Blood Web

  If Natalia could have laughed aloud, she would have, but the seriousness of the situation prevented it: who he was, what he was, why he was standing there in the barn watching her, pressing her, still treating her like…his possession.

  Staking his claim and his ownership.

  It was all too damn…familiar.

  Her father. Oskar. Her entire life…

  It hit way too close to home.

  Hell, Natalia didn’t care to talk about who she was, what she wanted, what she dreamed about or longed for. It was all so wholly irrelevant—it always had been: Natalia Antoinette Giovanni was a virtual, sheltered child; an inexperienced, pampered virgin; a caged bird who couldn’t fly; and her daddy’s favorite showpiece. She was kept in a gilded cage, and she could sing on cue as commanded. She just had no intention of singing for Santos Olaru.

  Not ever.

  “Mysterious? Enchanting?” she mocked, surprised by the strength of her anger and equally flummoxed by the potential source. “I know exactly what you see, Santos Olaru: a precocious little girl who played with you online. A spoiled child who lives her life in hiding, safe and protected inside a gated compound. And I also know why you’re here right now—why you’re standing in this barn and speaking such endearing words—because you literally have no choice. You didn’t seek me out because you wanted to solve some enchanting mystery; you were compelled by an ancient curse. A moon. A dictate. A primitive vampire rite. You might look at me and see many things; you might even find me beautiful—do you have any idea how many powerful men have lusted after Luca Giovanni’s daughter?—but we both know you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for your celestial gods. And you would never choose a woman like me if you had another option…if your name and your ownership weren’t virtually branded on my arm. So, I’ll save you some time and some trouble. There’s only one thing you need to know: Despite what it looks like, I am not that gullible, and I’m not a child. I cannot be flattered or cajoled or seduced. I don’t melt at the sound of a sexy man’s voice, and I don’t simper at every touch. I’m not your Natalia girl, Santos; we’re just caught in the same damn web. And right now, in this moment, I’m biding my time and processing the facts, hoping you can make a difference on Sunday. But if you think for one moment you can corner me in a barn, whisper sweet nothings in my ear, and get me to prance like one of my father’s prized ponies, then you do have a lot to learn about who I am. I am not such an easy mark.”

  Santos appraised her thoughtfully.

  He linked his rugged hands together, narrowed his stunning gaze, and studied her from head to toe as if he were appraising her with X-ray vision. As if he were measuring her very soul.

  Natalia wet her lips in a nervous swipe of the tongue and fought valiantly not to tremble. Needing something to do with her hands, she reached for Midnight’s brush, lifted it from the railing, and started to turn on her heel—

  The vampire reached out so swiftly, she never saw him move.

  He flicked the infernal brush out of her hand and sent it spiraling to the ground. “Good,” he snarled in a primal rasp. “Then don’t hide behind your circumstances or that horse.”

  Midnight whinnied and pranced to the other end of the stall, leaving Natalia without her armor. “Excuse me?” she snapped.

  Santos ran his tongue over his fangs in a curious, animalistic gesture before settling back into his natural stance. “You wish to speak frankly? Honestly? To put aside the childish games? Then I’m relieved…and eager…to do the same. But face me when I speak to you. Do not give me your back. I’ve listened to every word you said to me; now show me the same respect.”

  She lowered her lashes and nodded, startled by his direct reproach, but she didn’t dare utter another word, not until she had heard him out. Up until now, he had been so gentle and flirtatious, so accommodating and kind, she had almost forgotten what he truly was—perhaps it had been careless to confront him.

  “Precocious little girls,” he began, “don’t hack into intricate computer systems. And children are usually afraid of monsters—they don’t learn that vampires are real and still maintain their composure. The fact that you have been sheltered, that you live in a gated compound, surrounded by daily exploitation and your father’s lascivious henchmen, yet you manage to survive and even function, to meet cruelty with kindness, brutality with compassion, tells me volumes about who you are, Natalia Antoinette.” His voice dropped to a lethal purr. “And as for all these other men—those who have desired to seduce you, those who wish to own or possess Luca Giovanni’s daughter—take care, sweet Natalia, when mentioning other males. You are in fact speaking to a savage creature, a vampire, not a human. And I don’t give two fucks about your powerful father, but on one count, you are absolutely spot-on: The Curse; the Blood Moon, our pre-destined connection; it is the reason I am standing in this barn, trying to get to know you, to see beyond all that well-placed armor, to learn more about you…if I can.” He stepped forward and leaned into her, his sensual, otherworldly power practically swirling around him, and the tips of his fangs crept down from the tops of his gums, even as his crystal-blue eyes flashed red, illuminating the silhouette of veins in his corded, muscular throat.

  “And trust me, Natalia girl,” he continued, “when I look at you, I do not see a spoiled child. I see eyes so deep, dark, and haunting that I want to know what they look like when they’re hooded with lust and drunk with passion. I see a throat so slender, elegant, and sensual that I just want to sink my teeth into it…again and again…and again. I see a body so expertly fashioned—every slope, every curve, every contour—that I can hardly restrain myself from undressing you just to answer the questions: Are her legs really that long? Is her skin really that smooth? Are her breasts really that full, that soft…as perfect as they look? Will her nipples harden when I tease them with my tongue? You are stunning, Natalia Giovanni, the most striking and desirable woman I have ever laid eyes on, and if you were not my destiny, I would have still sought you out. But yes, with one critical difference—I would have already taken you to my bed. We wouldn’t be standing here talking in a barn because you would be lying beneath me. I would have already crawled inside of you.” He wet his full bottom lip with his tongue, and Natalia nearly fainted. “But you’re right. I want more. So much more. And I do see both your beauty and your innocence, sweet woman. But unlike the men you have known until now, I also value your mind and your individuality.” He reached out to twirl a lock of her hair and caressed it with his thumb. Then he traced her lips with his middle finger before touching the pad to his tongue. “All that said, don’t ever get it twisted: My desire for you is overwhelming. I do not see you as a child, and I trust that the celestial gods would give me nothing less than an enchanting, mysterious, formidable woman to spend the rest of my life with.”

  Natalia began to tremble.

  She couldn’t help it.

  For all intents and purposes, Santos had just undressed her, and she felt naked and exposed before him.

  She turned around, giving him her back, just as he had instructed her not to.

  But heaven help her, she couldn’t face him.

  She fisted her hands in her hair and just stood there, praying he wouldn’t touch her, try to kiss her, ask anything of her.

  If he compelled her now, she’d scream.

  Or she’d melt.

  Perhaps she’d curl up on the floor of the barn and whimper. She was in so far above her head, and Santos had seen right through her. “Please go,” she whispered, hugging her arms to her chest. “Please, Santos. I need to be alone.”

  “Shh,” he intoned, answering her plea with a whisper. Then just like he’d done when he’d first entered the barn, he pressed his chest up against her—only this time, he also wrapped his arms around her, splayed the fingers of one hand open, and laid them gently over her throat.

  It was the oddest sensation, the strangest gesture, the most erotic touch she had ever felt.

  “Shh,” he
repeated, “don’t run away. Sometimes being real is hard.” He kissed her gently, where the slope of her neck met her shoulder, and then slowly worked his way up to her ear. “Your body burns for mine, Natalia,” he murmured, tightening the hand on her throat. “It’s why you tremble; it’s the source of your terror, but you don’t need to be afraid. I promise to be exquisitely gentle.” He massaged her larynx, stroked her jugular, and her stomach began to clench. The vampire was literally commanding her body with his every touch and whisper.

  A single tear escaped her eye, and she fought for air—she was about to panic. “I can’t…I don’t…you don’t understand. Even if I could reconcile this whole Blood Curse thing—which I cannot, at least not yet—Santos, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  Santos froze for the space of two heartbeats, and then he moved his hand from her throat to her shoulder, slid it down her arm, and gently massaged her wrist, his fingers curling around the celestial tattoo. “Natalia…” He whispered her name like a prayer. “Are you saying…you have never known passion, have you? No man has ever touched you?” He bent his head and nuzzled her hair in a tender, nonsexual gesture, and his next words were more like internal musings than intimate, disrobing questions: “Your father has kept you under lock and key, undoubtedly, so he could one day barter your honor, offer you to the highest bidder…” His voice grew thick with conviction. “Apologies, sweet angel. I didn’t realize…”

  Mortification settled on her shoulders like dew on the morning grass, and Natalia grimaced.

  She wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

  Here she was, this beautiful, exotic woman who made men mad with desire, yet she didn’t even know how to touch one. Not that her first, second, or even third choice would have ever been an immortal vampire—but still, she felt so inexperienced…so exposed….so awkward.

  “Turn around, angel. Look at me.”

  “Please just go,” she whispered.

  “Not until you turn around.”

  Natalia covered her face in her hands, gathered her courage, and slowly turned around.

  “Beautiful,” he breathed, removing her hands from her face. “Absolutely stunning.” He tunneled his fingers in her luxurious hair, caressed her jaw with his thumbs, and then gently pulled her forward until she was forced to arch her back. Then he dipped down slowly to taste her, and the moment he brushed her lips with his, he groaned from the purity of the contact. “Beautiful, stunning, and exquisite.” He pulled away and held her burnished gaze. “We have forever, cara mia, and for whatever it’s worth, I prefer things this way. I prefer you this way. When I finally take you, when you finally let me, our pairing will be perfect. Erotic. Sensual. Passionate. Divine. You couldn’t be more perfect.”

  Santos knew he had pushed too hard.

  Moved too quickly.

  Been too direct.

  But it wasn’t about seduction or foreplay.

  It was about Natalia’s hunger and her need…and her pain.

  Just as he had suspected, Natalia Giovanni was lonely. Hell, she was starving—and it wasn’t for some casual sex play. She needed to be held, to be heard, and to be seen. But most of all, she needed to be validated as a woman, not someone’s child, not someone’s prize, not Luca Giovanni’s best asset.

  Natalia needed to feel alive.

  And Santos had read that hunger like a journalist reads the news.

  Yes, he had come on a bit strong, early on—he had pushed her beyond her boundaries and flirted with her fear, but at the end of the day, it had been an intuitive calculation.

  He had pressed his body against hers, because she was desperate for the physical contact.

  He had been bold, to the point of being obnoxious, so she would feel empowered to push back with sarcasm.

  And when she’d finally shown her hand—used a wall of words to disarm him—he had ramrodded his way past her defenses because it was precisely where she’d wanted him.

  And yes, he had undressed her: mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

  But he had also gotten undressed.

  And now, wherever the pairing led them, they could at least go forward together—male and female, vampire and destiny—not Luca’s daughter and another self-serving master.

  Squatting down, he reached for Midnight’s brush and scooped it up for Natalia. “Here,” he said softly, placing it in her palm. “Go back to what you were doing and forgive my interruption, though I make no apologies for wanting to see you…check up on you…make sure you’re okay. That said, I do have to meet with the warriors about the raid, discuss our plans for Sunday, but I’ll be back tonight, once you’re finished with your guests and your dinner.” He flashed a gratuitous smile and winked. “Perhaps I’ll slip into your bedroom if you’ll let me.” Before she could panic, he added, “And I’ll bring a deck of cards.”

  She accepted the brush with a tentative hand, then furrowed her brow. “A deck of cards?”

  “Yep,” he said. “You do play poker, don’t you?”

  She smiled, and for the first time that morning, it was genuine and unguarded. “Yes,” she answered cautiously.

  “Texas Hold ’Em?”

  She nodded her head. “Yes, Santos, but why—”

  He pressed a finger to her lips. “That whole virus thing,” he teased, “when I hacked into your computer… I’m still trying to figure out if you’re smarter than I am. I think Texas Hold ’Em will answer the question, once and for all, or at least give me a chance to settle the score.”

  Despite herself, Natalia giggled, and the sound was pure, unadulterated magic. “But what about my father’s guards? They would shoot you on sight.”

  “They’ll never see me,” he answered.

  “The security system is state-of-the-art,” she insisted.

  “Oh, so now I’m an inferior hacker? Don’t you know me better than that? Your system will be child’s play for me.”

  “Texas Hold ’Em?”

  “Texas Hold ’Em,” he said, “and we’re playing for real money, so don’t try to be cute. I’m not going to go easy on you just because you’re a girl.”

  She rolled her bewitching eyes. “I would so kick your ass, vampire,” she mused.

  “You would kick my ass?” he asked.

  “I will kick your ass,” she asserted.

  At this, Santos chuckled. “Then consider it a date. Oh, but don’t get too confident, Natalia Antoinette. You do know, that virus you concocted—it never took.”

  “Mm,” she countered, “but if I recall, it did force you to back out of my computer.”

  “That it did,” he said, and then he leaned in and whispered, “but I only came back stronger.” He stepped back and winked. “See you tonight, Natalia girl.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  In a secluded ravine in eastern Dark Moon Vale, Keitaro Silivasi leaped from a twenty-foot-high ledge, beneath the roaring apex of a waterfall, and dove gracefully into a cool, deep pond below.

  It had been months since he’d gone swimming at the falls behind his property, and now, more than ever, he needed the release. Just a chance to clear his mind and recharge his body. A moment without thinking about Zayda, Xavier, or those centuries in Mhier. As it stood, Marquis was at the old homestead, keeping close and careful watch over Zayda, while Nathaniel, Nachari, and Kagen were meeting up with the sentinels. The boys would be assisting with the Giovanni raid on Sunday.

  No sooner had he embraced the invigorating feel of the water than he heard a branch snap beneath a foot, no less than fifteen or twenty yards away.

  He shot to the surface of the pond, his senses heightening, his muscles tensing, his keen, alert eyes scanning the ravine and immediately locking in on the twigs that had crackled. And then his formidable, eldest son, Marquis, stepped out from behind a tree. And wouldn’t you just know it—he had Zayda in tow, shuffling right behind him.

  Keitaro felt instantly fatigued. “Everything all right?” he asked, his eyes shifting back and forth bet
ween the massive vampire and the diminutive girl.

  Zayda smiled, unusually relaxed. “Oh, yeah, everything’s good. We just decided to go for a walk, and then I told Marquis I wanted to come find you.”

  Keitaro didn’t buy that for a minute. No one, save maybe Ciopori, wanted to go on a leisurely walk with Marquis, and it definitely wasn’t the warrior’s style.

  Marquis harrumphed, his phantom-blue eyes narrowing in annoyance. “This crazy female could not sit still. I must’ve put her on the couch five times and told her to stay. I finally gave up, and we left the house—I figured I could walk it out of her. The restlessness.”

  Keitaro winced.

  Oh, lord, Marquis…

  It was true: Zayda could sometimes be a handful. She was a bit wild at the core—after all, she was half-Lycan—but hell, that didn’t make her a dog.

  Damn, Marquis…

  For a moment, Keitaro was actually surprised his son hadn’t tethered her to a leash or thought to bring a Frisbee.

  Zayda rolled her eyes. “I was a little bit restless.” She tugged at her wild, unruly hair, the golden-red tresses concealing her shoulders, and tried to push it away from her face. “I guess I’m just not accustomed to being in the house without you. I may have gotten a little…upset.”

  At this revelation, Keitaro turned his full attention to Marquis and switched to a private, telepathic bandwidth. Warrior? he asked. Did something happen?

  “Yeah,” Marquis grumbled, not bothering to answer telepathically. “The female is batshit crazy—that’s what happened. The entire ordeal was very upsetting. She refused to stay on the couch.”

  “Marquis!” Keitaro bellowed, censuring him with a glare. “Have a care, son.”

  The vampire held up both hands and frowned. “Father, you need to speak to me in English…or Romanian…the language doesn’t matter—I know at least twenty-one—but whatever you’re saying, you need to make sense.” He snatched Zayda by the hand and began to half lead, half drag her forward toward the pond, clearly anxious to be rid of her. All the while he mumbled beneath his breath: “What does that even mean…have a care. Take better care of yourself, son? Take better care of Zayda? Be more careful. Try to be more caring. Or don’t be so carefree? Shit—I have never been carefree.”