Page 34 of Venice Vampyr: The Beginning

“I’m sorry,” the girl whimpered, her split lip making her speech slurred. “But business was so bad this month. We needed the money.”

“Who did this?”

Benedetta looked away, but Dante took her chin and made her meet his glare. She winced. “I asked who did this.”

“Salvatore.”

“Fuck!” Dante ran his hand through his dark hair. “Have you no sense of self-preservation? Of all people, you had to let Salvatore touch you?” He wasn’t acquainted with the man personally, but he knew he wasn’t fit company for Benedetta.

She closed her swollen eyes. “He was the only one willing to pay.”

“Damn it, girl. If you were my daughter, I’d lock you up at home for your stupidity. No woman in her right mind would let Salvatore touch her. Why do you think he was willing to pay for it? Everybody knows of his reputation. He loves to beat women.”

Tears ran down Benedetta’s face. Dante pulled out a handkerchief and patted her face with it.

“Thank you.”

“Now, go home. I’ll buy all the carvings you have left for tonight.” Dante glanced at her cart. Tonight, the wooden figures she was selling were particularly ugly. They’d turn into firewood at his home just like all the others before them.

Her face lit up. “Oh, thank you so much, Signore di Santori. You’re so kind.”

Kind? It wasn’t an adjective he was often graced with. No vampire was kind, least of all he, but if Dante hated one thing, it was men who beat women. He loved women in every shape and form they came. Especially when they came—in his bed.

He liked them even more when he fed from them.

A woman’s blood was richer than a man’s. And it was even more intoxicating when he fed from a woman while he was fucking her into oblivion. In fact, it was his preferred way to have dinner. There was nothing kind or civilized about it. When it came down to it, he wasn’t that much better than Salvatore—a mere human—but he drew the line at hurting women.

In fact, he lived to give them pleasure.

His bite was painless, and his powers of suggestion made it possible for him to conceal what he did. After a night in his arms, the women he bedded didn’t remember the passionate man who’d driven them to ecstasy or the bloodthirsty and insatiable vampire who’d gorged himself on their necks.

Dante’s anger failed to simmer down by the time he reached the club where Salvatore usually spent his evenings. He arrived spoiling for a fight. A real fight, not one where he would use his superior vampire powers to crush the human. He longed for a brawl in which he’d use his fists to pummel the man.

He pushed inside the club, ignoring the demands of the hostess to pay the fee. He would only stay long enough to find Salvatore and beat the living daylights out of him. Make him look much worse than Benedetta did.

Dante’s entrance and the hostess’ angry complaints behind him caused several heads to turn in his direction. He ignored them and instead scanned the room. It didn’t take long for him to spot Salvatore in one of the booths that lined the room. And Salvatore wasn’t alone. He was already working on his next unsuspecting victim.

Dante took no notice of the other guests’ stares and marched straight toward Salvatore, stopping only a foot away. The man had his hand on the woman’s skirts and his head close to her ear, undoubtedly whispering sweet-sounding lies to her. Dante cleared his throat loudly.

Without looking up, Salvatore tried to dismiss him. “I’m busy.”

Dante clenched his jaw. “You won’t be for much longer.”

The woman snapped her head to him, her eyes widening in fear. She’d clearly heard the threat in his voice. Dante ignored her and snatched Salvatore’s wrist, ripping it away from the woman’s skirts and yanking him up. Startled, Salvatore glared at him.

“What the hell?” Salvatore’s eyes narrowed. “Get your own woman. This one’s mine.”

“I’m not interested in your tart. I’m interested in you.”

Salvatore tried to wrestle from the grip Dante had on his wrist but couldn’t. “Leave me alone, you fag, or I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

“You mean the same way you beat the shit out of Benedetta?”

At Benedetta’s name, a flash of fear crossed his face. He knew he was caught, but the bravado hadn’t left him yet. “None of your damn business.”

“She’s a friend. So it’s my business.” Dante released the man’s wrist and swung. His fist landed in Salvatore’s face, snapping his head back in the process.

Collective gasps went through the assembled guests. In the background, Dante could hear the hostess’ shrill voice. “Gentlemen, take your disagreement outside.”