Tribes Of The Vampire - Eternally Bound Part 9

He wasn't a vampire used to denying himself or his pa.s.sions.

Inside the carriage, Tatiana heard the roar of the beast. She had no doubt that the Count spoke the truth. Gulping, she huddled on the floor, wrapping her arms around her legs in the black tomb of the carriage. Supported by the seat, her head rolled back, weak, feeling completely drained. Refusing to cry, Tatiana sat, having no choice but to obey her new master.

Chapter Five.

Paris, France

Tatiana was too tired to pull back the curtain to the carriage window and look outside. She stretched her legs out on the seat as she lay motionless. Darkness surrounded her, always surrounded her until she grew used to the blindness. Marcello sat across from her, silent and unmoving. He was always silent and unmoving, but she could always feel him as if he was next to her. And she hated him.

Marcello barely talked to her, except to give her commands. She obeyed in silence. Going to where he told her to, sleeping where he told her to sleep, which was always next to him. They spent the days in catacombs and graveyards, inside mausoleums and coffins. She would find herself pressed close to him, her back to his back as they slept. He didn't touch her in pa.s.sion again.

Tatiana didn't know how many nights had pa.s.sed since he locked her in the carriage. When he came back, his face had calmed, the demon had faded from his eyes. She'd seen him briefly in the moonlight as he stepped into the carriage with her. His lips had seemed almost crimson. She imagined it to be blood.

Tatiana heard the carriage wheels rolling over the unevenly paved roads. The steady clopping of the horses' hooves beat in a lulling rhythm. She'd always heard stories of Paris and the dreadfulness of their uncouth Bohemian movement, but at the moment she didn't care to see it. France had looked much like England to her. She would've been disappointed if she wasn't so hungry and tired.

Outside the carriage, Tatiana vaguely heard the calling of foreign tongues, not understanding any but the most basic of French phrases. The sound made her feel even more isolated and alone. It was in the middle of the night, but the large city didn't sleep. Music from seedy music halls drifted over them in uneven waves, faint and distant.

Suddenly, an eerie glow invaded the dark tomb of the carriage. A thin trail of gold streamed in from outside, caressing Marcello's face as he looked out to the city. His jaw was stiff. His eyes were hard. Tatiana gasped, amazed each time she saw him, to see how beautiful he was.

At the light sound, Marcello's eyes turned to look at her. He didn't lower his hand, letting the light remain on him. Their gazes locked, held.

"Come,bella mia , come and see your new home," Marcello said quietly, motioning his head to the window. The long strands of his wavy brown hair spilled freely over his shoulders. His dark brown eyes called to her, flickering with depths of green.

Tatiana had come to realize that his eyes turned in such a way only when he tried to read her thoughts or control them.

Tatiana blinked, her body too tired to move from her spot. Her stomach had long since stopped twitching in hunger and now sat hollow and small beneath her ribs. Her fingers moved ever so lightly, as if to obey him. Then, as the carriage b.u.mped over a rough patch of road, she began to roll. Her eyes took in the carriage floor coming hard toward her face before a bright, consuming light flashed.

Tatiana gasped, sitting up. Her body was no longer weak. She felt young, carefree. The sun was warm on her face, the air sweetened with the perfume of flower. Birds and insects chirped happily all around her. Her eyes squinted in the bright light, looking about. She was home.

Hearing a faint giggle, she turned. Behind her, dancing like a wood sprite, was Alice. Tatiana froze. She remembered this day and suddenly knew that she was dreaming again. Alice stopped and smiled at her. They were alone, at a picnic, hiding from Henry and his boisterous friends, who had taken over Eastwich Manor for the weekend.

Tatiana couldn't move. Seeing Alice, she could no longer feel young and happy. Her skin chilled, even though the sun still shone full upon them. Alice stepped near, holding out a garland of plaited flowers for her. Tatiana stiffened, shivering now as the maid knelt before her.

Alice's blonde ringlets stirred in the breeze. Her bright blue eyes lost their natural gaiety. Suddenly, the woman frowned. She lifted the flowers as if to put them over Tatiana's shoulders. A petal touched Tatiana's cheek and dissolved into nothingness.

The sky became dark, stormy. Alice's hands fell to her lap and her features began to pale and gray. The maid's mouth opened to speak. Words sounded, fast and high, garbled as if the maid spoke in tongues. Alice cried, screaming so loud it shook them both, as her blue eyes filled with red. Her face caved in as if it struck by invisible blows.

Tatiana couldn't understand what Alice tried to tell her. She pulled back from her, scared. She jolted to her feet, turning to run. Her body was like lead. As she spun, she was no longer in the field but in the forest, standing in the doorway of the abandoned cottage. She got a glimpse of Alice's pale corpse and heard a voice whispering.

"Che macello, bella mia.What a mess."

"No!" Tatiana screamed.

Again her body jolted. Tatiana's eyes blinked. Overhead she saw dark gray stones, flickering with the orange glow of firelight.

Wondering if she was again in another dream vision, she laid perfectly still.

Her body was surrounded by softness, comforting and cool. She had the odd sense of being safe, protected. There was a familiar comfort to her surroundings, to the look of stone, to the soft, enveloping feel beneath her. She was happy to be out of the bouncing carriage. Her arm moved slightly and she felt the coolness of silk along her skin. A calm sigh left her lips and she was contented.

When several minutes pa.s.sed and nothing around her changed, she slowly pushed herself up. She was on a large, rectangular bed. The sheets were a blood red silk, the coverlet a thicker black. Many decorative pillows, some with embroidery, some with yellow fringe, covered a good portion of the top. Everything was rich, elegant, and instinctively she knew it was very Marcello.

Gothic sconces were attached to the wall. Large, matching candelabras stood freely about the room. Long tapering white candles were in them, unlit, but with bits of dried wax curling over their sides. Nowhere did she see gas lamps or other devices of modern convenience.

The firelight came from a giant square fireplace in the wall. It was carved from the stone and large enough to stand five of her shoulder to shoulder and still have room for more. Two large, black angel sculptures graced each side of it. Their wings pointed up and they seemed to be weeping, as they reached down toward some unknown point on the smooth stone floor.

Tatiana shivered. The statues gave her the chills, reminding her of elaborate gravestones. She would know. She'd seen her share of gravestones over the last several nights.

The room was calm, isolated. The stone walls were very plain with a castellated feel to the arches along the ceiling. Aside from the crackling fire, the room was silent. Tatiana could feel an un-stirring peace. She'd felt the same mysterious calmness in the graveyards.

A long, cushioned rug of elaborate gold and red patterns graced the floor before the fire. A large wardrobe of dark wood sat along the wall. It was carved and bespoke of elegance, more so than any she had ever seen before.

Curious, her feet slid over the side of the bed. Her limbs wobbled as she stood, reminding her that she'd not eaten a decent meal in days. Feeling the continued whispers of silk along her legs, she glanced down.

Tatiana gasped, instantly looking around for a mirror. Seeing an oversized mirror within a gilded frame beside the wardrobe, she hastened forward. The pale, thin creature that stared back at her was a stranger. Her cheeks were sunken ever so slightly in her face, making her jade eyes appear wider than usual. Turning her head, she looked at her neck. It was unharmed, thin but unharmed.

Then, in horror, Tatiana realized she was naked beneath a long black robe. The silk was belted at her stomach, tied into a delicately hanging bow. Lapels of red, slashed down from her neck, adding a splash of color to the dark, and showing an indecent hint of flesh in between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She shivered. The black made her appear all the more deathlike. Then, turning to the bed, she realized that she was dressed the same as all of Marcello's belongings. The carriage, his clothes, and now his bed--they all bore the colors of blood and midnight. The knowledge left her speechless.

Tatiana turned back to the mirror, eyeing her long waving black hair. It needed to be washed and combed. Her hand lifted as if to touch her reflection, when suddenly, she stopped.

Catching the image of Cesare sitting quietly in a chair, watching her--or more correctly, watching through her--Tatiana gasped and turned to him. The young man sat in a chair, hidden by shadows, next to the warmth of the fireplace. She hadn't seen him from the bed for his body was partly hidden by one of the large angels.

"Cesare?" she asked, her voice coming out in a croak. She gripped the robe tightly before her chest, hiding her body from him.

The servitor didn't move, only blinked his slow lids over his white-glazed eyes.

Tatiana glanced around the bedroom, before crossing over to the man. She'd never been left alone with him before and had only caught glimpses of him as they climbed in and out of the carriage. Taking her hand, she waved it before his face. He didn't move, not even to flinch

"Cesare? Can you hear me?" she asked weakly, snapping her fingers. Boldly, she touched his cheek. His skin was warm, human. He didn't move. Tatiana fell to her knees. She couldn't remain standing. Her limbs were too weak. Keeping her eyes on the servitor, she whispered, "Why does he keep us? What does he want with us? What will he do to us?"

As the pretty man didn't answer, only continued to sit, breathing softly, Tatiana knew she was jealous of him. Wherever he was, it had to be much better than the reality they lived in. Wearily, her head drooped forward, pressing into Cesare's bony knee.

"It would appear that I'm not the only one the Count is starving," she whispered, eyeing his thin calves in her line of vision. To her surprise, she felt his hand lift. He stroked her black locks as if she were a kitten. It was the first touch of kindness she had received since Thomas tried to kiss her. She held very still, soaking the contact in. Tears came to her tired eyes. She wanted to weep, but she was too tired for even that.

Just as abruptly, the stroking stopped. Cesare's knee shifted. Tatiana fell back, reluctant to let him go, but too frail to protest.

Her head fell forward to rest on the seat, still warm from his body.

"Cesare?" she asked, biting her lip to keep from crying out. She wanted him back, listless or not. He was a stranger and yet she felt as if he were her only friend. "Please...."

The servitor didn't stop, didn't look at her. She watched as he lethargically walked to the thick oak door in the stone and pulled it open. His arms hung at his sides, his fingers relaxed. She caught a glimpse of another long room with floor to ceiling red curtains and long dining table of dark mahogany wood. Past the curtains, there was a row of stone steps leading up. Cesare shut the door behind him.

A chill swept Tatiana's body and she knew why Cesare had left her. Their master had come home. She wondered if Marcello left the servitor to guard her.

"No,bella mia ," came the Count's voice. "I left him to watch over you while I was out."

Tatiana shivered. She knew better than to ask what he'd been out doing. She could well imagine--hadwell imagined.

"S, I did feed," he said without apology. Tatiana could hear him moving behind her, but was too weak to move. "But, I also went to get you help."

"Help?" Tatiana whispered, wondering what he was talking about.

"S,bella mia," came a familiar whisper next to her ear.

Tatiana didn't know he'd come so close. She felt his warm breath on her skin. Her eyes drifted closed, almost dreamily. She didn't know how long she rested with him near.