A Venetian Vampire Read online

  “Of course I can. I did nab the Fabergé egg by entering through a second-floor window. Unlatched. Their security was ridiculously lax.”

  “I noted that.”

  “Yeah. Seems to be something you’re comfortable with. Standing back and observing while letting others do the work.” With a few running steps, she leaped and disappeared onto the rooftop.

  “Touché.” Dante followed, landing lightly in a crouch on the flat roof, thankful it was not tiled and thus, not slippery. He motioned to Kyler to listen for sounds below. Again he grabbed her hand, confirming she was still cool. They should not be detected.

  After a moment or two of silence between them, he was able to home in on a conversation directly below where they were positioned, perhaps separated by one floor.

  “Not there. Probably out sucking some poor bastard’s blood,” one of them said.

  “Or left the island.”

  “Without what they wanted? Doubt that. We’ll keep an eye on the palazzo.”

  “Can you hear?” Dante asked Kyler.

  She nodded. “They’re the same two from earlier. I recognize the voices. And there is a new one.”

  He was impressed she’d sorted that out. She may have been vampire for only six months, but she possessed good control of her sensory skills. As she should. A vampire should always be aware of his or her surroundings, close up and far off. It could mean life or death.

  “One of them said he was working a shift at the auction house,” she whispered.

  “I heard that. I wonder...” He pressed his palm to the rooftop, staring hard at the pebbled surface. He was not trying to see through it, simply focusing beyond the exterior sensations of the rough roof material. “I assumed the wolves were after the egg, as we are. But can they know what it does?”

  Kyler shrugged, not giving him a clue whether or not she actually knew what it did. She couldn’t know. Could she? He’d thought that information exclusive to but a few.

  “Not many know,” he continued. “Maybe they are simply seeking the financial reward it could bring? The one working at the auction house said he followed the thief—you—from the scene of the crime, and tracked you to the bar. Yet I followed you, as well. I can’t believe I wasn’t aware there was a werewolf on my ass last night. But how else would they have known to follow the thief to my palazzo?”

  “Yes, they had to have tracked me. And yet they stood aside and waited while we—ahem. I feel sick about this. I was so sure I had everything under control. And all along not only were you following me but also werewolves?” She dropped her hands onto the roof and groaned. “I let the thrill of accomplishing the theft go to my head.”

  Dante rubbed her shoulder to reassure her. “The wolves could have been planning to steal it, too.”

  “Two vamps and a bunch of wolves all planning the same heist for the same night? Doubtful. It’s remarkable that our plans coincided.” She tilted her head to look at him. “Unless you’re working with them?”

  “With the dogs? I think not.” He motioned with a finger to his lips for silence and again focused on the conversation below.

  They were talking about someone they intended to hand the egg over to. A fence? In...Paris. It was obvious to Dante the wolves had no clue what was inside the egg, and they only marveled over the gemstones encrusting the outside and its rarity.

  He lay on his stomach, putting his cheek to the roof. Mutters and a clattering noise echoed below him. Someone had shaken the egg. They were trying to open it. And then...more conversation. The handoff was indeed in Paris. And there was mention of the full moon.

  One more night and the moon would be full. Dante knew the wolves liked to transform on that night, and on this little island city a hulking werewolf would certainly not go unnoticed. They couldn’t remain in Venice. They had to leave as quickly as possible and seek the safety of forested land.

  “We’ve got to get the egg before they leave the island,” he said, getting to his feet. “Otherwise we may be forced to track them across Europe. Let’s take them out now.”

  “What?” Kyler sat up as he offered a hand to pull her up. “Take them out? Do you have weapons? Silver?”

  He drew out the silver blade. “I never shop without good reason, Kitten. And we’ve our cunning and agility, as I’ve explained.”

  Kyler winced.

  “You’re not up for fighting werewolves?” he asked.

  “I’m a thief, not a fighter. What if you take out the wolves while I sneak in and grab the egg?”

  “And then head off with the prize yourself?”

  “That’s a risk you’ll have to take, Casanova. You can’t slay wolves and grab the egg, can you? Hell, I’m willing to help, and that’s far beyond anything I imagined I’d be doing here in Venice. Standing up to werewolves?”

  He sensed her rising fear and body heat.

  “Keep your temperature in check. We need the element of surprise.”

  He wielded the blade, and a peek of sunlight glinted through the clouds and onto the elegant weapon. The sound of a door opening and closing on the street below lured him to the roof’s edge. He peered over and spied one of the wolves. Broad in shoulder and tall, he walked like a prizefighter, arms arced and meaty fingers curled and ready for fists. He wasn’t carrying a bag or anything that would indicate he had the egg on him. No one followed him. He strolled down the narrow street toward the canal, where a row of touristy restaurants served midafternoon diners. Perhaps he was a scout sent out to guard the palazzo.

  “This may be a bit of luck,” Dante said. “One gone. Only two left inside. We move now.”

  * * *

  Once the door to the room had been kicked open, Dante moved like lightning. Kyler pinpointed the two werewolves, in human form, standing across a long room outfitted with a desk and one office chair. Nothing on the desk except the egg, which sat on top of a black cloth.

  Taken by surprise, the wolves reacted quickly but not fast enough for one of them to avoid taking the silver blade to his gut. Dante tugged out the knife and turned to the other wolf, defying him with a jerk of his chin and a blatant, “Come here, puppy.”

  Meanwhile, Kyler jumped over the werewolf on the floor, who groaned and clutched at his bleeding stomach. He caught her foot and she tumbled forward. She saved herself, catching her palms on the desktop. She swept her arm over the egg and grabbed the cloth when she realized it was a bag. Without looking back, she headed for the window, thankful it was open, and looked out over the narrow passageway below.

  Dante’s yelp signaled he must have taken a punch. She heard repeated thudding sounds as someone got pummeled, but Kyler was not compelled to look back. The important concern was saving her own ass.

  After stepping up onto the windowsill, Kyler jumped and landed on both feet with an ease that she would never tire of marveling over. With a scan down each end of the alley, she decided to walk the opposite direction from which they had arrived. Also opposite the direction Dante had seen the other wolf walking in.

  She heard glass shatter, and some rained down onto the sidewalk. She jumped and ran, avoiding the slicing shards. For a moment she considered rushing back inside, but—

  Dante would be okay. He was a big boy.

  Besides, it didn’t matter what happened to him now. She had the egg. And this time around she wasn’t going to let it out of her sight. She’d head back to the hotel and...

  Why hadn’t she gotten a call telling her where to hand it off? It didn’t make sense. Should she call and check in? He’d told her not to. That he would handle everything.

  Then they could both begin eternity. But not together. He’d made it clear to her they were not in a relationship. They weren’t lovers, and she didn’t need it to be that way.

  But she could use a little communication on his part.
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  “I’ll give him a few more hours,” she whispered, turning a corner and orienting herself to where she stood. Her hotel was across the canal and south. She’d cross at the next bridge and head back and wait.

  * * *

  Dante stood up from the second slain werewolf. The silver blade dripped blood near his shoe. He bent and wiped it across the wolf’s canvas pant leg. Werewolves did not dissolve to ash as demons and vampires did, but silver could bring on a quiet and burning implosion. He’d best grab Kyler and get out of here before the local authorities got wind of what was up. Or before wolf number three returned.

  Cursing the fact that his scent would linger, he quickly lowered his body temperature and decided he’d take a detour through the canal again to shake the final wolf from his scent.

  “Kyler?” he whispered, glancing about the room.

  He didn’t have to look too long before he realized she wasn’t there. Nor was the egg. He’d seen her move toward the desk; then he’d taken an iron fist to the temple and had decided to focus on the fight.

  “She’s not stupid,” he ground out through an achy jaw. “But she doesn’t have that big of a head start.”

  Praying she would have the sense to lower her body temperature, he walked toward the fallen door. He scented a new wolf. The third had returned and was not far down the hallway.

  Dante dashed for the window on the opposite side of the room. The frame was frilled with broken shards; he took a running leap and soared through without taking a cut. Airborne, he heard the wolf behind him curse.

  The narrow alleyway loomed below the window. He landed on his feet, shoes crunching glass shards, then turned and ran toward the canal. With a leap, he stretched and arrowed his body toward the water and landed in a dive. He cut through the water with the blade still in hand and kicked to propel himself through the dark murk. When he surfaced to check his position, he heard the smacking impact of another body hitting the water.

  Kicking away, he managed to turn and see the dark blur before the werewolf grabbed his leg. Water bubbled about him and, tugged into darkness, he found it difficult to orient himself. He slashed the blade backward, but it landed on nothing. A claw dug into his back, and Dante jerked back his head, smashing his skull against what he hoped was the werewolf’s head. The claw dislodged, and Dante was able to twist and face his opponent just as the beast struck toward him in a rush of bubbling seawater.

  Dante thrust the knife forward, and it landed in solid flesh. He couldn’t be sure where in the wolf it had hit, but it didn’t matter. The silver would serve its purpose. He kicked the wolf’s thigh and pushed away. Red water spilled around them. He could smell the blood and tasted its sweet taint. Suddenly, he was jerked from behind by the shoulder. His body bent backward, veering toward the bottom of the canal. The werewolf’s teeth brushed his forehead—and slipped away.

  Dante kicked the lifeless body away from him and used the momentum to surface near a closed motor repair shop. He searched the water’s surface but saw no rising air bubbles, no motion beneath. He didn’t see any gondolas or stray tourists wandering down the sidewalk. He quickly levered himself up and, pressing his back to the wall, slid along the building until he reached the corner and could step into a secluded alleyway.

  Wiping the water from his face, he moved to throw the knife into the canal—but at the last moment he didn’t release it. He may not be finished with werewolves. And this was the only silver he had. Tucking the blade in his waistband, he then peeled off the heavy suit coat and dropped it in the canal.

  “My tailor will be inordinately pleased,” he muttered with little enthusiasm.

  He wandered down the alley. He straightened and inhaled, shaking off the tendril of fear that had briefly taunted him with the notion he could have died in the water. And in that breath he tasted her at the back of his throat.

  He wasn’t finished with Kyler Cole. And he wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

  Chapter 6

  Kyler was close to her hotel. She didn’t know Venice, and it was difficult to navigate without her cell phone, which she had left at the hotel.

  She held the egg under her shirt and looked a little pregnant as she swiftly walked by tourists and vendors calling after her to check out their scarves and cheap key chains. The hotel was to the left. Or maybe the right?

  She paused and pressed a shoulder to a cool brick wall, taking a moment to settle and acclimate herself. Her job back at the werewolves’ hideout had been easy-in, easy-out.

  Dante, on the other hand...well.

  Was she worried about Dante? He’d taken out one wolf, and she had been sure he’d win against the other when she’d slipped out the door with the prize. He’d be fine. Angry. But no worse for the wear. So no need to stress about leaving him behind.

  But with a pissed vampire out there gunning for her hide, she had best not stand around. She glided her gaze 180 degrees, noting the buildings she remembered were all to the right. Turning that way, she was rewarded with the sight of her hotel.

  Once in the lobby, she let a family of eight go first in the elevator, not wanting to share the cramped box while trying to keep the egg hidden from prying eyes. It wouldn’t be wise to advertise she had the missing egg blasted across all the news stations.

  The second elevator was empty. After the doors closed, she slipped the egg out from under her shirt and took a moment to admire the gold structure, embedded with sapphires, emeralds, rubies and diamonds. Before the theft, she’d briefly seen a drawing of it, and since taking it in hand—twice—hadn’t had a chance to open it and peer inside at what should be a woman’s cosmetics kit. But there was a trick to opening it, surely.

  How did it work? What little she knew of the eggs created by Peter Carl Fabergé in the nineteenth century was that most opened to reveal an inner secret surprise. And regarding this particular egg, she knew there was something inside beyond combs and tweezers. But how to get that surprise out was another issue. The man for whom she was claiming this egg had not given her that information. She was merely the thief. And really, she didn’t want to fuss with the valuable thing in case she broke it or did something that would hinder it from opening properly.

  As soon as she handed this over to him she would finally feel as though she had paid him for the priceless gift of vampirism he had given her. It had been worth the risk of getting caught. She’d relied on her vampirism for quickness and the ability to hear low-decibel noises before security could have found her. The dalliance with Dante had been worth it, as well. Much as Kyler knew she should never again go near Dante. Not if she wanted to keep the egg.

  Which meant she had to hightail it out of this hotel because he knew where she was staying. But she had to remain in Venice until she knew where and to whom to hand off the egg.

  The elevator door slid open, and she dashed down the hallway and stuck her keycard in the lock. Once inside and with the door closed behind her, she let out a relieved breath and dropped her shoulders. She strode past the bathroom door and toward the main room where the end of the king-size bed thrust toward the TV.

  An arm snapped around her throat, jerking her backward and off balance. She struggled with her free hand to loosen the arm, but the grip was tight—and wet—and she kicked her feet, only managing to stub a toe on the nearby dresser.

  “I’m guessing you got lost,” Dante said tightly. “Certainly, you wouldn’t have left me and taken off with the prize.”

  Oh yeah?

  She swung her arm backward, trying to hit him, but realized too late it was the hand in which she held the egg. He gripped her wrist and smashed the back of her hand against the wall, which hurt so much she opened her fingers. As the egg dropped, so did Dante’s pinching lock about her neck. He shoved her away, and she landed on the floor on her hands and knees. She twisted her head in time to see
him deftly catch the egg before it hit the carpet.

  “That’s mine!” she said and rolled onto her feet. Kicking high, she managed a solid connection to her competitor’s chest.

  His hip hit the wall, and he growled at her. Fangs descending, he lunged for her and fit one hand about her neck while he clutched the egg to his chest, pushing her back down onto the carpet. “It has always been mine. I won’t allow some inexperienced little girl to dash away with it to hand off as a trinket to her lover.”

  His thumb pressed against her voice box, but not so hard that she lost her breath. His knees pinned her forearms, making it impossible to struggle. She’d not seen his fangs when they had made love. Now they didn’t so much frighten her as tantalize. And that scared her more than returning empty-handed to the man who had asked her to steal the egg.

  “I do as I wish,” she said firmly. “And I wish to give him this egg so he can have eternity.”

  Dante’s grip relented. Stretching back, he set the egg on the carpet, then sat back on his haunches, straddling her but not putting all his weight on her hips. His hair dripped water onto her chin. And his shirt clung to his chest, defining the firm pecs. How had he gotten all wet again? And for the first time she noticed the blood on his forehead. A thin cut that was healing.

  “Eternity? The egg has no such power,” he said and stood. He strode to the end of the bed and began to unbutton the wet shirt. “Who is this friend? He wants eternity? Must be a fellow vampire.”

  She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of that correct guess so she merely shrugged.

  “I see. What makes you believe that the egg will grant eternity?”

  Kyler closed her eyes and remained on the floor. Toying with her beliefs? It was part of his plan to win what he’d lost and was now rightfully hers. “What’s inside that egg has power. A code or spell to grant vampires eternity. Even a stake won’t cause death.”

  Dante laughed, ending it with a devastatingly sexy stare. “If it’s eternity you seek, then why give the egg to someone else?” He pulled off the wet shirt and tossed it aside. “Why not simply take what you want? Is this man your lover?”