Tribes Of The Vampire - Eternally Bound Part 28

"Two," Tatiana whispered, faintly. She looked from one man to the other. They were a perfect match, down to the squareness of their jaws to the shape of their handsome, deep set eyes. Even their arms looked to be the exact same build. The only difference was their expression. The half naked Marcello's eyes gleamed with great humor and mischief. The other Marcello was brooding and raw.

Looking at the newest Marcello, she asked, "Marcello? What is going on...?"

"So you do know me," Marcello murmured, his expression growing darker. "You weren't tricked into my brother's bed, but went willingly. Tell me,baldracca , did he have to pay for you to spread your legs or did you just do it to spite me?"

Tatiana's mouth fell open. She noticed that they both stared at her, never once looking at each other. There was no affection shown between them, no kind greeting. These two were enemies. Weakly, she repeated, "Two?"

The half naked brother began to laugh. He was enjoying himself. "I found your little witch out roaming the streets. I smelled your mark on her, brother, and I merely thought to keep her safe for you. You must admit, she's hard to refuse, once she offers her body so ... pa.s.sionately."

"I thank you for returning my property, Leandro," Marcello stated with darkness to his hard tone. Tatiana felt as if he'd slapped her. She felt so low, so pathetic. Her heart squeezed. Her lips shook. He practically snarled at her, as he commanded, "Come,bella ."

"Bella donna," Leandro said, his eyes alight with a wayward charm. "Thank you for the immense pleasure of your taste."

Tatiana cringed as Leandro licked his lips in meaning. Her hand automatically lifted to her neck, feeling the warm stickiness of her blood. Leandro bowed low before her. His dark eyes flashed with a peculiar blend of red, reflecting her stolen blood back to her. Tatiana flinched.

Marcello said nothing, but finally moved to glance at his brother with disdain. Leandro smiled at him and Tatiana had a feeling there was more to their feud than her presence in Leandro's bed. Whatever it was, she did not want to be in the middle of it.

"Please," Tatiana said softly, breaking the tension building between their eyes. "Can I have my clothes?"

Marcello tensed. His jaw hardened. Leandro smiled, an absolutely charming smile, which Tatiana felt herself oddly drawn to.

"But of course,bella donna ," Leandro murmured. His tone was deep and seductive. She flinched wishing his words hadn't sounded so intimate.

Leandro leapt lightly into the air, flying across the small room with slow ease to land next to her. She gasped, pulling back.

Marcello just watched, saying nothing.

"But first," Leandro said. He bit his finger and wiped his blood over the wound on her neck so it would heal. "I wouldn't want you to bleed to death. It would be a pity to lose one such as you."

Tatiana shivered, knowing there was more to that statement than Leandro let on. She turned her face from him, not wanting to see him so close. It was eerie how much he looked like his twin. She should've known it wasn't Marcello. He didn't feel like Marcello did to her.

"Ah, thanks," she stammered. Then, hesitantly, she asked, "It was you I saw kissing that woman at the music hall, wasn't it?"

Leandro bowed, nodding his head in confirmation. He crossed over to a small dresser hidden by a dark corner. Her dress lay on top, neatly folded. He handed the pile to her, undergarments and all, and smiled. Tatiana took them, backing away.

She watched Leandro and Marcello wearily. Going from dark, brooding eyes to merry brown ones and back again, she shivered and demanded, "Turn around."

Leandro laughed happily. Marcello snarled. It was Marcello who answered.

"Why does it matter, Tatiana? We have both seen you. We have both tasted your charms."

Tatiana flinched. She didn't think it was possible for Marcello to make her feel more like a wh.o.r.e than she already did, but he had. She sunk to an even deeper low. Pressing her lips tightly together, she lifted her chin and dropped the blanket, standing completely naked. Moisture welled in her eyes, but she was too proud to let it fall. She dressed quickly with both of them watching her every movement. Once she was in the chemise and covered, it was easier to move. She slipped the dress over her head, forgetting the corset and hose. Then, as she reached to lace her gown in back, Leandro whisked forward to help.

"Allow me," he murmured. His eyes danced with pleasure, but she was too tired to stop him.

When she was laced, she turned to Marcello. He'd turned to the door and was staring at the wood as if he could break it with his will. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, but he didn't speak.

Leandro picked up her hand and drew it to his lips before she could protest. But, instead of kissing it, he turned her wrist to his mouth and licked the pulse lightly. In a whisper, he said, "We shall meet again."

"That will not be necessary, Leandro," Marcello stated in a dark whisper. "We are leaving Paris. Your services will not be required. There is no reason for you to try and protect my property."

"You can't leave Paris, brother," Leandro said. "An old friend comes to visit. I expect you'll entertain us. He is so looking forward to see you again."

Tatiana saw Marcello tense. She got the feeling they spoke privately with their minds so she wouldn't hear them. She didn't care at the moment. All she wanted was to get out of the small, dingy room and away from both of them.

"Very well," Marcello stated at last. His voice full of authority, he stated, "Come, Tatiana."

Leandro didn't move out of her way. A slow, seductive smile curled on one side of his firm mouth. His eyes dipped down to the floor and he bowed his head to her in farewell.

Tatiana shivered, pushing past him. Marcello was already out the door and she had to run to catch up to him. She rushed through the dim hall of the boarding house, followed by the eerie sound of Leandro's mocking laughter.

Marcello paced the length of his dining room. The fire blazed angrily, feeding off his emotions as he pa.s.sed it. He motioned his hand absently to tame it down to a gentle roar. Tatiana was in his bedchamber, taking a bath. In fact, he insisted upon her taking one.

His brother's scent was all over her, though in truth, he couldn't tell if Leandro had f.u.c.ked her, or if he merely touched her.

But, remembering the position he'd found the two in, it wasn't hard to deduce that Leandro had. Marcello hated Leandro for it, but he couldn't blame him. Tatiana was too much of a temptress to resist and her strong witch blood was like a drug to his kind. He himself couldn't get enough of it or her.

When he discovered Tatiana missing, he'd been terrified. He'd run up into the alleyway, had tried to detect her within the nearby streets, but she'd vanished. Then, as dawn had come, he'd been forced to find his bed. It had been the longest day of his life and sleep did not come to him easily.

His eyes narrowed as he stared into the fire. His fingers lifted, gripping into the hard stone of the mantel. What was happening to him? What was she doing to him? He was losing his mind. The woman was absolutely driving him mad!

His ears detected the sound of Tatiana standing from the bath. He tensed, easily imagining droplets of water, shining gold from the firelight, clinging to her flesh. How he longed to lick the moisture from her hard nipples, to touch her body with his, letting it glide against him.

Before he knew what he did, he was across the dining room and pushing open the bedchamber door. He gulped, finding Tatiana drying herself off with a bath linen. A low growl came from his throat. His body was starved for her.

Tatiana blinked at the sound, instantly moving away from him. Marcello was sorry for her fear, but did not know how to alleviate it. He'd lived a century and had learned many things, but it would seem he'd forgotten some things as well. He'd forgotten how to comfort with words and acts. He'd forgotten what it was like to be looked at in happiness and pleasure, pure emotions that weren't induced by his enthrallment over his victim.

They could be happy together, he knew they could be. It's why he took her from her home. He wanted her to be with him. He wanted her happiness, her pleasure in his company. But, he couldn't force something that wasn't there.

The well of loneliness opened inside his chest. It poured out over him stronger than ever before, causing him to snarl viciously at her. She flinched and he could smell her fear of him. He hated that fear. All he wanted was for her to love him, and she didn't even like him.

He'd tried to force her to love him, tried to manipulate her into it. Nothing he'd done had worked. He'd bought her the best gowns in all of Paris--beautiful, expensive gowns made by the most exclusive of seamstresses. He'd bought her the jeweled necklace and in fact had many more for her, but was reluctant to give them over for fear she'd take them as payment for the services of her flesh. He wanted her to be with him willingly.

Marcello had redecorated his catacomb home for her, hoping she would find pleasure within the walls. It was his dream that she could forget the demon he'd become, forget that she lived her life with him below the streets in a large tomb--forget that he was undead, cursed.

Marcello had seen to everything as he waited to claim her. He'd even tried to give her a gift--the gift of a life of adventure that he could detect her longing for since the first moment he saw her with Henry in the forest. He'd taken her to the Moulin Rouge, showed her another world and longed to show her many more. If she loved him, he would give her anything-- everything. If she could only love him, he would die for her, risk the flame of sunlight if she so desired. But she couldn't love him. She couldn't love a demon. And, try as he might, he couldn't blame her for it.

Marcello's lips parted, showing the tips of his fangs. Her eyes drew to them and rounded.

"Are you going to punish me?" she asked weakly.

As you punish me, bella mia?he thought sadly.

Marcello turned his back on her to face the fire, so she could get dressed. His body was rigid. He didn't trust himself to speak.

The scent of her was in his head, tormenting him. He wanted her even now, despite the fact that she'd slept with his brother.

Tatiana eyed the Count's stiff back. She didn't need the power of her ancestry to detect the anger in him, the disappointment, the raging beast that flowed beneath the surface. She slowly edged to pa.s.s near him. He'd left the door open and she did the only thing she could think of, she ran.

Tatiana didn't know where she was going, or what she would do wrapped only in a linen, dripping with water. All she knew was she needed to get away from Marcello. She didn't recall her night with Leandro, but it didn't mean nothing happened.

She'd seen the way Leandro looked at her. It was possible they'd slept together. But, she also knew, that if the choice had been hers to make, she wouldn't have. She couldn't even fathom sleeping with anyone but Marcello.