Page 64 of Venice Vampyr: The Beginning

“Where is it?” she’d blurted.

“It’s a secret. Nobody can know it even exists. If they do, they will hurt us.”

“Shh,” she’d hummed. “You can whisper it to me.”

But her father had never divulged the hiding place, nor what the treasure even consisted of. And maybe it had just been a story to keep a ten-year old girl entertained. But she couldn’t dismiss it. If the treasure really existed, then it still had to be in the house. And she needed to find it. It was her only way out of her current life. She wasn’t going to remain a courtesan forever and give her body to men she didn’t love.

Bianca set her bag onto the floor beside her and ventured into the house. Everything was still the same: the furniture, the paintings, the rugs. Even the crystal glasses in the parlor where her father had liked to drink his Grappa were still at the same place as always. Signore Mancini had told her that the man who’d purchased the house had insisted on keeping the furniture and everything else. When she’d asked him when the new owner was going to move into the property, he’d shrugged and declared that the man had seemed in no particular hurry.

Well, considering that the purchase had only been recorded in the city’s ledgers this afternoon, Bianca figured the new owner would most likely wait until Monday to hire workers to clean the place and bring his own personal items into the home. No Italian liked to work on weekends, not even the poorer classes. This meant she’d have the weekend to search the house from top to bottom and take everything apart to find what her father had been referring to as the “treasure.”

Bianca walked up the creaking staircase, her long dress picking up the dust on the way up. Clearly, her father’s servants had neglected the house even before his death, because there was no way this much dust could accumulate in merely a week. Now the house was quiet, devoid of any life. The servants were gone, most likely glad that their back wages had been paid by the solicitor. It wouldn’t surprise her if they’d taken some of the silver with them.

In a way she was glad this was how it had happened. Had her father’s servants still occupied the house, she would have had to sneak around trying to hide what she was doing. With the house empty, she could conduct her search openly.

Bianca shivered as she reached the upstairs corridor. It had been an overcast day, and now that the sun was about to set, the dampness crept into the house and took hold. If she wanted to stay in the house for the weekend, she would have to get at least one or two fires going. She passed by the door to her father’s chamber, but decided not to enter it. She had no wish to be reminded of him so intensely.

Instead, she opened the next door and stepped into her mother’s old room. It was like she’d only died yesterday, yet it had been over ten years since she was gone. Her father had always made sure the servants cleaned and aired her room at least once a week, as if he was expecting her to come back. She glanced around. Fresh linen adorned the large four-poster bed, and wood was stacked next to the fireplace, ready for a maid to start a fire.

The remaining light entering through the window was sufficient for Bianca to see herself in the mirror. She looked a fright. Traveling all day, first on a dirty coach, then on a rocking boat, had shaken her. She hadn’t had time to clean up since. The neat bun her long dark hair had been tamed into was no longer the elegant coiffure it had once been. Little strands of black curls tumbled down her neck and shoulders. Her dark blue dress was dusty, and its hem was caked with mud. Lifting her dress slightly, she noticed that her boots weren’t faring any better.

As much as she wanted to start the search right now, Bianca couldn’t help but yearn for a hot bath to take the grime of the trip off her body. Plus she needed to get a fire going to warm up the room so she wouldn’t freeze to death at night.

With a heavy sigh, she approached the fireplace and knelt down. Despite her sheltered upbringing, she knew how to kindle a fire. Her early time in Florence had made sure she’d learned everything she needed to survive. It didn’t take long for her to get a fire going. She placed two large logs onto the flames and stepped back. In an hour, the room would be pleasantly warm.

In the meantime, she went back downstairs and made her way to the kitchen. The stove was an old cast iron one. She had to get a fire started there as well if she wanted hot water for a quick bath. Pumping the water from the hand pump, she filled several large cooking pots and placed them onto the surface of the stove. Then she went about to light a fire in it.

Sweat already accumulated on her brow from heaving the heavy pots onto the stove. It would be even harder to lift them off once the water was boiling. There was no way she would carry them all the way upstairs into the small bathing chamber next to her mother’s room. Instead, she would use the tub that was located in the room next to the kitchen where the servants used to do the laundry. It would do for the night.

Chapter Three

Lorenzo had planned on arriving at his new home just after sunset, however his friends had thwarted his efforts to take possession of his new residence by calling another meeting to discuss more details about the acquisition of the remaining twenty-six homes. He’d only listened half-heartedly, eager to inspect his new place. After all, he’d bought it sight unseen. He’d never stepped foot inside. For all he knew, the place was in shambles.

However, the solicitor had assured him the property was habitable and only needed some cleaning. It didn’t matter much to Lorenzo. He was going to change the interior anyway. For starters, hidden exits would have to be incorporated into the layout of the home, and once the house between his and that of the brothers Dante and Raphael was in vampire hands, connecting tunnels would be built between the homes (all above the level of the canals of course). Well, they wouldn’t really be tunnels, merely covered walkways that would allow them to move around during the day.

It was well past midnight by the time Lorenzo reached the front door of his new home and turned the key. The smell that greeted him wasn’t what he’d expected from a vacant house. It was welcoming, instantly feeling like a home. And he immediately realized why: somewhere in the house, a fire was burning in a fireplace. He was not alone.

Dropping his traveling bag in the foyer, he inhaled deeply, taking in the various scents of the house: smoke, soap, dust, and mold. And another very faint smell of something entirely unexpected.

A smile curled around his lips. Dante and Nico were the best. They knew him too well, and there was no doubt in his mind about what they’d gotten him as a housewarming gift. Emphasis on the “warming.”

Lorenzo followed the alluring scent upstairs and trailed it along the corridor. In front of one door, he stopped and inhaled again. Yes, his gift was right behind this door, waiting for him. His ears captured every sound, but it was quiet behind the door except for the crackling of the fire.

Quietly, he turned the door knob and eased the door open, sliding inside the nearly dark room. Only the low fire in the fireplace provided some light, but Lorenzo’s superior night vision didn’t need bright light to make out the outlines of his present.

There, in the entirely feminine chamber, which at one time must have belonged to the lady of the house, a young woman slumbered under the sheets. Her dark hair fanned out like a halo around her porcelain face, her lips slightly parted, her breath beckoning him to approach.

He wondered what color her eyes were. Maybe as dark as her thick lashes, which seemed so long they caressed her cheeks.

Why had Nico and Dante kept him so long when they knew this enthralling beauty was waiting for him? It was inexcusable to let a woman like her wait and not give her the attention she deserved. He had every intention of making it up to her.

Without making a sound, Lorenzo took off his cloak and dropped it on a nearby chair before divesting himself of his shirt. When he opened the top button of his breeches, he realized that he was already hard. He stripped himself of his trousers and shoes, placing them next to the rest of his clothing. Then he looked back at the sleeping woman in his bed and touched his cock, trying to ease some of the tension.

His arousal was heavy and unstoppable. As much as he enjoyed looking at her, what he wanted even more was to touch her. And then wake her. Fuck her. Bite her. Not necessarily in that order.

Lorenzo released his erection and lifted the coverlet, revealing more of the woman’s body. She wore a nightrail which revealed more than it concealed. The thin lilac fabric was virtually transparent, putting her dark nipples on display. With every breath, her full breasts rose and pressed the little buds against the fabric, the chafing action seemingly turning them hard.

He licked his lips at the sight and slid onto the bed. His eyes continued scanning her body, moving over her slender waist and further down. A dark thatch of hair shone through the fabric where her thighs met. Slightly parted, her sex was open to be explored if he chose to do so.