Merda!
He couldn’t do any better than this?
Reynaldo pressed his lips together, slicing his inner lip with canines that hadn’t obeyed. He’d made a grave mistake. He didn’t need the alarmed expression on her face for proof. And he couldn’t explain. The exhilaration was too vast. Completely incomparable. Utterly unbelievable. He couldn’t begin to describe what was happening.
She was his mate!
The one.
The ONLY.
Realization hit him the moment the sun had set. Reynaldo was instantly aware that VAL had not only located his mate, she was actually here. But he’d been a fool. He should have waited. Worked through the rampant emotions. Smashed down every reaction. And been a lot less cocksure of everything.
Accidenti!
Damning everything didn’t help. Nothing did. He’d done everything without thought. He’d risen. Tossed on clothing. Raced the halls. Spent a moment or two feigning a calm demeanor while mentally assembling a pose. Assumed both. And then things had started unraveling.
The trouble was self-control. How could he practice such a thing when he didn’t even understand it? He was a Venetian nobleman; born into a life of luxury and privilege. His every whim was granted. Emotional outbursts were his nature, usually accompanied by loud commentary, effusive gestures, and volatile movements. Vampirism hadn’t changed him. If anything the passing centuries simply honed the pleasure-seeking facet of his personality. What Reynaldo wanted, he took. And he hadn’t wasted a moment of thought on it.
Yet, now...with the key to everything wondrous standing right before him, he was learning a horrid lesson. The demand for instant gratification was nigh impossible to contain and control. He was riddled with craving. Beset with need. Aflame with hunger. And somehow he had to hold all of that back?
How?
His cells had not only regenerated, they’d become fire...and she was fuel. He’d never come up against anything like this. Being with her was dangerous, standing this close was calamitous. They might as well be connected with an electrified wire.
His failure had actually started the moment he’d seen her. Reynaldo nearly burst into song, at a volume loud enough to break glass. And that was before she’d turned around! His knees had sagged. He’d locked them against the stagger. He’d never experienced the sensations flooding him...or if he had, it was long forgotten. Being near his mate was exhilarating. Intense. Incredibly stirring.
Blasts of heat shot through him, sent with firework-efficiency. His heart took direct hits; his newly restored ability to breathe was in the firing line as well. He’d discovered its dark side last night. Now, he discovered its real power.
And his cazzo?
Porca vacca!
Thrills sent vibrations right to his cock, hardening and enlarging it against the woolen slacks. He should have donned leather trousers. They would have constricted and shielded a response he failed to hold back. Not that his mate ever looked down. When she wasn’t shifting her glance to anything but him, she was affixed to his gaze.
And those times were absolutely incendiary.
He’d been told about this mating thing, but it hadn’t been enough. Somebody should have mentioned the test of strength necessary, warned of a craving that demanded succor, and informed him that he’d still fall short. His cazzo would not cease pulsing against the wool, while his fangs had elongated to piercing sharpness.
Damn everything.
He resembled a beast on the hunt, while she clearly fit the part of small fawn, trembling with indecision. He didn’t just sense wariness. Her wide eyes gave him verification. He didn’t dare do anything to startle her further.
He’d been such a coglione, too.
Only a moron would call Miss Simone Ryan plain. The woman was stunning. She had wide-set, heavily-lashed eyes of an olive-green shade. Gazing into them was mesmeric. He hadn’t even tried to resist. Her skin was pure and pristine, marred only with a dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Those were no flaw. They only drew his attention to her rose-shaded lips. Sumptuous. Ripe. Perfect for a kiss...
He’d had to fight the urge to do just that every time he looked at her mouth. He’d still done it. Hiding the resultant groans had been the only success.
Her hair had been covered last eve. He could guess why. Not only was it an eye-catching sable-brown color, but it reached her waist. She’d have had trouble playing her musical instrument.
Ah...
His mate had beauteous features, but there was still more.
Simone was a curvaceous female. In her current attire, it was impossible to avoid noticing. The tight skirt barely contained her rounded buttocks, while her buttoned cardigan hugged two nice-sized—
Merda!
His mind stalled in shock. Mentally describing Simone went beyond stupidity. It yanked any semblance of control right out of his hands. Every restraint he’d put into place ruptured, sending an onslaught of craving so vast, he wasn’t just fearful.
He was terrified.
And then one of his servants spoke up from the darkness behind him, saving him.
“My lord? If I could interrupt?”
Reynaldo caught the reaction as he whipped around. His muscles clenched involuntarily, but somehow - for once - he swallowed the urge to shout.
“Jacques?” His reply was hoarse, but calm. It felt like a major victory.
“Oui,” the servant answered.
“Are the rooms prepared?”
“Oui,” the servant replied again.
Reynaldo considered things for a moment. Made his decision. “Before you leave, would you escort my guest?”
“Of course. I’ll await her in the hall.”
“Um. Excuse me?”
Her voice rang out, superseding the sound of Jacques’ retreating steps. She sounded irritated. Reynaldo turned back to her. Caught the oath. She’d stepped a significant amount away from him. The space was a boon and irritation, helpful, yet frustrating at the same time. She just stood there, looking up at him with the same wariness, but now there was an edge of suspicion attached.
“What is it?” he asked, making his best effort at a gentle tone.
“Where? Exactly. Is Jacques going to escort me?”
“I have had a chamber prepared for your use.”
“My use?”
“It was a lengthy drive. Surely you would like to freshen up. Accept a repast. Perhaps...change.”
He’d tried to speak without much inflection. It didn’t work. If anything, she looked more skeptical.
“Why would I do any of that?”
”So you can play your instrument.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “My cello?” she finally asked.
“Yes.”
“You want me to play the cello?”
“Yes,” he answered again.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you were invited to do so.”
“I was?”
“If I am not mistaken, you are holding the invitation as we speak,” he told her.
She lifted her hand and looked at the envelope she clutched as if seeing it for the first time. The distress and confusion on her face sent an immediate and completely foreign reaction his direction. A hefty mass filled his chest, shoving against his heart. His gut got slammed by an iron fist. The red cravat about his throat tightened to choking level. Reynaldo put a forefinger beneath it for breathing room. Swallowed hard. From across the span between them he heard her echoing swallow.
This made no sense.
He’d wanted her here. He hadn’t cared how it was accomplished. While he’d never seen Akron’s mesmeric abilities, nor had he witnessed the aftermath, it had never been an issue. He hadn’t cared. Except...now that those abilities had been used on his mate, Reynaldo felt a flash of anger. Followed by a bellyful of fury.
It wasn’t directed at Akron, either.
It was targeted at himself.
“Oh.”
Her reply was barely above a whisper. Reynaldo snarled. Clenched every muscle in his body. Gritted his teeth, slicing open another wound inside his mouth. He was forced to lift his chin and stare up at the Veronese, swallowing any trace of blood while a pink wash of color glazed his vision. He regarded the painting for uncountable moments, until the emotion subsided and the view went back to normal. And then he looked back down.
She’d opened the envelope in the interim, apparently read the invitation. The contents seemed to mollify. But what did he know? He’d thought himself a master at amour. A romantic man of refinement and taste and charm. Able to entice any being he wished with little more than a sidelong glance. His abilities were legendary. But right now, he might as well be a novice.
This mating thing was certainly a rude awakening.
“I guess...I shall see you in your music room, Count, um...Mor-sennie?”
She mispronounced it. He didn’t care. At her words, a swell of light hit him, sending him several centimeters up from the tiled floor. He immediately dropped back, but she hadn’t noticed. She still scanned the paper, then spoke again, all without looking up. And Nigel’s words were magical. Whatever the kid had written dispelled any hint of misgiving. Simone looked young. Wholesome. And...dare he hope it?
She looked eager.
“Shall we meet in say...one hour?”
An hour?
One hour was eternity! But before he could utter a word of disagreement, she glanced up. Smiled shyly. And stole his heart.
Reynaldo didn’t recall the next moments. His entire being was soaring while he somehow managed to keep both feet on terra firma. But he must have agreed, for she turned and strode toward where Jacques awaited.
And she didn’t once look back.