# A Venetian Vampire

Michele Hauf

Some games are better without rules…especially seductionVampire Dante D’Arcangelo enjoys diversions. Especially those that involve seducing beautiful women, like newly made vampiress Kyler Cole. The curvaceous ingénue stirs Dante’s deepest desires. But they share more than blistering chemistry. Dante and Kyler each seek possession of a priceless Fabergé egg containing a spell that would annihilate thousands of vampires, while granting only one eternal life.Caught up in a wickedly sexy game of cat and mouse, Dante and Kyler try to outmanoeuver each other as thieves and as lovers. But when a rival steals the egg, they form a wary alliance to recover it…knowing that their delicate bond must eventually end in betrayal.

Some games are better without rules…especially when it comes to seduction.

Vampire Dante D’Arcangelo enjoys diversions. Especially those that involve seducing beautiful women, like newly made vampiress Kyler Cole. The curvaceous ingenue stirs Dante’s deepest desires. But they share more than blistering chemistry. Dante and Kyler each seek possession of a priceless Fabergé egg containing a spell that would annihilate thousands of vampires while granting only one eternal life.

Caught up in a wickedly sexy game of cat and mouse, Dante and Kyler try to outmaneuver each other as thieves and as lovers. But when a rival steals the egg, they form a wary alliance to recover it…knowing that their delicate bond must eventually end in betrayal.

“What are you doing?”

Kyler rushed over and grabbed her backpack from Dante. “It’s…”

“Empty,” he provided plainly.

Dante stretched an arm across the back of the divan and crossed his legs casually. He wore dark slacks and his unbuttoned white shirt revealed hard abs… that she had licked not hours earlier.

“You did this! You had this all planned out!”

“I performed no such trickery. You’ll recall it was you who eagerly suggested we finish off the evening here.”

“You were scheming. Hoping to get me alone so you could steal the egg from me. I can’t believe I fell for that!”

He waved a hand, dismissing the comment. “Doesn’t matter now. I’ve come to Venice to claim the Fabergé egg, and I won’t leave without it.”

“So you admit you used me—seduced me—to get what you wanted?”

He lifted a finger. “Seducing you was not my original intention. That was a fortuitous bonus.”

MICHELE HAUF has been writing romance, action-adventure and fantasy stories for more than twenty years. France, musketeers, vampires and faeries usually populate her stories. And if Michele followed the adage “write what you know,” all her stories would have snow in them. Fortunately, she steps beyond her comfort zone and writes about countries and creatures she has never seen. Find her on Facebook, Twitter and at www.michelehauf.com.

A Venetian Vampire

Michele Hauf


www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Chelle Olson, editor, friend, rockin’ cool chick. Index finger up, middle fingers down, pinkie up, thumb in.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Dante D’Arcangelo insinuated himself into the Cannaregio Casa d’Aste with an ease that had come from more than 160 years of existing along the edge of the shadows. No one paid any mind to the tall stranger as he walked the Venetian auction house’s marble corridor to the back room, where key arrangements for the event were being performed. Tomorrow evening’s gala auction would feature dozens of valuable art items on the block. It was being hyped with celebrity fanfare. A media blitz.

The star of the show was a Fabergé Imperial egg called the Nécessaire. It had officially gone missing in 1952, after the last known buyer had been recorded only as: A Stranger. A month ago, it had suddenly reemerged in the art world. Dante intended to remove it from the auction house tonight. No hard feelings. It was just that the egg belonged to him. And the very fate of his kind—vampires—required he get it back.

As he took in the layout of the bustling auction house, the placement of the dinnerware stacked and ready for service in the grand ballroom where a celebratory dinner was to be held, counted the employees and marked their various uniforms, noted security cameras and entrance keypads, Dante noticed one woman stood out from them all.

Rather, she didn’t quite fit in.

A woman of medium height and more than a few delicious curves, she stood apart from the workers possessed of blasé European disinterest, slender frames and suntanned skin. A tourist who had wandered in from the streets? Doubtful. Her actions were purposeful. She moved along the edge of the activity, which hummed like a busy office expecting the district manager to show up at any moment to fire one and all. She was dressed all in black, and over that she wore a snug maroon apron like those on the auction house employees. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail.

Waiters and others who most definitely belonged in the mix shuffled to and fro, intent on their specific duties. Some spoke into earpieces; others checked details on clipboards or iPads. A pair of lanky busboys hustled clattering cases of wine toward the bar area set up along one wall.

The woman with the dark hair and mysterious presence kept her head down, yet her kohl-lined eyes took in everything—except the people. She did not miss a creased seam where wall met wall, nor a crimped electrical cable running from a computer along the floor and into a dark, attached room. Near her thigh, her fingers moved as if counting, slowly. She was marking her footsteps across the room.

Dante smirked. Was she actually casing the place? Well, he knew she was because he was. Only he had much more stealth, despite the fact he wasn’t a professional thief. Although his life experiences did tend to put him in larcenous situations from time to time. He picked up necessary skills with ease and interest. And he never hesitated to commit a criminal act when he knew it could ultimately serve the greater good.

Such as obtaining this particular bejeweled prize.

When his shoulder was bumped, he turned and offered apologies to a slender blonde woman holding a stack of bid cards and offered to help her carry them. She thanked him and in mellifluous Italian said she was capable. And then she smiled widely as she stared at his face—a few seconds too long.

Dante was accustomed to that dreamy look. And honestly? It gave him a visceral thrill. Women gave him a thrill. All of them. All shapes, sizes and colors. Could a man ever get enough? So he touched her cheek, brushing aside some strands of corn-silk gold hair over her ear. She blushed and looked to the cards clasped in both hands, then fluttered her lashes as if she couldn’t decide whether to look back up at him or clutch those blank cards tighter.

He needn’t exercise his vampiric persuasion on her. If he wanted her, he could have her. But flirting with an audience present was gauche. And he didn’t want her. He simply enjoyed the triumph of knowing she would fall sighing into his arms should he give her the permission to do so.

Dante bowed, gesturing she had the right of way. That gentlemanly move stirred her from her adoring gaze. She cleared her throat, blushed even deeper and nodded quickly. As she passed, he inhaled her perfume. A note of freesia vied to rise above the alcohol base. He did not care for unnatural chemical scents. Still, he did admire the warmth that continued to redden her skin.

Enough distraction. Where had the mystery woman gone? Ah, yes.

He crossed the room to the hallway into which his suspected thief had entered with carefully placed—and counted—footsteps. Immediately he noticed an armed guard in front of a closed door at the far end of the hallway. A walkie-talkie was clipped to his chest pocket. No gun at his hip, but the gleam of a carbon nightstick flashed from the holster at his waist. A badge would be required to enter what Dante guessed was the room where the auction items were being prepared to go on the block.

Halfway down the hallway, between Dante and the guard, the woman in black suddenly checked her wristwatch and stopped. After turning, she backtracked. Dante dug out his pocket watch and bowed his head as she passed him. He picked up no perfume scent from her, though was that a hint of salty sweat? She was nervous? Poor girl. Had she not done this before? Such a pity she would fail. It was in his best interest to ensure she did.

He’d have to adjust his schedule for this evening. Didn’t want to run into her bungling her way through a hopeless theft. And he’d hate to see the disappointment in her eyes when she arrived on the scene to find whatever she sought was missing. Had to be the egg. It was the only item on the auction list that could possibly attract a thief. Missing from circulation for almost seventy years, the Nécessaire Fabergé egg was a showstopper.

Yet, it had been missing from his care for only twenty-five years. He hated to admit to himself, but he’d let it slip through his hands some time before the turn of the century.

And then a thought occurred as he confidently stopped before the guard and allowed him to scan the badge he’d lifted upon entering the establishment half an hour earlier. What if?

Yes, what if?

“Immettere.” The guard granted him entry.

“Grazie,” Dante said and strolled inside.

Two men dusting a bronze statue of a dandelion looked up as he entered, and again Dante bowed his head over the 1790 pocket watch he’d been gifted as an eighteenth birthday present. Four silver skulls were situated in the center beneath the brilliant copper hands. He wouldn’t dream of destroying the line of his suit with a cell phone.

He wasn’t going to remain in this room long enough to be asked questions. And the cursory glance he’d taken had confirmed only one camera in the opposite corner. The far wall displayed a digital lock beside the door, same as near the door through which he had entered. Inadequate security, as his advance research had reported while on the jet to Venice. Not that he’d surfed the information highway himself. He knew people who knew far too much about technology and ways to infiltrate security systems.

This auction house was small, finding its feet after decades of near failure. The egg was to be its ticket out of the red. Pity it hadn’t boosted security for its big show. If a thief could get past the security sensors on the first floor, the reward for making it that far would be in this simple room.

He put up a finger to gesture as if he’d forgotten something. “I’ll be right back,” he muttered and left the room, tucking away the watch. He offered a gracious ciao to the guard as he strolled back down the hallway.

He didn’t see the woman in black again. Didn’t need to. He’d marked her as no threat.

As Dante made his way toward the front of the building and stepped out into the fresh summer air, he returned to the what-if scenario. He might consider it a fortune that another thief was slinking about his turf. Would she go after the object he wanted? It was the most valuable and unique of the auction’s offerings. There was always the risk she was not at all interested. Perhaps bronze dandelions were her thing?

“Foolish not to take the egg,” he murmured. “And if she does?”

He smiled a wicked smile that had caused many a woman to strip off her lace-and-silk unmentionables and beg him to take her.

“I’ll let her take the egg for me. It’ll be a great diversion.”

He did enjoy diversions. Especially those involving a beautiful woman.

* * *

Many hours after her visit to case the art house, Kyler Cole again left the building, but this time, on the sly.

Nabbing the Nécessaire Imperial egg had been too easy. So easy, in fact, that Kyler kept rubbing her palm over the black nylon backpack in which she’d placed the egg to reassure herself she’d actually done it. She had snuck into the Cannaregio Casa d’Aste and absconded with a nineteenth-century artifact that was worth millions. Go, girl!

And why had she, a thief who had only ever stolen to survive, taken on such a task? Because hidden within the egg was a spell that promised eternity, and that would give her freedom from worry and fear.

It had been a harrowing adventure—and entirely new for her—but well worth the risk. Her body hummed and tittered as she walked swiftly through a dark alleyway and toward the buzz of a crowd mingling at an outdoor bar near the Grand Canal’s sparkling waters. The Venetian nightlife bubbled with laughter and music from a live acoustic band. The air was rife with smells of salty seawater, fried seafood and sweet spices. Her mood compelled her toward the celebration.

Kyler’s toes barely hit the ground, and she propelled herself so lightly she thought someone might see her lift off from the pavement and fly at any moment. But she remained grounded by keeping one eye out for the local police, whom, she had noted earlier, dressed in gorgeous black-and-white uniforms and, with the addition of crisp, clean white gloves, looked like fashion models. Yes, she had a wandering eye for a well-dressed man.

She’d not tripped any alarms while in the auction house. The security had been lax. As well, she’d spied an open window on the second floor. She avoided the risk of setting off the alarms on the first floor, and a leap had allowed her entrance. Such skills she possessed! And once perched upon the windowsill, an interior scan had assured her no cameras were in the room.

If her luck continued to play well, no one would discover the theft until the final inventory preceding tomorrow night’s auction. She intended to leave Venice as soon as she got the call for the handoff, which she expected sometime tomorrow. The man she’d stolen the egg for would arrange for someone to meet her here in Venice to take it off her hands, but she didn’t have the details yet.

Right now, she could use a glass of wine, perhaps even champagne. Yes, a celebration was due! It had been a long time since she’d felt so elated. So ready to embrace the possibilities life now offered her. And some well-deserved merriment would wipe the tarnish from the crime, yes? She’d committed petty theft before. A few swiped cosmetics when she was a teenager, and the obligatory bottle of wine from the liquor store while her friends distracted the cashier. Stupid stuff. Last year, she’d upped it to food and pharmaceuticals when caring for her dying mother. Funds had been low. She hadn’t had any other choice.

The crime she’d committed this evening felt...not so terrible, now that it had been accomplished. What was contained within the egg would give a certain man the reassurance he needed—for her, as well.

She insinuated herself into the crowd of partiers milling about an ivy-draped patio and eyed the open-air bar. A few bar stools were empty, so...why not? Sliding onto a stool, she kept the backpack slung over a shoulder.

“Prosecco,” she told the bartender, and the bearded drink-jockey winked before turning to pour her a goblet.

She didn’t speak Italian, so she was thankful that a word here or there served to get by in this country. Born and raised in Iowa, her first trip overseas had been six months earlier. And she hadn’t looked back since.

“Celebrating?”

Kyler took in the side profile of the man who’d asked her the question in English. Chiseled cheekbone and a thick black brow. A blade of a nose and the hint of stubble darkening his upper lip. His hair was cut short, hugging a perfectly shaped skull, and was the same inky color as hers. She’d taken hers out of the ponytail after exiting the auction house. It was one of her best assets, and she now swung the thick mane over a shoulder as her sensual instincts screamed for her to get the guy’s attention—and keep it.

“Yes. I’ve had a good day.” She sipped the chilled prosecco. Beaming from the high of her accomplishment, she tilted her glass toward him.

He tipped his glass against the thin crystal. “My wine won’t match your bubbly, but I toast you all the same. To good days.”

“Most definitely. I feel great. Life could not be better at this moment.”

“Ah? I feel your enthusiasm. It is written on your face and in your movements.” His eyes glinted from a flash that carried from the overhead swag of Christmassy strands of white lights. And his European accent? Kyler felt the deep tones melt about her heart. “You visiting the city or a resident?”

“Just visiting.”

Her leg bobbed beneath the bar, and she cautioned her sudden nervousness. Nix that. She wasn’t nervous; she was exhilarated. And talking to a sexy stranger only heightened that amazing sensation.

Would it be ridiculous to consider a celebratory roll between the sheets? Not at all. She deserved a handsome man kissing her, whispering sweet nothings to her, tasting her...

“You?” she asked with a perkiness that felt false. She was trying not to lean too close to him. He might see her drool. Not that she’d ever drool. Oh, mercy, his voice.

“I live in the city,” he said, “but not year-round. Just arrived in Venice for a few days’ visit, actually.”

“Me, too. I’m here for a few days, that is. Might try to do some sightseeing in the morning.”

“You haven’t been yet?”

“Uh...nope.” She sipped again. Gotta watch what she said. She concentrated on the man’s gorgeous blue eyes. Wow. They were unreal in color, and he looked directly at her. His intense scrutiny of her lit a fire in her core, and she straightened her shoulders, which lifted her breasts. Attention from an attractive man? Go, Kyler.

“Forgive my manners. An introduction is necessary. I’m Dante D’Arcangelo.”

Really? If that wasn’t a sexy name, Kyler didn’t know what was. And the man certainly did resemble a delicious dark angel. Mmm...

He waited for her to respond.

“Oh, right. Me. Kyler Cole.” She shook his proffered hand, and at the sudden, scintillating, electric shimmer that shot through her fingers and up her arm, she tugged away and gasped. “Oh.” And then, as she settled into the realization of what the man who sat beside her was, she repeated her exclamation in a more sensual tone. “Oh.”

That shimmery feeling that had raced over her skin? It occurred only when one vampire touched another. Now she was definitely on board with a hookup. Because really, she hadn’t met many others like her in the few months she had been vampire.

“Oh, indeed,” he echoed in an equally sensual tone.

He turned on the bar stool to face her with his body, his knee hugging her thigh. Enchantment twinkled in his eyes as he took her in with undisguised wonder. It was as though he had discovered a diamond sitting among common pebbles. Kyler could eat up his attention for breakfast, dinner and supper.

“A like soul,” he said. “Refreshing to find another here in Venice. Shall we toast to one another?”

“Absolutely.”

Kyler had a tendency to trust most people, but a sudden moment of uncertainty emerged. To have walked straight up to another vampire like this? It was weird. Or possibly coincidence. Had to be coincidence. He’d already been sitting at the bar when she had arrived. Wasn’t like he’d been following her.

She sighed and sucked in her lower lip as she tapped a fingernail against the goblet stem. He seemed harmless. Too handsome, for sure. A man as sexy as he was would not be by himself. Not for long, at least. And yet the appeal of him being vampire could not be disregarded. She’d not been with another vampire, between the sheets, or to share blood. And she’d been wondered what both would be like.

“I’m sorry. I don’t like to see a woman looking so distraught. Have I said something wrong?”

“Uh, no,” she said quickly. Distraught? Try “making up her mind about whether or not to pursue her illicit wonderings.” Tangled sheets and bloody bites? She didn’t need to consider it long. Yes, please!

Tilting back another swallow of prosecco, she clutched her backpack strap, assessing the weight of its contents. Quite heavy for the silver and gemstones that made up the object. “I, uh...didn’t expect...”

“It’s a nice surprise when it happens,” he offered casually.

“Yes, it is. I’ve just never met another...” She cast a glance aside. The bar’s patrons were all chatting in Italian. “Another...you know, in such a casual manner. You startled me.” She leaned forward and her thigh nudged his knee, but she kept herself from touching his leg with her hand. “But it was a good startle.”

“Excellent. We understand one another from the get-go. No masks to wear. And don’t worry—I’m not after anything. Though I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I followed you since right about there.” He pointed down the street. “At the corner by the flower shop. I couldn’t stop myself from following you. You’re gorgeous, Kyler. And your demeanor is so attractive. You walk as if on air.”

A shiver of her previous excitement returned, and Kyler wiggly gaily on the bar stool. “Like I said, good day. Probably one of the best I’ve had in a while. What about you?”

“My best good day? Hmm, that was probably...”

She leaned forward in anticipation of his explanation. Abandoning her caution, she wanted the banter, some good conversation and another glass of prosecco. She indicated to the bartender to refill.

“My best day must have been when I met Pablo Picasso and got to shake his hand.”

“That’s awesome. Early twentieth century?”

“It was 1972, actually. He died a year later. I’ve been around a while.” He shrugged in a manner that drew her eyes to his well-fitted suit. Tailored perfectly for his lean shape and broad shoulders. “But the years don’t show on my face.”

“You’ve a handsome face.”

He bowed his head as he grinned, then tipped his glass to her refilled goblet. “Salut!”

“Salut!” And she tilted back the entire goblet. Then felt compelled to say, “This is exciting for me. Talking to another of my kind.”

“Is that so? You don’t associate with others of our species?” He leaned toward her, and she scented not cologne but something primal and innate. His essence, perhaps. A warm, leathery scent.

“No, I haven’t had opportunity. I just transformed six months ago.”

“I see. New blood. Well, don’t worry. I won’t bite. Unless you want me to.” He winked. “That’s a tired joke, but I couldn’t resist.”

She smirked, which turned into a genuine chuckle. “You never know—I might like a bite.”

She could seriously entertain the idea of wrapping her legs about his hips and sinking her fangs into his neck—

“What have you come to Venice for, Kyler?”

Tugged out of the fabulous fantasy of lapping at the man’s neck, she gave him a blank look. What had he said?

“Vacation or work?” he asked.

“Oh, uh...a search and find actually. For a friend.”

“And did you find what you were searching for?”

“Oh, yes. It was actually a piece of art. Pretty.”

“Something famous?”

She shrugged. “Could be. I’m not much of an art enthusiast. I wouldn’t recognize Picasso if he sat down before me with one of his works in hand. I prefer music.”

“I do, as well. All sorts, but I am partial to jazz. Do you like to dance?” he asked.

“I do, but I don’t know how. I’ve always wanted to learn something like the tango.” She hooked her fingers on the backpack strap. The hardy weave and weight reminded her not to lose all caution. “I was on my way back to the hotel when I stopped for a quick drink. Not really dressed for dancing or partying. I’ll take a rain check, though.”

“Rain checks often go untended. How about another prosecco?”

“You’ll get me drunk.”

“Do you get drunk?”

“Not usually.” Vamps could consume a lot of alcohol with little affect on their sobriety. “But whiskey, straight from the vein, does make me sick. I learned that one the hard way.” She touched her chest. Never had she confessed such a personal detail about herself. It was too easy to be open in his presence. Relaxing into the conversation felt like stepping into his arms and settling in for a nice long snuggle.

“Vodka is my bête noire,” he offered. “I can’t stand a drunk bite. I prefer them healthy.”

“Me, too,” she agreed. “But I’m still learning, you know.”

She straightened and slid her hands down her ribs and to her waist, a weird habit she’d developed after putting on thirty pounds following her mother’s death. She still hadn’t lost the weight, but she had learned to embrace her curves. And use them to her best advantage.

A glance at Dante confirmed he was studying her with those mesmerizing eyes. Interested? If only she’d worn something more revealing than the pedestrian black turtleneck shirt and black leggings. Wow. Did she totally look like a cat burglar? What had she been thinking? Should have brought along a bright red scarf to tie around her neck after the deed had been done.

“So, tell me more about you, Dante. You are Italian, but I think the words you just used were French?”

“I am both. Italian on my mother’s side and my father was French. But I don’t mind speaking English. It is an interesting language.”

And her only option. “Where are you living?”

“I own a palazzo a short walk away, in the San Marco. It’s a vacation home. I spend most of my time in Paris. Though at the moment I am homeless in the City of Light. Sold my barge and waiting for my property agent to send me some new and interesting finds.”

“You lived on a barge? That sounds...actually, kind of smelly and wobbly.”

“You get used to shifting with the waves. And the Seine doesn’t smell that bad. It’s the tourists peeking in the windows all the time that made me decide to sell. This time of year they are like patrons peering in at the lone captive animal.”

Kyler laughed and leaned an elbow on the bar. Her body nudged closer to his. Their thighs hugged now. There was something electric about him, and it wasn’t the shimmer she’d felt with their handshake. The man oozed confidence and élan. Physically, he wasn’t her type. While muscular and seemingly strong, he was too pretty, too perfect. He could model for a top magazine, and women the world over would swoon.

She much preferred a man who looked average, acted average and wasn’t concerned about what others thought of him. An average Joe. Probably because that was all she’d ever dated. She’d never thought a man as handsome as Dante would give her a second glance. Yet she’d never ruled out flirting with any and all men. It made her feel sensual and alive.

“How long did you live in Paris?” she asked.

“Are you fishing about for how old I am? You can simply ask.”

She shrugged. “Okay. How old are you?”

“I was born in Paris in 1860. Well before Picasso.”

She quickly did the math quickly—over 150 years old. “I find it fascinating that immortality ages a person so slowly. It’s an amazing gift, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“But immortality does not mean you—we—can never die.”

“Yes, a healthy fear of stakes does serve a vampire a longer life. I am a youngster as far as living centuries goes. I love to experience everything. There are never days I would bemoan my existence.”

“I agree. Vampirism rocks.”

“There is so much to do in this world,” he continued. “So many adventures to be had. So many women to love.”

Of course, a man as attractive as him would not want for a girlfriend. But could he possibly be between lovers? “You have...many lovers?”

“At one time? Never. I am always exclusive. But if you are counting years, then of course I’ve had my share. I never kiss and tell, though. Each woman is a memory I forever cherish.”

“Sounds like I’ve met Casanova in the flesh.”

“Eh, he was too boisterous. Couldn’t stop himself from writing about his sordid affairs and sharing them with anyone who would listen.” He skated a finger around the rim of his glass, and Kyler sucked in a corner of her lip. The movement reminded her of a fingertip circling skin. “I’ll keep my secrets, thank you.”

Kyler was suddenly all about learning secrets. Or making new ones with a certain irresistibly sexy vampire. Her elbow slipped, and the backpack slid from her shoulder to the crook of her elbow.

“Shopping?” he said with a nod to the backpack.

“Sort of. Just a few trinkets.”

When she made to slide the strap back up her arm, he touched her again, wanting to help, and hooked the wide black strap over her shoulder. “That’s heavy for trinkets.”

“I should probably go,” she offered. Though the idea of walking away from such an intriguing man felt wrong. She enjoyed talking to him. But really, she shouldn’t risk sitting around with a valuable piece of art in her backpack. Or have him ask more questions she wasn’t willing to answer. “It’s getting late.”

“It’s just past midnight. Do you sleep much?”

She shrugged. “A few hours a night. I still cling to some of the more satisfying human rituals.”

“Six months you’ve been a biter?”

“Yes, though I’ve never heard it called that before. A biter?”

He shrugged. “A silly joke. It’s better than longtooth, yes?”

“Sure.” She’d heard that werewolves called vampires longtooth—a terrible slang word the vamps hated. She hadn’t experienced the whole vampire milieu long enough to know if it bothered her or not. Just owning fangs had taken a few weeks to become comfortable. Bite her lower lip much?

He tapped the goblet stem and asked, “Are you American?”

“Yes.” She turned on the stool, deciding to linger a little longer instead of the quick escape. “Is my accent that terrible?”

“The American accent is...quaint.” He smiled and his eyes glinted, full of moonlight. For a moment Kyler had to stop herself from leaning closer to him, sniffing, seeking his scent along the edge of his square jaw. “You’re a long way from home. Did your friend for whom you’ve gone on an art quest send you from the United States?”

“I’ve been living in Paris six months,” she said.

“I see. You were transformed immediately upon arriving?”

“Uh, yes. I don’t really want to talk about that.” She had to keep the theft a secret and any details about her transformation would ultimately lead to why she was in Venice.

“Sorry. I’ll change the subject. Have you taken a gondola ride?”

She glanced at the canal, which whispered by on the other side of a decorative iron railing laced with thick ivy. “It seems so touristy.”

“It is, but this time of year it is exquisite around ten in the evening when the last rays of sun glitter on the lagoon. With a bottle of prosecco in hand and perhaps a lover by your side?”

She lifted the goblet before her in a proposed toast. With more purr than tease, she said, “Now you’re making me wish I had a lover.”

He tinged his glass against hers. “I’d be happy to oblige.”

No tease in that statement. The man meant every word of it. And should she take him up on that offer, Kyler felt certain he would not disappoint.

Mercy, was her fantasy about to become reality?

“Kyler? I think I’ve said something wrong again. I tend to be direct. A woman deserves nothing less than truth, yes?”

“No. I mean, yes, I appreciate your directness.” She placed a hand on the back of his, which toyed with the base of his glass. “I—” she lowered her lashes and looked up through them “—was considering your offer.”

He turned up his hand to touch her fingers but didn’t clasp her hand. “A delicious end to a very good day?”

“Is that a promise or advertising?”

“I don’t need to advertise, chérie.”

“You certainly do not.” She laughed then because a giddy sort of surrender had settled into her muscles. She liked the man. Vampire. And there were so many things about him that made her want to get to know him. Much better.

He tilted a nod toward her. “Come closer, Kyler.”

Without reluctance, she leaned in and he touched her cheek. The shimmer again hit her with a shock of recognition. None of the humans around them could know two vampires sat talking to each other. His finger traced her ear and curled her hair over it. And his eyes walked over her face, taking her in, consuming her. They were so gorgeous. Devastatingly clear and direct. A hint of green danced within the blue, like sea glass.

Kyler opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She was enthralled. And she knew a vampire could not enthrall another vamp. Just wasn’t possible. They could work a number on humans, though, making them forget they’d been bitten, and that perhaps what had been two fangs puncturing their skin had instead simply been a nasty bug bite.

“I renege on my offer, Kyler,” he whispered.

It took her a few seconds to shake off the blissful daze his touch had led her into. “What?”

“About being a casual lover to celebrate your good day.”

“Oh...okay.” But then she felt her confidence and straightened. What was wrong with her? Not pretty enough? Too...quaint? “Why?”

“It would wound my pride to take you home and then know you would walk away the next day without a care to look over your shoulder.”

“Oh.” Was he implying he didn’t want a hookup, but rather something more? Interesting. But she didn’t know him, and she wasn’t willing to make such a commitment. “Isn’t that how Casanova does it? Love them and leave them?”

“It is. And truth be told, it is my modus operandi, as well.”

“Then it’s because you’re not attracted to me. That’s all right. I understand. It was nice talking to you—”

He clasped her hand and pulled it to his lips, where he pressed a warm kiss that overwhelmed the silly shimmer they shared and coursed over her skin with a heady intensity that would not allow her to do anything but sigh.

“Oh, I am attracted to you, Kyler. I cannot look away from your bewitching blue eyes that are not so sure if they should fear me or trust me.”

She looked aside. But then a bold twist of her head showed him she wasn’t afraid to meet his gaze.

“Or perhaps devour me.” He brushed the hair from her cheek. “You’re not sure what you want. You’ve never been with a vampire before, so I sense fascination coached with caution. Perhaps not enough caution? I would never ask a woman to betray her moral compass.”

Why bring morality into the mix? Couldn’t he simply be her reward for a job well done? She tended to dive into things and think about them later. Life had always demanded she challenge herself. To be the best. To learn new things. To steal if needs must. To never be afraid.

To soar.

So she leaned in and spoke near his ear. “I am quite sure I want you, Dante.”

“Why? Is it as I presume? Because I am vampire?”

“Yes, and...” He was a Casanova, and she’d fallen under his spell. And he was a challenge she wanted to leap for. “Because you compel me. And I don’t think it’s because of what we are. Sure, a bite would be nice. As you’ve guessed, I’ve never been with another vampire. But beyond that? I want to feel you.” She pressed her hand against his chest. “On my skin.”

A playful smile tugged at one corner of his perfect lips. “And here I thought I was the Casanova?”

“I’m not afraid of asking for what I want. Truth? I’ve never done anything like this before. But it feels right. Take me home with you, Dante.” She pressed her mouth lightly to his and whispered, “Let’s celebrate a good day.”

Chapter 2

Dante’s place was but a ten minute walk away. And while he wasn’t averse to hotel rooms, he preferred the homey comfort of his palazzo when entertaining such an intriguing woman. Along the way, Kyler had clasped his hand, and together they had almost run through the gaily lit, bustling Venetian streets. It was an exhilarating night. The moon sat high in the chrome-blue sky, and the air was heavy with the promise of rain. Streetlights beamed golden ribbons across dark palazzo windows and striped emerald hedgerows with glossy gold bands.

The woman with the curvaceous frame and lush, black Audrey Hepburn hair had suggested they have sex. It was his charm that had enticed her. Yes, he had it in spades and wasn’t afraid to wield it to get what he wanted.

And tonight? He wanted Kyler in his bed because that’s how he needed things to go down to accomplish his task. The surprise fact she was vampire was not so much a bonus as a creative challenge to his well-honed art of seduction. He rarely slept with vampires.

And yet he wanted her as much as she seemed to want him. Was he the one being led to bed by a new vampiress curious for the sexual bite?

Well, that was the challenge. If he bit a woman while having sex, he never saw her again. It was the way he rolled. And generally the bitten was human, or some other species of the paranormal. He had only once bitten another vampire. Too much was involved with such a piercing, such as emotional bonding. He didn’t need that kind of headache. Or the heartache.

Though he might like a taste of new blood. Just a little? Dare he break his decades-old rule of never indulging in vampire blood again? What could a sip hurt?

Ah! What was he thinking? He mentally walked five steps ahead of himself. This night must be carefully orchestrated. He mustn’t lose focus on the goal. And he must ensure she did.

“I live here,” he said with a tug at her hand to divert her from walking farther. The sidewalk was moist most of the time due to the proximity to the canal, and it gleamed black. He shoved the key in the lock on the palazzo door.

Kyler’s body heat hugged his arm and leg as she snuggled in close, wrapping an arm across his chest. It was an easy closeness that he would normally attribute to a few glasses of prosecco. But she wasn’t drunk. And he was glad for that.

“You smell great,” she said. “Like a wild autumn night.”

“And you curl about me like a kitty cat.” He’d never cared for the feline species. Until now.

He opened the door, and before he could invite her inside, she kissed him there on the threshold. Bold, unexpected and only a little tentative. She was finding her way, not afraid to dive into the unknown. Could she handle him?

Perhaps he should wonder if he could handle her.

What was he thinking? Of course he could.

“You’re not afraid of cats, are you?” she asked.

“Here, kitty, kitty,” he murmured against her mouth. “Come in.”

With the proper invite into his home, the vampiress crossed the threshold, and Dante lifted her. Chest to chest, she wrapped her legs about his hips and swung her backpack onto the eighteenth-century tufted jacquard divan pushed up against the wall. She sought his kiss hungrily.

Dante eyed the backpack as he closed the door. It would be fine there. However, he would not be fine until he’d stripped this woman bare and made a thorough exploration of every inch of her skin.

* * *

Dante carried Kyler to the top of the stairs and into the bedroom. Rain spattered the windows, shrouded by sheer white curtains. The palazzo was dark, but moonlight illuminated this room brightly. Kyler had time to notice a bed with a white comforter and a chair with gray fabric as he set her down on the bed and then stepped back.

He stood there looking at her, unabashed sex clothed in a stylish suit and classy red tie. Drink me in with your eyes, she thought. The darkness shadowed half his face, and while that made it easier to stand in front of his admiration, it also made her want to see all of him. To share the admiration.

“Kiss me,” she said, fighting a nervous rise in her voice. She would not punk out on this opportunity. Being a little nervous with a new lover was okay, she told herself. She tapped her lips. “Come here, vampire.”

“You don’t like me looking at you?” He adjusted the tie knot, loosening it a bit.

“I do. But you can look much better with your fingers.”

“True.” He leaned over her and tangled his fingers into the ends of her hair. “Lush and soft. Like you. Alone in Venice on an art expedition. How I do want to discover what makes Kyler Cole tick. I’ll start with unwrapping you.”

He slid her turtleneck up her stomach and over her breasts. Her hair spilled in static snaps to her bare shoulders, and she was thankful she’d worn a lacy demi bra. The lace-trimmed edge danced just above her nipples, and the rosy buds hardened under Dante’s warm and desirous gaze.

He leaned in, the red tie tickling her stomach, and when she thought he’d kiss her above her breasts—and she lifted them expectantly—he instead hushed an exhale over her skin. A breath of desire. A shiver of want tightened her nipples. At her sides, her fingers curled into wanting claws and then relaxed. Heartbeats quickened.

Dante’s tongue lashed her skin a teasing three inches away from the lace bra. Her moan was unstoppable.

“You sound like the kitten you are,” he said as he wrapped an arm across her back.

As he glided his fingers up her stomach and rib cage to the base of her bra, Kyler gripped the tie and pulled him closer. The silken weave of his suit playing across her skin made her wonder whether or not she wanted him to get naked or stay clothed. Suit against flesh was an exotic sensation that heightened her desire even more.

He kissed her on the mound of a breast and nuzzled his nose across her skin, taking in her perfume. Yet she wore none. Couldn’t risk giving herself away tonight had she gotten close to human guards at the auction house.

The auction house. She’d abandoned the backpack downstairs without a care. She really should—

Kyler gasped as Dante’s lips closed over her nipple, still covered by the black lace. The heat of him and the firm pressure as his tongue teasing through the lace undid her rational thought. Whatever she’d been worried about mattered less than falling into his attentive discovery.

One of his hands pushed down her black leggings, beneath which she did not wear panties. She’d been going for a seamless look. He growled his appreciation at that and then nudged down the lace bra cups to fully take her nipple into his mouth.

Mercy, if it didn’t go any further than this, she’d be a happy woman. But tonight, happy had already been superseded by elation. So she was in it for the win. And an orgasm or two.

Hiking up one of her legs along his thigh, Dante grasped her ankle and held her there. He suckled at her nipple, lazing his tongue in circles and then sucking hard. He indulged in her. He’d likely had a lot of practice in pleasing women—no!

She wasn’t going to think like that. It was just the two of them. And she intended to enjoy every moment of his attention.

Shoving the suit coat from his shoulders, Kyler was able to shimmy it down his arms even as he drew a wet, exploratory line to her other nipple. He managed to unhook her bra in the back, and it fell away. She was now completely naked, and he was still dressed.

Dante pulled back to look at her. A sexy, know-too-much smile curled his mouth, preceding a low, whispery growl. He had her right where he wanted her.

And she was good with that.

Kyler leaned up onto her elbows and crooked a finger, inviting him to join her. When he stepped forward, she waggled that finger in a naughty admonishment.

“First, you get naked, too,” she said. “I want to look at you as you’ve been looking at me.”

“I can do that. But you won’t mind if I pick up my coat, will you?” He bent to retrieve the abandoned piece of clothing, then carefully folded it and placed it over the back of the tufted Louis XIV chair near the window. He turned, unbuttoning his cuffs. “I appreciate the lines of a well-tailored suit.”

Kyler leaned her head against her palm. “I appreciate the lines of a well-honed male.”

Pulling away the red tie with a fling, he relegated it to the top of the folded suit coat. A few expert flicks of buttons released the crisp white business shirt from protecting his sculpted lines and curves. Hard muscles pulsed with his movement, and the rise of prominent hip bones drew her eye to the angled muscles that arrowed toward his crotch.

Kyler murmured a satisfied coo. “Nice.”

Dante paused, his fingers teasing at his trouser buttons. “If you’re going to narrate my undressing I’m not sure I can continue.”

“Really? You are the last person I would expect to be shy. But I can keep quiet.” She drew pinched fingers across her lips.

Dante nodded, gifting her with the rest of the show. Beneath the trousers he wore briefs that hugged—oh, a nice-size package. And it, too, pulsed beneath the fabric, teasing her with what might be revealed.

“Wait,” she said with more enthusiasm than his surprised look showed he was comfortable with. “Come here and let me help you with that.”

She sat up as he approached. Gliding her palm down his chest, she reveled in the warmth of his skin and muscles. Hadn’t she always thought vampires were supposed to be cold, dead creatures? Certainly she had not grown colder over the past half year. And being proven wrong once again was all right with her. Her fingers skimmed over Dante’s abdomen, a six-pack of ridiculously hard muscle. Each ridge tensed at her touch, begging her to move slowly, enjoy the sensation.

And then she moved her fingers downward and cupped over his briefs, drawing a hiss of pleasure from him. A squeeze to the form beneath her palm tested its hardness and heat. As he grew more erect, his penis bulged out the waistline of his briefs, and Kyler was able to slide a hand inside. She slid her other hand down the back of his briefs, easing them slowly over his buttocks. The weight of his steely erection in her hand made her feel powerful. Sexy. Wanton.

She giggled and then, before he could protest, tilted up her head to meet his mouth with a kiss. Hard and demanding and needy. As she worked her hand up and down over his erection, summoning him, coaxing him, she fed her own needs by dancing her tongue against his.

Every part of her being hummed. Her core spun in an apprehensive, wanting coil of soon-to-come fireworks and just-hold-off-a-bit warning. So she pressed her thighs together, staying the orgasm that already cried out for release.

Dante crawled over her and onto the bed, and she followed his direction, lying back, yet not releasing his hard, tight cock. She needed to feel him inside her. With that delicious thought, the curiosity to also feel his fangs inside her emerged.

“Show me your fangs,” she whispered.

“You’re not ready for that, Kitten.” A flash of lightning sparkled around the room brightly and blinked out, darkening Dante’s gaze above her. “Let’s do this slowly, shall we?”

And as a whimper of protest teased at the edge of her tongue, Kyler surrendered to his command. How could she not? His fingers slipped between her thighs, and as she noticed the first touch of his index finger to her clitoris, she was surprised by the overwhelming release of orgasm that rushed up in a gasping cry of joy. Her body shivered and shook beneath his.

And she forgot about the bite.

“You come like the lightning,” he said against her ear. “And you smell like rain and prosecco. I will always remember you this way.”

With the thought that this was the beginning to the end of what had been a very daring encounter on her part, Kyler pulled his hips to her and directed his cock inside her. He filled her, hot and hard and thrusting.

She’d known this night would be a hookup. In the morning, she’d walk away and never see him again. And she was fine with that.

But not really.

* * *

Kittens and cream, Dante thought as Kyler’s moist warmth clasped tightly about his cock. He thrust inside her as she orgasmed, and her rhythmic, squeezing pressure lured him toward his own swift climax. Two strangers came together in an irresistible crush of skin, sighs and sexual fire. He couldn’t argue the results.

Shouting out as the tremendous orgasm shook through his system, he bowed his head to Kyler’s breast and kissed the firm, hot flesh. His fangs descended without his volition. Damn. As quickly, he willed them back up. He was less ready for the fang reveal than she seemed to be. And it wasn’t necessary. He wasn’t hungry for anything other than more of Kyler’s exquisite body undulating and moaning beneath him.

He’d fucked bold women, many a time. Kyler wasn’t as bold as she thought. Some parts of her skipped along for the good time while he suspected another part of her hadn’t expected such an encounter. She hid her nervousness well, though. And right now, she completely surrendered to the moment.

So lush, lying beneath him as though she were a goddess demanding worship. And worship her he would.

Pulling out from her, he glided down her body, trailing his tongue from one breast to the other and then taking the time to study the full curve on the underside of each breast. At her belly, he tickled a circle around her navel, then moved quickly south to taste her sticky sweetness.

Her fingers skimmed over his scalp and down his neck, nails digging in when they reached his shoulder. Yes, just a little deeper—he tongued her as deeply as he desired to feel her nails in his skin. Kyler moaned and then the exquisite pain was gone as she grasped the bedsheets.

“Yes,” she whispered in a purr.

Again Dante’s fangs ached to descend, but he cautioned them to stay put. He wouldn’t bite her. Not yet. He didn’t even know this woman, and if all went well, come morning he would never see her again.

A bite would only complicate things.

* * *

Kyler slid out from the rumpled white sheets and glanced over at the man stretched across the bed like a fallen angel. Dante D’Arcangelo? Oh, yes, indeed. He was some kind of dark angel. And an amazing lover. Whew! She’d made a good choice in taking him home with her. Or rather, she was at his palazzo.

But she mustn’t get lost in the feel-good vibrations. She’d gotten what she wanted: a night of celebratory sex with a handsome lover. A new day glimmered on the shiny rooftops across the canal. And she knew better than to believe she actually meant more to him than a hookup.

While he slept, she had to get out of Dodge. Gathering up her clothes from the floor, she headed toward the en suite bathroom. The sun shone on the canal beyond the sheer white curtains. It was still quite dark, but thanks to a skylight, she didn’t bother to turn on the light to check her makeup in the mirror. That was one thing she missed about being human—her reflection. And while she’d never been a Narcissus, mirrors did come in handy when applying eyeliner.

After running water in the sink until it was warm, she splashed her face and found a hand towel in the linen closet. She wanted to look around, to satisfy her curiosity about the dark angel who was really a vampire, but there wasn’t time. And she’d left her backpack down in the foyer, not wanting to seem overly concerned about it last night and prompt him to ask unanswerable questions.

Pulling up her black leggings and then the long-sleeved turtleneck, she again lamented her wardrobe choice.

“You do look like a cat burglar,” she whispered. “Who do you think you are fooling?”

Apparently, one very sexy French-Italian vampire.

Carefully pulling open the door, she peered across the whitewashed hardwood floor over to the bed...

“Where is he?”

The bed was empty. And her flat, rubber-soled shoes designed for sneaking into locked buildings and up along windowsills sat at the foot of the bed. Had he gone looking for her? No, he must have heard her in the bathroom. Probably he’d headed down to—well, vampires didn’t do breakfast. They didn’t need to eat food.

Drinking blood was the only sustenance a vampire required for survival. Something she’d learned to relish after initially balking at the strong, meaty flavor. Quickly she’d learned to treat the taste like wine. So many appellations and flavor notes. Humans offered a cornucopia of tastes she’d never tire of experiencing.

And if all went well, soon she could claim that taste for an eternity.

She’d wanted to bite Dante last night.

He was so irresistible. Would a little bite have hurt? He’d insisted it wasn’t something she was ready for. Why, though? Too intimate? Perhaps. Kyler guessed even though Dante claimed a mastery with women, intimacy was well out of his repertoire. So she’d have to live without a taste of her dark angel. This had been a one-night stand. A satisfying reward for a job well done. A memory to keep.

And now to make her escape without some drawn-out explanation or an awkward goodbye. Damn, she wished he’d still been sleeping.

After slipping on her flats, Kyler strolled down the hallway to the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs a worn fieldstone floor stretched to the right and into the foyer. The stones were as dark as the gray-painted walls. She’d not noticed the dark decor last night. She’d had her arms and legs wrapped around Dante. And her mouth on his. And, oh...his mouth all over her skin as they’d made fantastic love to each other. He had worshipped her body.

As she veered toward the divan where she’d dropped the backpack, the shadows receded into a beam of subdued morning light. With a startled gasp, she noticed Dante sat there. With the backpack dangling from his fingers.

And it was open.

Chapter 3

“What are you doing?” Kyler rushed over and grabbed her backpack. “You went through it? It’s—”

“Empty,” he provided plainly.

Dante stretched an arm across the back of the divan and crossed his legs casually. He wore dark slacks, and his unbuttoned white shirt revealed hard abs. That she had licked only hours earlier.

“You had the egg last night before we came here,” he said. “I took note of the weight of the backpack.” He pointed toward the front door, and she spun to see that it was open a crack. “Someone’s been here.”

Clutching the empty backpack to her chest, Kyler squeezed her eyes shut tight, then turned toward him to unleash her anger. “You liar! You did this! How did you know? Were you following me? I remember you confessed to following me. Then you had sex with me to distract—” With a heavy gasp, she managed, “You used me?”

“Kyler, sit.” He patted the tufted cushion beside him. Entirely too calm, he infuriated her. But then he could afford to express casual disinterest. He now had the upper hand. “Raging at me is not going to solve the issue of the missing egg.”

“You bastard! Of course. You should know. You took it. But how did you know I had it? You had to have been following me far longer than the few blocks near the flower shop. And then to trick me into coming here with you...you had this all planned out!”

“I performed no such trickery. You’ll recall we shared a few drinks, and then it was you who eagerly suggested we finish off the evening here.”

“After your suggestion you were open to having sex with me.”

He lifted a finger. “A suggestion you took to with amorous enthusiasm.”

“You were scheming. Hoping to get me alone so you could steal the egg from me. I can’t believe I fell for that! I wanted a night to celebrate and have wild sex—”

He grinned deliciously. “It was a bit wild, wasn’t it, Kitten?”

“Aggh! Where did you put it?”

Dante spread his arms out in dismay. “I haven’t touched it. Though I admit I slipped down here while you were in the bathroom to do just that.”

“Steal it?”

He nodded. “Truth? I’d hoped to take it into my charge after you’d done all the hard work.”

Jaw dropping open, she gaped at him.

He shrugged. “I saw you yesterday afternoon in the auction house. Casing the place. I was there doing the same. Don’t get me wrong. I am not a thief. It’s simply my quest to acquire that specific Fabergé egg.”

She lifted a brow.

“Doesn’t require explanation.” He waved it off with a flick of his fingers. “It occurred to me that you’d probably strike the night before the auction, as I had intended. And I had the notion to see if you could manage the theft and bring the prize to me. Which you did. After following you from the auction house, I positioned myself at the bar, hoping you’d walk that way. It was a series of remarkable coincidences.”

“Bullshit.” She slammed the backpack on the floor, which didn’t produce as loud of a noise as she wished. Pacing the stone tiles, she ran her fingers through her hair. “What makes you believe someone stole it? We were awake all night. We would have heard a disturbance. No. I know you’re lying. This is another scheme. Make me believe someone broke in by leaving the door open a crack, and then when I’m gone you’ve got the egg all to yourself.”

“Just stop, Kyler. Stand still.”

She swung toward him. “Why?”

“Close your eyes.”

She shook her head in irritation and shook a fist at him.

A trace of the Casanova smile tickled his mouth. “Humor me?”

Why did the man have to be so pretty? She didn’t want to punch him; she wanted to hug him. And lick him. And allow him to touch her all the ways he’d done last night.

With a huff, she slammed her hands to her hips and closed her eyes.

“Now,” he said gently. “What do you smell?”

About to reply that she smelled a bastard, she inhaled deeply, vying for a modicum of calm. She had to figure this out, a way to deal with him, to bargain perhaps and get the egg back. As soon as she got the call to hand off the prize, she had to be ready. Or bye-bye eternity.

Wrinkling her nose, she took in the scents in the foyer. First being Dante’s after-sex warmth and musk. Mercy, could she have seconds? And thirds?

Focus, Kyler!

Beyond that annoyingly attractive scent lingered the dry coolness of the floor stones, and then—she opened her eyes. “Wet dog?”

“Exactly. It was raining hard earlier this morning. We were awake but were focused on one another. A delicious focus, I might add. Easy enough for a werewolf to break in and nab the item with the rain to muffle the noise.”

“A werewolf? Oh, please. Don’t you have security on this place?”

He nodded toward the door. “Just a simple lock with key access. An easy crack. I never keep anything of value here, and oftentimes in the winter months I’ll leave the place open, available for friends to use.”

“I cannot believe you are so lax with security!”

“Yes, well. I’m paying the price now, aren’t I?”

“How so? It was my nab! And there’s nothing you can say or do to change that. I did the work.” She thumped her fist on her chest in frustration. “I stole the egg. It’s mine.”

“Do you have it in your hands?”

She huffed at his need to state the obvious.

“Then it’s not yours, is it? Whoever holds it owns it. As I learned when it was originally stolen from me.”

“What?”

He waved a hand, dismissing the comment. “Doesn’t matter now. What does is that I’ve come to Venice to claim the Fabergé egg, and I won’t leave without it.”

“So you admit you used me—seduced me—to get what you wanted?”

He lifted a finger. “The sex was not my original intention. I had not planned to use intimacy to obtain the egg. That was a fortuitous bonus.”

“Liar. You took me home, knowing I had the egg on me. Then you fucked me and planned to steal it while I was sleeping or in the bathroom.”

“I did intend to steal the egg from you. I won’t deny that. But the sex was completely separate from my larcenist goals. And I’ll thank you not to combine the two. What we shared last night was intimate and sacred.”

“Sacred? Yeah right. You are a classic womanizer.”

“I am not a womanizer,” he protested. “I love women. All of them.”

She blew out a breath. Was there a difference? “I don’t believe you,” she said. “But it doesn’t matter. Right now, I’ve got to find the smelly wolf who stole my egg. You really think it was a werewolf?”

“The scent is obvious. And the fact we can both still smell it means the culprit must have been here in the last hour or two.”

“Then I need to track it.”

She sniffed the air but couldn’t quite pick up the salty-wet scent. It was quickly dissipating. How to track a wolf? She’d never even met a werewolf. She knew it was safer to talk with them in their un-shifted were form than when they were in their shifted half human, half wolf form. She’d figure it out.

But first. “Stand up. I want to search you.”

Dante stood and raised his arms out from his sides. His shirt opened, and his abs flexed magnificently. Kyler spread her fingers before her, deciding where to touch him first. No place on his person to hide an egg the size of a skull. Had she counted those ridges last night? That was definitely more than a six-pack, now that she considered it. And she could smell his leather-and-musk heat wafting through the atmosphere, tempting, teasing—

“Forget it.” She gazed about the foyer to distract her waning fortitude, and as she did Dante pulled her into his embrace. She struggled against him, but he wrangled her into compliance with ease. “Don’t touch me. I don’t want this from you. You didn’t mean any of it last night.”

“I meant it all, Kyler. I promise you that. I take intimacy with a woman very seriously. Look at me.”

She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

“Fine. And you’re right. There’s time later to argue the semantics of our ill-timed love-making session. We need to track the wolf before the trail goes stale.”

“We? I don’t think so. The egg is mine. I am out of here.”

“I’m right behind you!” Dante called.

Kyler didn’t listen. With the backpack in hand, she slammed the front door behind her, then, thinking to look for a clue, she studied the door handle and sniffed. Yes, maybe a faint scent of wolf there. The sidewalk was still wet, so she couldn’t see tracks or decide which way the trail led. Tracking people was not her forte. Just as thievery was not.

But falling for some scheming, too-pretty womanizer? Sign her right up. Apparently she was a professional when it came to being seduced.

“I can’t believe last night happened.”

But she’d do her damned best to forget about her lack of discretion now. To forget the scent of him on her skin and at her mouth and—

“Aggh! Focus, Kyler. You are a vampire. You’ve got skills. You can do this. And no,” she muttered as she strode down the street, tugging down her shirt, “this is not a walk of shame. I am without shame. Really.”

Mostly. At the very least she could be thankful her hair wasn’t in a tangle and she wasn’t wearing a spangled miniskirt and sky-high heels.

She sniffed the air again. Tracking werewolves had not been a part of her paltry Welcome to Vampirism 101 education. Because she’d never received that complete course. Her creator had been too busy, unwilling to divulge more than a handful of details, and—

“Uninterested,” she said with a sigh. So why was she here in Venice now trying to help that very vampire out?

Because she did appreciate the gift of vampirism he had given her. And that was all there was to it. She owed him.

She walked slowly, trying to pick up clues, scents, anything. As she struggled to fix on a doglike scent, it became horribly obvious she’d never find the wolf unless it walked right up to her.

* * *

Dante quickly dressed. He kept the palazzo stocked with suits. Rarely did he wear leisure clothing such as jeans, though he could manage a relaxed élan that would blend him in with the tourists. He preferred a suit. A well-dressed man could get through most difficulties life flung at him. But he hadn’t time for the whole attire. Clean, pressed trousers and a white dress shirt would have to serve. He left the red silk tie lying on the bed, grabbed his door key and rushed out of the palazzo. He locked the front door, but, as had been proven, it mattered little. He must look into having one of those newfangled digital locks installed. He struggled with new technologies.

Then again, as he’d said to Kyler, he kept no items of value in this palazzo, so did tight security really matter? He wasn’t a man who collected things. What mattered most to him were experiences. Visceral, tangible moments that were fixed into his brain forever after. Such as having sex with Kyler. She had been a hot one, and he’d like to handle her again.

He rarely spent more than a night or two, sometimes a week, with a woman. And he shouldn’t risk another night of passion with a woman whom he, by all rights, should deem an enemy. Well, she had been when she’d held the egg.

Now that neither held the prize? He’d reserve judgment on labeling her as foe or ally.

It was early morning, and tourists had yet to flood the streets. Gondoliers were polishing their conveyances and sidewalk café staff washed tables and metal chairs. The sun was hidden behind clouds, for which he was thankful. He hadn’t taken along a pair of sunglasses, and the sun was not his favorite star.

He didn’t have to go far before he found Kyler walking slowly, her hands extended out at her sides as if to feel the air and her eyes closed as she strolled to a stop at a corner. Her silhouette reminded him of a 1940s pinup girl, rounded at the hips and breasts, and all that gorgeous hair swishing about in curls below her shoulders. The memory of her soft purrs against his skin last night made him smile.

He would have her again.

Quickening his pace, he grabbed her hand. Following the werewolf scent he was still able to track, he tugged her along to the left when he presumed she might have turned right.

She protested with a tug. A gentle one. “I told you I didn’t want to see you again!”

“Quieter, please.” He made show of looking about. “We are on a mission. You’re a thief. You must know how to practice stealth?”

The look she gave him made him immediately question that suggestion. But really, she had to be experienced to have walked out of the Cannaregio Casa d’Aste with a priceless artifact in hand. But why so impudent? He should be the angry one—she’d stolen from him. For now he attributed her anger to their current estranged intimacy. He’d make amends. All night long.

“Like it or not,” he said, “we are now a team. This way.”

He veered toward the canal and then left alongside a brick building that boasted a narrow sidewalk between it and the still canal. The werewolf scent faded because the salty, stale water overwhelmed his senses, but with intense concentration Dante was able to keep his focus on a tendril of wolfish odor.

Pleased Kyler hadn’t further protested their working together, he took selfish pride in the fact that he’d fucked her well last night. She may hate him, but she still wanted him. And she freely held his hand now, trailing behind him as they neared a diminutive metal bridge arching across the narrow canal.

The scent of wolf assaulted his nostrils like a rotten egg. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. This was not a stale trail they followed.

Dante pressed Kyler to a stop. “They are close,” he whispered. “Can you scent them?”

She nodded and closed her eyes.

And he was able to pick up voices...most likely belonging to the wolves.

“When do we leave Venice?”

“Tonight. We gotta get out of here before news of the theft will make leaving the city difficult. And there’s the full moon. You smell that?”

“Uh...oh, yeah. Like musk and...blood. Vamps!”

“Shit.” Dante pushed Kyler toward the narrow stone steps that descended into the clear green canal under the bridge. “They’ve picked up our scent. Get in!”

“But—” She didn’t continue the objection. Instead she stepped quickly down and sank under the surface, and he followed.

Kyler didn’t utter a word as the cool waters tugged them downward and he directed her to swim under the bridge. Their movements were sinuous as they glided underwater. Vampires could breathe for extended periods underwater; werewolves had about as much skill with that as humans.

They resurfaced beneath the bridge. Treading water, Dante pressed his finger over her mouth. Her bright blue eyes held such trust, not a bit of worry. Why trust him? According to her previous reasoning, he was the guy who had tricked her and stolen the egg. Perhaps she was so far out of her element even she didn’t know what or whom to trust. Poor little girl. He really would like to be that kind of man—the one a woman could trust—but it wasn’t coded into his DNA. He’d never trusted women, so why shouldn’t they return that favor?

They averted their eyes upward as footsteps gained the bridge, and the familiar scent of werewolf kept their cautious movements to tight hand swishes and steady kicks to keep their ears above water.

On the bridge a male said, “I thought I smelled vampires. I know I did.”

“Yeah, but they’re not this way. Maybe it was around that other corner? Doesn’t matter. We should head back to the vampire’s palazzo in San Marco. Have stakes. Will kill vamps.”

“We were told not to kill anyone.”

“You complain too much.”

“And you think you smell vampires everywhere.”

“Yeah, well, they are nasty bloodsucking longtooths. And who’s going to know if we stake ’em?”

“I do feel an itch to dust a longtooth. Let’s go.”

The footsteps tromped off the bridge.

Dante’s eyes traced Kyler’s face from her crimped brows to her sucked-in lower lip. Now she sought reassurance in his gaze. He could offer false security, tug her into his arms and supply some hopeful words, but it always ended in seduction. And right now he wanted to get out of this smelly water and onto dry land.

After a few more minutes of treading water and listening, when he felt sure the wolf scent had faded, they swam to the opposite shore and he boosted her up out of the water and onto the narrow sidewalk.

Legs dangling over the edge and into the water, Kyler tilted her head against a metal plate riveted onto the side of a building and closed her eyes. “That was close. And did you hear? They want to stake us.”

“Yes, and they are returning to my palazzo. Guess I’ll be staying elsewhere for a few days until I can assure myself it’s safe to return. Damn.” He tugged off a leather shoe and emptied the water into the canal, then followed with the other. The trousers clung to his ankles. “This shirt is silk.”

“Really? You’re worried about a shirt when it could have been your heart at the point of a stake?”

“But it’s Zegna.”

He could sense Kyler rolled her eyes, so he laughed softly. “There are very few material goods I value in life beyond a well-tailored suit. I will survive, though. As you’ve said, it beats taking a stake. How do you fare?”

“Just cheap leggings and an ugly shirt I picked up for the job. I never wear black. Ugh. I need color.”

“Don’t you wear black on your other heists?”

“Uh...none of your business. So now what?”

Was that none of his business because she committed so many other heists she couldn’t keep them straight, or because this particular thievery venture was new to her? Instinct told him to go with the latter. Interesting.

“Shall we make our way to your hotel for some dry clothes?” he asked.

“I don’t think you’ll find a change of clothing at my place.”

“So you’d prefer I return home and walk in on two werewolves with stakes? You bruise me, Kyler. I thought the sex we shared was, at the least, spectacular.”

“It was awesome. But it didn’t make us besties.”

“Fair enough. Though we are in this adventure together.”

“But—”

Rain suddenly spattered the canal and the sidewalk where they sat, and Kyler burst out in laughter. Dante could not find the humor in being soaked even more. Had he been on his own he might have returned to his neighborhood, tracked the wolves from his palazzo to their hideout and found the egg. But having to protect a woman?

She most certainly could not do this on her own.

“Fine. We’ll go to my hotel room,” she said. “But don’t get any ideas, Casanova.”

“You think I’ve seduction in mind when I smell like the canal? Absolutely not. I want to regroup and then find that egg.”

“As do I.”

* * *

Dante was surprised Kyler offered to let him accompany her back to the hotel room. There was that blind trust again. But it worked for him. Perhaps it wasn’t so much trust as an innate openness and willingness to try new things. He decided she was an adventurous woman striving for full-on boldness. But with the loss of her stolen prize, adventure had turned and snapped back at her.

They wandered into the hotel foyer, shoes squishing and clothing clinging to their skin. The rain had escalated to a downpour, so they hadn’t needed to worry about explaining why they were soaked. Everyone was wet.

Kyler pointed to the elevator bay, but Dante veered toward reception. “Hang on.” At the reception desk he took a piece of paper and a pen and wrote down his name and the name of his tailor. “What’s your room number, Kitten?”

“Three twenty.”

He wrote that down, as well, then handed it to the concierge. Fortunately he had a few folded bills in his trouser back pocket, but they were pitifully wet. He stretched out a fifty and handed it over. “Call Signore Galleti. Give him my name and tell him I’ll need a complete suit and shoes. Quick as possible, per cortesia.”

“Very good, signore. I’ll have someone bring it right up when it arrives.”

“Grazie.” He turned and led the way to the elevator, feeling Kyler follow behind him. He was accustomed to having things go his way, but a niggle at the back of his neck wanted her to walk beside him, not behind.

Once in the elevator, she said, “You have élan.”

“I’ve had a good century and a half to practice.”

“You were born with it,” she decided.

“Furthest from the truth possible, that guess.”

He wouldn’t elaborate on his odd childhood spent among the courtesans and johns. Who would believe he’d learned everything about women from tidying rooms in the morning while the courtesans slept off their nightly efforts in rumpled bliss?

“Were you born, uh...vamp?” she asked.

“I was not transformed until my twenties.” The doors opened, and this time he allowed her to walk out first, following her to her room. Once inside, he kicked off his soggy shoes.

“So, how were you made?” she asked, toeing off her flats. They did nothing for her shapely gams. He’d prefer to see her in stilettos.

Dante strolled into the small but tidy room and unbuttoned his shirt. It took some finesse to peel off the clinging fabric. He dropped it in a pile near his shoes. After pulling down his trousers and stepping out of those, he turned to stand in nothing but his boxer briefs, which were also soaked and clung to his cock, which quickly hardened when he noticed Kyler’s eyes alight there like heat-seeking missiles.

“How was I made?” he posited, barely keeping amusement from his tone. “Same as you were. One long bite, the sharing of blood until my heart almost burst and voilà!”

“Yes, but, that’s not exactly what I meant.” She ran a palm up her neck and glanced away from his crotch. “You can keep your undies on. Maybe I’ll hop in the shower while you...dry off. You can tell me the whole story when we’re both dressed and dry.”

“You don’t like me wet?” he asked as innocently as he could manage. Anything to distract from her wanting to learn more about his transformation to vampire.

Kyler shook her head and chuckled. “You try all you like. Those chiseled abs are not going to make me fall to my knees again. I’m over you, you sneaky bastard.”

“I don’t think I like being called such a thing.”

“Too bad. You earned it.” She began to pull up her shirt as she strode into the bathroom. “Don’t sit on my bed in those wet boxers. Here!”

A towel flew out from the bathroom and landed on the floor two feet away from him. The bathroom door closed, and muffled sounds from the fan came from within.

“A sneaky bastard, eh?” He peeled off his wet briefs and tossed them aside. He wrapped the towel about his hips. “I’ll show her sneaky.”

Scanning the room, he sought her suitcase and personal items. There were a few things hanging in the open closet. A pair of black pumps sat on the closet floor. Nice.

She had to keep a purse and passport somewhere. As the patter of the shower began, he eyed the safe inside the closet. A safe cracker he was not. Though if given the proper impetus he’d give anything a go.

He bent before the square safe and rubbed his fingers expectantly before the dial. But, no. He wasn’t that convinced he’d find any damning information on Kyler Cole. She’d come to steal the Fabergé egg. For a friend? He could understand the monetary reward, but selling the thing would be a bitch. She didn’t seem the sort who had such connections as a fence.

Yet he knew next to nothing about her. Save that when he suckled her nipples she arched her back and squirmed as if possessed by an exotic goddess. Mmm, he had to do that again.

No.

Yes?

Most certainly he would not avoid the temptation if offered again.

Pushing aside the sheer curtain, he looked out over Saint Mark’s square and focused on the campanile, the bell tower that stretched more than three hundred feet into the sky. The hotel room offered an excellent view of the entire square, which now bustled with a rainbow of tourists and a mad feeding frenzy of pigeons. He liked a crowd, getting lost among humanity. All those warm bodies rubbing against one another, most never aware that a man who survived by drinking their blood lurked close by.

It had been a week since he’d had a drink of blood. He didn’t need it any more often than every other week, but he indulged whenever he desired. And much as he could use a long drink of human blood, he would starve himself of that treat for the pleasure of Kyler’s blood.

And what was that about? It had been a long time since he’d been with a vampiress. More than a century. And he seriously wanted to taste her. To hold her close and feel her heart beat against his chest as her blood slid across his tongue, imbuing that pounding pulse into his taste buds.

If only she were not vampire.

Drinking from his own kind was intimate, and some vampires bonded in doing so. It wasn’t necessarily a rest-of-their-lives thing, but it did connect them deeply. And he was about as willing to make that connection with another vampire as he wanted to take another dip in the canal.

Unless he found the right woman.

Never going to happen. Dante D’Arcangelo give up all women to settle for merely one? He chuckled at the madness of that thought.

Pulling the curtain across the window softened the light in the room. He eyed the television remote but shook his head. Instead he sat on the bed and closed his eyes. It took a while, but eventually he could move his hearing beyond the bathroom fan and pick out the individual water droplets that pearled on Kyler’s soft skin. They spattered from her head, dribbled down her glossy hair and then glided across her full and heavy breasts. He should be in there, licking them as if she were drenched with wine.

But he’d given her reason to distrust him when she’d caught him going through the empty backpack. Now, to earn back that trust, or simply play with her naivety for as long as was necessary until he got what he wanted?

Chapter 4

Kyler pulled on the oversize T-shirt that she’d tossed over the towel bar. She should have brought a change of clothing into the bathroom with her, but she’d wanted to get out of the main room as quickly as possible. The sight of Dante standing in wet briefs that clung to his hard-as-steel cock had almost undone her.

She had only to remind herself of the empty backpack sitting on the closet floor to lose all interest in the sexy bastard. Sneaky and sexy made a terrible combination, so she would remain on her toes. Because...damn. She’d made a promise to another man to bring the egg to him. She wouldn’t renege. He’d given her so much. And he offered her so much more than Dante ever could.

Stepping out of the bathroom in a mist of steam, she found Dante sitting on the bed, a pillow supporting his back, his hands clasped behind his neck. The position beckoned her gaze to his chest and abs. Tight and hard, a landscape that demanded an assessment from her fingertips. And then she noticed the white towel had a gap right...there.

“Your turn,” she said, walking briskly to the table by the window and trying to look busy by opening the room service folder. “I may have used all the hot water. I’m not sorry.”

“That shirt,” he said as he stood.

“What about it?” She tugged out the frayed hem from the thirty-year-old rock concert T-shirt she’d inherited from her mother. It was one of the very few things Kyler had kept after she had died.

“Def Leppard?” He shuddered. “I was around when they were in their prime, but I can’t imagine you were even a thought in your parents’ minds then.”

“Trust me—I was a thought. What do you think inspired my parents to have the sex that produced me if not ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me’? Got a problem with it?”

“I think they’re an excellent band. But the thing is four sizes too big for you. It doesn’t show off your attributes.”

“Suck it, vampire.”

He gaped at her, but too quickly that familiar smirk tugged a corner of his mouth. “I’ve said you’re not ready for me to suck on you.”

“No, I meant it as—” She gestured dismissively. Did the man not recognize an insult when he heard one? Probably had never been insulted in his lifetime. Pretty bastard. “Never mind. Go take a shower before that towel falls off.”

He pulled the towel away to reveal an astute erection. Kyler’s jaw dropped. And Dante swung his equipment around and strolled into the bathroom, his dimpled, tight buttocks mocking her as he went. She couldn’t see his grin, but she knew it was there.

“You’re back to sneaky!” she called as the door closed.

And she needed a drink of ice water.

And to check her messages. Sitting on the bed, she grabbed the cell phone she’d left on the nightstand and scrolled through messages. Nothing about a pickup meeting place. That was weird. The vampire who had sent her on this mission knew she was going to nab the egg last night. Wouldn’t he have expected she’d have it in hand by now?

He had been explicit that she not call him. He was a busy man. He didn’t take calls; he made them. She wasn’t sure what his profession was exactly—beyond vampire—but she assumed it was stressful.

She should check the local news. See if the theft had been reported.

“This may be a good thing,” she mused. Because she didn’t have the egg in hand. She had to hurry and get it back. When the message finally did come through, she wanted to be able to move as quickly as possible.

“Werewolves,” she said. A big sigh sifted through her lips as she pulled her fingers through her wet hair. “I have no experience with werewolves.”

She was thankful Dante had suggested their dip in the canal to dissuade the werewolves from their scent. That man thought on his feet and used his instincts as they were meant to be utilized. She could learn from him.

If she weren’t trying to dodge him and keep him away from the prize.

Picking up the remote, she clicked on the TV and determined the scroll across the bottom of the screen, in Italian, was local news. She found the captioning and switched it to English. Weather. Museum times. Breaking news: Fabergé egg missing.

Missing?

“Not stolen? Weird.” But no matter to her. What did matter was that the media knew. It wouldn’t take long before such information reached Paris, where her contact waited. “Now the heat is on, and I have no idea where the egg is.”

She had failed miserably. But she wasn’t about to give up. As long as she had Dante on her side, she could use him, just as he had used her. Much as she hated to admit it, she needed him. He knew the city and werewolves.

Ten minutes later, he emerged in a cloud of jasmine-scented steam, wearing a towel tightly wrapped about his hips. After rubbing his hair with another towel, he then tossed that aside to his abandoned clothes pile. His short hair stuck up like bristles on his scalp, a dark cap that drew her eye directly to his face. His bone structure was something else. All lines and angles and exquisite shadows. Mmm, for one more taste of his sex-warm skin.

“Maybe housekeeping can dry and iron your shirt for you?” Kyler offered in an attempt to redirect her wandering lust.

She got up to sit in the armchair beside the TV. She’d forgotten to get dressed between fretting over werewolves and what she’d say to her friend if she didn’t get the egg back.

“It’s silk. It’s ruined.” Dante toed the heap of his wet clothing. “I’ll leave it for the hotel to donate to charity. If anyone wants to bother with this disaster. The shower felt great after a swim in the canal. And the water was still hot, much as you may have wished otherwise. Though I abhor the shampoo scent. I smell like flowers. Ah. Still in the ugly shirt, I see.”

“You are such a charmer. How did I ever see Casanova in you?”

“As I’ve said, I’m nothing at all like that roustabout.”

He sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard and stretching out his legs, giving no indication he might consider getting dressed. Kyler wondered how long it would take the tailor to deliver a new suit. Depending on the length of their wait, it could prove good, bad and so, so...naughty.

“I should get dressed.” She stood and wandered to the closet, selecting a snug pair of black capris and a red shirt. She nodded toward the muted TV. “Check out the news scroll.”

Behind the closed bathroom door, she swiftly changed and then drew some eyeliner on and combed her hair. She rarely did blush and eye shadow because she never could get makeup right. Her skin was flawless, though, so she never missed a made-up face. She bet Dante dated glamour-pusses. Those who really knew how to put themselves together and who could wield a makeup brush like an artist.

“Just average,” she said to her thoughts. A sigh felt necessary, but she did not.

What was wrong with enjoying an exciting affair with a sexy man? Beyond that he wanted to steal something from her. She needed him as much as he needed her. So she’d work with him. For now.

Back out in the main room, Dante observed the TV. “The media is not reporting it as theft, merely missing,” he said. “Curious. They must be trying to keep it quiet.”

“By broadcasting it on TV?”

“Can’t prevent the reporters that feed on the sensational, I’m sure. We need to get out of Venice.”

“Not without the egg. It’s noon. Do you think we’ll be able to pick up the werewolves’ scent again?”

“So you are relying on me now to help you in your endeavors? I thought you had decided to hate me?”

“I do hate you. With a passion.”

“Always be passionate about your endeavors, Kitten. It makes them tolerable, whether good or bad.”

“Whatever. But you do seem to have the better nose. I’ll follow it until it leads me to the prize.”

“I will do my best. But there will be a struggle between the two of us at the end—I can assure you of that.”

“I’m strong.”

“Yes, I noticed that last night.” He tilted forward a shoulder and looked over it. “The claw marks are no longer there, but you do like to dig in and hold on, don’t you?”

“You loved it.”

“Of course I did. You are exuberant and fiery when properly aroused. And wow. Red is really your color.”

She blew out a breath and shook her head. He was baiting her, and she should not take the hook. Again. It was just another line in his Casanova script, she told herself. He probably said the same thing to every woman he fucked.

“What is your reason for stealing the egg, if you’ll share with me?” he asked. “I would guess the monetary reward, but really, we both know fencing that thing will prove a bitch. It’s too famous. A lost Fabergé egg?”

“It’s worth millions,” Kyler said. “Why wouldn’t I want the thing?”

“So you’re a professional thief, are you?”

No belief in that question whatsoever. She set back her shoulders with as much confidence as she could muster. “I am.”

He eyed her soberly.

Kyler felt her bravado slip. The man could read her like a book. And that stare was 100 percent seduce and master.

She wandered to the end of the bed. “I’m not going to give details. In my profession, that’s never wise.”

“Of course not. So it’s a profession for you? I’m so glad I stepped aside to allow the professional to handle the details.”

“Damn right.”

“So you’ve a fence or buyer lined up?”

“Maybe.” She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms.

“And where does this friend come in? I thought you said you’d picked up a piece of art for him. Or was that a lie you made up when we met at the bar? It is a him, yes?”

“It is. And it wasn’t a lie. But how can you know the art I told you about was the egg?”

“You’ve committed two heists since arriving in Venice?”

Kyler shook her head. The man was insufferable! “Just the one. What about you? You said you were casing the place the same time as me. You don’t strike me as particularly in need of pin money.”

“I am quite well off, thank you.”

No kidding. The palazzo must be worth a fortune, and she bet the suits set him back a couple thousand per outfit. “And I recall you said you weren’t a thief? I don’t get it.”

“There’s nothing to get, Kyler. I wanted the Nécessaire egg. I devised a way to obtain it, via you.”

“How’d that work out for you?”

“I can’t argue the night ending on a high point with you pierced by my cock.” He stroked his jaw. The move was so sensual Kyler’s body heat rose a few degrees.

Neither could she make the argument. And just the sound of it—pierced by his cock—ooh, it gave her a good shiver.

“And I do love a good adventure. Such as werewolves,” he continued. “They provide a challenge. Keeps an old vamp on his toes. And in this case, I’ve also the pleasurable challenge of dallying with a very pretty vampiress thief who wishes to thwart my mission.”

“I’ve never thwarted anything. I’m not a thwarter. But I will win this one. I don’t care why you want the egg. It was mine. I had my hands on it. And I will have it again.”

“Do you know what the egg does?”

She shrugged. She had a good idea what the egg could make happen, and she understood it wasn’t the actual egg, but something inside it. But she wasn’t about to lay down all her cards before this guy.

“I thought it was a woman’s cosmetic kit inside the Nécessaire egg?” she said. “That’s what was advertised on the auction profile.”

“Right. Filled with combs, nail files, a mirror and so on. But beyond what the public knows...let’s say it is important I obtain the egg. For the safety of many.”

Kyler rolled her eyes. “Too vague. You didn’t win that argument.”

Dante tilted his head back against the headboard and slid a hand down his abs. The action took her out of her cautious reluctance and into a wanting desire for what was not-so-cleverly hidden beneath the towel.

“Fine,” he said. “We’ll play this game of cat and mouse. I like games. Especially one matched against a beautiful woman.”

“I never mix business with pleasure,” Kyler said quickly.

“Too late,” he said in a singsongy tone. “I’ve tasted your sweetness. Everywhere.”

Her shoulders dropped. Yeah, tell her about it. She hated the man. But she also found him irresistible. And she hated herself for being interested in him. This was exhausting.

“So what will we do with ourselves until my clothes arrive?”

“I’m not waiting for clothes,” she said. “Perhaps I’ll step out and see if I can pick up the trail.”

“That wouldn’t be wise.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“I would only wish to do such when you are naked and wanting before me.”

She bristled and turned her head quickly to hide the sigh that crossed her lips.

Dante leaned forward. “Have you experience with werewolves, Kyler? With fighting them? We do know the ones we heard on the bridge are armed with stakes. And they have our scents. How many times have you faced down the pointy tip of a stake?”

She’d forgotten about that. Her answer was never, and please, never let it happen anytime. Soon enough she wouldn’t have to worry about a stake being her end. But if she wanted to maintain any sort of advantage in this game of Dante’s, she couldn’t let him see her bluff.

“And what is your experience with fending off wolves?” she countered. “Are you some kind of trained killer? A werewolf slayer?”

Dante chuckled and swung his legs off the bed. As he stood, he ran his fingers through his hair, which had already dried; the short strands stuck up ever so invitingly. “Over the decades I’ve picked up some defense skills. Werewolves may be strong, but they’re slow. We vamps have speed and agility going for us. And I’d like to think we have the brains, as well. The dogs are stupid. But if they are part of a pack, then we have to be careful. Two or even three werewolves shouldn’t present a problem. A whole pack? Then we’ve got issues.”

“How do you know if they are with a pack?”

He shrugged. “That is something we probably won’t know until it’s too late.”

Kyler scoffed at his lack of knowledge. “What about you? Are you in a tribe?” She knew vampires gathered in tribes. She remained independent—not for lack of wanting to be in a tribe but rather for not knowing how to approach one to join.

“Yes.” He strolled around to the end of the bed and stood three feet from her. Kyler’s neck heated. She could feel his electrically sensual draw prickle at her skin through the air. Her nipples hardened. She caught her breath before another exhale could escape. “Tribe Incroyables.”

“Seriously? The Incredibles? That’s kind of cocky, don’t you think?”

“We are rather incredible,” he said with all the boisterous pride such a statement demanded. “I didn’t name the tribe. It’s a tip of the hat to Dumas’s musketeers. Our tribe leader, Christian De Bareaux, was a musketeer in the seventeenth century. He’s a good man.”

“How many are in your tribe?”

“About a dozen. But no women allowed. Johnny Santiago’s sister wanted to join, and we wouldn’t allow it.”

“So an old boy’s club, eh?”

“Exactly, and we like it that way. What about you?” He took her in, assessingly this time. “You are tribeless.” He stated it as fact.

“I am, and I like it that way. I don’t care to have vampires telling me what to do.”

“What vampire has told you what to do?”

She met his gaze and felt his delving intrusion deep in her being. It felt as if he peeled her open to expose the center, the secret parts she tried desperately to keep concealed. She fiddled with the shirt hem as he stepped closer.

“No one,” she said, looking away. And then, more testily, she argued, “None of your business.”

“Ah. So someone has told you what to do, and you’re rebelling against it ever happening again. Good for you, Kitten.”

“He didn’t tell me what to do. I want to do this for him. I owe him.”

“Ah? For what, may I ask?”

“None of your business.”

“But the he you mention is the same he you’ve stolen the egg for?”

“This conversation is over.” She turned to pick up the backpack, and he placed a hand against the wall over her shoulder.

“Since we can’t leave,” Dante said, “and since we’ve dispensed with the get-to-know-you bullshit, and you’ve set a boundary on conversation topics, I’m of a mind to make a suggestion for a new activity.”

She could make one guess what that activity was, but she wouldn’t—couldn’t—succumb to his seductions. No matter that this was the first time she’d seen him in daylight and noticed how clear his sea glass eyes were. Cool and mysterious, like the Venetian lagoon.

“And what is your suggestion?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“We can either turn up the volume on the television and zone out on some idiotic talk show, or...” He leaned in until his nose brushed her wet hair above her ear. “Despite the fact you’re fully dressed, I could nail you to the wall with this.” The heavy weight of his cock beneath the towel thudded against her hip.

Kyler maintained a modicum of strength. “I thought you liked the red shirt?”

He nodded and nuzzled his nose aside her cheek. “I do. The color makes your skin glow. But it’s a bit loose. It doesn’t emphasize your assets as something tighter would. I like your curves, Kitten.” He licked her skin. Shivers traced her spine. The vampiric shimmer sparkled into her belly. “All of them.”