“What did you just...?” Simone couldn’t finish verbally. She finished it in her thoughts, ‘call me?’
“There are many planes of reality. I happen to exist on one. Before our meeting, you existed on another. And rarely, will the twain meet.”
“Wait. What? Did you just say twain?”
“It means two.”
“Then why didn’t you just say that?”
“I don’t know. The way I speak is...innate. I do not mean to upset. For that, I apologize. I do. I am merely attempting an explanation. I should have done so earlier...but. Well. You do not understand! You are too perfect! And so—!”
He cut his words off. His glance flicked away, but came right back.
“I have beaten about the bush long enough. I will just admit it. I am a failure at self-control.”
He looked sheepish, which was as nonsensical as his words, but on him, sheepish was really cute. Simone’s reaction was much more visceral. Borderline illicit. The erect nipple problem had the addition of twitching through her thighs and a tingling sensation in her lower belly. She didn’t know how to assimilate it and act like it was nothing. She was speechless while he just reclined beside her. Then he looked down. Strands of blond hair curtained him.
“Forgive me. No matter what explanations I offer or when I offer them, it is too soon. At the same time...it is not soon enough. But...that is just an excuse. This is my fault. I take full blame.”
He lifted his head, met her gaze. Took a deep breath that lifted his chest. More of coverlet slid off him. Simone forced her gaze not to move, but controlling peripheral vision was a bust. She could tell now that he had a very nice tan. The side of his hip was lighter than the rest of him. So was the curve of his buttocks.
And the room was getting hot. She really needed a hair clip. There was a reason she usually wore her hair up. It was heavy. It itched. It was warm, and right now, that wasn’t remotely needed.
“If you are ready, I will continue.” he stated.
“With...what?” Her mind was conjuring all kinds of things they could continue. But she’d die before voicing any of them.
“You asked for answers to where you are. Who I am. And what is happening,” he answered.
“Oh. Yeah.” she finally replied. “I mean no. I mean yes.”
His brows rose higher at her indecision. Or maybe it was at the husky tone she used. She was losing her mind here.
“As I told you before, my name is Reynaldo. I am the fourteenth and last count of the Noble House of Moroseni.”
“Fourteenth?”
“It is an old title. Venice is an old city.”
“Um. Okay. But...you are not height-challenged. And you’re not dark,” Simone told him.
“Really?”
He punctuated the word with a swipe of his tawny mane off his face and onto his shoulder. It was a dramatic gesture and brought her attention right to his handsomeness. It would have been narcissistic except it didn’t look planned. Or studied. But what did she know? If she looked like him, she’d probably be so vain nobody could stand her.
His actions also caused the maroon and black covering at his hip to shift a fraction. Simone caught a breath. Then released it.
“I mean you don’t look Italian,” she informed him.
“I’m not. I am Venetian.”
Oh, crap. She’d forgotten Jacques words. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend,” Simone offered.
“You could never do that, sweet.”
Holy hell.
She did not mishear that endearment. Nor imagine the way his voice lowered as he said it. His eyes had even warmed. And if she failed to recognize all that, her heart didn’t have any trouble. It thudded non-rhythmically within her breast while she sought an answer.
“Venice was a trading empire,” he remarked, mystifyingly.
“Um...what?”
“My city. It was built on a powerful trade network.”
“Oh. Right. We were talking of Venice, weren’t we?”
“Only because I am explaining my antecedents.”
“You are?”
“And why I look as I do.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I really don’t need to know that. It was a stupid comment. I wasn’t thinking.”
And that was an even stupider comment. Her brain had been on shut-down mode since meeting him.
“It still deserves an answer. And this one happens to be easy. Venice traded principally with Constantinople. You’ve heard of the silk road?”
“Don’t you mean Istanbul?”
“Oh. Yes. That is what it is called now.”
Now?
The word was a clue to this experience. She needed to mentally assign meaning. Figure this out. But he spoke again, diverting her.
“The emperor employed Rus as bodyguards. They were known as the Varangian Guard.”
“You’re losing me,” Simone told him.
“Rus was one term for a Norseman.”
“Still lost,” she advised.
“Vikings.”
“Vikings what?”
“I am answering your query of why I am not short and dark.”
“Well, I’m not tracking,” Simone answered.
“One of my forebears was a Rus. Hence, my size. And coloring.”
“Oh. I get it. There was a Viking in your family tree.”
“Precisely!”
He grinned, exhibiting beautiful white teeth, except there were definite spikes where his canine teeth had been. And she saw them. His joviality died. His mouth shut. He looked down. Alarm bells should be going off in her head like crazy. Instead, she felt more like melting. Right against him.
“Oh, Simone! This is so difficult for me. How can I explain when I can barely grasp what has happened? I have no self-control! You are too beautiful. So desirous! I am beside myself with—! Accidenti! Curse my own tongue for this betrayal!”
Simone’s mouth opened. Shut. Any wits left to her went on complete hiatus. The physical responses throughout her body intensified, to a combination that pained. She’d never been this aroused. Stimulated. Needy. Liquid warmth turned her limbs to jelly, swelled her breasts to uncomfortable weight. Both nipples stabbed darts of tenderness into the covering. Her belly even flipped.
He didn’t notice any of it. He was hiding behind his curtain of hair and speaking to the bedding. And he was shaking. The coverlet slid incrementally with each tremor. The sight alone would have rendered her speechless. And he just kept speaking. His voice rose and fell dramatically, and some of the words were slurred.
“Oh, Simone. I am so very close to failing again. And powerless to stop any of it! While you...? Alas. You are French. And immune.”
Immune? Where in the heck was he looking? Was he blind?
“Reynaldo?”
“Si?”
“Mom was French. My dad was from Albany.”
“The States?”
“Yep. Reynaldo, look at me.”
“Forgive me, but I do not dare.”
He followed that declaration with a head shake. Blond hair trailed the motion. The cover fell. Only he rolled with it. Reynaldo had a very well-defined butt. That was no surprise. It matched the rest of him. His backside was a nice view. His shaking was rocking the bed. Simone released the cover and shimmied down to lie beside him. Looked up at his face. Sighed appreciatively again.
From any angle the guy was absolutely gorgeous.
“Simone. Please. This is...dangerous. I don’t think you understand how dangerous.”
“I’m…not immune,” she told him.
“Simone! Please. I cannot keep from you.”
“I think you’re doing a pretty good job right now.”
He tightened his hands to fists, turned his head away, and with spoke with a raw tone she couldn’t peg. “I am begging here!”
“How about...if I start things?”
Simone pulled a hand from beneath the covers and extended her index finger. Then she started moving it toward him. He turned back to her and now looked from her finger back to her eyes.
“If you touch me,” he paused for a long moment before finishing, “...all will be lost.”
Simone snorted. He should probably be on a stage with this level of melodrama. “All?” she queried.
“You will get bitten!”
“Really? By what?”
“Me!”
“You?”
“I am a vampire!”
He announced it as if it was true. Angrily. Loudly. Simone had been off on his earlier shaking. What he was doing now broke one of the bed posts. She watched it split. Heard the wood groan. And then the bed tilted, rolling her right into him. He responded with a lurch from her. Simone considered his backside some more. It was still a fantastic view. So. She’d seen his teeth. This declaration wasn’t really a surprise. And it fit the insane dream she was locked in.
Either that...or he was crazy.
Or maybe she was.
“Vampires don’t exist, Reynaldo,” she informed him.
He turned his head and snarled at her, lifting his upper lip.
And...wow!
He had an impressive set of fangs. They looked pretty realistic, too. And really sexy. A wave of desire washed over her, tsunami deep. Oceans wide. She writhed snakelike beside him. Her lips opened to gain air.
“Oh. Reynaldo. Wow. Just...wow. Those are impressive...um. Fangs. But vampires still don’t exist. They’re medically, chemically, and physically impossible.”
He pushed up, shoved his head back, and yelled. Long and loud. It was a really theatrical move. And pretty damned cool. Goosebumps erupted all over her while the sound echoed and re-echoed through the room. And then he turned his head, looked at her...
And pounced.