Tribes Of The Vampire - Eternally Bound Part 25

"What happened to you tonight,bella ?" Marcello asked, turning to lay his long length next to her. "Why did you run?"

Tatiana blinked, only now remembering why she'd tired to escape him in the first place. Hardening herself against him, she jerked when his fingers reached to stroke at her exposed breast. Her body was covered in a light sheen of sweat. His was not.

Tatiana pulled away from him. Crossing over to the wardrobe, she grabbed a silk robe and tugged it over her body. When she turned around, Marcello was still on the bed, watching her. His eyes were blank, his face pa.s.sionless.

"I hope you enjoyed yourself, my lord," she spat at him, incensed. "For that is the last taste you will ever have of my body-- blood or otherwise."

"What are you speaking of,bella ?" he asked, his gaze darkening to a demonic blackish red. "I own you. I will taste you whenever I wish. Besides, you weren't complaining as you urged me deep inside you, begging me to f.u.c.k you hard."

Tatiana wasn't sure what the word 'f.u.c.k' meant but she knew she wouldn't like it. She gulped, turning red in her outrage.

"Why don't you gof.u.c.k one of your wh.o.r.es at the music hall! They looked to be more to your taste, vampire."

Tatiana thought of his hand on the pet.i.te blonde's breast, his lips sucking her neck, his eyes boring forward to her, wanting her to watch him, trying to make her jealous. Well, it had worked beautifully. She was jealous and she hated him for it. But, she hated herself even more for wanting him as she did.

"What are you--?"

"I saw you. You know I saw you."

"Bella--?" he tried again. His eyes darkened even more so in warning. She could feel the tension radiating off him, though he held his temper back well.

"No. You can never call mebella again. I'm not yourbella mia . I'm not your anything, except your wh.o.r.e," Tatiana screamed at him. Her body still sung with the aftermath of his touch and it only made her angrier to have to feel it. "That is what you think of me, isn't it, my lord Count? That is why you brought me to a bordello tonight, isn't it? You wanted to show me that I was nothing more to you than a prost.i.tute. Well, my lord vampire, if I'm a wh.o.r.e then I expect to be paid for my services rendered.

Because anything I gave you did not come from any tender sentiment. For your soul and your heart are dead. And even if they weren't, I would want nothing of them. I want nothing of you. I detest you. I despise you. You disgust me. I hate you."

Marcello shot up from the bed in anger. He flew toward her, gripping her arms in a bruising hold. His nostrils flared as he slammed her into the wardrobe. The contents inside the furniture crashed at the jarring motion.

Tatiana breathed heavily, but she did not back down. Her red robe fell open, showing him the valley of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her flat stomach, the curls of her nether hair. She waited for him to kill her, her pulse racing. She could see that he wanted to. His eyes were lit with demonic fire. To her surprise, he forced his fingers to uncurl from her throat. He let her go. His hands slowly pulled back and the strong lines of his brooding features became a dead mask.

"Padronissimo, baldracca,"he stated.

"What--?" she began, not understanding him.

"I said it will be as you wish, my wh.o.r.e." Marcello voice was dark as he turned from her to look at the floor.

Tatiana's eyes devoured the strong, proud line of his naked back. The taut play of his muscles worked gracefully as he moved.

She bit her lip, watching his hips, his tight b.u.t.tocks. All too readily did her body remember the feel of him against her. Her nerves stung, reaching for him. She wanted him back against her flesh, wanted him deep inside. Her body ached, swirling with the fantastic sensations that only he could arouse inside her.

Marcello took up the necklace he'd bought for her as a gift. With a toss of his wrist, threw it at her feet. The heavy strand of gemstones wrapped around one of her ankles before sliding to the floor. "Consider your services paid for."

Tatiana gasped, suddenly unable to move.

"Sleep,baldracca , it has been a long day of work for you. Tomorrow, you will reorganize the mess you made in my wardrobe."

Marcello nodded over her shoulder. Tatiana glanced behind her, seeing one of the doors had opened and there was a trail of clothing strewn out onto the floor.

"Thisbaldracca ," she spat, "doesn't clean."

"Ah, but my slave does!" he mocked cruelly. "You are duty bound as my slave to obey me, Tatiana. Being a wh.o.r.e was your choice."

Suddenly, she was very tired. She turned her back on him, knowing she couldn't sleep by him tonight. Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. She blocked herself from him, refusing to let him feel her. Looking down at the gemstones at her feet, she lifted them up. She weighed them in her hand. She'd been touched by the gift, but now the pleasure of necklace was lost on her, now that it represented payment.

She thought of the man he sent to her booth, the big-nosed Frenchman. Marcello said nothing to her about him. Did he think she performed for the man? Did he care? If the French authorities sought her out, she would welcome them. Let them hang her. But, feeling Marcello laying on the bed behind her, she knew he would never let them take her. She was his possession and this vampire wouldn't willingly share his toys. It would take more than the armies of France and England combined to get her away from him. Her only release would be death and Marcello might not even let that take her.

"No, my lord." Tatiana gripped the necklace so tight her fist turned white. Bitter tears burned the back of her eyes, twitching her nose, but she did not let them fall. Her voice lower than a whisper, she said, "When you brought me to that place tonight, you made me a wh.o.r.e."

Tatiana slept on the floor before the fireplace. Marcello did not bid her to move and for once the flames remained lit all night.

She was plagued by nightmares so horrific that she would jolt awake only to see the contrasting faces of the black angels above her. Their solid eyes bore into her, reaching down with their arms. She stared at them so long, the orange firelight dancing on their smooth skin, that she felt as if they moved. Tatiana refused to touch them again, remember the vision she had of Thomas and Henry.

The nightmares were mostly about Alice--Alice in the cottage, Alice in the field braiding flower rings, Alice waking her gently and laughing, Alice doing any number of things. But, each dream ended the same, with Alice's garbled voice and bloodied face. Tatiana knew the girl tried to tell her something, but she couldn't understand her. At first, she tried to run from her only to wake up in a panicked sweat. By the third dream, she tried to speak to her, tried to make her slow down so she could understand. And, by the end of the night, when Alice's lips opened, she only understood one terrified word the woman whispered--danger.

"Oh, m'lord! Yer home is just 'eavenly! 'Ey, who's she?"

Tatiana froze at the odd sound. That whiny voice of the London slums did not belong in the sanctuary of the French catacombs.

She felt Marcello's presence behind her like a cold chill. He'd been gone when she awoke, cramped and aching on the floor. It was just as well. She hadn't been in the mood to see him.

Tatiana slowly rose from the wardrobe where she just finished placing the last of Marcello's clothing into place. The pale blue skirt of the simple gown she'd found in the wardrobe swished slightly as she moved. It was amongst many gowns Marcello had gotten for her, and by far the most decent of them. It covered most of her chest, all of her arms, and did not push so tightly at her cleavage.

Tatiana took a deep breath, willing the voice away. She wasn't so lucky.

"Mm, a servant," the whiny voice continued. Tatiana nearly threw up, as the woman again giggled. "I've always wanted a servant o' me own!"

Tatiana slowly turned, flinching at the giggling that ensued after the woman spoke. Marcello's eyes were dark as they studied her. He ignored the bra.s.sy redhead he'd brought home, as he crossed over the floor to where Tatiana stood.

She tensed as he drew near. His hand lifted and she trembled, momentarily lost in the depths of his piercing stare. His hand moved past her to the wardrobe and she knew he went to inspect her work, looking for any excuse to show displeasure in her.

She had not given him one.

Tatiana frowned, hating herself for being disappointed that he did not come to her. The self-hatred didn't last long as she again saw the prost.i.tute. The woman was eyeing her with a menacing glare, chewing her thick bottom lip stained to the brightest of reds. Her pink and black gown was an awful affair of gaudiness and cheap taste. Tatiana let a small laugh escape her throat, pretending to be unconcerned by the woman's presence.

The woman misread Tatiana's smile and returned one of her own. Tatiana guessed that this woman would have no problem sharing the handsome Count, so long as she was paid. Seeing the woman's bold green gaze moving over her body with a look akin to a dog salivating over food, she shivered. No, this woman would definitely have no problem with sharing the Count with her.

"I shall leave you and your lovely guest alone, my lord," Tatiana stated coolly. The wardrobe door shut with a decisive thud.

Tatiana jumped slightly in surprise. Marcello only made such loud noises when he was displeased. Usually, he walked with no more sound than a ghost through air.

"No," he commanded, his voice calm. He walked past her and Tatiana saw that he'd changed to a long jacket of black silk. It b.u.t.toned at his lean waist and flowed open around his breeches when he walked, bellowing out beautifully in the air. The lapels fell open over his white linen shirt and red waistcoat. He looked elegant. His voice lowered into the timbre that sent chills over her spine. "You will stay. My guest may have need of your services."

Oh, so that is how you want it, vampire!Tatiana thought, gritting her teeth. Affecting a calm her racing heart did not feel, she stated, "Very well, my lord, as you wish."

Marcello's eyes whipped around to her, searching and hard. Tatiana scratched the back of her head and yawned for good measure. She knew he had not expected her to react with such disinterest.

"Oh," the bra.s.sy redhead gasped, nearly trembling with excitement. Her round green eyes looked Tatiana over. The prost.i.tute giggled as if she was suddenly declared Queen of the underground crypts. "I should like some more wine, my lord."

Marcello let a smile curl the side of his mouth. His brooding expression stayed intact. His eyes looked almost bored as the turned to Tatiana. "You heard her,baldracca , go fetch my guest some wine."

"Bald'acc!" the prost.i.tute with a snorting laugh shouted. "What sort of name is Bald'acc?"

"Baldraccais what Marcello, sorry," Tatiana bowed her head piously, though her eyes stayed with the challenge of Marcello's gaze. "It's what my lord the Count calls all women. For we are allbaldracca to him, are we not, my lord?"

"Oh," the woman bit her lip again, confused. She eyed Marcello and then Tatiana. "What's it mean?"