Christine Feehan: Dark Symphony (Dark Series - book 10)

“Byron!” The call came again. Haunting. Unforgettable. He knew he would hear that voice echo forever in his dreams.

She was up in the jagged rocks, near the edge of the crumbling cliffs, struggling with a large man. Below her, the water slammed against the rocks, reaching higher and higher as if to drag her down. It was only the increasing fury of the storm, the earthquake sending shocks through the cliff that prevented Antonietta’s attacker from flinging her into the sea. The man staggered, nearly fell, even as he wrestled with her. Lightning exploded around them, whips of energy rained hot, glowing sparks. Thunder crashed so loud the man yelled in fear.

Fangs exploded in Byron’s mouth, black venom swirled in his gut. He was on them in an instant, uncaring of his enormous strength, catching Antonietta’s assailant by the nape of his neck and wrenching him backward, away from her. With the ferocity of his animal nature, with the rage of his human side, he shook Antonietta’s attacker, his hands crushing the throat An ominous crack was loud, even with the sea roaring in accompaniment to his rage.

Byron dropped the body carelessly, allowing the empty carcass to crumple to the ground. He turned quickly toward Antonietta. She was moving to get away from them, her arms stretched out full length to try to feel her way. There was nothing but empty space in front of her and the sea below, swelling and booming with relentless fury.

“Stop! Don’t move, not a single step!” The command thundered through the night air, reached her atop the cliffs. Trusting she would obey that merciless compulsion, Byron plunged straight into the sea. Diving deep, down into the cold, dark abyss until his fingers found the material of the old man’s collar, and he grasped it hard in his fist, kicking strongly to bring them both to the surface.

Byron shot from the sea, straight into the air, dragging the leaden body against his own as he headed for the top of the cliffs. The white mist thickened and swirled around him like a living cape, creating a shield from prying eyes. The old man choked and gasped for air, for life. He clung convulsively to Byron, not quite aware of his surroundings, not able to believe he was hurtling through space. Don Giovanni, grandfather to Antonietta, had his eyes tightly shut while his chest heaved and saltwater spewed from his mouth. The water poured from their clothing and hair, adding to the droplets of mist in the air as Byron alighted on the ground.

The old man began to pray loudly in his own language, calling on the angels to save him, but he never once opened his eyes.

Antonietta turned toward the sound, but her feet remained perilously close to the edge of the cliff, exactly where they had been when Byron roared his command. His heart in his throat, Byron carefully stretched the old man out on the ground, well away from the edge, and rushed to gather Antonietta into his arms. Into safety. Holding her tightly, knowing she was safe, he forced air through his lungs, forced down his rage and fear to allow the violent storm to calm.

Despite the fact that his clothing was soaked, she burrowed close to him, her hands finding his face unerringly, mapping his features with loving fingertips. “I knew you’d come. Our guardian angel. My grandfather? Is

Nonno

going to be all right? I heard him fall into the sea. I couldn’t get to him. I couldn’t see to get to him.” She turned her head toward the coughs and grunts the older man was making, tears glistening in her huge, dark eyes.

“He will be fine, Antonietta,” Byron assured her. “I will not allow him to be anything else.” And he meant it He couldn’t bear the sight of tears in her eyes.

“You saved him, didn’t you, Byron? That’s why you’re soaked. You always come to us when there’s trouble. Grazie, I cannot live without my grandfather.” She stood on her toes, her body soft and pliant, melting against his hard strength, oblivious to his soaked clothing, and she pressed her mouth to the corner of his.

That small tribute shook him to the very core of his being. Fire streaked through his veins. Every cell in his body reacted, reached for her. Needed. Hungered. His arms tightened possessively for just a moment. He made a conscious effort to remember his own strength, to remember she had no idea who or what he was.

Byron swung her up, cradling her body close. She was shivering in the biting wind. “Did he hurt you? Are you injured, Antonietta?” It was a demand, pure and simple.

“No, just frightened. I was so frightened.”

“What were you doing on the cliffs?” His voice was much harsher than he intended. “And where is the rest of your family?”

Her fingers moved over his face, an intimate exploration. She had read him many times, but this seemed different somehow, or maybe he was far too aware of her. “Someone put a cloth over my mouth and nose and dragged me outside. I was so afraid for

Nonno

. I could hear the sea.” The pads of her fingers sent tiny flames dancing over his skin as she mapped his face. As she traced his frown. “The sea sounded angry, much like you sound right now. I couldn’t get to Grandfather, and I heard him fall over the cliff.” She was silent a moment, dropping her head to his shoulder. “I was struggling with the man who dragged me out here. He was trying to throw me into the sea, too.” Her voice was shaking, but Antonietta struggled for composure.

“Did he say anything to you?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t recognize anything about him. I’m certain he’s never been to the palazzo before. No one said anything to us, they just tried to throw us into the water.”

Byron set her carefully on the ground beside the old man. “I want to take a look at your grandfather. I think he swallowed half the sea. Do not move. It is dangerous up here. You are on the high cliffs, where the edges are crumbling, and the fall could kill you.” He couldn’t look at the innocence on her face, the childlike trust there. He knew she belonged to him, yet he had once again failed to keep safe those he was sworn to protect. “You do not realize it, Antonietta, but you are in shock. Do not move, just sit here and breathe for me.”

He came from an ancient race, a species that could claim immortality. He had seen the passage of time, witnessed his race nearing extinction. Without women and children, it was impossible to live anything other man a bleak, soulless existence. Unless one was lucky enough to find his lifemate. Antonietta Scarletti was his lifemate. He knew it unerringly. She came from a long line of psychics, people gifted with talents beyond mere sight. Byron had listened often to the history of her family. He knew that many of Antonietta’s ancestors, both male and female, were strong telepaths and healers. Only a human who was psychic could be lifemate to one of the ancient Carpathian race. Antonietta Scarletti was a very strong psychic.

Don Giovanni struggled to sit up, his chest heaving while he gasped for air. He caught at Bryon’s wide shoulders with gnarled hands. “How did you know to come? The sea claimed my life, but you brought me back.” His teeth were chattering with cold, his thin body shaking uncontrollably. “That is twice now that you have saved me.”

Byron held him gently. “Do not talk so much, old man. Let me see what I can do to take the chill from you.”

Antonietta couldn’t see Byron, but as always, the sound of his voice intrigued her. It was beautiful and compelling, much like the symphony of music always playing in her head. She wanted to think of him as her grandfather’s friend, but it was a difficult task when she listened for the sound of his voice and hungered for the slightest physical contact between them.