Blood Curse Read online

  Aria's breath hitched as she heard the bathroom door open. She was braced with her hands against the shower's tiles, her head bent as the water rained over her, ineffective in its attempt to cool her heated skin. She felt everything running through Rialto's mind, saw the images as clearly as if they were actually doing those things, and it made her hungry to reenact them. Damn the consequences.

  The shower curtain swished as it was pushed aside. Rialto's presence sucked the air out of the stall, and his musky male scent enveloped her, filling her head until there was only room for one thought, the thought of him. His smell, his taste, his touch. Everything that was definitively Rialto.

  "Can you feel it?” He whispered in her ear, and she knew he wasn't talking about the hard, straining length of him pressed against her backside, but of the electric charge in the air, the pull of their two bodies toward each other.

  Breathing too hard to answer, she laid her head back, resting it on his shoulder as he bent over her, licking along her collarbone. “I won't change you,” he whispered huskily against her skin, his warm breath igniting small fires throughout her body. “I will need to take a little sip of your blood to take the edge off this fever.” He turned her around in his arms. “Did you see what I had planned?"

  She nodded languidly, drunk with raw desire.

  "Do I have your permission?"

  She smiled slowly, then placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him to his knees.

  Seta peered closer at the handwritten words in Alfred Dunn's journal, something in the change of script bothering her. Alfred Dunn had a neat, precise penmanship through the majority of the journal's beginning. What came later could only be referred to as chicken scratch, some parts written in such haste they were barely legible. The messy writing dominated the last third of the journal, and some scrawls were placed in between lines and within margins of the beginning text as though he had decided to make notes at a later time. A much later time, judging by the difference in inks.

  Seta studied the differences in writing on one of the pages where the erratic scrawl first showed up and it all clicked. The writing was so different because the journal was written by two different people. So who was carrying on Alfred Dunn's research, and why?

  The great-grandchild? But, no, it couldn't be. Why would he give the book to Aria? Seta closed her eyes and recalled all the images that had flooded her mind in the last few days. Books, blood pouring from the pages. Needle. Eron. Rows of books . . . like a library. Alfred Dunn's great-grandson worked at a library. He gave Aria the book. It had to mean something. What was she overlooking?

  Seta closed the book and rested her hands on the cover. She cleared her mind of all thoughts, focusing only on the image of Eron. If she could find out what happened to him, she could find the killer. She was certain of it. She meditated with her hands on the journal and Eron's face in her mind's eye. She felt her energies transfer into the pages of the book before her, and when the vibrations of the energy built to a deafening roar in her ears she finally spoke. “Find Eron."

  She opened her eyes and watched as the pages of the journal turned on their own. She waited for them to stop and looked down at the book that lay open before her. The page staring back at her was a list. There were several lists among the entries and she had skimmed over most, not considering them important. She could have slapped herself as she looked at the list her magic had found. “Of course,” she whispered, glancing at the list of Keepers written in the erratic scrawl near the back of the journal, noting the one listed next to Eron's name. “Who better to know what happened, but I already asked her."

  She placed her finger over the Keeper's name and was hit with a vision so horrific it left the taste of blood in her mouth. Fresh blood, blood she would take from Eron's Keeper as revenge for what she had done to him.

  "No, Aria!” It took all of Rialto's willpower to force her away, but it had to be done. He cursed as he saw his own blood dripping from the corner of her mouth as she lunged for him.

  "I said no!” He pushed her down on the floor of the shower stall, holding her hands tightly over her head while he straddled her thighs. He licked his bottom lip, allowing the healing properties in his saliva to repair the damage she'd done. “This has gone too far. You weren't supposed to drink from me.” She continued to writhe beneath him, digging her talon-like fingers into his hands. “Dammit, Aria. You could change."

  "I don't care,” she cried, continuing to struggle beneath him, sputtering out water that had made its way into her mouth when she spoke.

  Rialto gripped both of her wrists in one hand and reached up with the other to turn off the shower. “That's the bloodlust talking. It's not what you really want.” He waited until he felt the worst of the fight drain out of her, and then pulled her into his arms, her back to his chest, on the shower floor. He held her as she trembled, knowing she wasn't quivering from cold but from hunger, longing. Need. “I know it feels awful, Aria. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have allowed it to go this far."

  "At least you didn't run away."

  Shame sliced into him, deep and hard. He couldn't deny he felt like running right now, but her safety was too important. He could leave her with Seta for a short while, just long enough for him to straighten his head out. Then again, Seta would probably brainwash her, manipulate her just as she had manipulated him. Anger slowly started to burn through him as he recalled her teasing. She knew how on edge he was, how hungry. She knew if he fooled himself into thinking he could control things . . . But he did control the situation. Not as well as he should have, but there was no real harm done.

  Damn it, there could have been and Seta knew it. Yet, she had kept on pushing with her taunting and coaxing.

  "Get yourself together, dry off, and meet me in the living room.” Rialto said as he quickly exited the shower stall and wrapped a towel around his waist, not bothering to look back as he left Aria in the bathroom. Her naked flesh was too tempting.

  He marched into the living area, fully prepared to give Seta an earful, but stopped short when he saw Alfred Dunn's journal abandoned at the dinette table.

  Seta was gone.

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  Chapter Fifteen

  Aria tightened the sash on her bathrobe and entered the living area to find Rialto standing at the dinette table reading a piece of paper. “I put your clothes in the wash. What are you looking at?"

  He glanced at her briefly, just long enough for her to catch the hint of male appreciation in his eyes before they grew worried and returned to the small piece of paper in his hand. “Seta left a note. She found a list of Keepers in the journal and thinks Eron was betrayed by his. She went to find her."

  "She left a note? I thought you two had that telepathy thing going on."

  "She severed our link so you and I could have some privacy."

  "Oh.” Heat rose in Aria's cheeks as she walked over to the dinette table and lowered herself into one of the chairs. She pulled the journal in front of her and glanced at the list of Keepers. “So, what is a Keeper? Does this have anything to do with the murders?"

  "Possibly.” Rialto took a seat opposite her, the action of sitting causing his towel to ride up higher on his thighs. Aria closed her eyes, swallowing hard to suppress a groan. Maybe if she kept her eyes closed, she could refrain from ogling him and stay focused. “Seta has been getting images of Eron this whole time. He would never partake of anything like this, so we've concluded that he was somehow abducted, especially since Seta can't feel him. He was her sire so she shouldn't be having any trouble locating him. Aria, are you listening?"

  Aria opened her eyes to find Rialto staring at her. “Yes, go on."

  He looked at her quizzically before continuing. “So, um, anyway, she found the list of Keepers and thinks the Keeper helped in Eron's abduction. Keepers are mortals trusted with the care of vampires."

  "Kind of like a personal assistant?"

  "Yes, something like that. Some vampires get a
Keeper to use as cover. They put their properties in the name of the Keeper and let the Keeper take care of all their business that needs to be done in the daytime."

  "Do you have a Keeper?"

  "No. I set up my business completely through the Internet, any calls received are fielded through an answering service, and I do all my banking through the Internet and ATM machines. I've never really liked the concept of Keepers. When you acquire a Keeper, you're putting yourself at their mercy more than you realize, a fact I'm afraid Eron has learned the hard way."

  "So . . . you think Eron was captured and is somehow involved without his consent?” She glanced back down to the journal, to the name printed next to Eron's.

  "Yes. Seta and I smelled the diluted scent of vampire on the body she read in Leakin Park. According to her note, the scent was Eron's, which I didn't realize."

  "What do you mean by a ‘diluted’ scent? Vampires have a specific scent?"

  Rialto nodded. “I know it's a lot to take in. Vampires have a specific scent which sets us apart from non-vampires. What was left behind on the body wasn't what a normal vampire scent would be. It was like it was . . . well, diluted.” He shrugged and pulled the journal in front of him. “Seta also realized there are two authors, someone other than Alfred Dunn made entries in this journal. She wants me to check it for anything strange she may have overlooked. While I do that, you should get some sleep."

  She was no longer tired and wanted to help. “If you're going to get my mother's killer I feel I should help."

  "No offense, sweetheart, but you don't know what to look for. Grab some sleep and hopefully I'll have good news for you when you wake up."

  If he waited for her to wake up. Aria had the sneaking suspicion he'd run out and kill the murderer without bothering to wake her. As much as she wanted the killer dead, she wanted the opportunity to look him in the eye first. She wanted the opportunity to inflict pain on him, even if it was Rialto who actually delivered the death blow.

  "I don't want to be left behind when you go after the killer. I want to go with you."

  "Absolutely not.” Rialto's gaze lifted from the journal and locked with hers. “ It's too dangerous. Seta had a vision of your death."

  "This beast killed my mother. It's my duty to defend her."

  Rialto looked at her, the worry in his eyes so strong it made her heart lurch. “When you speak of your mother's murderer you have the eyes of a killer, Aria. I can't stand seeing such raw hunger for bloodletting there."

  "What are you talking about?"

  Rialto raked a hand through his damp hair and leaned back in the chair. “You're not a killer and you shouldn't let your rage make you become one."

  "Someone murdered my mother. He has to pay."

  "Then let me take care of it."

  "So it's all right for you to kill this monster but not for me to do it?"

  "That's right."

  "Because you're a vampire?"

  "Because I lost any shred of innocence I had left the night I killed my father.” He looked away as Aria gasped in shock at his announcement. “I've been a killer ever since."

  "Don't say that. If you were a killer, I wouldn't be breathing now. You don't kill just for the hell of it. What did your father do to make you kill him?"

  "He killed Seta, or at least he thought he did, and passed his heartless, barren wife off as my mother. The two of them wanted a son, and didn't care how they got one. They didn't count on one of the servants telling me the truth of my maternity when they saw my mother's features in my face. I'd seen Seta before at the cliffs by our castle, but she'd never told me she was my mother. Shortly after my twenty-ninth birthday, I discovered the truth. When I did, I attacked him. I avenged her. Unfortunately, I wasn't as ruthless as he. He didn't fight fair, choosing to stab me in the back, and he ended up nearly killing me.” His eyes darkened into shiny black orbs as he looked at Aria, rage emanating from deep within. “Finishing me off would have been too kind. I'd attacked him so he felt my punishment should have been a slow death. He took me to the same cliffs he'd thrown my mother over twenty-eight years before and left me there to bleed to death. He didn't count on my real mother still being around to save me."

  "Seta turned you into a vampire that night.” He nodded, and she asked, “What happened then?"

  "When I rose the following night, I ripped Count Roberto Garibaldi limb from limb and dropped his head at his wife's feet. The only reason I didn't kill her too was because I'd promised Seta I'd let her have her. I felt it was only right I let her destroy the woman who'd stolen her child. I realize now that we were no better than my father."

  "You are better than him. Your father was a murderer, Rialto. He tried to kill his own son and the mother of his child."

  "He was my father and I killed him. How can you even suggest I'm better?"

  "Because you feel guilty. I'd bet my life there wasn't a shred of guilt that went through that man's mind when he attempted to kill you . If he'd felt any remorse over what he'd done to Seta, he would have never harmed you, his son. Your conscience is what keeps you from being a killer."

  Rialto smiled at her and reached his hand across the table to cover hers, an action that caused heat to pool between her thighs and small beads of sweat popped out on her forehead. His chest still glistened from the shower. His damp hair was long and unkempt, adding to his dangerous charm. Just the mere touch of his hand and she craved the rest of his body—her gaze moved to the pulse point at his throat—and what flowed within it.

  She could still taste the spicy tang of his blood, could still feel its magnetic pull. If she was going to survive this night without ripping into him like a wild animal, he was going to have to at least put on some clothes. The thin barrier of a terry towel was not enough. “It's going to take a while until your clothes are ready, but Mom and I held on to some of my dad's clothes. He was about your size."

  Rialto's eyes widened in what looked like genuine surprise. “You would allow me to wear them?"

  Aria nodded, her hands clenched tight. She wanted to reach out and run her fingertips against every inch of his exposed flesh and find a delicate spot to scrape her nails across until tiny bubbles of blood rose to the surface. She shook her head, trying to shake out the image. “In the chest at the foot of my bed. Pick out whatever you want."

  He rose, the raw sexiness of his sculpted body doing strange things to her ability to breathe. “Thank you, Aria. I know how deeply you care for your parents, and how greatly you must cherish their belongings. I'm honored you'd share them with me."

  In order to keep from pouncing on him, she kept her eyes averted while he left the room, then pulled the journal in front of her. Was she really going to have to become a vampire in order to save Rialto's life? Could she handle the mixed emotions Rialto so obviously felt about being one? She thought back over the events of the past few days, surprised by how strong her affection for Rialto was considering they'd just met days before. Yet, if she counted those barely remembered—yet always there—dreams, she'd known him far longer. But it wasn't long enough. She couldn't allow him to leave her so soon. There had to be some other way to save his life.

  She flipped through the journal, trying to make out some of the sloppier entries. Who was the second author? Curtis's brother? Jonah said he was crazy, and from the sound of it a devil worshiper. Maybe he'd found something in his great-grandfather's research that called to him. She thought about it. Powerful beings which lived off the blood of others sounded like something that might appeal to a person with such darkness in his heart, but only because he didn't know the goodness in a real vampire's heart.

  She glanced up at the sound of Rialto's footsteps and nearly gasped. He was wearing a pair of black pants and a billowy white shirt. His hair, nearly dry, rested along his shoulders in a cascade of thick ebony waves. She caught an image of a dream, but it escaped her too quickly to bring it into focus.

  "Aria? Are you all right?"

  "Yes, I
. . .” She shook her head in order to rid herself of the niggling feeling that she was forgetting something important. “I think I've dreamed of you wearing those clothes."

  His brows drew together as he seemed to search his own memory, then they shot straight up. “You have. I mean, I have.” He looked down at the shirt. “I didn't even realize . . ."

  "Didn't realize what?"

  "This is what I was wearing in the last dream I kept having over and over again but couldn't finish. We must have shared the same dream. Do you remember how it ended?"

  Aria shook her head in frustration. “No. I remember you in those clothes. You came to me and . . . I don't know.” She dropped her head into her hands, massaging her temples which now ached with her effort to remember.

  "It's all right,” Rialto said as he sat in the chair across from her, but she didn't miss the disappointment in his voice. He obviously needed to know how the dream had ended, and something inside her trembled with the thought of what type of dream would make a vampire wake up without finishing it. Silence ensued for a few minutes before she lifted her head to find Rialto studying her with a guilty expression.

  "What is it?"

  He raked a hand through his long, silky hair. “In the shower . . . You drank from me again."

  A sharp stab of fear sliced through her chest. “Am I going to change? Is that how it happens?"

  He shook his head. “Your skin is going to darken again."

  "You sound like you're apologizing."

  "I felt you after you woke from our last . . . encounter. You were terrified when you saw your skin had changed. Personally, I think you're absolutely flawless, especially when you are darker, but I know it frightens you."

  Aria looked down at her pale hands, a blush warming her cheeks. “I used to be. You and Seta have opened my eyes, Rialto. This isn't Pickahoe, and I'm not a scared, insecure little girl anymore. I loved my father, still do, and I have no problem wearing his skin."