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

Is it Paul? Does he have the scent of a cat?

There was reluctance to her voice, as if she might be betraying someone… or something she held dear. And there was an underlying note of fear. She tried to hide it, but it was there.

Byron leaned over Paul, examining every inch of him, paying attention to his fingernails, his arms, looking for scratches, for any telltale sign that would indicate he had been a party to the attack on Don Giovanni and his grand-daughter. There was one long scratch along the inside of his left forearm. It looked raw and angry.

Byron! Please, does he have the scent of the cat?

The Scarletti palazzo and the family dwelling there had nearly as many secrets as his own people. Byron inhaled deeply. The scent of the cat permeated the room. It was difficult to tell if Paul had the scent or not.

I have no idea. It reeks in here of the scent. If it is not Paul, the cat has been here. Do you keep large cats or know someone who does?

A slight noise downstairs distracted him immediately. Byron’s head snapped up, and his black eyes flashed with instant menace. Someone was making their way up the long, curving staircase. Soft, stealthy footfalls. Furtive. The whisper of material against the thick banister sounded overly loud to Byron. A small, wolfish smile softened the hard edge to his mouth. Not bothering to scan, he simply waited in the darkness for his prey to come to him.

Of course not.

The footsteps were at the top of the first landing. Whoever it was hesitated, then turned toward Paul’s suite of rooms. Byron shrank back into the shadows. His lengthened incisors were exposed, and when the door opened just a crack, the dim light from the hall turned his eyes a fiery bloodred.

He knew her instantly. Antonietta’s trusted assistant, Justine Travis, stepped cautiously inside the room, closing the door behind her. She took several steps into the middle of the room but stopped, not attempting to cross to the bed.

“Paul?”

Silence greeted her. The man in the bed didn’t stir. Byron was certain he had been drugged, but it was necessary to check him. Either way, it didn’t make him innocent. A smart man might try to commit murder and drug himself to make it appear as if he were in danger, too.

Hunger stirred, a dark and terrible need that welled up sharp and overpowering. Byron had not fed, and he had used considerable energy saving Don Giovanni from the cold depths of the sea. Healing had drained him, driving out the poison from the fragile system, and now he craved and needed. He could hear the call of the rich, hot blood rushing through veins bursting with the life his shrunken cells needed. He moved, a blink of the eye, no more, and he stood behind Justine. Her hair was drawn up into a simple ponytail, pulled away from her neck and leaving her throat exposed. He could see her pulse beating rapidly.

Justine sighed and wrung her hands together in obvious agitation. “Paul, wake up. I have to talk to you. I’m sorry we fought, but you have to understand I can’t risk my job,” Justine touched her throat with her palm, a defensive movement as if she sensed the predator so close to her. “You know I’ll do anything to help you. We’ll find another way to get the money. I’ll help you, I will.”

Paul didn’t respond but continued to lie motionless on the bed.

Justine sobbed softly. “I didn’t mean it when I said we were over. I’ll find a way to help you, Paul. Don’t do anything rash until I figure things out. You know you would feel so awful if you did anything that would harm or betray your family.” She waited a moment. “Please, Paul, answer me.” When Paul didn’t answer or turn toward her, Justine jammed her fist into her mouth to muffle her weeping.

A dark shadow fell across her so that Justine shivered and half turned, her eyes widening with terror. The predator in the shadows spoke softly to calm her, whispered a command even as he enfolded her in his arms. She tilted her head and gazed up at him with blind rapture.

Byron looked down into her face. Her mind was chaotic, filled with thoughts of Paul. Of how she loved him, how she didn’t want to betray Antonietta but… He smiled, and there was no humor in that smile, only a showing of fangs. “It is in you to be treacherous, and you have chosen the wrong alliance.” His voice held a whip of contempt so that even under his dark enthrallment, Justine winced. Byron bent his head, teeth sinking into soft flesh, and drank.

Antonietta stepped from the bath, wrapping herself in a thick towel. It was precisely ten steps to her vanity, and she sank into the chair and reached for the brush that was always in the right comer. The handle was cool and smooth and fit in her hand as if made for her. It was an heirloom from the past, but she loved it and used it nightly to brush her hair. As she pulled the brush down the length of her hair, her neck throbbed and burned right over her suddenly wildly pounding pulse.

Startled, Antonietta dropped the brush and covered the spot, reaching for Byron automatically. She found not her calm, tranquil poet but a beast, raging with demonic hunger, feasting, drawing energy and vitality from a warm, living creature. From a human… Abruptly, the connection was broken.

Antonietta choked, her hands fluttering to guard her throat while her mind tried to grasp the implication of the dark, shadowed beast roaring for release. Had she somehow connected with the wild cat Byron had scented in her cousin’s room? Was her imagination simply playing tricks on her?

She was tired and frightened and wanted comfort. Where was he? Why hadn’t he come to her?

Byron!

She called him sharply, terrified of needing him so much and torn between wanting him to come to her and hoping he would stay away. She was weak tonight, she might not be able to resist him. The last thing she wanted to do was destroy their friendship by making a fool of herself.

Byron heard Antonietta’s beloved voice echoing through his mind. Touching his heart. Pulling at his soul. Awareness of where he was and what he was doing hit him. Immediately, he swept his tongue across Justine’s throat to close the tiny pinpricks and slowly lifted his head, making every effort to pull back from the heady rush the infusion of fresh vitality gave him. For Antonietta’s sake, because Justine was someone she cared for, he was gentler than he might have been as he lowered the woman to the floor and helped her to rest against the wall.

I am here.

Antonietta couldn’t believe the relief sweeping through her body, through her mind. For a moment I thought something was terribly wrong. She felt along the floor for her brush. Her fingertips found the smooth handle. The towel unraveled, leaving her body exposed to the cool air. Outside, the rain began to pour against the stained glass windows. Antonietta walked across the floor. The marble tiles were cool on the soles of her feet. Her body was hot and flushed at the idea of him walking in on her unexpectedly. She had no idea why just the sound of his voice made her feel sexy. Made her want to tempt and entice him. He was always so cool and calm, and she wanted to drive him out of control.

I find I’m edgy and moody tonight,

Antonietta admitted. She stood naked in front of the stained glass window, listened to the rain pouring down, and lifted her arms upward as an offering to the gods of fantasy. Of dreams. “Bring him to me. Let him come this night. Let me know he has looked at me as a woman and not as a bank account.”

You should be in bed. Beneath the warmth of your covers, not flitting about your room. The idea was to keep you healthy.

How could a mere voice affect her so much? Set her body on fire, aching and needing and craving just one man. It made little sense to her. Antonietta turned from the window and moved unerringly to the tall dresser. Some time earlier in one of her moods of generosity, Tasha bought her a white lace nightgown, one Antonietta had never worn. It slithered over her skin, almost alive, heightening her senses and her body’s terrible needs. It was a gown meant to lure. To tempt. It clung to every curve and showed off her skin. It made Antonietta feel a beautiful temptress.