Final Affair E-Book

Tina Folsom

• Herausgeber: Tina Folsom
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Serie: Venice Vampyr
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Seitenzahl: 144

Beschreibung

Venice, Italy - early 1800s Viola has been given three months to live but she refuses to die a virgin. She travels to Venice where she wants to experience physical pleasure with a man without causing a scandal for her family. Afterward, she plans to take her own life to ensure she exits the world painlessly and with dignity. Unfortunately, the man she meets in a disreputable club couldn't be a worse choice for her plans. Dante, a hedonistic vampire, saves Viola from a violent rake. To stop her from seeking out even more dangerous men to find carnal pleasures, he offers her a night of passion in his arms, only to discover she's a virgin. Viola flees, disdainful of the sex act and determined to end her life. Horrified, Dante stops Viola from harming herself and proceeds to deliver the pleasure he promised - one kiss and one touch at a time until she's ready to take all of him, over and over again. Then events force Dante's hand ... Venice Vampyr Novella Series: Venice Vampyr (#1) Venice Vampyr (#2): Final Affair Venice Vampyr (#3): Sinful Treasure Venice Vampyr (#4): Sensual Danger Scanguards Vampires Series: Book 1: Samson's Lovely Mortal Book 2: Amaury's Hellion Book 3: Gabriel's Mate Book 4: Yvette's Haven Book 5: Zane's Redemption Book 6: Quinn's Undying Rose Book 7: Oliver's Hunger Book 8: Thomas's Choice Book 8 1/2: Silent Bite (A Scanguards Wedding) Book 9: Cain's Identity Book 10: Luther's Return Novella: Mortal Wish Book 11: Blake's Pursuit (coming in 2016) Out of Olympus Series (A romantic comedy series about Greek Gods): Book 1: A Touch of Greek Book 2: A Scent of Greek Book 3: A Taste of Greek Book 4: A Hush of Greek (coming in 2016) Stealth Guardians Series: Lover Uncloaked (#1) Eternal Bachelors Club (contemporary romance): Lawful Escort Lawful Lover Lawful Wife One Foolish Night One Long Embrace One Sizzling Touch

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Title Page

Book Description

1

2

3

4

5

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8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

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18

19

20

Also in this series

About the Author

Copyright

Venice Vampyr #2:

Final Affair

by

Tina Folsom

* * * * *

Copyright © 2010 by Tina Folsom

* * * * *

Book Description

Venice, Italy - early 1800s

Viola has been given three months to live but she refuses to die a virgin. She travels to Venice where she wants to experience physical pleasure with a man without causing a scandal for her family. Afterward, she plans to take her own life to ensure she exits the world painlessly and with dignity. Unfortunately, the man she meets in a disreputable club couldn't be a worse choice for her plans.

Dante, a hedonistic vampire, saves Viola from a violent rake. To stop her from seeking out even more dangerous men to find carnal pleasures, he offers her a night of passion in his arms, only to discover she's a virgin.

Viola flees, disdainful of the sex act and determined to end her life. Horrified, Dante stops Viola from harming herself and proceeds to deliver the pleasure he promised - one kiss and one touch at a time until she's ready to take all of him, over and over again.

Then events force Dante's hand ...

1

Venice, Italy - early 1800s

At first, she thought her physician had made a mistake.

Three months—the doctor had given her only three more months to live. During the last two, she’d likely be confined to her bed with blinding pain.

It wasn’t possible.

Just days earlier, her governess had warned her that, despite her pretty face and graceful figure, her outspoken manner and outlandish ideas were scaring away potential husbands. Viola hadn’t cared. She’d figured that if a suitor couldn’t stand up to her, then she’d rather not be married at all. Plus, she was barely one and twenty, and while she was still on the shelf when it came to marriage prospects—which was due to her impetuous nature—she had her whole life ahead of her. So she’d thought.

Three months wasn’t a life.

Yet, despite her brain tumor, she’d make the most of it.

At first, she’d thought to prove her physician wrong. She’d already traveled to Switzerland—leaving in the dead of night and without a chaperone—and consulted another expert. But the answer remained the same: she was dying.

That’s why she’d come to Venice. No longer to prove him wrong, but to live.

She hadn’t told her family where she was going; they would have stopped her. They would have called her foolish and scandalous. But she would not be stopped. Viola had accepted that she would die, but there was one thing she wanted to experience before she left this world.

She refused to die a virgin.

But she was also practical: a scandal wouldn’t serve her family. Already, her sudden disappearance would have to be covered up, something her over-eager mother was more than capable of handling. She would simply let everybody know that Viola was staying in the countryside to tend to an elderly relative. There were plenty from which to choose.

Viola had decided to go where nobody knew her or any of her relatives, where her scandalous behavior would not have any repercussions for her parents. She had sent them a letter from Switzerland, telling them that her condition had worsened and that she was confined to a hospital bed. She had also told them in no uncertain terms that she wanted to be left alone and be remembered for who she was before her illness had started.

She had threatened to create a scandal in Florence should her wishes not be respected. Her threat would ensure that her mother complied with her wishes and impressed upon Viola’s father not to make any attempts to fetch her. Besides, her mother was probably happy to be rid of her. After all, Viola had never been able to live up to her high expectations. By rejecting the first—and only—suitor who’d ever dared to court her, Viola had extinguished any goodwill her mother had ever felt toward her.

Viola had arranged for her parents to receive a letter in three months, indicating that their daughter had passed away peacefully. Of course, it would be a lie, because she would take her life much earlier. Once she had accomplished what she’d come to Venice for.

Once she was no longer a virgin, she would take the pistol she carried in her bag and end her life before the pain would debilitate her. She had no intention of suffering a long and painful death.

Viola smoothed a hand over her skirts and righted her cloak. Filling her lungs with a deep breath, she pushed the heavy oak door open.

The place she entered was a club of sorts. According to her information, gentlemen who were looking for female companionship frequented the surprisingly clean establishment. While it was not a brothel, many of the women who joined the men at the club to seek carnal pleasures did so for money. However, the man who’d guided her to this club had assured her that on occasion, women of the higher classes were seen there, seeking diversions in which their respectable husbands were unwilling to indulge their wives.

She hoped the man had been correct, and the story she had rehearsed would be believable. The last thing she wanted to do was to draw attention to herself. It was hard enough to overcome her embarrassment at having to approach a stranger and ask him to bed her. Being sent on her way without achieving her goal would be worse. Because there was one rule the men at the club insisted on despite their debauchery: nobody was to bed a virgin.

The place smelled of cigars, alcohol, and perfume. Viola took a shallow breath and let the door snap in behind her. A burgundy curtain of heavy velvet separated the foyer from the main rooms behind. Music and laughter drifted to her. She took a step forward when a hand on her arm held her back.

Her breath caught in her throat as she snapped her head to the side.

“There’s a fee, Signora,” the heavy set woman in the richly embroidered dress said. Her breasts spilled over her low-cut gown, and the large baubles around her neck sparkled in the candlelight.

“Of course,” Viola answered and reached into her purse, retrieving a coin. The man who’d told her about the club had prepared her for this. It would not do if she behaved like an innocent who’d never done this before. It would only create suspicion.

The hostess took the coin and made it disappear in the folds of her dress. “Very well then.”

A moment later, she parted the curtain and allowed Viola to step through.

The room was larger than she’d expected. In fact, it was as large as her parents’ ballroom. On the sides, booths had been built to provide a semblance of privacy for anybody who wished it, but in the middle the chaises and sofas as well as their occupants were in plain view. Large chandeliers with blazing candles provided light, and a small string quartet supplied the ambiance.

Servants circulated to supply the guests with beverages and, by the state some of the guests were in, it was clear that alcohol flowed freely. Men lounged on sofas, some fully dressed and perfectly respectable, others with their cravats loosened and their chests partially exposed. Women could be found draped over men’s bodies in more than indecent poses.

Hadn’t her informant said this wasn’t a brothel? Viola felt her heartbeat rise. She was nothing like the women she saw in this place. They seemed unconcerned with modesty or privacy. This was not what she’d expected. Maybe the man had misunderstood her. She’d sought a place to find a man who would bed her in the privacy of a bedchamber and let her experience what it was like to feel a man’s body joined with hers.

This was a mistake. Viola took a step back and bumped into something solid behind her. She swiveled.

“Ciao, bella,” the handsome stranger greeted her as he swept her with an appreciative glance.

Viola swallowed, unable to answer, the pulse at her neck beating so frantically she was sure her vein would burst and drench the man in her blood.

Her silence didn’t seem to bother him. “I see you’re new here.” His hand came up and traced along the seam of her décolleté. Viola gasped at his boldness and pulled back.

“I’m Salvatore. And I’m happy to spend the evening with you.”

She took a steadying breath and gave him an assessing look. He was slightly taller than the average man. Well groomed in his dark suit and fashionable necktie, not even her mother would have any objections to him were he to come courting. But he wasn’t here to court her. Nor did she want him to.

All she wanted was a tumble. Was he the right man for it? Would those elegant hands caress her and make her feel like a real woman, or would his touch leave her indifferent? Was her fluttering heartbeat indication of her interest in him or merely telling her she was scared of actually going through with her plan?

She couldn’t be sure. But if she simply stood here without making a decision, she’d never attain the goal she’d set herself.

Viola summoned her courage and forced a smile onto her lips, pushing back her rising doubts. “That would be charming.”

2

Dante was furious.

He looked at the bruises on Benedetta’s face. “How often have I told you not to go to that club?” Sure, she was only a girl who sold her father’s carvings on the street, and he was only very loosely acquainted with her, but somehow he felt protective. She was poor and so young. Every time he passed by her stand, he felt compelled to purchase one of her father’s ghastly carved figures.

“I’m sorry,” the girl whimpered, her split lip making her speech slurred. “But business was so bad this month. We needed the money.”

“Who did this?”

Benedetta looked away, but Dante took her chin and made her meet his glare. She winced. “I asked who did this.”

“Salvatore.”

“Fuck!” Dante ran his hand through his dark hair. “Have you no sense of self-preservation? Of all people, you had to let Salvatore touch you?” He wasn’t acquainted with the man personally, but he knew he wasn’t fit company for Benedetta.

She closed her swollen eyes. “He was the only one willing to pay.”

“Damn it, girl. If you were my daughter, I’d lock you up at home for your stupidity. No woman in her right mind would let Salvatore touch her. Why do you think he was willing to pay for it? Everybody knows of his reputation. He loves to beat women.”

Tears ran down Benedetta’s face. Dante pulled out a handkerchief and patted her face with it.

“Thank you.”

“Now, go home. I’ll buy all the carvings you have left for tonight.” Dante glanced at her cart. Tonight, the wooden figures she was selling were particularly ugly. They’d serve as firewood in his home just as all the others before them.

Her face lit up. “Oh, thank you so much, Signore di Santori. You’re so kind.”

Kind? It wasn’t an adjective he was often graced with. No vampire was kind, least of all he, but if Dante hated one thing, it was men who beat women. He loved women in every shape and form they came. Especially when they came—in his bed.

He liked them even more when he fed from them.

A woman’s blood was richer than a man’s. And it was even more intoxicating when he fed from a woman while he was fucking her into oblivion. In fact, it was his preferred way to have dinner. There was nothing kind or civilized about it. When it came down to it, he wasn’t that much better than Salvatore—a mere human—but he drew the line at hurting women.

In fact, he lived to give them pleasure.

His bite was painless, and his powers of suggestion made it possible for him to conceal what he did. After a night in his arms, the women he bedded didn’t remember the passionate man who’d driven them to ecstasy or the bloodthirsty and insatiable vampire who’d gorged himself on their necks.

Dante’s anger had failed to simmer down by the time he reached the club where Salvatore usually spent his evenings. He arrived spoiling for a fight. A real fight, not one where he would use his superior vampire powers to crush the human. He longed for a brawl in which he’d use his fists to pummel the man.

He pushed inside the club, ignoring the demands of the hostess to pay the fee. He would only stay long enough to find Salvatore and beat the living daylights out of him, and make him look much worse than he’d made Benedetta look.

Dante’s entrance and the hostess’s angry complaints behind him caused several heads to turn in his direction. He ignored them and instead scanned the room. It didn’t take long for him to spot Salvatore in one of the booths that lined the room. And Salvatore wasn’t alone. He was already working on his next unsuspecting victim.

Dante took no notice of the other guests’ stares and marched straight toward Salvatore, stopping only a foot away. The man had his hand on the woman’s skirts and his head close to her ear, undoubtedly whispering sweet-sounding lies to her. Dante cleared his throat loudly.

Without looking up, Salvatore tried to dismiss him. “I’m busy.”

Dante clenched his jaw. “You won’t be for much longer.”

The woman snapped her head to him, her eyes widening in fear. She’d clearly heard the threat in his voice. Dante ignored her and snatched Salvatore’s wrist, ripping it away from the woman’s skirts and yanking him up. Startled, Salvatore glared at him.

“What the hell?” Salvatore’s eyes narrowed. “Get your own woman. This one’s mine.”

“I’m not interested in your tart. I’m interested in you.”

Salvatore tried to wrestle from the grip Dante had on his wrist but couldn’t. “Leave me alone, you fag, or I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

“You mean the same way you beat the shit out of Benedetta?”

At Benedetta’s name, a flash of fear crossed his face. He knew he was caught, but the bravado hadn’t left him yet. “None of your damn business.”

“She’s a friend. So it’s my business.” Dante released the man’s wrist and swung. His fist landed in Salvatore’s face, snapping his head back in the process.

Collective gasps went through the assembled guests. In the background, Dante could hear the hostess’ shrill voice. “Gentlemen, take your disagreement outside.”

But it was too late for that. Salvatore had recovered from the first blow, and now swung his fist at Dante, grazing his chin. Dante laughed. “That’s all you’ve got?” The human was weak. This would barely be any fun at all. No wonder the asshole liked to beat up on women since men were no match for him.

Dante launched his fist into Salvatore’s stomach, making him double over. “Next time you decide to beat a woman, you’d better think twice.” With an uppercut to Salvatore’s chin, Dante turned. Before he could walk away, the man jumped him, slamming him to the ground.

Inside, Dante rejoiced. Finally, the jerk was fighting back, making this a little more interesting. Jerking his elbow back, Dante jabbed him in the ribs, then rolled, throwing Salvatore off his back. Within seconds, they dealt each other blow after blow. Dante barely felt any pain, but the human winced with each punch he received.

“Stop it! Stop beating him!” a woman’s voice came from behind him.

Holding his victim down with one arm across his neck, Dante turned to look at the woman Salvatore had been with. She stood over him, her fists at her hips, a scowl on her face. “Signorina, you’d do well to keep out of this.”

“I will not let you beat up my companion.”

“Well, would you rather he beat you as he did the last woman he fucked?”

A red blush colored her skin at his crude words. He gave her another look. Now that he perused her closely, he noticed something strange about her. She didn’t belong here. She wasn’t the kind of woman who frequented clubs like these. Her manners seemed refined, her dress understated yet expensive. Her face was fresh and innocent, her hair held up in a tight bun at her nape with not a single loose strand framing her elegant features.

He inhaled her aroma. Yes, she smelled of innocence and goodness. But there was something else—something foreign that seemed to cloud her rich scent. And it made him want to protect her. And keep her close.