Tribes Of The Vampire - Eternally Bound Part 7

A dark chuckle erupted from across the carriage interior. Her eyes turned sharply to the vampire. The drawn curtain allowed moonlight to cast his features in a ghoulish manner that made her s.h.i.+ver. His eyes gleamed with an inner green light before fading to darkness. She realized he'd been in her head, reading her thoughts.

The horses turned the carriage so that the house pulled from view. Thomas was running after them, stumbling and weak.

Tatiana said nothing, was too numb to motion to him. She knew that the image of Eastwich Manor, fading into nothingness and out of her life, would always stay with her.

Letting her hand fall to her lap, she sat back in her seat. The curtain fell once more into place, making the darkness an impossible tomb. The carriage rolled along, racing under the team of four strong horses, whisking them over the countryside for what seemed like hours.

Tatiana didn't move, save to yawn once into the back of her hand. She let a lethargic pull come over her limbs so she didn't have to feel anything. Now that he had her in his grasp, she wondered if the dreams would finally stop.

"Tu sei bellissima," Marcello whispered into the darkness of the carriage. He didn't know what made him speak the thought out loud, though he had been thinking it since they left the manor. Perhaps, he wanted to see her reaction to his words. He meant them. She was very beautiful to behold. He'd done well in finding her.

His vampire eyes watched her stiffen. She'd held silent for a long time, not searching for him in the shadows. He knew she couldn't see him in the blackness, yet she didn't complain, didn't ask him to give her light. He nodded to himself, pleased by her bravery. It wasn't many mortals who could sit so quietly before a devil.

He took his leisure studying her, though the lines of her were memorized since their first night together. Her body was small, but not so slender as to make her reedy. He enjoyed the gentle bend of her hips, the sloping curves of her larger b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He eyed her chest beneath her silk gown, displayed with a hint of cleavage. Those were b.r.e.a.s.t.s just meant to be touched, licked, bitten.

Marcello was a little disappointed that she wouldn't show more emotion for him. He found he'd missed her emotion since being parted from her. Though, two years was hardly anything to him. He'd known where she was, who she talked to, read into her thoughts--not all of them, but enough. He'd known when she'd accepted the boy's proposal and thought to escape him. He frowned. It was the reason he raced to Eastwich to claim her. If not for that, many more years might have gone by before he thought to bring her to be with him. As much as he wanted her, the dream of her had been sweet antic.i.p.ation to his senses and it was the kind of torture he didn't mind drawing out.

The smell of her was a sweet perfume. Her blood was strong and he found himself yearning to taste it again. The first time he felt the silky texture of her against his tongue, he knew he wouldn't be letting her go. He'd marked her as his, pierced her lip with his fangs to do it. In doing so, he'd made sure no other vampire would ever dare touch her. It was part of the old code for his race, part of the sacred laws set out by the council of elders. You didn't touch another'sindicium .

Marcello could feel the dawn approaching, only a little over an hour off. Tatiana hadn't moved to acknowledge his comment.

Her lids started to droop and he knew that she was tired. He wanted her to stay awake so she would sleep through the day with him. He couldn't have her running about while he couldn't get to her--at least not yet. He wanted her to learn her new role first before he afforded her that trust.

"Bella mia," he murmured in his sultriest of voices. He watched her eyes blink at the loud statement. Her jade gaze turned to look for him. She didn't see him. "Come here, next to me."

Marcello watched her swallow in fear. She pulled back from him, pressing her body into the carriage seat to get as far away from him as she could. Her breath caught. He could feel her trying to sense him. She had a lot of strength in her. It pleased his vanity greatly to own her.

"Why did you say such cruel thing about Henry to my father?" Tatiana whispered, ignoring Marcello's bidding. She'd seen well that her father had believed the vampire's lies.

"They were not lies,bella ," Marcello answered. When he continued, she heard the barely contained amus.e.m.e.nt in his words.

"Your brother couldn't function as a man should. He killed the woman for laughing at him."

"I don't believe you," she said, her tone uncertain of her own words.

"Come," Marcello urged. "You must be tired. Come rest in my arms."

"I can't," she breathed, after a long silence. "It isn't right. We have yet to be married."

Marcello chuckled, thoroughly amused. "Married,bella ?"

"We aren't going to be, are we?" she asked, as if suddenly struck by lightning.

Marcello eyes narrowed, not liking the relief he felt in her at the statement. It stung him. He ignored his feelings. He never intended to marry her. His kind didn't marry. When you lived for an eternity, 'til death do you part took on a whole new meaning. However, many of his kind didvangare-- and often. His eyes roamed over her body and he felt his shaft growing hard with desire.

Tatiana pressed her eyes tightly shut, willing him to go away and leave her be. Her soft, disillusioned laugh joined his. She really should've known better. When her father had told her of her engagement, she took it as the truth. Every line of his body was memorized and, when she closed her eyes, she saw him clearly. She much preferred his eerie silence, or even the dreams he'd given her. Being alone with him, in the dark, was almost too much. However, when he spoke to her with his achingly sweet voice, it was hard to resist.

"Then what," she began. Her heart nearly slowed until it stopped beating altogether. "What am I to be to you?"

"You will be whatever I want you to be,bella ." Tatiana could almost hear the dismissive wave of his hand in his voice. He showed no remorse, as he admitted boldly, "My servant, my slave, my dinner,il mio amante. "

Tatiana didn't need to speak his language to know what his last phrase meant. The connotation dripped from his gravelly voice. He translated for her anyway.

"My lover,bella mia ." Marcello's hand reached forward, finding hers easily in the dark. His chilled fingers held so much controlled strength that they made her s.h.i.+ver. He pulled her insistently forward, not letting her escape. The long line of her lips parted in breath and he wanted to feel them against his body. He wanted to feel her mortal warmth soaking into his cool flesh. His teeth wanted to sink into her so that he may again taste her blood.

Tatiana's body stirred and tingled at his words. He drew her across to him and she couldn't resist. Her mind screamed at her, but her body didn't listen or obey her will. Her control slipped into his chilled grasp. She couldn't stand in the carriage, so she leaned over to sit next to him.

Marcello leered at her cleavage, grinning in masculine pleasure. It had only been three nights since he last took a woman to his bed, but his body felt starved. With an artful twist of his hand, he maneuvered her off-balance so she turned. His arm dipped behind her back to catch her as she landed sideways on his lap, entwined within his arms. His fingers curled possessively on her hip, as the others gripped lightly into her shoulder. A gasp of surprise escaped her lips.

At the weak sounds she made, her lips parted and he took full advantage. He did not wait to test her response as he lowered his mouth fully onto hers. A light moan of pleasure left him, followed by her yelp of surprise. His tongue forced its way between her lips, probing deeply into the silken warmth of her mouth. He moved with the expert skill of a practiced lover and she was too untried to resist the new rush of sensations he caused to flow within her. His tongue ma.s.saged against hers, sucking it into his mouth when she tried to move it away from his searching.

Tatiana moaned. To her great surprise, she felt her fingers winding up to his long wavy hair. The texture of him was just like she imagined. His hard chest pressed its formed muscles into her softer body. Marcello's hard thighs parted, causing her bottom to fall between them to the seat. She felt a strange hardness stirring by her hip, drawing heat from her and returning it tenfold.

Then, his fingers moved, gliding over her waist to cup her ample b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her head jerked back with a gasp, unsure whether she was encouraging or protesting his intimate hold. She wiggled against him, her body seeming to understand what happened much better than her protesting mind.

As her lips left his, his deep kisses didn't stop. He moved them along her jaw to her earlobe. Her breath was ragged against the silence of the carriage. His tongue swirled the rim of her ear as his thumb lightly circled a nipple with the same tantalizing slowness. She moaned again, a low and throaty sound, as she arched into his hand.

Marcello felt a deep hunger calling to him, primal with need, with bloodl.u.s.t. Two years without a taste of her was too long a time to wait, even for one as old as he. His hand glided higher, off her breast, to press flatly against her collarbone. He held her down with his powerful strength, continuing his sweet torture on her ear, trailing his lips down to the drumming pulse at her neck. His fingers found hold on her jaw as he turned her head from him. His eyes lit onto the delicate artery protecting her sweet life's essence from him.

"Beg me again to drink from you,bella mia ," he whispered to her throat, poised to sink his teeth into her. His mind was feverish with his longing. He smelled her desire, knowing it would be flowing in her blood like a drug.

Tatiana heard the words as if in a fog. She blinked, stiffening in horror to find herself thus against him. Her hands were in his hair, tangling it in her pa.s.sion. She jerked them to his chest, pus.h.i.+ng to be free.

"Let me go," she cried in dismay. She beat her fists weakly against him. His hold on her jaw loosened. Her chin snapped down, trying to protect her neck. The feelings he caused in her were confused and raw. She screamed again, louder. "Please, Marcello, don't do this. I have done nothing to you. Just let me go. I don't want to be with you. I hate you. I hate you!"

Marcello's face contorted with anger at her denial of him. His body was hard. It needed to find its release. But, worse was his need for blood. With a growl, he sought to punish her for denying him. His fingers again grabbed her jaw, easily wrenching her head back. She screamed again, crying out for pity, for mercy. The Count had none. Angrily, he latched his mouth to her neck, puncturing her throat with his bared fangs.

Marcello groaned in ecstasy as the ripened flavor of her pa.s.sed his lips. His mind was cut off to everything but the appeal of drinking her. His lips began to move along her throat as he swallowed, licking with intense fascination at the wound. The pa.s.sion of her blood turned to sudden fear, which surprised him. However, fear was no less sweet of an emotion to partake of and his lips sucked all the harder.

Tatiana clawed at him, trying to find his eyes, wanting to scratch them out of his head. She hit him, bucked her body hard against him to be free. White hot fire shot through her neck at his bite, painful and burning as the agony worked down her shoulder and arm.

"Marcello." Tatiana felt herself weakening as she had in the dream. Her body felt limp in his unyielding embrace. Her arm draped along side his legs, flopping with the slowing movement of the carriage. All around her was dark, but her mind began to join it, losing all memory of the moment, all sense of where she was, what was happening. She felt freedom in the death that called to her. She felt peace and sleep within the dreamless void that would come.

Marcello heard a light whisper. It was his name. All of a sudden, he pulled back, eyeing the wound he'd made on her throat.

Her mind urged him to continue, to finish her. She didn't want to live anymore, not as his slave, not as a witch. Instantly, he bit his thumb and rubbed it along her neck. The wounds he created healed themselves.

As he looked at her, he was ashamed of his lack of control. Her face was pale, her lips edged with blue. The echo of her heart was faint. Too much longer and she would've been dead in his arms.

"Argh,bella ," he growled, not sure if his anger was directed at her or himself. The delicious power of her strong bloodline swirled in his limbs, a heady pleasure he couldn't deny. He knew they neared their first place of rest. Dawn would be upon them soon. No one would find them within the old graveyard, not that anyone would think to look.

Angrily, he lifted her in his strong arms and laid her down across from him on the carriage seat. Then, not waiting for his human servitor to open the door, he lifted the latch and pushed his way outside. Turning, he lifted Tatiana into his arms. She flopped like a piece of cloth. Her pale lips parted in even, shallow breath. Again, he cursed himself and her.

"Cesare, go to the inn down the road and see to the horses," Marcello stated to his servitor in their native tongue. "Come back for us at dusk."

The tall man bowed and said nothing. A lock of his short, brown hair fell over his white-glazed eyes. He shut the carriage door as Marcello carried Tatiana into a small graveyard. He swept past the old stones, some weathered horribly by time, until coming to a large mausoleum.

The mausoleum was an old one, marked on the outside door as a safe haven for vampires. Humans did not recognize the ancient symbol, thinking it an old religious emblem. The building would never be entered by mortals, who were too afraid of desecrating the dead. The corpses for whom they were built were long since discarded elsewhere in the churchyard.

Tatiana's eyelids lifted ever so briefly as Marcello jostled her in his embrace. The eerie presence of a small church stood tall against the horizon several yards away. The dark of night had faded to the purplish hue of early morning and its large cross showed ominously in the lightened heavens. Vaguely, she heard the pounding of hooves as Cesare drove the carriage away, leaving her alone with her vampire master.

Tatiana shut her eyes, almost too weak to comprehend that Marcello took her inside the grave with him. Before pa.s.sing out altogether, her mind let loose a dark chuckle. It was a very fitting place for them, because she was sure that both of their souls were d.a.m.ned.