Tribes Of The Vampire - Eternally Bound Part 18

Tatiana gasped and tried to slap him. He let her, not even moving to stop her, though she knew he could have. Her palm landed flat across his pale cheek. He smiled an interested smile as his eyes turned almost dreamily over her. He was enjoying himself.

"You're demented," she said, drawing back. She thought to see a glistening of pain filter through his dark gaze at her words. In an instant, it was gone.

"We are above that life of humans,bella mia ." As Marcello said the words, his fangs poked with meaning from behind his lips and his eyes filled in almost to a complete black, letting her see a hint of the beast inside him. The demon was in his voice, as he said, "We don't live by their rules. And we are not enc.u.mbered by their restraints."

"You don't live by their rules, my lord," Tatiana corrected. "I am still human."

"No,bella , you are a witch--my witch." Marcello's hand lifted to hover near the top of her head, only to keep distance as it followed the line of her waving hair. His ruby ring glinted in the firelight. "You belong to me."

Tatiana swallowed and her eyes filled with tears. She didn't want to be a witch. She didn't want to be his slave. But, even as she told herself that it was true, she knew it wasn't. She did want to be with him--at any cost, even that of her soul. She was attracted to him, drawn to him, fascinated and terrified by him. He was the only man who had ever made her blood race and her heart pound with excitement and fear. He was the only man who had ever made her feel--really feel.

His eyes softened by a small degree and his hand moved to rest on her shoulder. His touch was warm and she knew he'd just fed before coming back to the catacombs. She could feel him trying to search her thoughts. She concentrated on keeping her mind blank. Marcello frowned and turned his back on her.

The Count pulled a pocket watch out of his waistcoat. The silver china gleamed in the firelight. His long hair spilled handsomely over his shoulders as he looked down at it. Quietly, he said, "Either you wear the dress or that robe. It makes no difference to me. Either way, we leave in five minutes."

Tatiana gasped. She hastened to the bed, having no doubt that Marcello would parade her around all of Paris in her robe just to make his point. Keeping her robe over her shoulders to hide her body as she dressed, she slid on the stockings. They were of the finest silk, so light and airy. She s.h.i.+vered to feel them on her skin. It seemed like an eternity since she had a dress of any kind. Then, doing her best to stay hidden, she slid on her chemise beneath the robe, working it on with much difficulty. It too was beautiful and fine, with lace trim around the hem. She knew Marcello paid dearly for them. She wondered in half fear, half excitement, what he would want from her in return.

"Senza complimenti. This modesty will never do,tesoro mio ." Marcello's husky whisper came from directly behind her back.

Tatiana's arms were trapped beneath the chemise and she couldn't stop him as he pulled the robe from her shoulders. As the silk pooled around her feet, his fingers found hold on her hips and began to ma.s.sage her through the thin material of the chemise in small circles.

Marcello's nose rubbed against the back of her ear. Tatiana s.h.i.+vered and began to pant. She knew it was wrong, but she wanted him desperately. His delightfully bold fingers did not falter as they slid up to the empire waist of her chemise to cup her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in his palms. At the same moment, he sucked an earlobe between his teeth.

"I thought we had to leave," she panted, breathless. Her eyes closed dreamily. She fell back into his solid chest. The memory of what he felt like was strong within her and she wanted to turn to him and touch him. She wanted to kiss him, could almost taste him on her watering mouth.

Marcello's hands slid down over her waist and found hold on her hips. The longer length of his nails sc.r.a.ped over her lightly.

He chuckled along her neck, taking his kisses to her throat and shoulder. The dark sound sent chills over her skin.

"Padronissimo."

"Speak English," she commanded him. "I can never understand you."

"I said, as you like," he murmured, letting her go.

Tatiana nearly fell to the floor as his strength left her. Her body hated her as she forced it to finish getting dressed. She was hot for him, aching. She threaded her trapped arms out of the chemise to free them. There had been something pleasurable about having him kiss her as she was trapped. Her limbs shook because she knew he watched her. She kept her back to him as she fastened the corset over her waist and slid the deep red gown over her head. The dress fit tightly over her body. The sleeves were mere slips of material capping her shoulder. The back dipped slightly and the front bodice was cut daringly low.

She felt Marcello's hands on her back, pulling the crossed laces tight. With a light command he told her to lift her hair. As soon as he finished lacing her gown, he draped a necklace of rubies and diamonds over her throat. Slowly, she dropped her hands to her narrowed waist. The corset pushed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s up to full advantage and the necklace dropped just above the top curves of them.

Tatiana walked to the large mirror. She gulped, looking at the pale version of herself. The gown was beautiful, as was the necklace. It went well with her dark, curly hair. She stood, frozen, staring at herself.

Marcello came up behind her. The top of her head just made his chin. She watched his reflection, waiting for a glimpse of what he was thinking.

"You look beautiful," he murmured in pleasure, his gaze roaming freely over her body.

Tatiana could see that he wanted her again--always wanted her. She wondered why he held back. He was a demon. Surely a sense of propriety didn't keep him from attacking her and demanding her body. What strange game of seduction was he playing at by giving her this expensive gown and jewelry?

"I look like one of your possessions," Tatiana answered, dejected. She turned from the mirror and walked to the bedroom door.

Marcello watched her leave him, feeling as if she ripped out his heart and stomped on it. Nothing he did seemed to please her. He let a blank, cool mask of indifference come to his features. Inside, his emotions raged a terrible war. Why not just force her, indeed? Why not claim her? She was his to do whatever he wished with. No one would stop him.

The eight tribal elders and his vampiric father were the only beings to whom Marcello had to answer, and they wouldn't care, might even encourage him. He'd never met the elders, but knew they existed. He'd felt their presence once when he was newly made. They were powerful beings, ones he wouldn't want to come across again. Luckily, the council of elders ruled their vampiric race with indifference, so long as the few sacred laws weren't broken. The vampire elders lived out their own endless centuries, away from their vampiric children.

Even with the freedom he had, something held Marcello back. He wanted Tatiana to want him again, as she had in Glas...o...b..ry Castle. He wanted her to need him so much that she summoned him from sleep to come to her--that she tried to use her power to make him her slave, forced him to be her lover. She'd felt for him then, as she refused to feel for him now.

And he craved some sentiment from her, any sentiment that wasn't tainted with a sense of duty, enslavement, or fear. He was jealous of the affection and attention she showed his servitor, and the attention she bestowed on the human man, Thomas.

Tatiana continued on to the front hall. Cesare was there, cleaning dutifully in his lifeless way. She stopped by the steps leading from the home where she'd been held prisoner. She was excited to get out into open air, but Cesare wouldn't be going, wouldn't be feeling anything but the need to obey and please their lord. She studied the poor man with a sense of pity and sorrow.

"He can't know you are next to him,bella ," Marcello said darkly. "He can't know you exist."

"Let Cesare go, Marcello," Tatiana said quietly, still watching the young man. She couldn't stand it any longer. She'd sealed her own fate by her own hand, but deep down she knew Cesare didn't deserve to share in their h.e.l.l. "He is young and will have a life far away from here. Please, let him go."

"Why do you care?" Marcello asked.

Tatiana didn't answer. She didn't want the servitor to go. His presence gave a small measure of comfort. But she wouldn't be selfish. No one deserved to have their life stolen and lost in such a way. It wasn't right.

"Who will drive the horses? Who will clean? Who will make your dinner?" Marcello asked logically.

Tatiana's head turned slightly to him, to study him over her shoulder. Her jaw rose, as she stated, "I will. I will do his duties."

Marcello laughed at the very idea. "No,bella , I own him. His fate is none of your concern, as is his debt to me."

"Then at least give him back his mind!" she demanded, turning to look fully at him. She stood on the bottom step, which brought her to his height. "Surely, he has a family who loves him, misses him! I know this means nothing to you, for you can't possibly understand what it's ... like ... to...."

Tatiana sniffed, blinking back her tears. She tried to stand strong before him, closing her mind and emotions off so he couldn't use them against her. She missed her father desperately. She'd been parted from him before--longer than this, in fact. But, knowing that she'd never see her father again, that she'd never be able to confront Henry or explain to Thomas, made the loneliness worse.

Marcello came forward to stand before her. His hand lifted, lightly stroking her neck. "Your fate for him is much worse than mine,bella . Right now he dreams of sweet music and lovely women. Would you have me take that from him, so that he can suffer as you feel to suffer in my presence? Are you so eager to have him know you that you would take away his happiness and make him a true slave--unhappy, mournful, tormented?"

Her jade green eyes lowered beneath the sweep of her black lashes. She swallowed timidly. Weakly, she said, "No."

Reaching into his suit, Marcello pulled out a pair of long white gloves. He handed them to her. "You forgot to put these on."

Tatiana looked down, amazed. This vampire thought of everything. Then, pulling a couple hair pins from his jacket, Marcello took up her hair and began fas.h.i.+oning it on her head in a quick style.

"There, much better," Marcello murmured, liking the way the long line of her neck was exposed to him.

"Where did you learn...?" she began, lifting to touch her hair. She could tell he'd done a good job of it.

Marcello leaned into her, a grin curling on the side of his lips. "I once ate a Queen's hairdresser."

Tatiana paled, not realizing he joked.

"Ah," Marcello sighed. "Always so serious. Relax,bella , one as old as me is bound to pick up a few tricks."

"Dressing women's hair is a trick you've had to pick up?" Tatiana asked, wondering why she suddenly felt like her cheeks flamed with jealousy.

"Yes," Marcello answered, unashamed. "Amongst other things."

Tatiana did not want to know what those 'other things' were. Her fingers curled, wanting to claw the amused look off his face.

She held back, realizing he'd probably enjoy it if she attacked him.

"Jealous,bella mia ?" Marcello whispered to her, leaning close to her pursed lips to let her feel his nearness.

"I don't care what you do, or who you do it with," Tatiana spat. "Now, are we going to go, or do you wish to stand here all eve staring at my chest?"