Her knees went weak, and she cried out, afraid she would have an o.r.g.a.s.m right there, just from his mouth on her breast. His tongue licked along the valley between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s up toward her throat. "Is this what you want? Just a physical relations.h.i.+p?" He lifted his head, and she felt his eyes burning like lasers. "This is good enough for you?"

Antonietta's fingers bunched in his hair, nearly desperate to pull him back to her. There was no reason to feel guilty, but she did. "It has always been good enough in the past," she said defiantly, and then was instantly ashamed that he had managed to rattle her when it was none of his business what she did or even what she preferred.

Byron straightened slowly, his hands slowly releasing her. His body withdrew from hers, leaving her feeling cold and alone and bereft. "It is not good enough for me."

Antonietta pushed an unsteady hand through her hair deliberately stepping into the pa.s.sageway to give herself s.p.a.ce.

Dark Symphony

"You can't possibly want a long-term, permanent relations.h.i.+p with me. You don't even know me."

"That is not precisely true, Antonietta. There is very little about you I do not know. I took the time, sitting quietly in your home, listening to you. Hearing the music you play, watching you with your family. I know you far better than you think. You have not taken the time to get to know me. You thought you could have me for a lover, and your perfect world would remain intact.

You wouldn't have to do anything different at all, but in truth, there is always change and consequences."

She didn't like seeing herself through his eyes. He made her feel shallow and self-centered. "There is nothing wrong with a woman being practical, Byron. Men take lovers and walk away all the time. They've been doing it for centuries. I'm practical, not unemotional. I have a family depending on me, I have a full-time career. Can't you see that I'm making sense? You're not in love with me." She dared him to lie to her and say he was.

He paced away from her, returned to stand over her. She felt his shadow even in the darkened pa.s.sageway. Felt his presence, not the man she was so comfortable with, not the man she had come to think of as sweet and courtly, but a dangerous predator stalking her in the narrow confines of the Scarlett! pa.s.sageway. She had the impression of lips drawn back in a silent snarl and fangs exposed. "How would you know what I feel or do not feel?" His voice was so low it could barely be heard, yet there was a note in it that increased her fear even more.

Antonietta put out her hand. A test. Byron instantly caught her hand, drew her palm to the warmth of his chest. She could feel his heart beating. Steady. Strong. A perfect rhythm, and her own heart seemed to want to follow. "I didn't mean to hurt you." She stepped closer to him. "I did, didn't I? I hurt you by saying I didn't want a permanent relations.h.i.+p with you. I didn't mean it the way it came out." Why had she been so afraid? How could she ever think that Byron, with his impeccable manners, would be anything but generous and courteous? She was becoming fanciful after her misadventure in the night.

"No man wants to be told he will be discarded gladly."

Byron said. "It is a bit hard on the ego." He brought her fingers to his mouth.

Antonietta expected a brief kiss. His mouth closed over her finger. And it was hot and moist and everything it had been when he had been lavis.h.i.+ng attention on her breast. She thought she might fall down, simply melt into a puddle on the floor. "I think my hormones are in overdrive, Byron." She had no other defense besides humor. "If you keep that up, I might have to consider ripping your s.h.i.+rt right off of you."

"I do not think that is designed to stop me, Antonietta." There was a hint of laughter in his voice. His teeth nibbled at her finger, sc.r.a.ped along the pad of her thumb. "How did you discover this room? You do not come into the pa.s.sageway that often, do you?"

His tone sounded mildly curious, yet she had the impression he was waiting for her answer. That his tone was quite at odds with his emotions. "Most of my life I could manage to read people, Byron. I've always thought it was because I was blind, and I had to rely on other senses to get by. You're very difficult, because you don't say very much and I can't rely on your voice to give away your emotions." She reached up to touch his face, gently mapping his expression with her fingertips.

"I have never been blind, Antonietta, although for a long time I was color-blind. I saw the world in shades of gray and white and charcoal. It is a condition in the males of my people. Most lose the ability to see in color when they come into full power, but I took much longer."

Byron seemed so sad, suddenly she pressed closer to him. "What is it? What are you thinking of?"

"A time long ago when I had a childhood friend. More than a friend. In my world, our siblings can be quite a bit older. My friend was my family. We were never far apart from one another, and he made life bearable for me. I worked with jewelry, and Jacques would try his hand at it." His mouth curved at the memory of Jacques's antics. Byron was a gem-caller, able to sing the stones of the Earth into revealing themselves, and Jacques often accompanied him into the deepest caves. "My friend disappeared for several years and was presumed dead. My life was h.e.l.l after that. I felt Dark Symphony alone, and maybe I was even angry with him for dying and leaving me behind. I felt lost, without an anchor.

And one day I saw a woman. I could see her in color. I knew she had red hair and green eyes. When that happens, the male of our species knows she is the one woman. But I could not see anyone or anything else in color, which did not make sense if she were my life mate, as colors are fully restored to us through our life mate. I should have known better, should have taken the time to think things through, but I was not so patient back then."

The sadness weighed so heavily on him, it seemed a burden, a great sorrow. Antonietta felt it in her heart, in her mind, but she remained silent, hoping he would continue. She had a feeling he had never told the story to anyone else.

Byron turned his head to kiss her fingertips. "Later, I realized my friend Jacques and I were so close I was picking up visions from his head. He had been tortured, and he was half mad. He did not remember any of us, so it did not occur to me, at the time that I was still connected to him, still seeing through his eyes as we had often done, sharing information on our personal path. But by the time I figured out what was happening, it was too late; I had ruined our friends.h.i.+p and instilled a deep distrust of me in him.

He needed me, and I let him down. I have regretted those rash days bitterly."

"How sad, Byron. I hope your friend is better now. And if he was such a good friend, I'm certain as he heals, he'll forgive anything you might have done."

"The connection between us is still there, should either of us decide to use it, but I no longer saw in colors. My life returned to grays and shadows. Until I met you."

The way he said it, starkly, honestly, tugged at her heartstrings. Until I met you. It had to be his voice that affected her so completely. "What changed?" There seemed to be a lump in her throat. Antonietta gave herself a stern warning. He was a man, just like other men, one who would come and go just as they all did. It mattered little what sweet words he came up with, in the long run, the prenuptial agreement always told what they were after. And it was never Antonietta, the woman.

"My entire life," he said simply.

And there in the absolute darkness, she wanted to believe him. "Kiss me, Byron. Just kiss me again." Her arms slid around his neck, and she pressed her body close to his. An offering. A hunger. A need. She might not want him to be special, might not want to believe he was different from all the others to her, but she needed him to kiss her. And she had never needed anyone.

He murmured something in a language she had never heard before and bent his head to hers. His lips feathered over her face, along her cheekbones, a soft a.s.sault on her senses. There was tremendous strength in his hands as he pulled her even closer, fitting her body into the cradle of his hips. His mouth teased hers. His teeth tugged at her bottom lip, a sweet temptation that left her helpless to resist had she wanted.

Antonietta moved restlessly, a deliberate enticement. When he was with her, when he was near, she had a difficult time thinking of anyone else. Anything else. She craved him in the way an addict might a drug. "A compulsion," she murmured. "That's what you are. A sorcerer, and you've cast a spell on me."

"And here I thought it was the other way around." He whispered the words against her lips.

Before she could answer, his mouth took possession of hers, and the world turned upside down. It didn't matter that there was no light, colors burst behind her eyes and exploded like fireworks in her mind. Beneath her feet the earth rippled so that she clung to him. She lost all ability to breathe, yet he was the very air for her. Antonietta clung to him, unprepared for the way her body simply went soft and pliant and needy. "This has never happened before."

He kissed her again. Thoroughly. Hungrily. As if she were the only woman in the world, and he had to kiss her. Needed to kiss her. And then, abruptly, he lifted his head. His eyes glittered a fiery red above her head and for just a moment fangs gleamed white in the stark black of the pa.s.sageway. "There is someone coming this way," he said. His tone was free of all menace, but she caught a brief glimpse of the inherent violence in him. A beast roared for release, struggled for supremacy. His calm demeanor never wavered, but she felt it just as if it were in her.

She felt him reaching out with all his senses, inhaling Dark Symphony deeply as if he could scent an enemy. "No one comes in here, Byron," she whispered. "We store great treasures, artwork, and jewels. The rooms are designed to keep them in the precise temperatures needed to preserve them. Not even family comes in here without first getting permission from Nonno or from me."He placed his lips against her ear. "Someone is in the pa.s.sageway and moving stealthily, not with confidence. I doubt they have permission." He saw the glimmer of a light moving toward them. "They are nearing us. I can hide us from his sight, but the pa.s.sage is too narrow for him not to b.u.mp into you. We will have to go into your history room and close the door."

Byron felt her swift intake of breath in reaction to his words. The involuntary clenching of her fingers into a fist in the fabric of his s.h.i.+rt. His arm tightened around her. "You will be safe with me. I know the s.p.a.ce is small, but I can get out, should something go wrong with the mechanism."

There was complete confidence in his voice. Antonietta could not tell him of a world of suffocating darkness. Of waking up choking, strangling, her throat closed, fighting desperately for air. Her heart pounded with alarming force. She nodded wordlessly, not trusting her voice. She abhorred the mind-numbing fear that inevitably caught hold of her when she was on unfamiliar ground.

Byron drew her into the small confines of the little room and nudged the door until it swung shut, sealing them in. He dragged her close beneath the protection of his shoulder. With the door closed, the light was gone, hiding the Scarletti secrets as it had for centuries. Byron ran his fingertips along the wall. The carvings were smooth and precise, a work of art, even as it was a kind of diary of each generation. He caressed the figure of a shape-s.h.i.+fter, first in human, then half and half, and then fully in cat form. The Jaguar. A sad ending to a species. The blood was so diluted it was doubtful if more than a handful remained with full abilities. So many species gone or nearly gone from the earth.

Antonietta's fingers found him, tracing over the same beautifully drawn figure. If you are not, Jaguar, what are you, Byron?

Instinctively she used the more intimate form of communication. Somewhere on the other side of the wall someone skulked about the pa.s.sageway with a hidden agenda of their own.

I am of the earth. My people have been in existence since the beginning of time, in one form or another.

Then you do s.h.i.+ft shape! You can, can't you? She was very excited.

His breath was warm on her face. His lips touched her cheekbone. // / were to answer yes, would it in any way influence you to consider adding me to the Scarletti gene pool? He was listening to the furtive footsteps as they moved past their hiding place.

That's not funny. But laughter bubbled up anyway. And joy. It was true. She wasn't losing her mind as she often imagined when the beast rose up strong within her, roaring to be set free. I'm too old to even consider having a baby. She said the last to sober up. She was too old to consider a permanent relations.h.i.+p, even if the man intrigued her and made her feel beautiful and young and filled with happiness. It was infatuation, physical attraction, a crush that would soon pa.s.s. It had to pa.s.s soon.

His palm slid down the length of her hair, weighed the heavy braid in his hand. You do not know what old is, An-tonietta.

There was a wealth of amus.e.m.e.nt in his voice. I would like to find out who is out there. He is male, and a member of your family. Normally I can easily scan human thoughts, but the Jaguar influence is prevalent in this area. He feels like Paul, but I cannot scan many of the people here as easily as most others. If I press, he will feel my presence. But I can follow him and see what he is up to.

Antonietta bit down hard on her knuckle to keep a protest from escaping. She had come into the maze of tunnels hundreds of times. It would be silly to be afraid of being alone. She could easily find her way back to her room once out of the history room.

Byron would be the one in danger of being caught in the intricate labyrinth that ran through the many levels of the Scarletti palazzo.

Scan them? You read thoughts? I thought it was only me, that we just had some form of telepathy together. You can read everyone?

And you do not? In the board meetings your grandfather insists on dragging you to, do you not hear what the others are thinking? Before she could answer, he patted her hand. I will return in a moment.

Antonietta opened her mouth. Whether she was going to agree or protest, she wasn't certain, but he simply disappeared. His body had been warm and solid, and then it was gone. They hadn't s.h.i.+fted position to open the wall entrance. She put out her hands, carefully explored all four walls. He had simply vanished. Silently. Completely.

She pressed her hand against her open mouth and leaned against her ancestor's wall of records, shocked. What are you? She ran her fingers over the wall, searching every word, every symbol, and every picture in the hopes of finding another shape her people were capable of s.h.i.+fting into. There was nothing to indicate any of them could simply disappear. She believed in s.h.i.+fting shapes, but completely disappearing was an altogether different proposition. Why did Byron's ability to vanish make her so uneasy when finding her family's history had been such a relief?

Antonietta nearly had a heart attack when Byron's body was suddenly crowding hers in the small confines of the room. She flattened herself against the wall as his much harder frame pressed against hers, but her fingertips went to his face, reading his expression, mapping his familiar face. As often as she did it, he never flinched away, never seemed to mind. "Byron." She breathed his name aloud, thankful he was back, wanting to know his every secret.

Did I startle you? He kissed the corner of her mouth, left a trail of flames down the side of her neck in apology. It is Paul.

Antonietta went still. "Paul." She said her cousin's name aloud. "He never goes inside the pa.s.sageway. He's never even looked at a map. He doesn't like confined s.p.a.ces. His father used to lock him in a closet when he was angry with him. Which seemed to be all the time. Are you certain? What would make him chance coming in here?" Her fingers were already searching out the hidden mechanism to open the wall. "He's bound to get lost in here. Unless you have the map and the key to the map, you could be lost for days."

"It might do him good," Byron said grimly. "He is up to no good."

"You don't know that." The door slid open without a sound, telling Byron that Antonietta came to the room often enough to keep the mechanisms running smoothly. She had that faint haughty note in her voice that always made him smile. He followed her into the pa.s.sage. "Which way did he go?"

"To the left." He placed his lips close to her ear. "What is to the left."

"The vaults. How would he know that? Only Nonno and I know the exact location of the vaults. He can't be going there." To her annoyance, she didn't sound certain.

"Perhaps he had help. When you come in here to catalogue, do you have a pair of eyes? I would venture to say Justine knows exactly how to get to the vault room."

"She wouldn't-"

"She is in love with him." Byron paced along behind her in the narrow confines of the tunnel. His breath was on the nape of her neck. His body heat warmed her. "What would you do for the man you loved, Antonietta? Would you betray your family?

Your friends? Would you do anything for him?"

"Any man I loved would not want me to betray my family and friends." She lifted her chin as she moved confidently through the twists and turns. "If he did, he wouldn't be worth loving, now would he?"

"How do you know where you are going?"

"I count. I memorize everything."

"You are amazing." There was sincere admiration in his words, in his tone.

The genuine compliment made her insides glow. No one said things like that to her. No one else ever gave her personal compliments. Not even her grandfather. Her talent as a musician and composer was taken for granted. Don Giovanni simply shrugged and said with all the lessons she'd been given, she better be considered one of the best in the world. A Scarletti could never be second.

Byron's band simply rested on the small of her back, but it generated so much heat, so much desire, she felt her skin melting beneath this touch. The physical awareness was so great she had trouble concentrating. Antonietta reveled in the intensity of her craving for him. It had never happened to her before, and at thirty-seven, she never thought it would. She was determined to enjoy every moment with him if she could, as long as she had him, even here, in the dark pa.s.sageways of the Scarletti palazzo with her idiot cousin sneaking to the vaults.

Antonietta could feel the pressurized air flowing through an open door. She instinctively slowed down, keeping her footfalls soft on the cool tile. It was only then that she realized that, although she was very aware of Byron, she couldn't hear him. She could feel his hand melting through her back, at times his breath on her skin, but he moved so silently, she would never have known he was there without her heightened senses.

Her heart was pounding overloud in alarm. In regret. Not so much at what her cousin was doing but the fact that Justine had to have helped him. Her Justine. Antonietta's eyes and ears in the palazzo. In the business world. In her profession. She trusted Justine implicitly. She had to. The door opened to the vault room tore apart her heart, shaking her hard-won confidence.

Byron's heart was breaking for her. His Antonietta, who loved and trusted her cousins and Justine. She had made them her world, and yet they thought nothing of what it cost her. Anger swirled inside his gut, a hot, roiling emotion that thickened the air in the pa.s.sageway, making it difficult to breathe. The tension magnified until raw energy ran through the tunnels, a forerunner of immense danger.

Looking over Antonietta's shoulder into the vault room, Byron could see Paul examining several gold artifacts. Several times, he picked up an intricately detailed s.h.i.+p made of gold and put it back down. It was large, and he couldn't find a way to hide it under his s.h.i.+rt. He is helping himself to the Scarletti treasures. At the moment he cannot choose between a golden s.h.i.+p or a necklace of rubies and diamonds. Even from the distance, Byron recognized the glittering piece. He had crafted the necklace with great care, his hands fas.h.i.+oning the gold into the intricate setting for the beautiful gems. It had been a lifetime ago. And he thought of his life mate while he worked, making it with infinite care, knowing he was making it for the bride of someone considered important in the political world. It fascinated and intrigued him that a Scarletti bride had worn his creation, A soft hiss of anger was trapped in his throat as he watched Paul's greedy hand grasping the necklace to him.

Show me.

He hesitated but shared the images reluctantly.

Antonietta made a single sound. A soft cry of despair. She remembered that necklace, one of the few things she did remember from her days of sight. She had loved it, been fascinated by it, and the thought of her cousin stealing it, taking its elegance and fire out of the family, was horrifying. That small sound of heart-wrenching despair called to the demon already roaring for release buried within Byron.

Startled, shocked, Paul swung around, his face twisted with fear and purpose. There was only one heartbeat of time to see the s.h.i.+ny metal object clasped in Paul's hand as he turned. Time slowed, tunneled, as Byron dissolved into molecules, to materialize once again in between Paul and Antonietta.

The blow to Byron's chest was so hard it knocked him backward, off his feet, slamming his body into hers, driving them both against the opposite wall. In the small confines of the pa.s.sageway, the explosion was deafening. The bullet tore its way through his body and out his back, slamming into Antonietta's shoulder. As he fell on lop of Antonietta, his body protecting hers, he tried to focus on Paul, focus on his throat to cut off all air. He could not leave Antonietta, helpless and vulnerable, alone with her treacherous cousin.

Paul coughed, staggered, nearly went to his knees. The gun in his limp fingers wavered alarmingly. Byron's vision blurred. He was losing too much blood too fast. Without shutting down his system, he would be unable to recover. Animal instinct turned his head to see Celt racing toward them.

The borzoi had sensed trouble and managed to nose open the hidden door. A silent hunter, the animal ran full out, his long legs covering ground like a well-oiled running machine. The eyes were fixed and focused on prey. It mattered little that it was human. Celt leapt over Byron and Antonietta, going straight for Paul, teeth slas.h.i.+ng at the arm holding the gun. Paul screamed in pain and dropped the weapon.

"Antonietta! I didn't know it was you!" Paul yelled, struggling to hold off the dog. Already his arms were a ma.s.s of cuts from the slas.h.i.+ng teeth. "Call him off, call off the dog!"

"Celt!" Antonietta used her most authoritative voice. She could see nothing. Byron's motionless body covered hers, pinning her to the floor. Her back hurt as well as the front of her shoulder. "Stay, boy. Paul, if you make one move toward me or Byron, I'm letting him loose, and I won't call him off." She had no idea what had happened, but she smelled blood. Her sensitive fingertips found liquid, warm and sticky. Pools of it.

"It was an accident. I didn't know it was you. The gun just went off by itself. You startled me." Paul realized he was babbling and started toward his cousin.

The borzoi stood between them, head down, eyes alert, still in hunting mode. Paul stopped at once. "He won't let me get to you, and Byron's bleeding all over the floor. Dio, Antonietta, I think I've killed him."

"You shot him?" Antonietta fought down hysteria and panic. "Get over here and move him off of me. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and help me save him."

"The dog-"

"Is going to tear you apart if you don't do exactly what I say! Now come here and move him. Be very careful, Paul. If he dies, you're going to spend the rest of your life in prison. I won't even help with your defense!"

"I'm telling you, Antonietta..." Paul carefully skirted around the dog. "I didn't shoot anyone on purpose. I didn't know what was down here, so I brought protection with me. I never even came in the tunnels when I was a child."

Antonietta felt Byron's body s.h.i.+ft, move off of her, allowing her to crawl out from beneath him. "You were an idiot to bring a gun with you. Where in the world did you get a gun, anyway? Why would you even have one?" She was frantically trying to find the wound, searching for a pulse.

Paul moaned loudly. "He's dead, Antonietta, there's no pulse."

She shoved her cousin hard. "Get away from him! He's not dead. I won't let him be dead. Byron! Don't you dare leave me alone. Come back! d.a.m.n you, Paul, how could you do this?"

She couldn't find a pulse either, and for a moment her world stopped. There was no air to breathe. Her vocal cords wouldn't work. There was nothing. Emptiness. A black void where there had been life and laughter and her music. She had nothing.

The struggle started in her mind. A voice whispering to her from far away. Soothing her. Telling her it wasn't so. I must see him. The words were the first she understood. Look at him. I must see him. She had never heard the voice, but it was low and compelling and insistent on obedience. He spoke in her language but with a definite accent, so velvet soft he seemed to purr.

Antonietta took a breath, let it out slowly, her hands gripping Byron as if she could hold him to her. She forced herself to follow the path of that faraway voice. She wouldn't waste time on fearing it. She feared that the meaning of her entire life was spilling blood on the tiles there in pa.s.sageway. Nothing mattered to her but to save Byron. I am blind. I cannot show you what I see. The borzoi pushed his nose against her face as if to remind her he was there.

A dog is with you? This dog was Byron's dog? I have it now. Yes, the wound is bad. He is not dead but has shut down his system to conserve blood. He will need special care. Do you have help?

My cousin. Paul is the one who shot Byron.

There was a moment of silence and Celt s.h.i.+fted his body, his dark eyes focusing on Paul. "I don't like the way that dog keeps looking at me," her cousin said, "I think it wants to tear my throat out."

"I should let him," Antonietta snapped, furious that Paul would want sympathy.

Are you near soil of any kind? Rich soil? You will need to pack the wound with it. The bullet exited and tore a hole through his back. Your shoulder is injured as well.