The Vampire's Protector (13 page)

Chapter 15

S
ummer had never been overly romantic. Though she'd grown up watching her parents make out and canoodle (yes, her dad, the fierce vampire Vail, called it canoodling) every chance they got. As well, her father was an extreme romantic, always with flowers in hand and a serenade for her mother. Apparently, when Summer had been born, the romance gene had been exchanged for the freaky madness-making gene. Her relationships tended to be one-night stands, hookups or friendly with benefits. But no gushing or cooing or making moon eyes at one another. That was uncalled for.

Now, she highly suspected the way she was staring into Nicolo's moonlight-spattered eyes could be construed as making moon eyes. And against all she believed in, she didn't care.

After getting off the Ferris wheel—and
getting off
on the Ferris wheel—they'd walked to the river to check out the beach. A live band featuring accordion, mandolin and a singer performed a classic Parisian love song while couples danced on the shipped-in sand beside the broth-colored Seine. Bonfires lit up the area. Partiers drank wine straight from the bottle and tossed horseshoes nearby.

But she was lost in a man's eyes. And in his arms as he held her gently but firmly, leading as they slow danced. He had her. And she wanted him to have her. She felt a silly teenager swoon coming on. Could she be his girlfriend? Could they go steady? Exchange rings? Do romantic dating stuff like make out under a blanket and tickle each other until one of them begged for mercy?

It was a startling realization. And when she figured she should pull away from Nicolo's irresistible warmth and instead go join the game of
pétanque
nearby, she settled her head onto his shoulder and melted against the powerful strength and delicious scent of him. He smelled like cedar, with a touch of leather. Like a finely preserved artifact. She inhaled deeply, wanting to fill her pores with him. To, just for a moment, be the silly girl with a crush, and not the vampiress with a penchant for making people mad.

Nicolo spread a hand across her back, and her skin prickled with desire. Her nipples tightened. She hugged up against him closer and felt his erection nudge her belly. She pressed tighter, teasing.

“You modern women are quite bold,” he whispered. “Careful, Summer, or I'll have to throw you down onto the sand and have my way with you.”

“Again? I'd love it.”

“With an audience?”

“No. I'm not much for PDAs.”

“What does that mean?”

“Public displays of affection. Just hold me. This feels great. Kind of romantic.”

“Why do I suspect you are not much for romance?”

“You figured that one out, eh?”

“It may have been the mud smears on your cheek this afternoon or even the engine part in your bath. Maybe even your exquisitely ever-untidy hair. No laces or frills for you. Of course, one doesn't require frills for romance.”

“Maybe there's not much in this world to be romantic about anymore.”

“Standing on the beach in the arms of a lover seems romantic to me.” He looked up. “And with the stars overhead—well, the artificial stars from the nearby buildings. And the music? I am befallen with romance.”

“I like that. Befallen with romance,” she singsonged out. “Mmm, nothing can make this night better. Achoo!”

Nicolo held her away and studied her gaze. “Summer? You mentioned your propensity to sneeze earlier. When demons are in proximity. What does that mean?”

“I uh...” She glanced around, seeking demons in the shadows. Anything out of place. “Not sure. Could just be summer allergies.”

“Do you
have
summer allergies?”

“No.” She was a vampire, for heaven's sake. The usual human maladies didn't apply to her species. “Could just be some friendly demons dancing in the mix. Doesn't always mean something bad is going to happen.”

Yet her heartbeats thudded. She never liked being around a demon, friendly or otherwise. She mustn't let down her guard.

“Right.” He hugged her close and cast his gaze about the party area. “We'll keep our eyes out for anything amiss, just to be sure.”

“Yes.” She nodded and hugged him tightly, wanting it to be nothing. But the brief thought that her sneeze could be because of Nicolo disturbed her.

Would he become like his father? How would she know if he did, beyond the telltale sneeze that alerted her to a demon presence nearby? And would she know what to do when that did happen? Because she was falling for this guy. Hard. And she didn't want to lose the best thing that had happened to her.

* * *

A thin line of sunlight teased the horizon. After the beach had closed, Nicolo and Summer had strolled the rue de Seine paralleling the river. No demons had caused a disturbance at the beach, and Summer hadn't seen any glowing red eyes in the vicinity so had decided the sneeze had been a fluke. They hadn't wanted to go home as they walked hand in hand, and hadn't needed to. But now she did.

“I should get inside,” she said to him as he bowed to kiss her. “Morning sunlight coming right up.”

“Ah, yes, the vampire thing.”

“I'm hungry, as well. Maybe you should head on to the house and I'll follow close behind?”

“I'm not sure where it is exactly. You haven't given me training on how to use the witchbox, and there are not many landmarks I can recognize. Can't I come along with you? Are you going to find someone to bite?” He tugged her hand, bringing her into an embrace. Drawing a finger along the V of her neckline, he asked, “Why not me?”

Summer snorted. “Please.”

A querying brow tilted above his serious gaze. As if to ask
what is so wrong with me?

Hmm... Why not him? Because—well, just because.

But really? She did want a taste of this luscious specimen. A long, languorous drink that would further imbue her body with traces of him, just as inhaling his scent had done. And she hadn't taken blood since right after she'd found him walking alongside the road in Parma. She needed to drink more often than the usual one to two weeks because her sips were so small.

But if she did drink from him she feared taking too much, for it would quickly turn erotic. And with that she risked making him mad. If he was human, that is.

Human or not, this guy had been through a lot already. The last thing he needed was to lose his mind.

On the other hand, he hadn't been a live, sentient being for a hundred and seventy-five years. And she didn't sneeze around him. He couldn't be demon. But Verity had suspected he wasn't human. Could she be safe with this one?

The Tuileries was bare of anyone that she could see. Majestic lime trees formed aisles as she led him down one paved with crushed stone. She'd have to search the alleyways on the way home for a bite. Or... Answer the call to indulgence with the closest thing to hand.

Again, he asked, “Summer, you could bite me, yes?”

It was dark here, for the rising sun was hidden behind the massive Louvre museum. And in a moment of silence she jumped into the unknown. But not really unknown, because she knew what she wanted.

Luring Nicolo beneath a lime tree trimmed high to expose the trunk so a man could walk beneath, she pushed him against the smooth-barked trunk.

“Why not you?” she said with a tease as she licked her lowering fangs. “Okay. Why not you. I haven't been able to summon a reason against it beyond the very obvious driving-you-mad part. Like I told you, I'm not like most vampires.”

“Because you are bright and don't hide in the shadows?”

“The madness thing.”

“Yes, right.” He took her hands in his, reassuringly rubbing the backs of them with his thumbs. “You fear driving me mad. But you said that only occurred with the humans you bite, yes?”

She nodded.

“And we're not sure what I am, exactly. I must be more than human. Even the witch suspected as much. I feel quite in control of my mental faculties and don't believe a little bite should change that.”

She raked fingers through her hair as she glanced aside.

“Summer?”

“I
am
hungry.” And ever willing to take risks. Unknown mysteries? She was so in. She met his smiling gaze. “I need blood.”

“And I am willing. Let me take a look?” He touched the tip of one of her fangs, and the sensation strafed through Summer as if he'd stroked a fingertip over her bare breast. She shivered. Always sexual to have her teeth touched. “What did
that
just do to you?”

“Turns me on to have my fangs touched.”

“I see that. You want me to stop?”

“Never,” she said on a sensual gasp. Leaning against his long, muscular shape, she bent a knee and hooked her leg high at his thigh. Pulling his interest down with a bend of her finger, she whispered, “This is going to be good for me and you. But I might have to stop abruptly if I feel this is going wrong, so don't hold that against me.”

“I won't. So long as you don't mind if I feel the need to push you away. This is a new and out-of-the-ordinary experience for me.”

“More out of the ordinary than rising from the dead?”

“You have me there.” Again he stroked her fang. Mercy. “Do it then. Drink from me.”

She traced a fang along his skin until it moved over the pulsing carotid. Nicolo moaned and hugged her close, tilting back his head to give her better access. Clutching his shirt with one hand, and running the fingers of her other up through his hair, she then shoved his head back against the tree trunk and pierced his skin with both fangs. Hot blood oozed onto her tongue. She retracted her fangs and sipped his thick, delicious life.

Again he moaned and stretched his head back farther, clinging to her while his fingers curled into her hair. “Oh, Brightness.”

Yeah, she knew he would get off from this. So would she. This man's blood was amazing. Bright, thick and vital. It coursed through her system, seeming to enliven every nerve ending. It was as though she were drinking his power, his skill. Could she feel the music within him? Yes. Oh yes. It was grand and full and danced with her soul.

And she greedily took more than she needed only because the taste was so sweet, so magical. She had not ever tasted such blood as his, nor had she enjoyed a drink more. And yet, she remained cautious for that telling soul shiver she always felt from her other donors. Minute, it often jittered only briefly, just enough to alert her.

“Mercy,” she said on a gasp as she managed to stop drinking. “You will get me drunk.”

“That good, eh?” He pulled her closer and caressed her breast. “Your bite is like sex. Just a little more?”

She nodded. “You...feel okay?”

“I feel all of my senses.”

“Really? And I haven't felt your soul shudder yet.”

Maybe drinking from a dead guy was a good thing for her? She hadn't considered it until now, but did he even have a soul? Usually the soul exited the body with death. Then again, he wasn't a usual man.

She wasn't about to question such fortune. Not when the thrill of taking a longer drink coaxed her to indulge.

Summer sucked out more, gorging herself on the treat. And when her body shimmered with a similar feeling to orgasm (but not quite) she licked the bite marks on his neck to seal the wound. As she stroked her tongue over his skin, Nicolo shuddered and cried out, his fingers gripping at her breast and the tree behind him.

His body sank before her until he sat at the base of the trunk. Then he moved forward onto his knees and, looking up at her, clasped her hands. “My mistress of decadent desires.”

Yeah, the swoon always served them well. Gave them a nice orgasm and left them riding a sexual high for a while after. Usually she used the thrall to ensure the human did not recall her bite and then quickly walked away. But not this time. No need to hide from this beautiful man.

“Did you...” he gasped, still enjoying the sensual high “...have an orgasm?”

“I usually don't. But I feel something even better. I've never felt so...clear after taking blood before.” She squatted before him and studied his eyes. The pupils were large and dark. “You're different. Together, we're different.”

“That's a good thing, yes?”

“Yes,” she said on a wondrous gasp. Had she finally found the one person she could drink from without endangering his soul from the volatile attack of madness?

She bowed her head to bump foreheads with him. “Let's head home before the sun beats us.”

“As you wish.”

Once at the house, Summer walked through the front door, her lover dutifully following. Turning, he pulled her close and kissed her deeply. He was still in a bit of a swoon. They walked together, she backward, toward the kitchen, but as her foot stepped onto something squishy, he pushed her aside and charged into the kitchen.

Summer lifted her foot and inspected her shoe. “Mud? How did that—”

In the kitchen, her lover swore. Summer followed a trail of mud blops into the dimly lit kitchen. Nicolo stood before the steel counter, arms spread out as if to prevent himself from rushing forth.

On the counter, amidst mud and grass, sat the black violin. Intact.

Chapter 16

N
icolo approached the counter, hand outstretched. The violin gleamed like polished ebony nestled amidst muck and dirt. The strings were clean, the bow seemingly tightened and ready. The body of the instrument could not be wood but perhaps carved from the devil's very horn.

And at that thought, he retracted, pressing his palms against his chest. His heartbeats thundered, but beyond that inner timpani he heard the seductive whispers. The silvery voice did not speak in Italian or French. He did not know the language. A diabolic babble?

And yet, he understood what it wanted.

Him.

“Nicolo, please don't,” Summer said softly. Her hand touched his shoulder, and he flinched. The sexual high from her bite had dissipated. If he could feel that way all the time, he need never desire what gifts this wretched instrument could grant him.

“I thought you said you destroyed it” came out in hissing syllables.

“I did. I stepped on it and crushed it before burying it. It was shards and string. I don't understand—well, yes.”

Well. Yes.

They both knew how it had been restored and now sat before him as the temptation it had been forged. So many times he had resisted. He had died a frail, sickly man who could no longer lift the violin to his chin for his staunch refusal to accept Himself's offer. He'd left Achille to survive in the cruel world at such a young age.

And now he was being given a second chance.

To do what? His son was no longer alive. He could no longer claim his fame as Nicolo Paganini. He did not exist in this new age. He was lost and without a home. He had to rely on a woman's kindness for clothing and food.

He could make his own way. He must. Without this wicked power. Because he still had the skill. He could play the violin as well as he once had. And with practice he would again rise to fame. But to what value?

What did he need now in his new life? And what was it worth to him to again resist the temptation? He had nothing. Would not such power make his adjustment to this world smoother?

Summer wrapped an arm across his back and stood beside him.

He had nothing? Change that. He had Summer. For now, at least.

“Do you want me to take it away again?” she asked. “Burn it to ash?”

“You don't believe that will have any consequence on it reforming and returning to me yet again?”

She sighed. “If you play that violin, you become—”

“A monster? A devil? What if I merely become stronger, more powerful, my skills honed to an exquisite point?”

“You know that's not what will happen. You'd be like him.”

“My father.”

An all-too-cheery bell rang in Summer's pocket. She pulled out the witchbox and stepped away from Nicolo, yet she remained in the room, her eyes on him. “Yes?”

Nicolo could hear the conversation easily.

“It's Ethan Pierce,” the caller said.

“What's up? Got another mission for me?”

“Summer, there's an issue with the Paganini violin. Certainly Jones reports it is missing and that you might have an idea about that. Are you still watching the man? We've made a decision regarding his incarceration. I'll need you to come in. Immediately.”

“Sure.” Incarceration? She winced and turned away from Nicolo. “Now?” It was seven in the morning.

“What part of immediately do you not comprehend?”

“Right. Be, uh...right there.”

The phone clicked off. Nicolo cast her a wondering gaze.

She waggled the phone before her. “Work stuff.”

“That was your director. Asking after me. Are you going to turn me in?”

“Never.”

He clasped her hand. “Maybe you should? If you take me away from the violin then I can't ever play it, yes?”

“I'm not sure what plans the director has for you. But I don't expect they'll be ‘Buy him a place to live and welcome him to this new age.'”

“I suspect not.”

“Nicolo.” She bracketed his face with her palms. “I want you here. As much as you shouldn't be here, you do have a new life now. And I'm not going to let anyone take that away from you.”

“You are most kind. I feel the same. I rather enjoy the new now. And you.”

She kissed him. Too quickly. Did she really believe what she'd said to him? How could she possibly jeopardize her job to protect him?

“But what to do?” he asked.

“I'll bring the violin to the Archives. CJ can bespell it. He did find a warding spell after it had disappeared the first time. I'm sure we can take measures to secure it properly this time. Okay?”

He nodded. “Go quickly. I want to feel that thing in my hands.”

“Right.” She collected the violin, and as she did so the mud slipped from it, leaving not a trace on the glossy instrument. The case was not to be found, so she slipped the violin and bow under an arm then set it down. “I need to put real clothes on first.”

She slipped out of the wrap dress and into jeans and a T-shirt, then grabbed the violin and rushed toward the Audi.

“Wait!” Nicolo met her at the car's hood. He reached for the bow, fingers shaking. Every bit of him needed to know the feeling of that bow in his right hand and the neck of the violin in his left.

“Kiss me,” she entreated.

Nicolo nodded. She had a plan, and he liked it. His hand slipped along her neck, and he fell into the sensational connection of breath, heartbeats and desire. A delicious foray that led him away from the call to darkness. So surprising, considering she had bitten him earlier and sucked out his blood. But she wasn't darkness. Summer was brightness and joy. And he needed her if he was to resist temptation this time around.

“You are my brightness,” he said, bowing his forehead to hers.

She shoved him away and got inside the car. Nicolo closed his eyes, listening as the garage door rose and she backed out.

He'd give her a head start and then follow. He would not let that violin out of his sight. It demanded he play it.

And he would.

* * *

He was following her. Summer could feel him in the air. Not a scent or even a sighting. She'd had sex with him, skin against skin, mouth over mouth, heartbeats thudding against heartbeats. And she'd drunk his blood. He was inside her. And he had made her feel so clear. Because he wasn't human? Likely.

Now she could
feel
him nearby. His heartbeats. The volume of his being occupying this realm. This thing between her and Nicolo had gotten intense. Fast. What was up with that?

She was heading to the home office to hand over the man's violin and probably give up classified information about where to find him. Hell, she wouldn't have to reveal his location; he was less than a hundred yards behind her. But she couldn't not hand over the information. Her job depended on her alliance to Acquisitions.

Would she ultimately have to choose between being a Retriever and protecting Nicolo? She hoped not. Her job meant everything to her. And Nicolo...he meant more than she could fathom.

The Council headquarters housed the Archives, Acquisitions and Hexes & Curses, and various other departments, all under the Council's supervision. The Archives library was vast, and while Summer had never been a stickler for studying and books, she often wondered what an afternoon in one of the Archives' stacks might stir up.

“Probably something evil,” she muttered as she turned down a narrow passageway paved with uneven cobblestones. The violin was safely tucked under an arm, the bow in her other hand.

She paused and decided to backtrack. Best to get Nicolo out of the area before she went inside. As she stepped out of the alleyway and looked both ways, she didn't see her stalker anywhere. Not even a stray tourist out on this overcast, cloudy morning. Had she actually lost him? She hadn't been trying to.

Closing her eyes, she transferred her focus to sound. No footsteps, nor the subtle cadence of his breath. Yet their bodily connection—it existed.

Turning, she walked right into Nicolo. So maybe they weren't as aligned bodily as she had thought. He gripped the bow and wrenched it from her hand. The violin slipped away without her realizing it.

“No!” She made a grab for the instrument, but he held it high above his head in one hand. “Nicolo, you can't touch it!”

“I am touching it, and I haven't turned into a wicked demon.”

“It doesn't work that way!”

“How does it work?”

“Just give it back to me. You don't want it. You know that. You're a smart man. You have to resist its call to you.”

He lowered the instrument until the wide black body of it rested against his ear and shoulder. Eyes closing, he hummed in appreciation. “It feels so good. Like a part of me.”

“It's not a part of you! But it will be a terrible part if you so much as draw that bow across a string.”

“Hmm. Shall we give it a go?”

“No, Nicolo. Please.” She knew all the begging in the world wouldn't stop him, so she'd use force.

Summer pushed the man against the brick wall, not caring if the violin took on damage. With one hand he shoved her backward, but she didn't have far to go with the opposite wall but three feet away. Her shoulders hitting the wall took the breath from her. He didn't comprehend his immense strength.

“I don't want to hurt you, Summer,” he warned. “Let me have this. It's not something I can control.”

“Then let me help you.” Again she lunged, trying to grab the violin, but he held it out of her reach. Stepping back and taking a leap, she managed to grab it by the chin rest, and he let it go. She landed, crouched over and protecting the violin. Nicolo's hand gripped a hank of her hair.

And then he shouted, and the bow dropped to the ground.

Summer twisted, still in a crouch. Nicolo stood surrounded by a crackling green electricity. And commanding that weird magic was a man who held his heavily tattooed fingers together to activate the spell, the dark witch Certainly Jones.

“You okay, Summer?” CJ called.

“Yes, fine. He can't stop himself from trying to play the violin. He wasn't going to hurt me.”

“Didn't look that way to me.”

“What is this?” Nicolo tried to scrub off the green light with no success.

“A binding spell.” CJ approached Summer. “It won't hold for long. I can feel a malevolent power fighting my own dark magic. What the hell is this guy? Who is he? I...I don't think he has a soul.”

Summer sighed and clutched the violin to her chest. “He's Paganini. I raised him from the dead when I found the violin and it accidentally played itself.”

“Accidentally played itself?”

“I know. But I didn't do it. No soul? How do you know that?”

“I feel it. Or the lack of it. Vika, who you know has a sticky soul, has taught me to be sensitive to souls.”

Vika was the light witch Certainly had lived with for years.

“Wow,” she muttered. Was that why Nicolo didn't seem to be affected by her bite? Why she hadn't felt his soul shiver when she'd sunk her teeth into his vein? That could mean...so much.

“Summer?”

Dragging her thoughts away from what could be the most remarkable thing to happen to her, she gave CJ her full attention. “I'm on my way to talk to the director now. I know. I'm in deep shit.”

“About as deep as it gets.” CJ eyed the musician, who struggled as if bound. “Let me take the violin. This time I'll bind it securely.”

She picked it up and handed it over to him. “You might want to use devil's traps if you can. It's cursed by the Big Guy.”

“We had our suspicions.” He shuddered as he received the instrument. “I'll take this below to the Archives. You have a meeting.”

“What about him?”

“I'd estimate another five minutes before the binding is depleted.” The witch strode away.

“Get me out!”

Summer studied the green spell covering Nicolo as if an exoskeleton. “I'm sorry, Nicolo. It had to be done. CJ said it would wear off in a few minutes.”

“You've chosen your job over me. I knew it!”

“Not exactly. Unless you consider a meeting to get my ass kicked my choice. I'm not going to stop protecting you, Nicolo.”

“I don't need your protection! I need...aggh! This is like sticky biting insects!”

Much as she wanted to rescue him from the irritant, he was right. He didn't need her protection. And she needed to focus on her job right now. He'd be fine. “You can either wait out here or go back to the house.”

“I refuse! You will give me that violin.”

“I guess that means you'll be waiting out here. I'm truly sorry. If there was any other way...”

“You do not care for me.”

So he would appeal to her emotions? Tough luck, buddy. Maybe.

Ah hell.

“I care too much. That's the problem.” She sighed. Thankful, for once, that her emotions never did lead her to silly female dramatics. “If you wait for me I promise I'll make it up to you. And maybe if you get away from the violin the call to it will be not so strong and you'll start thinking straight again.”

“Summer, you wound me!” he called as she walked away and turned the corner.

It was tough leaving him there like that. But the binding wouldn't hurt him, only cause humiliation. He was a big boy. He could handle it.

And if he really was without a soul? Now that could prove fortuitous.