Eternally Bound Page 8

  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 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 breasts. 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 was cast in dancing shadows, next to the warmth of the fireplace. She hadn’t seen him from the bed for he was partly hidden by one of the large angels.

  “Cesare?” she asked, her voice coming out in a croak. She gripped the robe tightly against 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 handsome 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 had 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 a long dining table of dark mahogany wood. Past the curtains, there was a row of stone steps leading upward. 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, had well imagined.

  “Sì, I did feed,” he said without apology. Tatiana heard 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.

  “Sì,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.

  “I brought someone to help bind your powers so you will not feel so weak,” Marcello said. He gently lifted her off the floor. His tenderness surprised her.

  “A chef?” Tatiana asked, beyond laughing at the joke. Her eyes looked up, seeing his handsome face. Every time she saw him, he took her breath away, leaving her longing for the dark. At least at night, she could imagine him as the monster he was.

  A light moan came from her lips as he carried her effortlessly in his arms. Tatiana watched the fire contrasting his features. When he didn’t smile, which was often, his face looked stern and foreboding. He stared deeply into her eyes and stopped walking as if suddenly only hearing her words.

  “A chef?” he repeated. His eyes roamed her, and he smiled as if to himself.

  Tatiana gasped. His firm lips curled up. He looked breathtaking. She wanted to kiss him. His hands tightened on her hip and side as if he knew her reaction to him and was pleased by it.

  “You are hungry,” Marcello stated as if the thought had just occurred to him. “Why did you not say? I’d forgotten that about humans.”

  “What?” she asked, trying her best to remember that she hated him, but with his strong arms so securely wrapped around her, that was difficult to do. “You forgot you needed to feed your pets?”

  This caused him to frown. “You are not my pet, bella mia.”

  Tatiana snorted.

  “I’ve been preoccupied with other things. I would’ve been more prepared for your comfort, if you had not betrayed me with the boy,” Marcello muttered defensively under his breath, his voice hard and accusing.

  “I may be your slave, vampire, but I don’t belong to you.” She would’ve struggled, but she felt trapped by the steel grip of his arms. Suddenly, the silk of her robe was too thin. His fingers were clutching at it, digging into her. She felt the angry scrape of his nails, but they didn’t cause her to bleed.

  Marcello studied the aggravating woman in his arms. He could read her mind, knew she wanted him to release her. He couldn’t. Something inside of him made him hold onto her. It was the same force that made him mindlessly go to collect her when she thought to give herself to Thomas. He knew then, as he knew now, that he could’ve waited. He could’ve stolen her from the man whenever he was ready. But the mere idea of her lips and her body intimately pressed into the mortal’s drove Marcello mad with jealousy.

  Seeing her lips, drawn and parted, Marcello couldn’t resist. Her body was warm, sliding erotically beneath his fingertips. He’d been waiting to get her powers bound before touching her again. It had been an arduous carriage ride, with her so close, yet untouchable. Her curves called to him, beckoning him into carnal madness. He lowered his head, intent on sweeping up her mouth to his embrace.

  Tatiana moaned in surprise, her body jerking. His lips were soft, warm, as they brushed against her. Without thought, her fingers traveled over his strong neck, tangling in his hair. His mouth began to move. His lips parted to taste her.

  Before she understood what was happening, his fingers slid over the black silk of the robe. Her feet landed on the floor and his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into his chest. His kiss deepened. His fangs lightly brushed across her mouth as she opened herself naturally to the exploration of his tongue.

  Tatiana sighed. Marcello’s kiss was deep and familiar as if she’d felt it in another life. She didn’t think to protest when he held her tighter.

  Marcello pulled back to look at her. Her eyes were closed to him. He wished she would look at him when he kiss
ed her. He wanted her to see who it was she desired. “You don’t kiss me back, bella mia. Why?”

  Her eyes opened, but they were not the soft gaze he’d been hoping for.

  “I hate you, devil,” she said darkly. “I want nothing to do with you.”

  At her declaration, he let her go. Tatiana stumbled, sinking tiredly to the floor. Without having to speak, Marcello summoned Cesare. The man appeared, carrying a tray laden with food.

  Tatiana’s head lifted at the smell of roasted meat. She did not think to ask how Cesare had procured it. Cesare came forward and set the tray on the floor before her. Tatiana didn’t care about manners, didn’t care that she was about to eat off the floor like a mongrel dog. Marcello turned his back on her, walking to study the flames in the fireplace, as she grabbed the slab of meat with both hands, ignoring the utensils. She bit hungrily into it, driven by the primal need to survive.

  Cesare turned to leave them. Tatiana saw him move from the corner of her eye. She looked fully at the man’s slender frame. His servant livery of black breeches and a red waistcoat over a white linen shirt seemed to drape on him.

  “Cesare,” she mumbled over her stuffed mouth. At the sound of his name, the man stopped. He didn’t turn around. Tatiana wondered if it was Marcello’s will that made him stop, or if the man heard her and reacted. She tore a hunk of meat and bread. Struggling to her feet, she carried them to Cesare. “Here, eat.”

  The man didn’t move, did not even react as if he smelled the food being placed before his thin face. Tatiana took up his hand, trying to give it to him. The hand didn’t grasp, only fell to his sides. She tore a piece, sticking it into her own mouth before lifting a piece to the servitor’s lips. He didn’t bite.

  Turning to glare at Marcello’s back, she demanded, “Tell him he can eat, you monster.”

  Marcello turned to look at her, his expression blank. Her eyes dipped over his clothes, seeing them for the first time. The black breeches were of the highest quality, no doubt made by the finest tailors in all of Paris. She’d noticed that about him. He always dressed finely, wearing his clothes with an affected power and ease. His shirt was white, whiter than his pale skin, skin that almost looked healthy in the glow of firelight. A dark blue waistcoat clung to his waist and chest, buttoned and perfect. Tatiana was momentarily distracted by the fact he wore something other than red and black. For a man, he was well put together. His very presence indicated wealth.

  “Look at him. He’s nothing but bones.” Tatiana came to her senses. Her stomach clung to the food, drawing an instant strength from the nourishment. It shouldn’t have been so, but her body was recovering quickly, too quickly. She felt a power surging in her limbs, building like the day Thomas had kissed her. She somehow knew her eyes would be glowing brightly. She didn’t care. Her voice was hoarse, as she yelled, “You’re killing him.”

  Marcello looked leisurely down at his hands, seeming to study the long lengths of his nails. Tatiana wasn’t fooled. She knew he listened to her.

  “My lord,” she began in a stern warning.

  “Eat, Cesare,” Marcello stated lightly.

  Instantly, the servitor grasped the food from Tatiana’s hand. She watched him, satisfied as he bit into the meat. His teeth tore large bites, and he swallowed without stopping to savor.

  Tatiana saw Marcello’s dark eyes roaming over her robe. She needlessly clutched it to her chest. Glaring at him, she said, “I need a bath. I need a change of clot-ah!”

  Marcello was beside her in an instant, gripping her arms as he lifted her off the ground. Her feet dangled in the air, kicking lightly as they searched for a foothold where there was none. To her horror, he drew up until they were suspended far from the stone floor. If he dropped her, she would most certainly break her neck. Tatiana screamed, trying to grab Marcello. He held her away from him, letting her squirm.

  His eyes simmering with red, he growled, “Just because I let my servitor eat, doesn’t mean you can command me. You will bathe when I say. You will wear what I say. You will do and go and act how I tell you to. And, if you aggravate me, you will wear nothing at all but the skin on your back as I drag you through the slums of Paris. Capite?”

  “Yes,” Tatiana answered, losing all bravado. She searched his face in terror, and his red gaze seemed almost to soften. “I understand. I understand, Marcello. Please, bring us down.”

  Tatiana gasped in surprise when Marcello’s arms whipped tightly about her. She screamed as he whirled her in the air. Her arms worked their way around his neck, squeezing him tightly. The soft strands of his loose hair hit against her arms and shoulders. Her silk robe fell open, leaving the lower half of her body bare, as her legs wrapped around his waist. The apex of her thighs pressed intimately into his hips. Fearful, she squeezed him closely to her.

  Marcello felt a cold breeze whip past his skin as if they weren’t alone. He protectively grabbed Tatiana to his chest. Glancing around, he saw nothing unusual, but the sensation wouldn’t go away. Only Cesare was there with them, devouring his meal in silence, ignoring the floating couple above him.

  Marcello’s eyes went to her face as he felt her feminine heat on his shaft. He had already been half aroused just being near her. He was always half aroused when near her. His body lurched to full attention, craving freedom from the prison of clothes. Her cheek burrowed into his shoulder, and he felt the whispers of her panting breath on his neck. Her black hair spilled over her thin frame.

  “Please,” Tatiana begged. She refused to open her eyes. HIs body harden beneath hers, but she did not understand it. The stiff material of his breeches offered little protection to her sensitive flesh. She was too afraid of falling to let him go. “Please, my lord, please let us down. I said I understood you. I’ll behave.”

  Marcello forgot the sensation of cold as he slowly lowered her to the ground. With his mind, he ordered Cesare to draw them a bath. The servant stood, doing what he was commanded without complaint. Marcello allowed the man to eat as he walked from the room.

  Marcello’s feet touched the floor. They were near the large bed. His eyes looked longingly to it. Cesare came back, carrying a bathing tub on his back. He set it effortlessly on the floor next to the fire. Then, leaving once more, he went to get water to fill it.

  Tatiana didn’t realize they’d landed as she continued to cling to the solid mass of Marcello’s body. Her heart beat rapidly, racing her blood around in her veins at a dizzying speed. She was lightheaded from his nearness.

  Marcello let her hold herself to him, liking the feel of her soft body against his. His hands still wound around her, edging closer to her backside helping to hold her up. Then, swallowing, he affected a look of complete calm. “Not that I mind your attentions, bella mia, but if you would like to bathe soon, it would be best if I help Cesare prepare it.”

  Tatiana opened one eye to study him. Seeing the wall behind his shoulder, she relaxed. Her body slid off of his, and she became all too aware of his nearness. Instantly, she pushed away from him, rushing around the side of the bed to put distance between them.

  “You flew,” she whispered, accusingly. Tatiana tried to tell herself that she trembled out of fear. But, as Marcello turned from her, her gaze strayed to his firm backside, mesmerized by the way his body moved.

  Marcello said nothing as he whisked gracefully from her presence. Soon he and Cesare were back, hauling large buckets of hot water. She watched them from the side of the bed, refusing to move as they worked and before long steam curled from the full bath. Cesare moved to leave. Marcello followed him to the door.

  To Tatiana’s dismay, Marcello shut the door, staying in the room with her. When he turned, his eyes glittered with silver, and she could tell that the vampire had a specific purpose in staying.

  “Tu sei bellissima, Tatiana,” he murmured, looking boldly over her. A slow smile came to his brooding features. “Remove your robe.”

  Tatiana gripped it tighter, backing away. Her round eyes narrowed as she fu
riously shook her head in denial.

  “Need I remind you that you are mine? You have given your word to obey me.” He frowned. She felt his anger. “Now, remove your robe.”

  “Turn around,” Tatiana whispered, fearful, unsure she wanted to see his reaction to her naked body.

  Marcello began to laugh. “Bella mia, I have seen you, all of you. I have tasted you, felt you. I have been inside you. What do you think to hide from me now?”

  “You lie,” she stated, mortified.

  “You don’t remember?”

  Tatiana got the impression that he was hurt, perhaps even amazed. Then, shaking her head, she knew better. This lifeless, emotionless creature before her didn’t have a heart to hurt. He only thrived off fear and pain. He was a demon.

  “You don’t remember inviting me to conquer your silken depths? Don’t you remember how you begged for me? How hot and wet you were for me?” Marcello asked. His words were low, almost a whisper, but she heard them perfectly. “Do you not remember how you begged for me to drink of your blood?”

  “You lie,” she repeated, incapable of saying anything else.

  “Bella,” he scolded, not looking offended. “I am wounded.”

  “You don’t have the feelings to be wounded.”

  Her defiance made him laugh. Marcello looked to the fire in contemplation. When he seemed to arrive at a decision, he turned back to her.

  “Perhaps, too much was blocked from you about our time together,” Marcello mused. His jaw lowered. “Perchance, it’s time I gave you the memory of it back.”

  Tatiana pressed her lips together, trying not to cry. She shook her head. “No, I want nothing from you except my freedom. Please, my lord, let me go home. Let Cesare and I go. You don’t need us.”

  “You are home, Tatiana. The sooner you realize it, the better it will be for you,” Marcello said. His dark look screamed at her though his rough voice was deadly in its calm. “You are mine now.”