Carpathian 10 - Dark Symphony

by humans. He was… vampire.
    No! Byron's protest was sharp. Never that. I am not un-dead.
    Deliberately, Antonietta leaned into him again, framed his face with her hands. While her cousin fed from him, she found his mouth with hers. You amaze me, Byron. She poured her gratitude and her feelings, as confused as they were, into her kiss, trying to tell him without words what it meant that he trusted her enough to save Paul's life in the only way possible.
    Tears glittered for a moment in Byron's eyes. He had to look away from his sister and her life mate. Antonietta had given him a gift more priceless than seeing in colors. She gave him acceptance.
    "No more, Byron," Vlad said abruptly. "You are already too weak."
    Antonietta felt him sway, his energy gone, his body drained of his enormous strength. He staggered and sat down abruptly, despite her trying to catch him.
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    Dark Symphony
    Page 133 of 188
    "What's wrong with him? Eleanor? Vlad? Tell me what's wrong with him?" Panic rose fast, a terrible fear in her heart and lungs.
    "He has not fed this night," Vlad answered calmly. "Healing as he did, holding Paul to earth while doing so and giving him blood, takes a toll. I will take care of his need. Eleanor will need help, too. You are being very brave, Antonietta."
    "I haven't done anything to help at all. If Byron needs blood, he can take mine."
    There was a sudden stillness in the room. Even Eleanor, deep within Paul's body, was quiet. "Cam mia, you steal my heart with your generosity. Vlad will provide what is needed."
    "Vlad is not your life mate. I am. I am quite able to provide for you." Her neck throbbed and burned. Her breasts ached. Sexual hunger swirled in the pit of her stomach and spread a slow, burning heat through her body. Excitement blossomed, yet at the same time she tried to analyze why she would feel such a need to provide blood for him.
    Byron pulled her into his arms. "There is no other like you, bella." In truth, just the thought of you giving me your blood fills me with a hunger I dare not name. We are not alone.
    Allow Vlad to give me his powerful blood, and when we are alone, I will thank you properly.
    She could hear the aching sexual hunger in his voice. "Is Vlad's blood more powerful than mine? Will it make a difference?" She tried to ignore the answering fire in her bloodstream.
    "Yes, his blood will give me energy very quickly."
    "What does it feel like?"
    "Merge with me, Antonietta." Byron wrapped one arm around her waist and took Vlad's wrist to his mouth.
    The rush hit him hard, hit her. Power pouring into his starved body. Cells and tissue, muscle and bone soaked up the life-giving fluid greedily. She tried to detach herself, to feel horror at the thought of Byron drinking blood, but she saw his power, felt his power. When he had taken what he needed, she realized she was barely breathing.
    "How do you stop the blood from flowing?"
    "We close the pinpricks with our tongue. The healing agent seals the wound and if we desire, the skin itself."
    Antonietta felt a blush stealing up her neck and face. There had been a bite on her neck; Tasha spotted it. "You've taken my blood, haven't you?"
    "Of course; you are my life mate." Deliberately, Byron caught the nape of her neck and dragged her to him, his mouth taking possession of hers, sharing the flavor and power of Carpathian blood. His tongue swept inside her mouth, tangling with hers, a primal mating while her senses leapt to life, every nerve ending on overload.
    Eleanor pulled out of Paul's body and into her own, swaying with weariness. "It is done, Antonietta. He will live."
    Vlad swept his life mate into his arms. "You are a miracle worker, Eleanor."
    "She is," Byron agreed. "Grazie, both of you. I could not have saved him without your help."
    "I guess my dinner party is thoroughly ruined. You must have such a bad impression of my family." It hit Antonietta that if Eleanor and Vlad were like Byron, they would have heard the police in the lower stories, conducting interviews with staff with sealing off the crime scene. "Poor Enrico deserved better than being shoved down a laundry chute. I have no idea what is happening in my own home."
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