Tribes Of The Vampire - Eternally Bound Part 20

Inside the Moulin Rouge was extravagantly decorated, and not only the dancehall. The entertainers were just as excessive, if not more so, than the building itself. They danced in brightly colored patterns along the dark wood floor, enticing and entertaining the n.o.blemen in their scanty gowns and rounded skirts. The hall was loud with music from an orchestra mounted over the stage. Long, sweeping curtains plunged over the private booths and stage front. Smoke curled from thick cigars and the smell of beer was heavy on the air.

To Tatiana's surprise, Marcello was recognized instantly at the door and ushered past some of the other n.o.blemen awaiting a seat. She wasn't unaware of the jealous, yet openly curious stares the Count received. The man, who led them to one of the large private alcoves along the wall, smiled at her brightly. He wore a checkered waistcoat of bright green and yellow, which looked absurd over his rounded belly, and he spoke in rapid French.

Tatiana watched in fascination as Marcello easily answered the man in kind. The vampire's voice sent chills over her skin and she wondered just how many languages he could speak. She studied him in a new light, noticing how intelligent he seemed, how refined he moved, how well spoken. Tatiana began to wonder if she judged him too harshly. If he wasn't the true demon she'd made him out to be, then what exactly was he? And why did he keep her? She was so confused.

True, Marcello threatened her with the death of innocents and ordered her about in a menacing, gravely voice, but he'd never really harmed anyone that she saw. He never really harmed her. Well, aside from the time he drank from her neck. And there was the small matter of him nearly starving her and trying to bind her new powers with the old witch. To his credit, though, he'd taken care of her afterwards.

As they pa.s.sed the occupied private alcoves, Tatiana noticed that some of their curtains were pulled for privacy. Through a thin strip of one of such drawn curtain, she saw the bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s of a naked woman being pressed into a gentleman's face as his friends watched. Tatiana turned red, but did not look away as fast as sheshould. One of the celebrating gentlemen, with an abnormally large nose, caught her looking and audaciously winked at her. Tatiana hastened past, drawing closer to Marcello as she clutched at his arm.

The Frenchman stopped and bowed with flourish as he arrived at their booth. Marcello stood by the table, taking off his overcoat and handing it to the man. Next, he lightly motioned for Tatiana to sit along the cus.h.i.+oned seat of red velvet. She did, moving over to give him room. Marcello slid easily next to her, placing his hand on her knee to stop her when she would have moved farther away from him. She tensed and he let her go.

Tatiana was all too aware of Marcello's body close to hers. He did not look at her, but instead around at the acrobats and dancers on the main floor. She took the opportunity to study the ominous set of his jaw. He was handsome, devilishly so. She licked her lips, suddenly enthralled by the smooth texture of his skin. The long sweep of her black lashes fell lazily over her eyes. She could feel a stirring in her limbs, knowing it to be the same longing that had made her enslave him to her years ago.

The man in the checkered waistcoat came back, carrying a bottle of wine and two empty gla.s.ses. He spoke to Marcello for a brief moment before laughing heartily and parting with an exuberant wave and another bow.

Marcello took up the wine bottle and poured a dark red liquid into one of the gla.s.ses. Tatiana stared at the ruby ring on his hand, more interested in the elegant finger it clung to. Marcello held the gla.s.s out to her and she took it hesitantly. His finger brushed along hers and even with their gloves she could feel a shockwave racing through her body from the touch.

"Will you not...?" she began, looking at the gla.s.s left empty. "I mean, can you not drink anything but...?"

"But blood,cara mia ?" Marcello provided when she faltered. She met his serious eyes and nodded. A sad smile moved over his lips and his answer came out a soft, "No."

"Oh," Tatiana breathed. She looked at the gla.s.s and lifted it to her nose, smelling it. "What is it?"

"Chianti." Marcello watched her with the same interest he'd shown the dancers on the floor a moment before. "It is made near where I was born, inToscana , nearFirenze ."

Tatiana blinked at the admission. "Where you became a ... a vampire?"

Marcello blinked, studying her. He'd meant his human birth. Slowly, he nodded, smiling wryly. "S, that too."

"Do you mi--" Tatiana stopped herself.Do you miss being human?

She took sip of the wine. It was delicious. She smiled slightly and set the gla.s.s down.

"Do you ever go back?" she asked.

"No, there is nothing for me in Italy," Marcello said. His voice was calm, but she could tell he didn't want to speak of it. He turned from her to a row of dancers coming out onto the floor.

A wild cheering went up in the music hall and it became so loud that Tatiana couldn't hear anything else above the racket. She flinched, taking a longer, unladylike drink of wine when Marcello wasn't looking. The liquor curled in her stomach, instantly warming her. She set the empty gla.s.s down, moving to look around his shoulder with interest.

Even as she was hurt by the fact Marcello brought her as a courtesan to show her off, she was fascinated by what she saw. If she were still under her father's care, she'd never have a chance to see what the 'bohemian' lifestyle was all about. Suddenly, the idea of another opera paled and she was secretly glad Marcello brought her with him to such a place. It excited her, though she hated to admit it. She felt safe being anywhere with him and knew she'd never have come on her own.

"What are they doing?" Tatiana asked quietly, more to herself than to him. Her stomach was empty and her body soaked the comfort of the wine quickly into itself. The tension eased from her muscles and she began to relax.

Marcello turned, hearing her easily over the loud hall. He leaned to her ear and answered, "They will perform the can-can. It is a favorite dance of Paris."

"Oh," she breathed, s.h.i.+vering as she felt the unintentional brush of his lips against her lobe. Marcello turned and silently refilled her wine gla.s.s for her. He set the bottle down and shot her a brief smile before turning back to the show.

The cries died down and were replaced by loud music. To Tatiana's amazement, the girls began kicking their legs violently to the frantic rhythm, reaching them nearly as high as their shoulders in a straight line. Absently, she grabbed the wine gla.s.s and began to drink. She edged closer to Marcello to get a better view.

Marcello glanced over his shoulder as he felt her near his back. Her wide eyes stared forward, captivated. Her hand slowly crept up his spine, a delicate whisper of a movement.

"Do you like it?" he asked her, his voice soft.

Tatiana blinked, hearing it more in her head than her ears. She blushed. "It's different. I did not know the leg could go up so high."

Her tone sounded so thoughtful, that Marcello couldn't help but laugh. Without thought, he took his arm and set it about her shoulders. She didn't tense at the contact, keeping her eyes fixed on the dancers.

"Would you like me to pour you more wine?" he whispered down to her, wanting to draw her captivated attention back to him.

It worked. Tatiana blinked. She felt his arm around her shoulders. His fingers curled near her waist. She swallowed nervously.

"I would like to try some of that green drink with the cubes of sugar."

Marcello blinked, following her eyes to a nearby table close to the dance floor. The men were drinking absinthe. He frowned, shaking his head in denial. He'd seen what that liquor did to people. It made them see visions. He could just imagine what it would do to his witch. "No,tesoro mio , it is bitter. The wine is better."

"But--"

"I said no," he stated, frowning. His voice coming harsh, he stated, "You stay away from that drink."

Tatiana's heart sped slightly at his commanding tone. She pulled out of his arms, suddenly feeling as if her corset was too tight. She grabbed the wine bottle and poured a full gla.s.s, gulping it down. Marcello watched her for a brief moment, before moving his gaze away to the dancers.

Tatiana took a deep breath as she set the empty gla.s.s down. Her head spun lightly. Suddenly, she couldn't take it any longer.

"Ah, b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l!" she swore.

Marcello started to turn to her, surprised by the heat in her words and her uncharacteristic choice of language. He wasn't even fully around when Tatiana grabbed his face and wrenched it around to hers.

Tatiana moaned lightly in antic.i.p.ation, pus.h.i.+ng her lips onto his. Her mouth parted, automatically wanting the kiss to be deep.

Marcello's gasp of surprise soon turned to a pa.s.sionate moan. He took control, pulling her waist near, forcing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s into his hard chest.

His tongue darted inside her mouth and she sucked it eagerly as he explored her. In his pa.s.sion, his fang nicked her lip, mingling the taste of her blood with the wine in her mouth. She moaned, not caring, excited beyond measure that she was finally giving in to him.

Marcello easily lifted her up with one arm, sliding her sideways over to his lap. His thick arousal pulsed violently into the tender cheeks of her backside, begging to be set free. She s.h.i.+vered, rocking herself lightly against him. She grabbed his face with her gloved hands, tangling her fingers into his hair, a.s.suring he couldn't escape her kisses.

Suddenly, the wild music stopped. A loud laughter shot over the hall. Tatiana pulled back, panting for breath. She looked around, turning a slight shade of pink as she remembered where they were.

"Bel--"

"Draw the curtains," she broke in, hoa.r.s.e and panting. Her heated gaze bore into his darker one. She began to move from his lap, but he gripped her tightly. To her amazement, he lifted his fingers and made a small motion in the air. The curtains slid shut without him touching them. They were left in the soft illumination of the fake gas-lighted candles.

"Better?" he asked, a devilish grin forming on his handsome face. The light brilliantly contrasted with his features.

"Yes," she answered softly. Tatiana picked up where she'd stopped, lifting her fingers back to his face and leaning in to kiss him.

"Ogni volt ache ti bacio dimentico dove sono," he whispered along her lips. His tongue moved to lick at the seam of her mouth. Tasting her blood where he'd cut her, he bit his own tongue and ma.s.saged his blood to the wound. Her lip healed shut, as did his tongue.

Tatiana moaned, loving his accent, his deep voice, the vibration of it to her soft lips. "What did you say?"

"Every time I kiss you I forget where I am," he breathed against her.

Tatiana gasped in feminine pleasure. Her body ached for him. She wanted him inside her. It had been too long.

"How do we...?" she breathed, looking helplessly over the table and velvet seat of the private alcove. Outside the wild calls of the crowd still sounded and the lively beat of the music still played. It excited her to know the crowd was there, unaware of all they did within the privacy of their booth.