A Venetian Vampire
Some games are better without rules…especially seductionVampire Dante D’Arcangelo enjoys diversions. Especially those that involve seducing beautiful women, like newly made vampiress Kyler Cole. The curvaceous ingénue stirs Dante’s deepest desires. But they share more than blistering chemistry. Dante and Kyler each seek possession of a priceless Fabergé egg containing a spell that would annihilate thousands of vampires, while granting only one eternal life.Caught up in a wickedly sexy game of cat and mouse, Dante and Kyler try to outmanoeuver each other as thieves and as lovers. But when a rival steals the egg, they form a wary alliance to recover it…knowing that their delicate bond must eventually end in betrayal.
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Some games are better without rulesâ¦especially when it comes to seduction.
Vampire Dante DâArcangelo enjoys diversions. Especially those that involve seducing beautiful women, like newly made vampiress Kyler Cole. The curvaceous ingenue stirs Danteâs deepest desires. But they share more than blistering chemistry. Dante and Kyler each seek possession of a priceless Fabergé egg containing a spell that would annihilate thousands of vampires while granting only one eternal life.
Caught up in a wickedly sexy game of cat and mouse, Dante and Kyler try to outmaneuver each other as thieves and as lovers. But when a rival steals the egg, they form a wary alliance to recover itâ¦knowing that their delicate bond must eventually end in betrayal.
âWhat are you doing?â
Kyler rushed over and grabbed her backpack from Dante. âItâsâ¦â
âEmpty,â he provided plainly.
Dante stretched an arm across the back of the divan and crossed his legs casually. He wore dark slacks and his unbuttoned white shirt revealed hard abs⦠that she had licked not hours earlier.
âYou did this! You had this all planned out!â
âI performed no such trickery. Youâll recall it was you who eagerly suggested we finish off the evening here.â
âYou were scheming. Hoping to get me alone so you could steal the egg from me. I canât believe I fell for that!â
He waved a hand, dismissing the comment. âDoesnât matter now. Iâve come to Venice to claim the Fabergé egg, and I wonât leave without it.â
âSo you admit you used meâseduced meâto get what you wanted?â
He lifted a finger. âSeducing you was not my original intention. That was a fortuitous bonus.â
MICHELE HAUF has been writing romance, action-adventure and fantasy stories for more than twenty years. France, musketeers, vampires and faeries usually populate her stories. And if Michele followed the adage âwrite what you know,â all her stories would have snow in them. Fortunately, she steps beyond her comfort zone and writes about countries and creatures she has never seen. Find her on Facebook, Twitter and at www.michelehauf.com.
To Chelle Olson, editor, friend, rockinâ cool chick. Index finger up, middle fingers down, pinkie up, thumb in.
Contents
Dante DâArcangelo insinuated himself into the Cannaregio Casa dâAste with an ease that had come from more than 160 years of existing along the edge of the shadows. No one paid any mind to the tall stranger as he walked the Venetian auction houseâs marble corridor to the back room, where key arrangements for the event were being performed. Tomorrow eveningâs gala auction would feature dozens of valuable art items on the block. It was being hyped with celebrity fanfare. A media blitz.
The star of the show was a Fabergé Imperial egg called the Nécessaire. It had officially gone missing in 1952, after the last known buyer had been recorded only as: A Stranger. A month ago, it had suddenly reemerged in the art world. Dante intended to remove it from the auction house tonight. No hard feelings. It was just that the egg belonged to him. And the very fate of his kindâvampiresârequired he get it back.
As he took in the layout of the bustling auction house, the placement of the dinnerware stacked and ready for service in the grand ballroom where a celebratory dinner was to be held, counted the employees and marked their various uniforms, noted security cameras and entrance keypads, Dante noticed one woman stood out from them all.
Rather, she didnât quite fit in.
A woman of medium height and more than a few delicious curves, she stood apart from the workers possessed of blasé European disinterest, slender frames and suntanned skin. A tourist who had wandered in from the streets? Doubtful. Her actions were purposeful. She moved along the edge of the activity, which hummed like a busy office expecting the district manager to show up at any moment to fire one and all. She was dressed all in black, and over that she wore a snug maroon apron like those on the auction house employees. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail.
Waiters and others who most definitely belonged in the mix shuffled to and fro, intent on their specific duties. Some spoke into earpieces; others checked details on clipboards or iPads. A pair of lanky busboys hustled clattering cases of wine toward the bar area set up along one wall.
The woman with the dark hair and mysterious presence kept her head down, yet her kohl-lined eyes took in everythingâexcept the people. She did not miss a creased seam where wall met wall, nor a crimped electrical cable running from a computer along the floor and into a dark, attached room. Near her thigh, her fingers moved as if counting, slowly. She was marking her footsteps across the room.
