow.” Because for this one night he wanted to go to bed and dream that she was his. Even though he knew she never would be.
“No.”
Surprised at her insistent tone, he turned to face her. If she wanted this to be done and over with tonight, then so be it.
“Signora,” he said formally. “I made you cry today. And a husband should never make his wife cry. It appears that I’m not suitable to be a husband. Therefore, I shall agree to your earlier proposal. As you suggested, I will take a mistress and spare you my advances. In exchange, I beg only one thing. That you’ll move to my estate on the mainland. It’s a large property with a house grander than this. You’ll have a large number of servants to take care of you.”