A Vampire Romantasy
By Dixon Kinqade
This is a work in progress. It's an incomplete first draft. It requires editing and polishing.
Chapter 1
She stared through the windshield toward a darkening horizon. The gray skies held a dangerous electrical charge that threatened to unleash a torrent of fury at any moment. It was going to rain soon and Diana could already feel increasing pressure in the air.
She could smell, almost taste, the imminent storm approaching. She reached to switch on the car's headlights, but flinched as the echo of booming thunder rolled through her. Again, she turned her attention skyward and a flash of bright blue lightning shattered the skyline.
Seconds later, large drops of rain splattered the windshield of that old blue Honda Civic. Relentless waves pounded the asphalt and rapidly filled the gutters. This heavy downpour made driving hazardous and a muttered curse escaped her lips.
This was just great! A summer storm during rush hour traffic was the last thing she needed. She was already late. Precious time was slipping away with each passing minute. Aunt Maria would not be pleased by any further delay, she thought grimly. Almost on cue, Diana's cell phone rang. She activated the speaker button.
"Where are you?"
"I'm almost home, Maria. Don't worry. I'll be there in about fifteen minutes."
"Good! Did you pick up the sandwiches from the catering place?"
"Yep, and they look absolutely delectable."
A sudden horn blast interrupted the conversation. Crimson brake lights flashed as the late model sedan in front of her skidded and fishtailed to an unexpected stop.
"Listen, this storm is making driving conditions dangerous. We can talk more when I get there. Bye."
Diana poked a button, ending the call and turning off that bothersome cell phone. She'd obtained this car only two days ago and she wasn't completely comfortable driving it in the heavy Crescent City traffic just yet, not to mention the added stress and complications of inclement weather.
"The Big Easy, my ass!" she grumbled as her mind drifted to the circumstances that had brought her to this city. Fourteen years ago, she'd been living in a small town in northwestern Illinois. That was before her parents died. Diana was barely four years old when it happened.
Uncle Mike and Aunt Maria were her closest living relatives and were quite happy to take her in. Unfortunately, they lived nine hundred forty-five miles away. Diana was forced to leave her friends, her school, and a familiar little town.
Mike earned a decent middle-class wage working for the city's street department. Maria was a stay-at-home wife and was content to busy herself with maintaining a pleasant household. They were pretty good to Diana and were diligent about ensuring that she had everything she needed.
They were particularly concerned about her education. The public school system was notoriously poor here. As a result, Mike and Maria insisted that Diana attend a very exclusive private school. This was the only area of her life in which Diana's preferences were given little consideration.
She didn't like private school much. It was highly structured and a bit demanding. The teachers and administrators were rather strict, but overall, life here wasn't too awful. In every other facet of Diana's life, she enjoyed quite liberal freedoms and only a modicum of responsibility. She was grateful to her aunt and uncle for that.
In the time needed to process those thoughts, she'd reached her destination. Diana had just shifted into park and switched off the engine when Uncle Mike rushed out to meet her. He immediately opened the car door.
"I'll get the food. You hurry inside and get ready. Our guests will arrive within the hour."
In the few seconds required to reach the front door, she was already soaked to the core. The storm hadn't let up one bit and rain filled her shoes. They were soggy and made comical squishing sounds with each step. Her damp clothes clung tightly to her young and alluring frame.
Soon as she stepped inside, Diana kicked off those spongy wet sneakers. She turned and caught her reflection in a mirror near the door. Her long dark hair was a complete disaster. Wet and wavy tendrils stuck to her cheek. Tiny raindrops dangled from her long black eyelashes, which clumped together forming miniature black spikes and gave the impression that she'd been crying.
At that thought, she couldn't help but giggle. What did she have to cry about? Maria was giving a party tonight and Diana was looking forward to an interesting evening.
She hurried to her room, trying unsuccessfully not to drip all through the house. Immediately upon closing the door to her bedroom, she began peeling off those cold wet clothes. She was rather fortunate, she thought, to have a room with a private bath. As Diana dropped her wet clothes into the hamper, the prospect of a hot and steamy shower excited her.
The intense sensation of sweltering water cascading down her nude little body was wonderful. A thick blanket of steam enveloped and comforted her. She felt safe and warm, like a butterfly wrapped in a cocoon.
Whatever residual tension caused by the stress of navigating heavy traffic during an unexpected storm faded and washed down the drain with the water. Each tightly jangled nerve unraveled and loosened. Every muscle in her body relaxed. Any anxious thought simply melted away.
Her legs felt suddenly weak and her knees trembled. Standing seemed to require entirely too much effort. With a dreamy smile, she slowly leaned her bare back against the tile wall and carefully slid against it until she reached the floor.
There she sat, reveling in a hazy dreamlike state and enjoying the simple pleasures washing over her. Diana's fingers played lazily across her skin. Her hands began to delicately caress her naked body. Who would have thought that something as simple as your own touch could feel so good?
Twenty minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom feeling fresh and smelling very sweet. She stood before a full-length mirror and let that fluffy pink towel fall to the floor. Diana gazed at her exposed body carefully and with a critical eye.
She studied her own nude form without embarrassment or shame. With her lack of height and youthful face, she looked every bit of a young petite girl her age. She had an excellent body, delicate but durable, lithe, compact, firm, and curvy. The blazing Louisiana sun had kissed her luminescent skin, giving it a lustrous tan shimmer.
Her legs were long, smooth, shapely, and toned. Her knees were slightly dimpled, but not bony. Her thighs were neither too thin nor too thick. They were strong, smooth, and formed a gentle curve to her narrow but very feminine hips.
She turned around to check out her butt. It was nice, she thought. Firm, not sagging, curvy, not flat, it was neither too big nor too wide. Her butt and hips looked like an inverted heart shape. Each cheek had the slightest hint of a dimple on either side where leg met hip. Her waist was very tiny. Her sides formed a gently sloping V-shape to her shoulders. Her spine formed a curvy and classic S-shape.
Again, she turned to face forward. Her stomach was tight, toned, slender, and flat. She thought it was very feminine and rather sexy. Her ribs were narrow and slightly defined, but didn't look bony or malnourished.
Her breasts were firm. They stood proud and high on her chest. They were a good size, she thought, a little more than a handful each. They were very curvy and round, maybe a little too round. They almost looked like a plastic job, but they weren't. They were enticing, natural, and best of all they were hers.
Her shoulders were well-proportioned and shaped. They seemed straight and square, yet soft and round. At any rate, they were very feminine and not manly. That was good.
She had the soft fresh face of a young girl with slightly rounded cheeks, but not round like that of a child. Her face was oval, but not long and drawn like that of a woman. Her pouting pink lips were delicate and feminine.
Smoldering brown, almond-shaped, eyes hinted at mystery and maybe a hidden darkness. Her eyelashes were coal black, long, curved, and luscious. Her eyebrows were slightly arched and feathery. Her hair was long, relatively straight, silky fine, and black as ink.
With a smile, she stepped back from the mirror. Not bad, she decided, pretty nice looking actually. In truth, that was a gross understatement.
As a nude girl, she was absolutely breathtaking. Beautiful girls are a dime a dozen, but Diana was drop-dead gorgeous. She was sultry, sexy, seductive, and unbelievably desirable. She possessed the face of an angel, the body of a temptress, and the presence of a goddess. Yet all her allure was tempered with a clean, wholesome, childlike innocence. Little did she know that would soon be irrevocably shattered.
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Chapter 2
Diana put on her makeup, styled her hair, and shimmied into a slinky sheath of a dress. It was a spaghetti-strapped cocktail gown, deep burgundy in color, and made entirely of lush crushed velvet. The low-cut bust line accentuated her exposed shoulders.
The sides were cut even lower and into an inverted arch that extended all the way down to the gentle curve of her hip. Those sides were held in place only by three horizontal straps. She slipped on a pair of matching suede stilettos and stepped in front of the mirror one last time.
She was pleased with the result of her efforts. Diana looked very grown-up. The dress was elegant and sexy, maybe a little too sexy for a teenage girl, but she was feeling kind of daring tonight.
She glanced at the digital alarm clock beside her bed. Shit! It was seven thirty. Diana had taken longer to get ready than she planned. No doubt, all the guests had already arrived.
She hurried out to find her aunt and uncle. Entering the living room, Diana noticed it was filled with people. As she scanned the faces, a voice called out to her.
"Diana! Over here, baby girl."
It was Lafitte. Jacque Lafitte was a rather tall and very muscular Creole. He was a major sex fiend, general pervert, and in his own words a total flamer. His claim to fame was that he's the direct descendant of the infamous French pirate. One couldn't live long in this city without hearing tales about the swashbuckling Jean Lafitte.
"Ooh, Diana! Let me take a look at you, girlfriend."
She struck a pose and gave a little twirl.
"Mmm hmm! Check you out, hooker! All gussied up with that tan and those pastel pink painted lips, lookin' like a porn star. Brow-chick-a-brow-brow."
Coming from anyone else, she would've been offended, but Lafitte meant it as a compliment. He had a casual and humorous way of using vulgarities as terms of affection. That was just his personality.
"Hey there, Di. You look positively stunning."
Sam appeared beside Lafitte. Both of them worked with Diana at Papa's Pizza on Esplanade Avenue.
Sam had a major crush on Diana and everyone knew it, including her. Although, he never mentioned it to anyone and especially not to her. Nevertheless, everyone teased him about it whenever she wasn't around.
"Thanks, guys. I'm really glad you're both here, but I need to find Maria before she has a conniption."
"No problem," Sam grinned. "I believe she's in the kitchen. At least, that's where I saw her last."
Diana gave a cute little wave and an excited smile, then ran off toward the kitchen. Sure enough, that's where she found Maria.
"Well, you certainly look nice, Diana. I love that dress."
"Yeah. I guess I clean up pretty good, huh? Hey, I'm sorry about tracking rain all through the house."
"Don't give it a second thought, honey. I gave Mike the mop and told him to take care of it."
"I'll have to thank him for that. By the way, is there anything you need my help with?"
"No, dear. You just run along and have a good time tonight. Relax and enjoy yourself, hang out with your friends."
Diana smiled and turned on her heels, but stopped dead before taking a single step. The kitchen was an open room with no walls or doors between it and the dining room. Standing at the far end of the dining room was a man with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a suit jacket slung casually over his shoulder.
He was tall, powerfully built, and extremely good-looking. With broad shoulders, slender waistline, and long legs, his jet-black hair was pulled back into a very long ponytail. He dressed entirely in black and wore rather expensive clothing.
"Maria, who is that man?"
Maria was busy at the kitchen counter. She was arranging appetizers on a platter and didn't bother to look up.
"To which man are you referring, dear?"
"The one wearing all black with the long ponytail."
At that precise moment, he turned and gazed directly at Diana. That was eerie. As though he knew she was talking about him, but there was no possible way he could've overheard them from that distance and definitely not over the din of conversation, music, and the clinking of cocktail glasses. Still it seemed an odd synchronicity.
As their eyes met, he looked at her in a very seductive manner. Immediately, strange feelings of attraction and excitement rippled through her. It gave Diana butterflies. A tingling warmth filled the pit of her stomach, then flooded over her, moving down to her thighs, rising up to her heart, and blushing her cheeks.
Maria knew precisely about whom Diana was inquiring and found it rather amusing.
"Oh, that's Tory Sabatini. I'm surprised you don't remember him. He's some distant relative to you and Mike. I'm not exactly sure where he falls on the family tree, though. I haven't been able to figure that out quite yet. Anyway, he's just moved here from god-knows-where and this is the first time I've seen him in four years. It's funny you should ask about him. The first thing he did upon arrival tonight was inquire about you."
Remember him? Had they previously met? That didn't seem likely. Diana couldn't believe that she'd ever forget meeting him.
Maria dried her hands on a towel and stood beside Diana. They both studied the object of discussion.
"He certainly has a commanding presence. Doesn't he? Rather sexy too."
"Maria!" Diana gasped.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Perhaps I should have said, he's quite a handsome man."
The two girls giggled playfully with each other.
"Oh, he's been snared by an entire gaggle of women. Look at them yammering on, just chewing his ear off. The poor man must be dreadfully bored. Why don't you go over and rescue him?"
Again, he turned his attention to Diana. This time, he nodded politely. Either his timing was uncanny or he could hear every word they spoke. His gaze was intense, magnetic, and a little intimidating.
"Go on, Di. I'm sure that he's eager to see you again."
He watched her navigate through the crowd, walking tentatively toward him. She moved with feline grace and possessed the regal bearing of royalty. That, he thought, was ironically appropriate.
Diana stood nervously before him, timid and apprehensive. He towered confidently over her, impressive and imposing. She looked up into his shimmering blue eyes. He gazed down upon her beautifully angelic face. His eyes seemed to smile, but his inscrutable expression had not changed.
"Diana."
She closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and sucked a sharp breath. Something about the way he purred her name sent shock waves of pleasure vibrating through her. It made her feel warm and fuzzy inside. Involuntarily, her thighs tensed and she squeezed her knees together. Then she relaxed, exhaled a deep sigh, and opened her eyes.
"When we first met, you were just a child, but I could see the promise of the woman you would become. Now, I see that promise wonderfully fulfilled. You have blossomed into a very rare and beautiful flower indeed."
His voice was warm and inviting. The tone was very masculine, deep, and rich. It was mellow, yet strangely exciting, and caused Diana to blush.
It was painfully obvious to the group of women, who'd been fawning over Sabatini, they'd receive no further attention from him. At least, not while Diana was within sight. In disappointed dejection, the unhappy brood reluctantly wandered off and dispersed among the other guests.
"I'm sorry, but I don't remember having met you before."
He smiled for the first time. It was a kind and radiant smile. His teeth were flawless. They were straight, even, and unnaturally white.
"No, Diana."
Again, he purred her name. The breathy sound of it caused her innocent young heart to flutter.
"I'm certain you do not, but that's unimportant. It's been a pleasure to see you again and I look forward to spending time with you, but tonight you should enjoy the company of your young friends."
He nodded and glanced toward the living room. Diana followed his gaze to find Sam and Lafitte staring at them and waiting impatiently. She'd completely forgotten about her friends.
"Go and have fun. I'll keep you no further tonight, but I will see you again soon."
When she turned back, he'd vanished. She surveyed the crowd, but did not find him. Bewildered and slightly disappointed, she rejoined her friends.
Lafitte was the first to speak.
"You go, baby girl! Who was that gorgeous hunk-o'-man meat?"
"I don't exactly know. Some shirt-tail relation, according to Aunt Maria."
"Ain't you just the dirty little slut! Got some hot incest action going on, taboo style."
"Have I told you lately what a deviant pervert you are?"
"Mmm hmm, and that's why we're such good friends, honey child. You're a closet pervert and I'm just waitin' for you to come bustin' out. One day soon, some big strong man's gonna pop your cherry and turn your sweet ass out! When that day comes, I'll be right there with the video camera."
Sam interjected.
"As long as it's not him. He's a dirty old man. What's he, like thirty?"
"That man is sex on a stick! I don't give a good goddamn how old he is." Lafitte argued.
"He's creepy and I don't like him. Did you see him staring at her?"
Sam turned to Diana.
"He looks at you like you're something to eat."
"Aww, what's the matter, Samuel? Can't stand a little competition?" Lafitte teased.
"What do you mean by that?" Sam asked defensively. It was a transparent display of false innocence.
"I mean, you don't like any fella that expresses even the slightest interest in our precious princess."
Diana interrupted before things turned ugly.
"Alright, guys, enough about him. Let's eat, drink, dance, and enjoy the party!"
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Chapter 3
It was an interesting evening. They did eat and drink. They danced and had a good time. However, sleep did not come easily for Diana that night. More than an hour passed since she lay down, but a restless mind kept her awake. Continuously, her thoughts returned to him.
Who was this mysterious Tory Sabatini? Where did he come from? When had they first met and why didn't he expect her to remember? If he was so anxious to see her, why was their conversation so short and why did he disappear like that?
She decided to open a window. Maybe the cool night air would help her get to sleep. Diana closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She loved how the air always smelled so clean and fresh after a rainstorm.
She jumped back into bed and settled her head on a fluffy pillow. A large black cat, named Lucifer, pounced onto the bed. He cuddled up next to her and began to purr. Diana gave him a few loving strokes and drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, she awoke to the world's most depressing sound. Her alarm clock cried out in a very high and very annoying pitch. It was time to get up and go to work.
The drive to Esplanade Avenue was short and uneventful. Papa's Pizza was a popular spot with the local teenagers and was typically busy during lunchtime. Today was no exception.
After the noon rush, Diana would have a few lazy and restful hours until the dinner rush. Evenings tended to attract crowds of parents with their screaming and unruly children. Papa's Pizza was a rather hectic and noisy place when that happened, but there was an upside. The busier it was, the more tips Diana received.
The dinner rush subsided. Diana let the other waitresses know she was going on break. Then she turned and noticed him sitting at a table in her section.
A shiver of nervous excitement vibrated through her. As she gazed into those magnetic blue eyes, the noise and the crowd seemed to fade away. Diana was conscious only of him. Her heart pounded and those butterflies fluttered in her stomach.
Lafitte had just set an order on the counter between the kitchen and the dining room. He called out to Sam. "Check this out!"
Sam joined his friend and peered into the dining room.
Lafitte continued, "That big hunk o' burnin' love, from the party last night, is here to see Diana. Just look at her, like she's walking down the aisle on her goddamned wedding day."
Sam snarled and grit his teeth. He didn't want to watch this. He walked to the back of the kitchen and turned his attention to the work at hand.
Tory watched her walk toward him. She moved slowly, but deliberately, as though in a trance. She stood before him, unmoving and unspeaking. He flashed a charming grin.
"Good evening, Diana."
Damn, him! How did he do that? Every time he spoke her name, it sent shivers through her and made her go weak in the knees. She swallowed hard.
"Hey," she said weakly. Then cleared her throat and smiled. "What can I get for you tonight?"
"Nothing, thank you. I've already eaten, but you could sit with me so it looks like I have a reason to be here."
He reached for the chair nearest him and pulled it out for her. Her smile widened with childlike exuberance. She sat in the chair.
"Well, whatever the reason, I'm glad you're here."
Tory's eyes sparkled like sapphires and flickered like blue flame.
"Actually, I wanted to thank you for rescuing me from that pack of she-wolves last night. I was beginning to fear I wouldn't get out of there in one piece."
Diana laughed. It was a sweet and melodic sound, like a quartet of angels.
"Oh, that was no big deal."
"It was very kind of you. I'd sincerely like to return the favor."
"Well, the next time I'm cornered by a group of overly affectionate boys, I'll give you a call."
He laughed.
"You'd better, but in the meantime, I'd like to invite you and your friends to spend a day at my villa. I thought you might enjoy a relaxing day in the country. It might be a nice change of pace to get away from the noise and crowds of the city."
"Oh, that's right. Aunt Maria mentioned you recently moved to the city."
"Well, not exactly. I own a charming plantation home outside of town. You know, one of the old mansions between here and Baton Rouge. It's a short drive west along the Mississippi on Old River Road. If you'd like..."
He paused. A devious glimmer sparked in his eyes and he flashed a mischievous grin.
"It would be the perfect place to have a party. Consider it a belated birthday celebration."
"Oh, I wouldn't want you to go through all that trouble, but I'd certainly like to see your place."
"Whatever you prefer is perfectly fine with me. Discuss it with your friends. Anytime you'd like to get together, give me a call. Maria has my number."
"Would tomorrow be too soon? We all have the day off and I have no other plans."
"Tomorrow would be perfect. I'll be in town on business early in the morning. Whenever you feel like getting out of bed, give me a shout. It would be my pleasure to pick you up and drive you out."
He glanced at his watch.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a rather pressing engagement."
He stood up, dropped a tip on the table, and started for the door.
"Wait a minute!" Diana called. "Why did you disappear so quickly last night?"
He laughed.
"Like I said, you rescued me from those she-wolves. I wanted to make my getaway before they decided to regroup and move in for the kill. Thanks again for that."
He smiled, waved, and walked off into the night. Diana looked at the tip he'd left for her. It was a fifty-dollar bill.
That must have been a mistake. Nobody walks into a pizza joint, orders nothing, then leaves a fifty-dollar tip. Maybe he wasn't paying attention and thought it was a five-spot.
She picked it up, shrugged, and stuffed it in her pocket. She'd give it back to him tomorrow. Diana shuffled back to the kitchen.
"Hey, Sam. You wanna hang out tomorrow? We've been invited to check out one of those cool old plantation mansions."
"Invited by whom?" Sam asked in a sarcastic tone that suggested he already knew. Then he flashed a spiteful look, which told her that he didn't want to hear the answer.
Diana slouched and frowned at him.
"Well, ya wanna go or not?" she demanded.
"Sorry, Di. I already got plans."
It was true. Sam did have other plans. Ordinarily, he'd push them off and make time to hang out with Diana. He was always looking for an opportunity to be near her.
However, this time was different. He was jealous of the new man in her life. Hanging around, watching him and Diana flirt with each other all day was the last thing Sam wanted to do.
She shrugged and turned to Lafitte.
"How bout you, Jacque?"
Lafitte struck a typically gay pose, with one hand on his hip and the other limply holding a spatula.
"Baby girl, I see how you look at him, like he was made entirely of chocolate."
Diana's face went slack-jawed and crimson with embarrassment. Lafitte continued.
"You're not foolin' me, girly-girl. I know love when I see it and it's written all over you. I can tell you want to be alone with him, honey child, and since Samuel isn't going, there's no way I'm gonna tag along like a third wheel. The two of you don't need an audience to make puppy dog eyes at each other and play kissy face."
Sam's face flashed crimson and he stared maliciously at Lafitte. Turning back to the chopping block, Sam angrily hacked a cleaver clean through a tube of frozen sausage. He'd swung that heavy blade so hard that it slapped against the cutting board with a resounding thwack. The sound echoed so loudly that it startled several customers in the dining area.
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Chapter 4
A heavy shroud of dense yellow fog fell upon oak-shaded streets of the Garden District. Streetlights, weird as elfin lamps, glowed eerily in the mist, like something fashioned in a dream. The distant murmur of creeping traffic was low, hushed, and mysterious.
Behind an ancient wall surrounding unkempt lawns, a vast, gloomy, old mansion crouched like an evil beast of prey. Vines of ivy spilled like tendrils of blood from the cracked and crumbling walls. Then again, perhaps the predator had become the prey, and the vines creeping up, like tentacles from a sea of vegetation, threatened to consume the abandoned domicile, to pull it down and under, to devour it whole. In disrepair with windows boarded shut, the place was dark, forbidding, and haunting.
A blade of white light suddenly pierced the darkness. The headlights of a glossy silver sports car turned off the narrow street into a private drive. The unseen driver continued past the iron gate and up the circular drive, then stopped in front of the main entrance.
The driver's side door opened. Tory Sabatini emerged. Veiled in the blackness of night, he moved silently toward the house. Standing before the threshold, he paused.
Though its outward appearance was unwelcoming, unknown to all but a chosen few, unvisited by uninvited guests, lurking inside that neglected facade was a luxurious dwelling. The interior walls were concealed by thick brocade tapestries. Each magnificently woven in classic French design and accented with golden thread.
The floors were richly carpeted with lavish, deep-piled, Persian rugs. Each room was elegantly furnished, cushioned, and perfumed. Here, a secret palace of European magnificence was concealed like a hidden jewel in the grimy casket of the city.
He knocked and listened as footsteps approached. The door opened. A very unpleasant man stood before him. He gazed at Sabatini contemptuously. The man's stare was malignant and vicious.
He growled, "What business do you have here?"
"I seek audience with Armand de Bourbon, Prince de Orleans."
The doorman snarled, "Who are you?"
"I am the Vampire Salvatore."
At the mere mention of this name, the doorman nearly choked on his own tongue. His expression changed to one of disbelief.
"Thee Vampire Salvatore?"
Sabatini bowed graciously to the doorman in a grand and regal fashion.
"I am thee Antediluvian Vampire Salvatore Sabatini, Gardien de le Sang-Dieu."
Sabatini smiled, revealing his unusually long, exquisitely white, and deadly sharp fangs. His eyes changed from their usual sparkling blue to an eerie glowing yellow, then shifted to an iridescent catlike green, and finally deepened to fiery blood red. This was a secret and unspoken message, offered as proof of his claim.
Young Vampire had yellow eyes. Elder Vampire had catlike green and Ancient Vampire had blood red eyes. Only Antediluvian Vampire could shift through all those colors at will.
Upon this, the doorman's demeanor changed drastically. He invited Sabatini to enter.
"Please, Gardien, follow me."
The doorman led Sabatini to an impeccably furnished sitting room.
"Please, make yourself comfortable. May I offer you something to drink?"
"Thank you, but no."
"Very well, I shall announce your arrival."
The doorman bowed respectfully and exited the room. Sabatini was not kept waiting long. Seconds later, he was joined by a man wearing a finely tailored business suit. It was not Armand de Bourbon.
"Greetings, Monsieur Sabatini. I'm terribly sorry Prince Armand could not receive you personally. Unfortunately, he is away on business. I apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused you."
Salvatore's eyes narrowed. He scowled viciously as he spoke. "Comprador Le Moyne, I should tear your heart out and feed it to the wolves."
Both men stared hatefully at the other. Each man studied his opponent carefully. They cautiously circled one another. Suddenly moving with blinding speed, their bodies clashed together in the center of the room. Each man wrapped his arms around the other with inhuman strength and filled the room with their laughter.
"It's good to see you again, old friend."
"It is good to see you, too, Salvatore."
Both men released their embrace. Sabatini lounged on the couch. Le Moyne chose the armchair closest to his friend.
"What can I do for you, Salvatore?"
"In accordance with our laws, I have come to respectfully and formally announce my arrival to Prince Armand."
A bemused look crossed Le Moyne's expression. Then he spoke.
"As you well know, that rule does not apply to you. Technically, you are his elder. As such, it is unnecessary for you to inform him of your whereabouts. You also know that Antediluvians are given great latitude with respect to vampiric codes of conduct. Additionally, you need not seek the Prince's permission to stay in his territory. Nor could he refuse to allow your presence."
Salvatore shook his head dismissively. Then his voice rolled soft and smooth.
"Nevertheless, Armand is the Prince de La Nouvelle Orleans and deserves respect as such. That is only proper. It's a matter of common courtesy. For me to reside here without following protocol might be construed as an insult. If not by the Prince, perhaps it would be perceived so by his subjects and I desire to make no enemies. I have enough of them already. Besides, what kind of example would it set? As a member of the council that established vampiric laws, it is my duty to obey them."
"So you intend to remain here? You're not simply passing through?" Le Moyne questioned.
"My intention is to remain here indefinitely," Salvatore explained. "I would sincerely appreciate if you, as Comprador, would inform Prince Armand of my visit here tonight and pass along my request to stay."
Le Moyne nodded his consent.
"In my capacity as Prince Armand's Comprador, it is my duty and my pleasure to do so. I am certain it will flatter him no end that such an old and illustrious vampire has extended an unnecessary courtesy to him in deference to his position. That shows much respect. It's shameful that young vampires lack the class, charm, and impeccable old-world manners that you have demonstrated tonight."
Salvatore laughed. "Thank you. You're no slouch yourself, Stuart Le Moyne, Comprador de Orleans."
Both men chuckled mirthfully. Then an expression of curiosity played on Le Moyne's face.
"Now that we have business out of the way, may we speak off the record?"
Salvatore flashed a knowing and mischievous grin.
"What's on your mind, Stuart?"
"You have returned for her? The mortal girl?"
"Yes."
Le Moyne shifted cautiously in the armchair and spoke carefully.
"When you placed her here, I was curious about the entire situation. You volunteered no explanation. Out of respect, I asked no questions. As you know, I followed your instructions. At your request, Armand issued an edict that she was forbidden to our kind. These past four years she has remained under our protection."
Salvatore nodded and smiled warmly.
"You have performed an admirable and valuable service. I am well pleased. I thank you for your loyalty and I am in your debt."
"It is disgraceful for me to ask, but..."
Le Moyne's voice trailed off. He shifted uneasily in his seat. Salvatore raised his hand and waved off Le Moyne's question. Salvatore knew what his friend so eagerly desired.
"You need not ask. I will not subject my good friend to disgrace. I have promised you payment. I now fulfill that promise. Come and collect what is rightfully yours."
Le Moyne knelt before Salvatore. Folding back the cuff of his shirt sleeve, Salvatore offered his bare forearm. This was certainly a most rare and gracious gift. Le Moyne gently and reverently sank his fangs into the antediluvian flesh. Blood flowed freely. Le Moyne sucked at it lustfully.
"Slowly, my friend. You are much younger than I. My blood is extremely pure. The potency level could cause undesirable effects."
Le Moyne gave heed to his friend's warning and slowed his consumption. However, it was not easy. This was the most exquisite blood he'd ever tasted. He savored the experience and wasted not a single drop of this precious nectar. It was truly ambrosia and felt as though angels danced on the tip of his tongue.
Already, he could feel an increased vitality flowing through his veins. It was intoxicating. An opium-like euphoria took hold of him. Time ceased. All reality faded from existence. He was conscious only of the blood.
Le Moyne desired more and was tempted to take it, but feared to drink too much, lest he suffer ill effects. He forced himself to stop and lay his head upon Salvatore's lap. He rested there momentarily and reveled in the sublime ecstasy of the quickening.
Salvatore stroked his friend's hair, petting him as one would a feline. The wound on his forearm healed immediately. After some time had passed, Le Moyne crawled to his chair, pulled himself into it, and sprawled out like a dazed heroine addict.
He turned to his friend. It required a few seconds of concentration for his eyes to focus. He carefully studied Sabatini. Surprisingly, the antediluvian seemed to show no sign of weakness or lethargy. Usually, it takes a toll when a vamp allows another to feed from him.
"Are you well, Salvatore?"
Sabatini laughed amusedly.
"I am well, only concerned for you. How do you feel?"
"It is beyond words, but good... very good."
They sat in silence for a while. Salvatore knew that his friend would require time to regain his composure. Meanwhile, Le Moyne would be in the throes of the quickening. He would be disoriented, exhausted, and vulnerable. Salvatore would keep watch until he recovered.
This didn't happen every time a vamp fed, but it was typical when one fed from a much older and more powerful elder. Eventually, the stupor melted from Le Moyne's gaze. He appeared lucid once more and rearranged himself properly in the chair, but he still seemed a bit languid.
"This girl, will you tell me, Salvatore, who she is to you?"
"She is a mortal descendant, blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh. She is of my mortal family bloodline."
An expression of surprised astonishment crossed Le Moyne's face.
"How is that possible?" he gasped. "The story goes that only Noah and his family survived the great flood. I understand how you, being an antediluvian or pre-flood vampire and therefore immortal, could survive. However, as a vampire, you cannot procreate. Hence, you did not produce a mortal bloodline post-flood. How is it that your mortal relatives survived the deluge?"
Salvatore flashed a condescending grin.
"Stuart, you should know better than to believe ancient religious superstition. The inundation, supposedly sent by the living god to punish sinful mankind, did destroy many of the world's inhabitants. However, Noah's family were not the only people aboard a well-stocked vessel. Consider the many large ships at busy trade ports in many countries, such as Crete, Egypt, Greece, India, Mesopotamia, and Phoenicia, just to name a few."
Le Moyne nodded thoughtfully.
"I neglected to account for that. However, it makes sense. So through the centuries, you have kept watch over your mortal descendants?"
"Yes."
"Why?" Le Moyne inquired.
"You are aware of the dangers and rigors immortality presents, the curse that comes with the blessing. To be immortal is to watch everyone around you grow old and die. It means watching everything you love perish. Why do you think there are so few Ancient Vampires?"
Le Moyne frowned solemnly and replied, "Eventually, most lose sanity and deliberately seek death."
"Exactly!" Salvatore exclaimed. "That is why I occupy myself with the affairs of my mortal bloodline."
Le Moyne smiled.
"My dear friend, Salvatore. Always the savior!"
Both men laughed at this.
"But why this one? Why is she special to you?" Le Moyne pressed.
"She has been marked to become one of us. She is to be my child-bride," Salvatore explained.
A look of shock and disbelief took hold of Le Moyne's expression.
"You are going to sire a kindred? You're going to bestow the dark gift upon a mortal? I thought you vowed never..."
Sabatini waved his hand dismissively, interrupting Le Moyne in mid-sentence.
"Those are only rumors. I have made no such vow. Never, in my extremely long life, have I sired a sanguine. Consequently, others assume I never will."
"This news will not be received well by the brotherhood." Le Moyne said gravely.
"No, it will not." Salvatore agreed. "However, very few will have the courage to voice their displeasure in my presence and none will stand in my way."
"Nevertheless, it will send shock waves through the vampiric world," Le Moyne asserted.
Salvatore's expression filled with displeasure as he continued.
"That is unfortunate, but unavoidable."
"Why now? Why her?" Le Moyne questioned.
"Misery and misfortune have plagued my mortal descendants. Wherever they go, it follows," Salvatore explained. "And she was struck a particularly vicious blow."
"You refer to the loss of her parents?" Le Moyne inquired.
Salvatore nodded.
"They were murdered."
"I had no idea. Did you visit vengeance upon their murderer?"
Salvatore shook his head gravely.
"I did not. He still lives."
"Why have you not extinguished his life?" Le Moyne pressed.
"He is one of us," Salvatore explained. "As you well know, it is forbidden to kill our own kind. Under vampiric code, there is no offense greater than this."
"Who is this treacherous fiend?" Le Moyne demanded. "Do I know him?"
"I am certain you've heard his name, the Vampire Malakai."
"Your arch-nemesis!" Le Moyne exclaimed. "I doubt the Tribunal would impose severe punishment for killing him. As leader of the rebellion, Malakai is an enemy to law-abiding vampires everywhere. He is reckless and threatens to expose us all."
Le Moyne shook his head in admonition.
"I do not understand why the Council has allowed him to blatantly continue disregarding our laws. Nor can I comprehend your restraint, Salvatore."
Salvatore's face was expressionless. His voice lacked any emotion.
"The council knows how very powerful he is. None of us are his equal. It would require a small army of vampires to defeat him. Personally, I have delayed retribution for only one reason."
"Which is?"
"To give her the opportunity for equanimity."
"Positively Machiavellian!"
Sabatini flashed a devious and devilish grin.
"That is one reason I have chosen her, but there is another."
"What is that, pray tell?"
"I've fallen in love with her."
⚜️⚜️⚜️
Chapter 5
Diana had trouble sleeping again that night. She was excited about spending time alone with him. Thoughts of romance plagued her mind. Why couldn't she stop thinking about that?
Sure, he was attractive. Hell, he was downright beautiful. So what? Diana had met lots of good-looking guys. They were always hitting on her, but none of them ever interested her. So why this obsession with Tory?
It was all Lafitte's fault. He'd planted the idea in her head. At least, that's what she wanted to believe, but deep in her heart, she knew that wasn't true.
Frustrated, she walked to the window. Maybe the cool night air would help her get to sleep again tonight. As she opened her bedroom window, she inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. When she opened them, Diana was startled by the shadowy figure of a man.
Tory Sabatini was standing in the backyard, gazing up at her. Diana quickly recovered from this unexpected surprise. She smiled, waved excitedly, then hurried out to meet him.
She was strangely attracted to this new man in her life. Something dark and mysterious pulled her to him. She felt safe and loved when he was near. He aroused curious and exciting new feelings in her. Feelings she'd never previously experienced with any other guy.
Diana felt ashamed and embarrassed about that. She'd never admit to having such feelings, but she couldn't lie to herself. She could never run far enough to get away from her own heart. There was no place to hide from those feelings and she didn't know how to deal with that.
When Diana reached the place where Sabatini had been standing, he was nowhere in sight. She turned slowly, searching for him. Still, she found nothing.
Diana thought her mind must have been playing tricks. After all, it had been a long and exhausting day. The apparition was most likely only an illusion of light and shadow. That was too bad. It would have been romantic, like the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet.
Diana decided she should return to her room. When she turned around, he was standing before her. Diana's heart beat a little faster. Her hands trembled and her knees felt weak.
Damn! He was good-looking. Diana desired to be closer to him. She wanted him to take her and hold her close. She needed to feel his arms around her. She longed to cuddle up to him, to rest her cheek against his chest, and listen to the rhythmic beat of his heart.
"Hello," she said, a little too eagerly.
Sabatini made no verbal reply. He simply started unbuttoning his shirt while gazing seductively into Diana's eyes. He wanted her, needed her, but most importantly, he desired her.
Diana was shocked at his brazenness. She swallowed hard and forced an uneasy smile. A pathetic attempt to hide the fact she was fearful, nervous, and apprehensive. She definitely wasn't ready for this.
Diana stammered, "I... I never thought that... I'd... You... That we'd be doing this."
No sooner had those words left her lips than a sense of calm and serenity, suddenly, flooded over her. What the hell, she thought. He was beautiful and he wanted her. More importantly, she wanted him. Diana felt so completely safe with him that she decided to throw caution to the wind.
"At least, I didn't think we'd be doing this... so soon."
He smiled affectionately and reached for her. She stepped into his arms. He held her close. She gazed lovingly into his steel blue eyes. She melted into the comforting warmth of his body as it pressed against hers.
Diana stretched up on her tiptoes and positioned her face closer to his. He leaned closer to her. She closed her eyes, anticipating the sensation of his lips touching hers.
Unexpectedly, she opened her eyes to the sound of Lucifer purring loudly from his spot at the foot of her bed. He was curled up, lying there contentedly, and watching her sleep. It was only a dream.
She'd been asleep in her bed this whole time and dreaming, dreaming of him. Diana sighed. It was an aggravated little growl.
Lucifer didn't move. He continued to lie there and stare at her. She realized, with sudden embarrassment, that while she slept, her hand had strayed between her thighs. Immediately, she moved her hand and scolded Lucifer.
"Stop that!"
As if he was a pervert for watching her. As if that was the source of her shame. It seemed to have no effect on him. The large black cat was impassive. Unlike Diana, he felt no guilt about her pleasure.
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Diana checked the time. It was 8:00 AM. She decided to get up and dress. She slipped into a pair of cut-off denim shorts and a red t-shirt. She pulled her long black hair into a ponytail and shuffled off to the kitchen.
Mike and Maria were sitting at the dining room table and enjoying a morning cup of coffee. Diana glanced at the newspaper, which lay on the table. The lead story on the front page had an unpleasant headline.
THE TIMES-PICAYUNE
CRESCENT CITY SERIAL KILLER STRIKES AGAIN!
Another body was found dead yesterday. Like the others, it was completely drained of blood with a large gash on the neck.
While the victim's name has not yet been released by authorities, the body is described as being female, approximately fifteen years old, with dark colored hair and eyes.
"Blah, blah, snore," thought Diana. This city was practically the murder capital of the US. It's not surprising that a serial killer should choose it as his hunting ground. That was just one more on a long list of reasons that she was glad to be getting out of the city today.
"Good morning, Diana."
"Hey, Maria. Would you do me a small favor?"
"Sure, honey. What do you need?"
"Tory Sabatini's phone number. He said you had it."
Mike and Maria exchanged an awkward glance. Diana wondered what that was about, but shrugged it off.
"Sure thing, but just out of curiosity, why do you need that?"
"He invited me to check out his new place. Actually, he invited Sam and Jacque, too. He thought it might be nice for us to get out of the city for a change. Anyway, I'm supposed to give him a call so he can pick us up."
"Oh, I see. Well, I'm glad the two of you are getting reacquainted. Here you go, sweetie."
Diana reached for Maria's cell phone, found Tory's number, and made the call.
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's Diana. I'm up, so anytime you wanna swing by..."
"I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
"Cool, I'll meet you out front. Bye!"
She handed the phone back to Maria, kissed her cheek, and thanked her. Then Diana skipped back to her room. She grabbed that fifty-dollar bill, stuffed it in her pocket, and went outside to wait.
Exactly fifteen minutes later, a glossy silver sports car with black tinted windows stopped at the curb. Diana rushed out and slid into the sleek roadster. She smiled excitedly, nearly bouncing in that leather bucket seat. He found Diana's childlike enthusiasm amusing and laughed heartily.
"So, how far is it to your place?" Diana asked.
"It's roughly a fifteen-minute drive, but only seven if I drive like a madman."
"Cool! Let's roll."
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
Diana paused a moment to consider that.
"I don't think so. Why?"
"Your friends?"
"Oh, no. They couldn't make it. It's just you and me today."
A concerned look crossed his face.
"If you'd rather hang out with your friends, we can reschedule..."
Without thinking, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it urgently.
"No! I've really been looking forward to this. I see those guys all the time and I want to spend today with you."
He tilted his head, smiled, and shrugged.
"As you wish."
He paused a moment and looked into her eyes. Suddenly, Diana felt self-conscious. He slowly withdrew his hand from hers.
"It's a manual transmission and I'll need it to shift gears," he explained.
She giggled to hide her embarrassment. He laughed and slipped the car into gear. They drove away at a breakneck speed, causing Diana to squeal with delight.
"So, Tory Sabatini, that's an unusual name."
"Yes, it is. Tory is a short form of the Italian Salvator, a derivative of the Latin Salvatore, which is my legal name and means 'Savior'. Sabatini is the plural form of the Italian Sabbato, which is a derivative of the Latin Sabbatum, meaning 'Sabbath', the day of rest.
"Italian, huh? Well, that explains the dark hair, olive complexion, and classic good looks."
Those words hung awkwardly in the air between them. Soon as they'd passed her lips, Diana regretted such candor. It was a small but unintended confession. The color faded from her face, leaving it very pale, and her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink rose.
Surprised by her sudden admission and subtle declaration of attraction, he turned to Diana. An amused expression played cheerfully upon his face. He studied her with renewed interest. The pale watercolor shade of pink enhanced her intrinsic childlike innocence. It bestowed on her the appearance of a cherub. She seemed even more an exquisite work of art, like a fragile porcelain doll.
His eyes brightened and sparkled brilliantly. They almost seemed to glow with an inner light, like the shimmering flame of a candle. He smiled at her and Diana's anxiety faded. She felt the tension melt and evaporate into diffused nothingness.
He was pleased that she found him attractive. His favorable response flattered and excited her. A sudden realization crept slowly into her consciousness.
He was equally attracted to her. How Diana knew this, she could not explain. Nevertheless, she knew in her heart it was so. She could feel it. Mutual attraction pulled them toward one another. Like gravity, it was an undeniable and irresistible force.
"What of your name, Diana? Do you know its origin?"
"Of course, that's easy. In Roman mythology, Diana was the goddess of the hunt. She's associated with wild animals, woodlands, the moon, and chastity."
"According to mythology, Diana and her twin brother Apollo were born on the island of Delos, the children of Jupiter and Latona."
"In literature, she was the equivalent of the Greek goddess Artemis."
"The old Italian religion of Stregheria embraced Diana as Queen of the Witches."
"At that time, witches were the wise women and healers. According to their beliefs, Diana created the world from herself, having in her the seeds of all creation yet to come. Within herself, she divided the darkness from the light. She kept the darkness of creation and gave the light to her brother Apollo."
"Today a branch of Wicca is named for her."
"Yeah, it's based on the concept of the divine feminine. In some Wicca texts, the name Lucifer is used interchangeably with Apollo, who is both Diana's brother and her husband."
"Which is interesting, why?"
"Because Lucifer, which means 'the bearer of light', is symbolic of enlightenment and knowledge rather than being portrayed as the evil prince of darkness."
"Very good, Diana. I'm impressed! Did you learn all that in school?"
"Nope, Wikipedia."
He laughed.
"You gotta love the internet."
She laughed in that childlike manner, which was entirely hers.
"I hear you are doing rather well at school and that you're particularly fond of art courses. In fact, the instructor says you show great promise and that you're quite talented as a painter."
"Yeah, I'm doing ok there and I do enjoy art classes.
"So how do you like that fancy private school?"
"It's ok, I guess."
"Just ok? For what it costs me to send you there, it should be better than just ok."
"You -"
"Pay the tuition? Yes. Do you honestly think your aunt and uncle could afford it? Regardless, it's only appropriate I cover the expense. Considering that I insisted you be sent there."
"Why?"
"You are very special and you deserve only the best. An entire world of opportunity awaits you and it's filled with possibilities you never dreamed of. The time will come, and much sooner than you think, you'll have to make decisions that will affect the rest of your life. When destiny calls, I want you to be prepared to answer. I want you prepared to choose wisely."
Diana laughed.
"You make it sound as though you can see the future."
"I have been blessed with many gifts. Clairvoyance is not one of them. However, wisdom and experience have granted me foresight."
Diana pondered those words for a few moments. All this was a little unsettling. Her ordinary world was suddenly being turned upside down. A mysterious and exciting man from her past reappears, but she has no recollection of him. He incites thrilling, but ambiguous and conflicting, new feelings in her. Now it's revealed the last four years, and unknown to Diana, he has been her anonymous benefactor.
"Oh, hey! I almost forgot."
She reached in her pocket and pulled out the crumpled bill.
"Here, I think you dropped this by mistake."
"I don't make mistakes." He chuckled. "You keep that. It's yours."
"No, I couldn't possibly..."
"I insist. There's plenty more where that came from. Besides, you wouldn't want to hurt my feelings, would you?"
"But I didn't do anything to earn it." She insisted.
"Diana, I was unable to be a part of your life the last four years. I deeply regret that. It breaks my heart, and I've missed you terribly, but now I've returned. I want to find a small place in your life again and I want to make up for the time we've lost."
"Speaking of that, when did we first meet? I have absolutely no memories of you."
He flashed a mischievous grin.
"Oh, look. We've arrived."
⚜️⚜️⚜️
Chapter 6
That shiny little sports car turned north into the private drive. A large electronic iron gate slid open automatically. Sabatini slowly pulled through the entrance. Immediately to the east was a small stone and mortar building. It had a large window in the front, one entrance door in the side, and a paved patio just large enough to accommodate a single car.
He parked the car on that patio next to the guard shack. They exited the car and walked side by side along the tall wrought iron fence, which bordered the entire length of the front yard. Each black iron bar was topped with a decorative fleur de lis and looked like a long row of upright spears. This fence line edged the south side of the property and was the only thing separating it from the roadside.
Two very tall and solid stone walls extended along the east and west sides of the property. Tory and Diana continued a leisurely stroll along the fence line until they stood in the very center of the front yard. He looked down at her and smiled.
"This is where the official tour begins."
He turned and nodded northward. Curiosity besieged Diana and she too turned. The view was unexpectedly impressive and breathtaking. Diana sucked a sharp breath. Then a sort of breathy sigh escaped her lips.
"Wow! It's magnificent."
Bilateral rows of large shade trees had been planted in perfectly symmetrical and straight lines. Each row was a mirror image of the other. Their top branches had grown together, creating a canopy over a long and broad corridor. The trees formed an arched tunnel over an expansive grassy walkway. In the distance, far at the other end, stood the mansion house.
He grinned charmingly at her and offered his hand. She hesitated only momentarily, then placed her delicate hand in his. That grin widened into a delightful smile and he gently led her to the first tree.
"Do you know what kind of trees these are?"
She glanced at the bark, then tilted her head skyward. Her eyes narrowed as she carefully studied the leaves.
"Oak. They're oak trees."
"Very good!"
Diana gave a half shrug.
"I had a botany course."
He laughed.
"They're white oak. Each tree is more than three hundred years old."
Still holding her hand, he led her along the corridor.
"I refer to this section of the estate as Oak Alley. It stretches nearly a quarter mile from the fence to the house."
"It's beautiful. I love it."
"I thought you might."
She flashed him a quizzical look, but spoke not a word.
"Oak groves are particularly sacred to the goddess Diana."
She smiled and rolled her eyes. He gently rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand, stroking it softly. That sent a shiver of pleasure through her. It was at once exhilarating and comforting.
They strolled along in silence. The pace was leisurely, but deliberate. For a few sweet moments, they simply enjoyed the pleasure of each other's company. As they continued north toward the house, he moved closer until her shoulder softly brushed against his arm with each step.
Diana closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath. The air was fresh, sweet, and clean. He turned to look at her.
He watched her shoulders rise with that breath. Her chest swelled, lifting her ample young breasts proudly to his gaze. Her back arched gracefully and only served to draw his attention even more ardently to her lithe adolescent form.
She was completely unconscious of the effect she had on him. Her actions were natural and uninhibited. Youthful innocence caused her to act without thought of any lustful desires she might arouse in men and that innocence only fired his desire all the more.
Sunlight danced upon her silky fine hair. She was an angelic vision of pure and unadulterated love. Sabatini wondered if Diana realized how truly ravishing she actually was.
Diana finally exhaled that deep breath and a smile brightened her adorable face. All tension seemed to evaporate from her body with that breath. She felt entirely relaxed. It was so very peaceful here.
As they approached, the house came more clearly into view. It was a sprawling two and a half story mansion with double French doors and windows. Large white marble pillars lined the front of the house and extended up to the roof line.
Breaking that comfortable silence, he spoke once more.
"Located on the Mississippi River between the City of Saints and Baton Rouge, this historic plantation has been called the Grande Dame of the Great River Road. Nowhere else in the South will you find such a spectacular setting. Built in 1839 by a wealthy French Creole sugar planter, the mansion is a shining example of..."
Diana finished his thought, "...an antebellum home constructed in the classic Greek-revival style."
"You have an interest in architecture?" he asked.
"Sort of. I've taken many of the local city tours. It's fascinating to me how every place has a certain 'feel'. You know how sometimes you look at a place and it just feels right?"
"I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes, I'll see a house and get this urge to simply walk up, knock on the door..."
"Walk in and have a look around?"
"Precisely!"
"Yeah, me too."
They looked at each other and smiled. At that very moment, a certain connection formed between the two of them and they both felt it. They were kindred spirits and delighted to be in each other's company.
A warm and comforting feeling floated all around and through them. To be so completely at ease with another person is a rare and precious thing indeed. An aura of affection surrounded and flowed between them. It wasn't like romantic love, rather a sort of euphoric, ethereal, and unconditional bond.
They paused at the front entrance and stood before those double French doors. Each door was unusually broad and must have been at least four feet wide. This center section was mostly glass and one could see through the entire width of the house.
Above those doors, Diana spied the words 'TEMPEST PORTUS' engraved into the masonry. This did not escape Sabatini's notice. He grinned to himself.
"It's Latin and means 'Stormhaven'. That's what I call this place."
"Sounds rather gothic, more like a name for a castle than a plantation home. Why did you choose that name?"
"Because that's exactly what a home should be. Any place you live should be a haven from the turbulent storms of life. Your home should be a sacred sanctuary, a private retreat from the rest of the world, a place to relax and recuperate, a place to escape from the stress and burdens that lie outside the gate."
He opened the door and followed her in.
"This is the Grand Hall."
It was large and open. The room must have been twenty-five feet wide and twice as long. The far wall was nearly a mirror image of the one behind them. It was mostly French doors and windows. The view to the back yard was practically unencumbered and gave this room a light and airy feel, like a greenhouse.
Resplendent hardwood planked the floor. The east and west walls were plaster and painted an antique ivory, which softened the sunlight into a warm glow that was easy on the eyes. On both walls hung a row of gaslight antique copper lamps, like those commonly seen in the French Quarter.
Otherwise, the walls were bare and rather spartan. This was obviously the home of a bachelor. A woman would have decorated with pictures, paintings, potted plants, flowers and vases.
A wide balcony spanned the second floor along the north wall and extended in a U shape along both sidewalls. This gave the room a sort of courtyard feel. An elaborate and expensive crystal chandelier hung on a short chain from the center of the high ceiling.
Diana could imagine what life here must have been like before the Civil War. She could clearly picture a debutante ball. The room filled with gentlemen and southern belles dressed in magnificent finery. Crowds of people drinking, dancing, and conversing. Those copper lanterns, with their dancing yellow and orange flames, cast a warm amber glow. The chandelier sparkling romantically overhead, raining a prism of floating and brightly colored sprites about the place.
A voice whispered close to her ear.
"You see it, too. Don't you?"
A warm hand gently caressed the small of her back. She closed her eyes and her nerves tingled with electric pleasure. He took Diana's hand softly in his, turned her gently to face him and stepped very close to her.
The sweet scent of his cologne lingered close to his body and so did she. Slowly and rhythmically, they swayed with each other. Their bodies brushed lightly against one another.
He pulled her even closer and they moved in leisurely but graceful circles. Round and around like a carousel, they drifted, holding each other and dancing. She opened her eyes and gazed into his.
He released Diana's hand, pressing her palm over his heart. Gently, he brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek. His hand tenderly caressed that cheek.
Diana tilted her face to his. Fingers trailed along her jawline, then rested beneath her chin. He leaned closer to her.
She closed her eyes in anticipation of his kiss. The silky caress of his fingers trailed down the side of her neck. A breathy sigh escaped her lips. A tiny whimper of pleasure reverberated in her throat and her head drifted even further back. He leaned close to her ear and purred her name.
"Diana."
"Yes," she whispered.
"Diana, would you care to see the rest of the house?"
Those were not the words she expected to hear and her eyes fluttered open. She was surprised to find him still standing at her side. A sudden realization that she'd been daydreaming settled into her awareness. Her face flushed with embarrassment. Again, that delicate shade of pink rose colored her cheeks and she hoped that he wouldn't notice.
He simply smiled at her warmly and compassionately. If he knew what she'd been thinking, he didn't let it show. He offered his hand to her. Once more, she gave hers to him. Escorting her through a set of double French doors directly east of where they'd stood, they entered a large and warmly furnished room.
"This is the formal sitting room. At least, that's the old term. In modern times, we just call it a living room."
This room, although large, felt cozy and inviting. The furniture appeared comfortable, but very expensive. There was even a broad fireplace with a beautifully crafted mahogany mantle.
Exiting the way they'd entered, he led her back through the Grand Hall. West and directly across from the living room was yet another set of French double doors. This was clearly the music room. A polished black baby grand piano sat in the corner nearest the front of the house. Other miscellaneous instruments were splendidly displayed. Among the collection was a cello, a violin, and several concert flutes.
"Do you play all of them?" Diana questioned.
"The piano mainly, but I fool around with the others when the mood strikes."
Returning to the Grand Hall, they strolled northward. He pointed out the library.
"Not much of interest in there besides an extensive collection of books."
The tour continued to the dining hall and the kitchen. The kitchen was of particular interest. It had been converted and updated with all the modern amenities and conveniences.
In the center of the massive room was a very large island countertop. It was larger than most people's dining tables. Mounds of fruit covered the entire surface and looked as though a feast had been prepared for a houseful of guests. Every type of fruit imaginable was laid in neatly arranged piles and their sweet scent filled the room.
On the wall near a set of double French doors, which opened to the back of the house, was mounted an electronic touch screen. That, Salvatore explained, controlled a sound system, which ran throughout the house and even out to the back yard. It was similar to an iPod. You could sort, search, create, and play lists of music from one convenient location.
"While you're here, Diana, make yourself at home. What's mine is yours. There are no exceptions. Help yourself to anything you like, anytime you like. I don't want you to feel like a guest here. I want you to feel like this is your home. Eat when you're hungry, drink when you're thirsty, sleep when you're tired, play whatever music you like and as loud as you want."
They returned to the Grand Hall.
"That pretty much finishes the tour of the house. There's not much else of interest in here."
"What about the upstairs?"
"Empty rooms, mostly. Only two are furnished, my bedroom and one other. Feel free to have a look around if you like. None of the doors are locked and as I said, nothing is off limits to you."
"Cool."
"Oh, there is one more thing you might find interesting."
"What might that be?"
"Would you like to see the Devil's Playground?"
Diana flashed a leery expression and he grinned deviously at her.
"Come, follow me."
⚜️⚜️⚜️
Chapter 7
"I'm certain you'll like this. Personally, it's my favorite spot on the entire estate."
They exited the Grand Hall to the back of the house and stepped into the warm Louisiana sun. Sabatini made a grand gesture, sweeping his hand through the air. It was as though he presented this magnificently wondrous paradise for Diana's approval.
Diana's eyes grew wide and she was awestruck by the indescribable sensuous beauty before her. The view was breathtaking and a gasp of delight escaped from her lips as she stood there in marvelous wonder. To her, it seemed this place was the Garden of Eden, a little piece of heaven on earth.
Before them stretched an immense Grecian pool. It was four times longer from east to west than it was wide north to south. Filled with sparkling, clear water, the surface shimmered and danced in the sunlight.
Even more impressive and directly across from them at the north edge was a massive three-tiered waterfall. It looked like a natural outcropping and seemed to be a single solid stone structure. It did not appear to be artificial or man-made. There were no seams, no mortar, only cracks caused by the ravages of time and erosion. It must have been nearly twenty feet tall.
The crystal clear water flowed over the edge at the very top of the structure. It gently cascaded down to the second tier, where it collected in a shallow sort of shelf. From there, water flowed to the left and right, splitting to either side of center. Again, it pooled in two smaller shelves. One to the east and one to the west. This was the third tier. From those points, the water fell a distance of three feet in a thin but wide and steady flow to the pool itself.
Most interesting, though, was a formation that stood in the center. It stretched from ground level, between the twin water flows on each side and up eight feet, then ended just below the second tier of the waterfall. It was an arched opening that looked like a shallow cave and was large enough to accommodate the length and width of a full-grown man.
Diana knew this because in that shallow grotto stood the life-size sculpture of a man. It was made of polished white marble that possessed an almost translucent quality. The figure was indescribably bewitching and at once seemed both angelic and demonic.
He stood tall and proud, yet serenely relaxed and reposed. The statue closely resembled classic Greek and Roman sculptures. It stood at a very slight angle, not quite square. The right foot was placed a step in front of the left.
The right arm was loosely extended, as was that hand. A single finger stretched out and seemed to be pointing directly at Diana. His fingernails were unusually long and very oval, almost pointed. That created an illusion of demonic claws and gave his hands a rather threatening, almost predatory, quality.
The left arm hung at his side but bent at the elbow. The left hand was posed palm up with fingers slightly and loosely curled. It cradled a mystical golden orb in its palm.
The sculpture was flawlessly proportioned with a broad chest, wide shoulders, narrow hips, and long legs. The figure possessed an impressive and attractive physique. He was fit and strong, perfectly tight and toned, with powerfully defined musculature. It almost seemed to be a study in male anatomy.
The nude figure stood before Diana, exposed to her gaze and unashamed. He was like an angel with long flowing hair that cascaded past his shoulders. Then, there was his face, that enchantingly seductive face.
It stared at her suggestively, beckoning her to come closer, pulling her near to him, challenging her, daring and almost teasing her. It seemed to softly whisper, "Come to me, my darling lover. You know that you want to. You know that I want you to. You cannot resist my call. You can feel my desire and that causes desire to burn in you. Give yourself to my will. Give yourself to me. I dare you. Give yourself to pleasure. Try as you might, you can not resist that need within you."
Even with all his seductive beauty, classic grace, and raw physical attractiveness, there was something disturbing about it. Just below the surface lurked something dark, sinister, and menacing. It was ethereal and indefinable, but it was there. Diana could feel it. This strange combination of the angelic and demonic fused together in one magnetically irresistible form.
Above the grotto was a small blackened metal plaque with a single word in gold letters. The large block print spelled out the word 'TEMPTATION'. It suddenly became clear to Diana exactly what she was looking at.
Sabatini silently watched her study that spectacle for a minute. He smiled to himself and his heart swelled with pride. Then he spoke.
"It depicts the temptation of Eve in the Garden of Eden."
He directed Diana's attention to the other sculptures, which had been carefully and strategically set about this little paradise. Each was placed unobtrusively to enhance the aesthetic atmosphere. The sculptures were not so much hidden as tucked away, each in its own special place, silently abiding among the lush greenery and delicate petals of this magnificent garden.
Each was made of that same translucent white marble. It was the finest marble imported from the most famous quarries in Italy. Every sculpture was flawless and of the purest white, without the slightest imperfection or discoloration.
He pointed to each one and invoked their name.
"There is Aphrodite or Venus, goddess of love and beauty. That one is Athena, goddess of peace and wisdom. That is Ishtar, goddess of fertility and sexuality. There stands Helen of Troy, the face that launched a thousand ships. Over here is my personal favorite, the Egyptian goddess Isis."
Diana grinned and pointed.
"And those two, over there?"
Lying in the grass, before a lush bed of delicate white roses, was a rather suggestive couple. The figure of a nude girl lay on her right side, propped on one elbow. She was most definitely a girl and not a woman.
The figure of a nude male spooned her from behind. He, too, rested on his elbow. His right arm was tucked under and around her. His hand lovingly placed over her right breast. His other hand rested low on her abdomen and dangerously close to her most private treasure.
Left arm raised, hand cupping her lover's cheek, with head tilted back and her face turned toward his. They gazed longingly and lovingly at each other. The two young lovers were a captivating and erotic sight to behold.
"Ah, yes. Eros and his child-bride Psyche. Eros, in Greek, was known as Cupid to the Romans. Psyche was the most beautiful mortal ever born. She was so beautiful, in fact, that Venus, goddess of beauty and mother to Eros, was jealously envious of her."
Diana inhaled deeply and savored the delicately sweet perfume of this garden paradise. The grass, the trees, the shrubbery, the flowers, all these scents were nearly palpable and intoxicating. She turned and gazed at the marvelous beauty that surrounded her. Magnolia trees, pine, cedar, cypress, juniper, lilies, roses, poppies, jasmine, lilac, and lavender flooded her senses. The gentle whisper of the wind, the trickling and babbling of the waterfall caressed her mind. This was a modern Babylon, a private paradise on earth.
"Feel like going for a swim?"
Diana's face glowed with excitement at the thought.
"I'd love to!"
Her face suddenly darkened in disappointment.
"But I didn't bring a swimsuit," she frowned.
Such an adorable child, he thought and chuckled softly.
"That's not a problem. At least, not one that's difficult to solve. I believe we can find something appropriate."
She looked at him quizzically.
"Come," he said. "Follow me."
He led Diana into the house, up the stairs, and to the west wing. They stopped before the first set of curtained French double doors on the south side. He only paused long enough to grin mischievously at Diana, then pushed wide those doors.
They opened to reveal an elegantly furnished bedchamber. An antique four-post canopy bed was centered with its headboard against the west wall. A wide brass vanity sat opposite that against the east wall. It was complete with a large oval mirror and matching chair. A set of antique silver brushes and combs lay upon the ornate vanity.
Plaster walls were painted that same antique ivory as the Grand Hall. The wood trim was a richly colored cedar and lacquered with a heavy coat of high gloss satin finish. The hardwood floor was equally warm and inviting. French double doors and large windows occupied the south wall. They opened to a wide balcony and provided a stunning view of Oak Alley.
He stood aside and waved her in with his hand as a butler might do. Diana stepped inside and he followed. He nodded to the set of louvered doors in the east wall.
"That's a walk-in closet. At the back, you'll find a stack of drawers. In the top drawer, I'm certain you'll find something that pleases you. When you're finished changing, I'll meet you down by the pool."
Diana smiled.
"Alright, see you down there."
Taking leave, he closed the French doors securely behind him, leaving Diana alone in that room. She opened those louvered doors and stepped into that large closet. Much to her surprise, it was not empty. What she found there was even more unexpected.
At least twenty pairs of shoes were neatly arranged on the shelves. No less than fourteen elegant evening dresses draped on display. An equal number of denim jeans and casual shirts were grouped in their respective places as well. Most interesting was the assortment of silk and satin negligees, nightgowns, slips, camisoles, and other such items.
An antique cabinet with open glass doors displayed a treasure of expensive jewelry. Necklaces of gold, silver, jade, pearl, diamond, sapphire, and emerald all dangled from little brass hooks. Matching bracelets were suspended from more little hooks. In small compartments were corresponding earrings. An open drawer contained a pile of coordinated rings.
Suddenly, Diana felt as though she was intruding on another woman's space. What were all these things doing here? They clearly didn't belong to Salvatore.
Did he have a wife? If so, why hadn't he mentioned her? Why hadn't Diana met her? It didn't seem to make any sense. No, she thought. It wasn't likely he was married. Perhaps, he had a secret lover or a mistress. That seemed more probable.
Feeling rather uneasy about the possibility of being in another woman's room, Diana hurried to the stack of drawers at the end of the closet. She opened the top drawer. It was filled with neatly folded swimwear. On the left was a stack of one-piece suits in nearly every color. Arranged in neat piles from the middle to the right was an equal array of two-piece bikinis in assorted colors and fabrics.
Diana confronted the same dilemma faced by millions of women, who stand in front of their wardrobes on a daily basis and ask themselves the timeless question of what to wear.
⚜️⚜️⚜️
Chapter 8
Sabatini lounged lazily in a cushioned deck chair, soaking up the intense noon sun as music drifted from the hidden outdoor speakers. A door latch softly clicked into place as Diana stepped out, closing the door behind her. He turned his head and opened his eyes, curious to see what she'd chosen to wear.
A provocative selection, Sabatini thought. Mesmerized by the graceful easy sway of her hips as she glided past him, he studied her closely while she strutted majestically toward the edge of the pool. She walked in long slow strides and with the sleek agile movements of a prowling panther.
Diana had chosen an incredibly revealing white g-string bikini. He wondered if she knew how very sheer that gauze material was. Did she know that thin fabric left practically nothing to the imagination?
More importantly, was she aware of the effect that water would have on it? Being white in color and sheer gauze linen, once it absorbed moisture, it would cling to her body like a lover and nearly dissolve, becoming virtually transparent against her beautifully tan skin. What little modesty it provided her now would vanish completely once it touched the water.
Diana turned to her side, giving him a splendid view of her profile as she tentatively dipped her toe in the pool and cautiously tested the temperature. Raising a hand to her ponytail, she pulled at the hair tie, which held it in place. In one slow, smooth, effortless motion, Diana's long black hair slid free and tumbled past her shoulders. Tilting her face skyward and giving that lustrous mane a gentle shake caused those silky fine wisps to sway softly against the small of her back.
She reached up with both hands to sweep any stray tendrils away from her face. Her back arched slightly, extending her ribcage, collapsing that already flat stomach, and exposing those proud young breasts even more prominently to Sabatini's appreciative gaze. Maintaining that artistically sensuous pose, Diana carefully gathered her hair into a ponytail once more.
That was a truly amazing sight to behold. Gazing upon her luscious young frame caused Sabatini's pulse to quicken its pace. Consuming flames of passionate desire triggered his feverish blood to flow like liquid fire in his veins.
Did she realize what she was doing? Could she be aware of the effect this exhibition had on him? Was Diana purposely putting on this private little show just for him? Was she trying to give him a voyeuristic thrill or was she simply that naive and innocent?
In today's world and at her age, she should know full well how seductive her behavior was. Still, in many ways, she was very much a child. That was the most endearing aspect of her charm and appeal. In any case, Salvatore admired her as he would any aesthetically pleasurable work of art. For now, he was content to look and not touch, but oh, how he desired to touch.
Turning her back to him, Diana slowly stepped into the pool and secretly smiled to herself. Yes, she knew that he was watching her and she enjoyed it. It was exhilarating and empowering. It made her feel desirable, attractive, sensual, and dare she say it... sexy. It felt good to know that she aroused heated desire in men, but especially in this man. Even more intoxicating was the sense of power she derived from doing just that.
Her little display was highly uncharacteristic. Diana learned very early that most guys only want one thing and those who didn't were even worse. They wanted to get too serious too fast. For those types, love was fleeting and inconstant. Much like Romeo, they fell in love with a different girl each week.
As a result, Diana generally had little interest in boys. She certainly had never experienced any lustful feelings of raw sexual attraction. Yet a part of her longed for love, romance, and passion. In secret sorrow, her young heart yearned for the stuff of fairytales, for her chivalrous knight in shining armor, for a gallant and charming prince to sweep her off her feet.
Regardless, it wasn't at all like her to deliberately incite amorous attention from men. It was unlike her to teasingly parade around half-naked in front of them. It was most certainly out of character to choose that skimpy g-string with its three tiny triangles of flimsy white fabric.
When she'd stepped in front of the mirror, she was shocked by the sight of it. She hadn't expected it to be quite that revealing. Her first instinct was to exchange it for one less daring, but it did look good on her, and it made her feel... something.
She wasn't sure how it made her feel. It was sensual, sexy, and exciting, but a bit too risque. It made her feel too exposed and vulnerable, even slightly embarrassed. It felt faintly naughty and shameful, but in a thrilling sort of way.
What the hell, she thought. It wasn't like she was going to the beach. A secluded paradise awaited her. The only other soul around was Salvatore and it would be interesting to see his reaction.
She hurried downstairs and through the Grand Hall, but hesitated with her hand on the door. Diana suddenly had second thoughts about her decision and momentarily entertained the idea of returning to the room and changing. Then she saw him through the glass.
He was lounging poolside with his eyes closed against the bright midday sun. Perhaps he wouldn't even notice. She could walk silently to the pool and find refuge beneath the reflective glitter of that shimmering water.
Diana stepped into the warm sunshine and quietly closed the door. Turning, she watched nervously and made a beeline for the pool. As she passed by, Diana could feel his gaze upon her, but he said nothing.
Reaching the water's edge, she turned and, from the corner of her eye, noticed the slightest hint of a smile in his expression. Apparently, he wasn't shocked in the least. Rather, he seemed preoccupied with some private thought.
Diana dipped a toe in the water and surreptitiously watched as his subtle expression shifted. A look of silent adoration brightened his face. His attention faded from internal thoughts and focused on Diana. He studied her with growing intensity.
A curious new sensation washed over her. Every nerve in her body unexpectedly tingled, vibrated, and filled with life. Diana suddenly realized that his attention excited her. There was an exquisite pleasure in the way he looked at her.
There was something about him, something about his longing gaze. There was something about this place. Everything conspired to dissolve inhibition, to inspire sensuality, to diffuse bothersome thoughts, and to elicit pleasure. It was intoxicating, mystical, almost magical, and encouraged Diana's brash urges.
If her body pleased him and he enjoyed watching her, then she'd enjoy giving him something worth looking at. That's when she brazenly performed her little show, before stepping into the pool.
This morning had been relatively cool, but now the air was sticky, hot, and humid. The day promised to produce a sweltering heat wave as the afternoon sun continued to scorch the clear blue Louisiana sky. Diana could feel that burning pressure from the sun as it threatened to slowly bake her already tan skin.
Diana enjoyed swimming and always possessed an affinity for the water. The water's temperature was perfect. It was slightly cooler than a gentle breeze and provided welcome relief from the mounting midday heat.
The gentle currents softly caressed her skin. It was soothing and massaged all residual tension from her limbs. The sensation permeated her whole being. It surrounded her body, enveloped her, penetrated to her very soul, and never failed to blanket her with a sense of relaxed security.
The sheer corporeal pleasure of that was comforting. It always managed to melt away mundane or worrisome thoughts and produce a pervasive sense of tranquility. As Diana yielded to the decadent delights of this mythical paradise, she called out to Sabatini.
"Hey! Are you just gonna lie there all day or do ya wanna join me? The water's just right and very refreshing."
He beamed a charming smile at her and slowly climbed to his feet. He inhaled a deep breath and lazily stretched himself. Diana seized that opportunity to take a good long look at him.
He was tall, tan, well-built, and in very good shape. He obviously took care of himself. His legs were long and well-shaped. They were solid, firm, and hinted of an understated power.
He was trim and fit, strong and athletic, tight and toned. Possessing wide shoulders, a broad chest, and narrow hips, he was a bit more muscular than Diana had expected. With a relaxed and easy grace, he sauntered toward the edge of the pool. Yet each seemingly lazy movement betrayed a certain confidence and a concealed underlying strength.
Looking at him, it seemed as though his velvet skin was stretched tightly over the muscle and bone. That brought to mind the image of a sleek panther or a majestic thoroughbred stallion. His body exuded that sort of dangerous power masked by subtly deceptive elegance.
It was immediately apparent that he felt no shame about his body. Diana couldn't detect even the slightest hint of insecurity in him, not that he had any reason to be insecure. Nor was there any sense of excessive pride concerning his physique. He didn't strut around like an arrogant peacock. Salvatore wasn't an egotistical show-off. He was simply comfortable in his own skin and supremely accepting of his body.
As he moved into the deepening water, Diana drifted toward the waterfall at the opposite side of the pool. When she reached its edge, her feet found a narrow ledge just wide enough to stand on. She perched there and turned to see if he was going to follow.
Within seconds, he was beside her. She stared up at the sculpture and scrutinized it a bit more carefully. It was even more captivating up close. The detail was astounding.
Diana noticed the lines and wrinkles at the knuckles, the lines in the palm of the hand, and the creases of each joint in every finger. Looking closely, she could clearly see the fine and feathery eyebrows. Even the eyelashes were plainly visible.
It seemed incomprehensible how much time and care the artist must have invested in its creation. The amount of work and patience involved must have been phenomenal. It was truly an impressive accomplishment.
A startling awareness grew in Diana's consciousness. She turned and carefully examined Salvatore's face. An explosion of laughter burst forth and caused her small frame to pulse in rhythm.
"It's you! The statue has your face."
He flashed a knowing grin and replied evenly, almost tonelessly.
"Yes, it has."
"Isn't that kind of egotistical? Maybe even a bit vain?"
"Perhaps, depending on your point of view. Nonetheless, it is amusing. You can't deny that. Personally, I prefer to think of it as profoundly insightful. We all possess a dual nature, the saint and the sinner, the angel and the demon. Each of us has an equal capacity for good or evil. It's the natural order of things. Lending my face to an artistic representation of the devil is simply an acknowledgment of that fact."
"Well, I suppose when you put it like that..."
"You know," he interrupted. A devilishly devious grin played upon his expression. "It has more than just my face."
He nodded. Diana followed his gaze.
"That sculpture and I share more than a strong resemblance. We're virtually identical in nearly every detail."
Her eyes fell upon the statue's exposed manhood. It was a feature that was difficult to overlook. Her face reddened with embarrassment and she immediately averted her gaze.
"Impressive, isn't it?" he chuckled playfully.
"Disturbing is more like it. Maybe even a little frightening."
He laughed hard at her response.
"You know," she said quickly, eager to change the subject. "This really is a beautiful place and I absolutely love it."
"The entire estate or just this place?"
"All of it, but especially this private garden paradise."
"You haven't seen everything, you know. There are more hidden wonders you've yet to discover."
It was a mysterious statement and elicited the desired effect. Curiosity lurked behind Diana's dark and dazzling eyes. He held her hand and they moved to a place where that narrow ledge widened significantly.
Here, the pool was only three and a half feet deep. They stood before the lowest tier of the waterfall on the west side. The water flowed in a thin but steady stream about four feet wide.
Salvatore led her through and behind that cascading flow. The downpour veiled an opening in the large stone structure, which wasn't solid at all. In fact, it was completely hollow. Much to Diana's astonishment, they stood in an expansive space.
"Welcome to the Grotto."
Dim recessed lighting illuminated the cavern with a romantic glow. Inviting shades of blue, pastel pink, and warm orange light shimmered softly through the water. Diffused light cast flickering shadows, which danced playfully on the rough stonewalls.
A wide ribbon of water arched in a crescent shape from where they stood to an opening through the waterfall on the east side. It formed a sort of moat that divided the rough stone floor of the grotto in two sections. Salvatore placed his arm around Diana's tiny waist and rested his hand on the gentle curve of her hip.
Slowly, he escorted her forward until they stood midway in that ribbon of water. Stepping behind her, he placed a hand on each side of her narrow hips. Gently, he turned her to face north and pressed his body close to hers.
The dry stone floor stretched out in front of them. His right arm snaked around her waist and across the front of her body. As it gave her a little squeeze, his left arm extended over her shoulder. He pointed to the northwest corner. Curious, she gazed in that direction.
"You can't tell from here because the floor is recessed, but there is a very large and comfortable couch down in there. There's also a large screen mounted on the wall. It's a cozy little place to sit and watch movies."
He pointed to the northeast corner. As Diana turned to see, he bent his elbow, wrapping his arm about her and curling his fingers around her arm just below the shoulder. He hugged her close and Diana leaned into him, resting the back of her head against his chest.
A large round pit was filled with steamy bubbling water and looked like a giant cauldron. The water boiled up and overflowed one edge, running like a lava flow into the moat.
"That's a jacuzzi. It's not only a charming addition, but serves a practical function. Water is siphoned through a grate in the main pool outside. It flows into the filtration system, then through an automatic heating system. The heater is regulated by several thermostats and an electronic timer.
The water temperature is perfectly maintained twenty-four hours a day. When the sun goes down and the air cools, the timer kicks on and the pool heats up. Then it feels more like a Roman bathhouse than a swimming pool.
In the fall and winter months, the water actually creates steamy vapors that rise in the cool night air. Anyway, that filtered and heated water is then pumped through those jets. The water overflows and runs into this pathway. Of course, additional jets help heat the pool outside."
Salvatore gently turned Diana to face the south side of the moat. The rough stone floor formed a semicircle and another formation of jagged rock. It rose from the floor to shape a sort of pedestal or platform.
Upon that, a large round cushion was covered with a satin sheet and piles of animal skin blankets. Many pillows were tossed about its surface. This was clearly a bed and it had obviously been used.
"Sometimes I sleep out here," he said nonchalantly and unexpectedly released his hold on Diana. "Like I said, this is my favorite spot on the entire estate and where I spend most of my time." He turned and moved away from Diana.
⚜️⚜️⚜️
Chapter 9
They spent the afternoon in lighthearted conversation. They laughed, infrequently teased each other playfully, and simply enjoyed the easy companionship. Generally, they behaved like capricious teenagers and engaged in the intermittent water fight. Invariably, one would splash water at the other and eventually someone would get dunked, but it always ended with both of them in a fit of convivial laughter.
There were the usual little flirtations and the occasional longing glance when the other wasn't paying attention. Now and then, a touch of the hand occurred or the soft brush of one body against the other and the inevitable hug or squeeze. However, there was one slightly awkward moment.
When they decided to leave the pool and lounge in the deck chairs, Salvatore was the first one out. As Diana emerged from the pool and stepped out, she felt the hot concrete beneath her feet. She felt the warmth of the sun on her skin and a soft breeze gently caressed her body.
The sensation of it gave her goose bumps. Every inch of her skin puckered and tightened. Closing her eyes, she inhaled a deep breath. She opened them a moment later only to find Salvatore standing extremely close to her.
He stared directly into her eyes. His brilliant blue eyes flickered with azure sparks. A strangely amused expression and a very broad smile brightened his face. Out-stretched arms held a large white towel between them like a curtain.
Diana flashed a puzzled look. His smile beamed even brighter as he cleared his throat. Salvatore leaned ever so slightly forward and over the towel. He peered lecherously down at Diana's body. He examined her carefully from head to foot.
She glanced down and was mortified to see that flimsy white material had turned nearly transparent as clear plastic wrap. It revealed every intimate detail. She might as well have been standing before him completely nude.
Before she could grab the towel, he'd already begun wrapping it around her. In one swift motion, he held Diana tightly in his arms and pulled her close to him. With surprisingly gentle strength, he pressed his body firmly against hers.
In that moment, she felt an instant relief, but scarlet continued to build in her cheeks. He laughed, then smiled at her kindly, affectionately, and compassionately. Still, she couldn't bear his gaze and stared down at his chest.
"Hey," he whispered softly, but she would not look at him. He lovingly rubbed and patted her back, then gave her another tight squeeze. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered softly, his voice dripping with solicitude.
"There's no need to be embarrassed. Believe me, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You're a beautiful girl."
He gently kissed her cheek.
"In fact, I don't think you realize just how breathtakingly beautiful you truly are."
He stroked Diana's hair fondly, then trailed his fingers to her chin. Gently, he lifted her face to his and their eyes locked. He focused on her with such intense adoration that she was fascinated by it and could not look away.
"I love beautiful things and I enjoy looking at you."
He tenderly caressed her cheek and smiled.
"Honestly, I'm grateful for such an intimate glimpse of your beauty and I hope to see it again. When you're ready, maybe you'll share that with me sometime, but until then..."
He patted her bottom playfully and smiled cheerfully.
"...can I get you something to drink?"
Salvatore released his hold on her. He turned and walked to the kitchen door. Pausing, he glanced back at her and waited for a reply.
Just like that? Really? He was going to let her off the hook that easily? He was going to forget about it and move on, like it never happened.
Diana's mind reeled. She was lost in a sea of confusion. In a daze, she sank into the cushioned deckchair behind her.
A few minutes later, Salvatore returned to find Diana relaxed and sunning herself in the deckchair. The burning afternoon sun had already dried her suit and restored its white color. He set a tall glass of iced amber liquid on the table beside her chair.
Diana opened one eye and turned her head. She looked at the glass, then to him. He flashed a sly smile, collapsed into the other deckchair, stretched out, and closed his eyes against the sun.
"Iced tea?" she questioned.
"Yep, direct from Long Island," he chuckled.
"Umm, isn't there alcohol in a Long Island Iced Tea?"
"Yep."
"Perhaps you've forgotten, but I'm only a teenager," she scolded him.
"Oh, lighten up, Diana. Relax and live a little. It's not like you have to drive anywhere tonight. Most kids your age are sneaking off to parties and getting wasted with their friends every weekend. At least here, you're safe and supervised. One little drink isn't gonna hurt any. You know in Italy, even children of twelve are given a glass of wine with dinner. Americans claim to be so progressive, but when it comes to certain things, they're positively puritanical."
"Have you spent much time there?"
"Italy?"
"Yes, Italy."
"Certainly, what would you like to know about it?"
Diana sipped the drink and decided she liked it. She asked questions and he answered. They talked of the people, their culture, and the country's history. They discussed Italian art and artists, Da Vinci, Botticelli, and Michelangelo, being their favorites. Diana was astounded by the knowledge Salvatore possessed of so many subjects.
The heat of the afternoon sun was relentless and soon Diana was drenched in perspiration. Her body glistened and sparkled in the sunlight. This did not escape Salvatore's notice. He, too, began to feel a bit dewy and suggested they slip back into the pool.
They climbed to their feet. Diana noticed her suit was beginning to cling to her skin. Suddenly, she remembered what happened when it was wet.
"Just let me change into a different suit," she said and started toward the house. Salvatore caught her hand. She turned to face him. His eyes begged with silent pleading.
"Please, don't."
His voice was soft and sincere, but she laughed.
"I think you've already had enough of an eyeful for today."
Diana turned and started to walk away, but he pulled her close and put his arm around her.
"I disagree."
He looked sidelong at the pool.
"I don't have to give you a choice, you know," he said casually. "I could pick you up, toss you over my shoulder, carry you to the pool, and throw you in."
Diana's eyes narrowed and she scowled at him.
"You wouldn't dare!"
"Wouldn't I?" he challenged.
"No, no, you wouldn't. You're too much of a gentleman and you wouldn't treat a lady like that," Diana countered. "Besides, for all the good this suit does, I might as well strip naked and go skinny dipping."
"Oh, now there's an idea!"
"Don't even think about it," she warned.
"Why not? There's no one else around. It's just you and me. Nobody would ever know."
"Forget it! You just erase that thought from your dirty little mind."
Salvatore laughed.
"Me thinketh the lady doth protest too much."
That was true. Maybe it was the effect of the alcohol, but Diana simply didn't care anymore. He'd already seen the goods. What difference could it possibly make now? Even if he ripped the sheer cloth from her body and carried her to the pool, she wouldn't offer any real resistance.
Diana stretched up on her tiptoes, pulled him close, and whispered.
"Alright, you win."
He pulled back slightly, a surprised expression on his face.
"You're going to skinny dip with me?" he asked incredulously.
"No!" she gasped. Then her expression changed and a devious glimmer sparked in her eyes. "But I'm not going to change my suit either."
They exchanged mischievous smiles. He lifted her from the ground, swept Diana off her feet, and cradled her in his arms. He carried her into the pool, like a husband with his bride across the threshold and they sank into the water. He laughed triumphantly as he gazed at her. The water dissolved that bathing suit as quickly as the alcohol had dissolved her modesty.
Perhaps it was the alcohol. Maybe it was this place. Maybe it was the way he looked at her. Whatever the cause, she was comfortable here and Diana no longer felt self-conscious about placing herself on display for him.
In fact, there was a thrilling sense of forbidden freedom in doing so. It was liberating and exciting to do something that she probably shouldn't. However, there seemed to be no rules here, no judgment, only an indescribable feeling of warmth and open acceptance. Nothing was prohibited or taboo. Everything was acceptable and permissive.
It certainly helped to set her at ease that he was very much a gentleman about it and didn't leer at her perversely. When Salvatore spoke, he always gazed adoringly into her eyes. If his eyes strayed, it was only to study her face, the gentle sweep of her neck, or the soft curves of her bare shoulders, but rarely any further.
Occasionally, he might sneak a glance now and then if she wasn't paying attention, but that was to be expected. Guys were highly visually oriented. They were stimulated by the sight of a woman's body.
That was only natural. It was part of nature's well-designed plan to ensure propagation of the species. So a stolen glance or the occasional unspoken admiration was forgivable. Besides, when caught in the act, he smiled politely and appreciatively, then smoothly redirected his attention to the conversation at hand.
Not to mention the fact that Diana wasn't completely without blame herself. Infrequently, he would catch her looking at him, but he didn't seem to care. When it happened, he gave no response whatsoever. Not even the slightest hint of an amused smile betrayed his thoughts. He simply turned his face skyward and closed his eyes.
It was as though he encouraged her to continue and on more than one occasion, she had. She studied him quite carefully, in fact. His broad chest and strong shoulders, his flat stomach and long limbs, even in repose, his muscles seemed firm, solid, and hard.
Watching him lie there, floating in the pool, she felt a nearly irresistible desire to cuddle close to him, to lie her head upon his chest, to hear the rhythmic throb of his heart, to feel the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. She needed to be close to him. She ached to inhale the masculine scent of him, to taste his lips, to feel them against hers, but she was not bold enough to act on those temptations.
For hours, they simply floated side by side, sprawled out on flat inflatable rafts, holding hands and engaged in lazy conversation. The sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with soft watercolor shades of pink, orange, and yellow. In the fading light, those colors melted to light blue and a thin ribbon of rich purple streaked along the eastern horizon.
It suddenly occurred to Salvatore that neither of them had eaten anything today. He mentioned this to Diana. They both agreed it would probably be best to grab a bite.
Hand in hand, they stepped from the pool. This time he didn't offer Diana a towel to cover herself and she didn't reach for one as they walked past the deckchairs. No longer did she feel any need to wilt and hide from his view.
Entering the kitchen, she reveled in those wonderful and sweet scents that lingered in the night air. A pleasant tropical aroma emanated from that cornucopia of fresh fruit, which nearly concealed the island counter-top. Like everything else in this secluded paradise, it caressed the senses and was intoxicatingly inviting.
There was something about this place. It was so far removed from the noise and commotion of the bustling city. It seemed like an entirely different world.
Nature was more than accessible here. It was unavoidable and inescapable. It seemed to bathe Diana in its light, envelope her in its beauty, and cradle her in its warmth. It dazzled her with majesty, caressed her with wonder, and loved her passionately with tranquility.
Even time seemed to move more slowly here. The day had passed at a more comfortable, relaxed, and easy pace. There was no anxiety, no worry, no nagging sense of urgency to accomplish anything. It was peaceful here and for the first time in four years, Diana felt like she was home.
⚜️⚜️⚜️
Chapter 10
"This is an amazing place. Life is so frantic in the city. It's not like that here. I wish that I never had to leave," Diana mused regretfully.
Salvatore leaned forward and very seriously stared into her eyes. Reaching for her delicate hand, he gently clasped it between his own. His elbows rested on the counter. He spoke softly and with a pleading sincerity in his voice.
"What if you didn't have to? Suppose you could stay here for the summer. Would that make you happy?"
Diana's face momentarily glowed with the thought of it, but suddenly darkened.
"I don't think Mike and Maria would like that idea."
"But would it make you happy?"
He placed a great deal of emphasis on the word 'you' and her unwavering gaze locked with his. She smiled warmly. Adoration filled her eyes. Diana's face softened and suddenly seemed unusually smooth, even for a young girl.
"Yes," she sighed.
"Then, that settles it," he stated matter-of-factly. "You shall live here for the remainder of the summer."
"But..."
"Don't worry about the details. You just leave Mike and Maria to me. I know how to handle that situation."
Unexpectedly, he released Diana's hand, then walked to where his cell phone lay on a counter by the kitchen door. He picked it up and placed a call to Maria. She answered on the third ring.
"Hello, Maria."
He paused and listened.
"Yes, Diana is fine. We're having a lovely time together. I'm sorry about keeping her this late. We've been so busy catching up that I lost track of time. Considering the late hour, I thought it best to let Diana spend the night here. You see, she's scheduled to work tomorrow and I hate to unnecessarily deprive her of sleep."
Again, he paused.
"No, it's not an imposition at all. In fact, it was entirely my suggestion and yes, I'll see that she gets home after work."
He flashed a sly smile at Diana while only half listening to Maria.
"Very well, I'll see you tomorrow. We can talk more then. Yes, yes, goodbye, Maria."
Ending the call, he beamed a devious smile at Diana.
"That takes care of tonight. I'll arrange the rest when I meet with her tomorrow. Now, about our sleeping arrangements..."
He allowed those suggestive words to enticingly play in Diana's impressionable young mind for a few moments. Exciting possibilities caused her tender young heart to flutter like the wings of a hummingbird. Uncontrollable fantasies of sharing a bed with him and spending the night cuddled in his arms ran wildly through her thoughts.
"There are two beds in the house, and of course, the other in the Grotto. You may have your choice and I will take one of the others."
After careful consideration, Diana opted to take that canopy bed in the spare room. Salvatore escorted her to that room once more. He nodded to the curtained French doors directly across the hall from hers.
"That is my room. If you need me, that's where I'll be."
He leaned close to Diana and affectionately kissed her cheek, then bid her goodnight. With her arms around his neck, she hugged him and returned the sentiment. Once inside, the room was dark and would have been cloaked in utter blackness had it not been for the pale silver light of a full moon, which filtered through those old glass panes.
Diana walked toward the balcony and opened those double doors. The night air drifted gently into the room and softly caressed her exposed skin. It was warm and comforting. Silvery moonlight danced on her body and bathed her in its luminescent glow. As in a trance, Diana lazily tugged at the strings of the bikini top and let it fall silently to the floor. She wriggled out of the bottoms and lightly kicked them off.
Standing in that doorway, she was a vision of feminine perfection. Moonbeams painted her nude body with the same translucent shimmer of those marble statues in the Devil's Playground. Diana tugged at the hair tie. Free of that restraint, her dark hair flowed to the middle of her back. Its coal blackness provided a striking contrast to the pale white light reflecting from her gleaming body. The faint breeze caused those silky fine locks to sway gently against her, tickling the bare flesh.
A shiver of pure sensual pleasure rolled through her. It electrified every tiny nerve ending, as though every inch of her skin was suddenly alive for the first time. For some time, Diana simply stood there, enjoying the sensation of it all.
She discovered a newfound freedom in her nakedness, the liberating awareness of a secret harmony with nature. Her senses drifted in a clear, untroubled, and carefree sea of contented pleasure. Not wanting to break the spell, Diana stood motionless with eyes closed until a heavy strain weakened her knees.
She lazily sauntered toward the bed, crawled into the middle, and collapsed there. Like a familiar lover, the yielding surface welcomed her with open arms. As Diana's face snuggled into the cool satin pillowcase and the feathery down beneath it, her heavy eyelids closed. A distant thought that she should cover herself floated away one moment before the sweet unconsciousness of sleep claimed her.
Alone in his room, Salvatore sensed that his guest was sleeping soundly. It required little concentration to hear Diana's heartbeat slow. The rhythm of her breathing had also changed. With a gentle intrusion of her thoughts, he invited himself into the privacy of Diana's mind.
Receiving a steady flow of vivid images, Salvatore immediately knew she was dreaming. That was all he needed to know. He sought only to confirm that she was asleep and had no desire to invade her privacy any further.
Moving silently, he wasted no time. A quick shower washed the scent of chlorine from his skin and hair. Emerging from the private bath, he proceeded to the large walk-in closet, carefully chose his attire, and dressed rapidly.
Stepping in front of the full-length mirror, Salvatore surveyed himself with a critical eye. As usual, his long dark hair was swept back into a tight ponytail. The black suede sport jacket had been custom-tailored to fit perfectly. It accentuated his broad shoulders and tapered to complement his trim waistline. That royal blue satin shirt was a vivid contrast and highlighted his brilliant blue eyes. Black silk dress pants with finely pressed pleats, draped from his waist in loose and graceful lines. An expensive pair of black, ankle-high, dress boots made from the finest Italian leather completed the ensemble.
A self-satisfied grin crept into his expression and sparked a devious glint in his eye. You're definitely a handsome devil, he thought before stepping onto the balcony. Standing close to the rail, he peered into the clear night sky.
Tonight was a full moon. That meant only one thing to Salvatore Sabatini. It was time for his monthly feeding.
A maddening bloodthirst had tortured him the entire day and that was highly unusual. Due to his advanced age and many centuries of rigorous discipline, he rarely experienced that exquisite pain of the blood lust gnawing at his insides. For the first time in a millennium, the thirst held him firmly in its inescapable grip and Diana's presence was the primary cause. The temptation of being so close to her for a prolonged period of time was far more powerful than he remembered.
There was something about her that was nearly irresistible. She was literally mouth-watering and it wasn't just that she was a virgin. True, virgin blood was always the sweetest, but there was something else. Something that Salvatore couldn't quite put his finger on.
What was it that made her so very appealing, so enticingly desirable, and so provocatively appetizing? What was the source of this intolerable compulsion to dominate her? What caused this insatiable carnal need to devour her?
It was something metaphysical and elusive that forced him to the very edge of losing control. Some unidentifiable thing was driving this indescribable craving. It was a remarkable strain on his will, enduring the unceasing impulse to seize her, to savagely take her in his arms, to ravage her body and soul. For that is what he longed to do and it had taken all his strength to refrain from doing exactly that.
Today had severely tested the limit of his perseverance and restraint, but that was over now. It was time to feed and indulgently satisfy those lustful desires. It was time to eagerly embrace temptation.
With such intentions, Salvatore effortlessly leapt from that second-story balcony and landed silently on the grass below. Moving like a phantom, he disappeared from one shadow only to appear in the next. Perched atop a tall stonewall at the east edge of the property, he paused only long enough to glance back at the house and listen once more to Diana's thoughts.
She was still asleep and Salvatore smiled to himself. Then he faded into the darkness. With stealth and ever-increasing speed, he made his way toward town. He darted through the night at a blinding pace. At such times, his motion was imperceptible to the human eye. He was, for all practical purposes, invisible.
In a matter of minutes, Salvatore stood at the corner of Canal and Bourbon. From there, he sauntered two blocks east on Bourbon Street and just past the intersection of Bienville Avenue. This was his first stop of the night.
Standing near the door to Rick's Cabaret, he paused to watch the crowds of people pass by. Bourbon Street was a busy spot for nightlife year-round. Typically, it was crowded until four in the morning. That's when things finally simmered down.
An exception to the rule was a section east of Dumaine Street. It was affectionately referred to as Boy's Town for obvious reasons. That was the local hot spot for nightlife among the gay community. Those boys really knew how to party and usually did exactly that until sunrise.
After a few minutes of watching people pass by, Salvatore entered the cabaret and walked upstairs. The place was fairly empty and that suited him just fine. He found his usual table near the west stage and claimed his spot.
A waitress recognized him and brought his usual. He paid and included a generous tip, then turned his attention to the girl on stage. Her name was Dominique.
She was a stunning blonde and moved with an uncommon grace. Her bronze skin gleamed in the spotlight. She oozed with the kind of sensual feminine sexuality that makes men melt and spend far more cash than they should.
Dominique possessed an athletic build and the flexibility of an Olympic-class gymnast. Watching her perform was mesmerizing, but Salvatore knew her secret. He surveyed the room and studied the other customers carefully.
The men were entranced and Salvatore wondered how many of them realized they were entertaining fantasies of fornicating with a post-op transsexual. He couldn't help but to smile at the thought of it. If they only knew the truth, it would probably break their fragile mortal hearts.
The music faded, the spotlight dimmed, Dominique collected her tips and stepped through a red velvet curtain at the back of the stage. Another dancer emerged and the music started. The spotlight radiated a brilliant white light and focused on her.
She was young and petite with a waifish figure, almost boyish, yet somehow very feminine. With big baby doll blue eyes, flame red hair, extremely narrow hips, and very long sexy legs, she looked every bit the part of a runway model. As with most redheads, her skin was creamy smooth and pale white. In fact, it was sickly pale and nearly vampiric.
Before the first song ended, she'd tossed half her lingerie on the stage floor. By the end of the second number, she'd lost the second half as well. The third and final performance of each set always featured the dancer completely nude. A sort of grand finale exhibited the girl in all her naked glory.
About halfway through the performance, she noticed Salvatore. Smiling with wicked excitement, she beckoned him using a single index finger. He granted her request and stood near the edge of that waist-high stage. She crawled seductively across the stage and toward him. Hand over hand, she climbed up him until she rested on her knees and looked him in the eyes.
"Hey there, handsome. Are you having a good time tonight?"
He flashed a devilish grin.
"I'd say the fun is just beginning."
"Oh, you can count on that!"
She threw her arms around him, pulled him close, and kissed his cheek. Her hands trailed to his rear. Grabbing two handfuls, she squeezed firmly as she whispered in his ear.
"Should I meet you in the usual place?"
"Yep. You know the new password?"
"No, what is it?"
"Just ask to see Madam LeSoleil."
He put his arms around her waist and nipped playfully at her neck, then whispered to her.
"And Brandy, bring a friend this time."
She beamed with libidinous excitement and a depraved glint glimmered in her eyes.
"Anyone in particular?"
"No, bring whoever you'd like."
After a fleeting pause, he quickly added, "as long as it's not Dominique."
They exchanged a knowing laugh and he tossed a hundred-dollar bill on the stage between her knees, then returned to his seat. Before her performance ended, he drained his glass and left the cabaret. He walked two blocks east and turned north on Conti Street.
A block and a half later, he stood in front of an inconspicuous little house. It was painted pink with black shutters and a copper gaslight lamp flickered beside the door. A wooden header above the threshold was decorated with a rising sun.
This was literally an underground club known as the House of the Rising Sun. Say what you will about vampires, but there's no denying they have a fantastic sense of humor. In 1820, this had been the site for a short-lived hotel of the same name, but it had burned down less than three years later.
In 2005, an excavation and search of historical records found evidence that supported claims this was indeed the site of that infamous house of ill repute mentioned in the famous song. Included in the findings was an advertisement with wording that may have euphemistically referenced prostitution. Additionally, archaeologists found an unusually large amount of rouge and other cosmetics at the site.
Later, it was purchased and developed by an entrepreneurial vampire. He turned the place into an illicit private club. This new House of the Rising Sun was a modern version of a vampire speakeasy and flophouse. However, mortals assumed it was nothing more than an exclusively elite brothel.
⚜️⚜️⚜️
Chapter 11
A cursory knock on the door and in walked Brandy with a female companion. Salvatore recognized the second girl as a dancer from the cabaret. She used the stage name Summer, but her real name was Jessica. It was an interesting choice, considering that Brandy and Jessica were sisters.
Two plain white envelopes lay on a table near the door. Each contained an equal and sizable stack of twenty-dollar bills. Brandy gathered them both and handed one to her sibling. The girls casually placed them in their bags, then proceeded to the bath.
Ten minutes later, they emerged freshly showered and perfumed. Brandy pulled a portable CD player from her bag and switched it on. Wearing nothing but their smiles, the two girls stood at the end of the bed where Salvatore rested.
Hands tucked behind his head and propped on a stack of pillows, he studied each girl carefully. Brandy was a spunky little redhead and Jessica was a lively blonde. Except for hair color, the sisters were nearly identical and could have been twins.
Of course, they weren't. Both of them had obtained their jobs about eighteen months ago. The siblings had been on their own for nearly two years and shared an apartment nearby. Dancing at Rick's Cabaret paid the rent, but this is how they chose to make enough money to afford the finer things in life.
The two girls started dancing. Each danced with the other. They held one another close. They touched, caressed, and kissed playfully. Turning to Salvatore with devious smiles, they jumped into bed, one on either side of him.
The girls lay beside him and stretched out. They snuggled up to him. They cuddled with him. Each tossed a bare leg over his. They touched and caressed him. Their hands moved over his body, exploring it. One kissed his neck. The other kissed his lips.
Salvatore affectionately returned those soft and gentle touches. He returned their passionate and teasing kisses. He nuzzled Brandy's neck. He heard the increasing rhythmic throb of her heart. With each passing second, with every touch and every kiss, her heart beat a little faster until the sound of it pounded in his ears.
With a modicum of effort, he could distinguish the sound of blood rushing through her veins. He saw that tantalizing artery in her neck and watched it pulse with every musical beat of her young heart. The bloodlust was building to a fevered pitch within him.
It was bittersweet agony and the Vampire Salvatore could hold off only a few seconds longer. The scent of her was so very sweet and as he breathed that in, he felt those deadly sharp fangs begin their descent. Desperately, he tried to slow their progress.
Slowly, they extended to their full length and the exquisite pain was too much for him to bear. He could hold out no longer. The frenzy seized him in its relentless and unforgiving grip.
It thoroughly enslaved him. Its vicious onslaught savagely tore through the last remaining shreds of self-control. Those long white incisors pierced her sensitive and tender skin. Deeper, they penetrated into her flesh.
A gasp of pain-filled pleasure escaped her lips. That was followed by a sharp sucking sound as she inhaled one deep breath. Brandy's heart beat even faster now and her entire body tensed momentarily. Then it relaxed. As she sighed, a lascivious and orgiastic bliss took hold.
Salvatore was on top of her now, sucking greedily at her delicate neck. His lips and tongue massaged her wounded throat. His body pressed hard against hers. Her pleasing little body squirmed against his. She wriggled underneath him as tidal waves of salacious and licentious gratification rolled through her body.
A grinding climactic growl vibrated deep in her throat. There was a slight carnal moan followed by an exhausted whimper of pleasure, then only silence. The Vampire Salvatore pushed himself from her unconscious and nude body.
Immediately, he pounced on Jessica, crashing upon her barbarously and with primal animalistic passion. As she lay under him, he forced Jessica's arms above her head and held them hard against the mattress. Holding her by the wrists, his body pressed down on hers.
He felt her nakedness and it excited him. With brute force and reckless abandon, he conquered her. She found this aggressive behavior enthralling and her heartbeat increased in pace. He kissed her deeply, passionately, and her heart raced a little faster.
He nuzzled into her neck and the whole process repeated itself with this second victim. Those lethal teeth pierced her supple skin and penetrated deep into her flesh. Excruciating pleasure consumed her body. A throbbing heart pumped faster, sending that precious lifeblood coursing through her veins.
Wanton carnal delight ravaged her body as he suckled from her. His mouth gently milked her wound. Her delicate and waifish form thrashed wildly beneath him.
Wave after wave of overwhelming rapture dominated her senses. Undulating currents of delicious conjugal ecstasy rippled through her. Then, with one final shudder, fatigue and unconsciousness laid waste to her abused and overwrought body.
Salvatore lifted himself and collapsed face down between the two little girls. He lazily tossed his arms across their tiny naked waists and reveled in the blissful afterglow of feeding. It was similar to the satiated and fulfilled satisfaction a mortal experienced after Thanksgiving dinner, but infinitely more intense.
He rested there for what seemed like hours. In reality, only fifteen minutes had passed. Salvatore lifted his head and leaned over Brandy's limp body. She lay there so very still and unmoving.
He moved close to her, then affectionately and fondly kissed her soft lips. He lingered close to her and lovingly kissed her cheek. Repeating this tender ritual, he did the same to Jessica.
Moving to the end of the bed, he stood and gazed at his two motionless victims. They were an adorable and erotic couple. Like two small angels, the young sisters lay beside each other. Their pale and fragile nude bodies stretched out on the bed. That was a sweet and heartwarming sight to behold.
He watched their tiny breasts rise and fall with each slow and shallow breath. They were not dead, only sleeping. In fact, the puncture wounds on their tender young necks had already healed. They would wake by morning and remember only having experienced a wild and exhausting night of hedonistic debauchery.
Leaving the girls to an undisturbed slumber, Salvatore exited the room and locked the door behind him. They would be safe in that private chamber and allowed to leave at will, unbothered by other vampires. As for Salvatore, he desired to return home at once. Lest Diana should awake and find him absent.
Moving with the speed, which only an extremely ancient and powerful vampire possessed, he returned to Stormhaven Manor. In a single bound, Salvatore effortlessly soared over the great stonewall that fortified the estate. Always slipping from shadow to shadow and skillfully avoiding the light, he moved through the Devil's Playground like a demon. With little effort, he pounced onto the balcony and stepped into his room.
A quick peek into Diana's mind revealed she was still sleeping peacefully. It was good that she hadn't awoke to find him missing. He wouldn't be forced to give her some silly lie. Come morning, she'd wake and be none the wiser of his devilish deeds done in darkness.
Diana opened her eyes and used her hand to shield them from the morning light. Lazily, she sat up and roused herself from the night's lingering stupor. The enticing aroma of breakfast drifted in the air.
She scrambled from bed and reached for the chamber door, but abruptly paused with her hand on the levered latch. A sudden breeze from the balcony reminded her that she had fallen asleep completely naked. She should cover herself, at least a little, before going downstairs.
Diana shuffled into the kitchen, wearing a smile and a black satin robe. It was soft, smooth, and barely thigh-length. She'd found it in that mysteriously stocked closet.
Entering the kitchen, she discovered Salvatore and breakfast waiting for her. He smiled delightfully as she inhaled the sweet and spicy scents. The crossed lapels of that slippery robe parted a little with the strain caused by the expansion of her chest and revealed the plump cleavage of her tender young breasts.
"Good morning, Diana."
Why did he insist on purring her name like that? It sent shivers through her every single time and it was much too early to deal with that.
"Your timing is impeccable. I just finished making breakfast. I would have brought it to you if you hadn't gotten up."
Diana thanked him and said that he didn't need to go through all that trouble. However, she was certainly relieved that he hadn't brought it to her room. Breakfast in bed was a pleasing thought, but it would have been embarrassing if he'd walked in and seen her lying there naked.
Diana sat on a high-backed stool near the edge of the island countertop. A magnificent feast of breakfast delicacies lay before her. She poured orange juice into an empty glass.
Looking down, Diana appeared even younger than she did at any other time. Her profile was divinely lovely. Salvatore studied her carefully, searing every minor detail into his memory.
He scrutinized her lush, dark, and curved eyelashes. She was absolutely adorable with a juicy little mouth, that pouting lower lip, and cheeks like peaches. In that moment, Diana's innocent face looked virginal as only a young girl's does.
When she lifted her head, Diana's face relaxed. In that instant, she embodied the image of an ageless forest nymph. As though, she possessed the light, delicate, and youthful body of an elfin fairy.
As Diana peered out from that body, Salvatore doubted she knew what a miracle it truly was. How could she possibly know? How could any child understand what a marvelous miracle youthful beauty was?
That is something only poets and artists value. It's something that beautiful children never understand until it's gone and lost to the ravages of time. When they are middle-aged and look upon old photographs of themselves, only then will they realize the power and beauty they once possessed.
Nevertheless, Salvatore understood this all too well. That is why he studied her so carefully. That is why he burned every detail of those images into his memory.
As she reached out and set the pitcher on the counter, that slippery satin robe fell open a little further. It exposed half a bare shoulder, but Diana didn't seem to notice or care. Unthinking and without hesitation, Salvatore stretched across the countertop. With the casual familiarity of a lover, he held the smooth material between his thumb and forefinger, then gently pulled it closed.
The silky material softly caressed Diana's skin as it slid slowly across her chest. Her skin seemed to radiate a burning warmth where his fingers had lightly grazed the tender and sensitive bare flesh of her partially exposed breast. A quiver of desire tortured her body.
Suddenly, her thelium stood proud beneath that sheer and shiny fabric. Diana shivered from the sensation of it. Her eyes closed. She wrapped her arms across her chest and shuddered slightly. She sat there holding herself for a moment.
None of this went unnoticed by Salvatore. It was not an intentionally seductive touch. His motive was nothing more than an innocent gesture. Not wishing to cause her any embarrassment, he spoke smoothly and casually.
"After you've finished breakfast and whenever you'd like, we can return to your place. We should leave early enough to give you plenty of time to get ready for work. Not to mention, I must arrange things with Maria."
Two hours later, they walked out the front door and down to the guard shack. Salvatore stopped and looked at Diana with a curious expression. She paused and gazed at him inquisitively.
"You know how to drive a manual transmission?"
"Sure, the car I drive to work is a stick."
He tossed the keys to her. She beamed a bright and excited smile.
"Seriously? You're gonna let me drive it?"
"Why not? It's insured," he laughed teasingly.
⚜️⚜️⚜️
Chapter 12
Fifteen minutes later, that little glossy sports car pulled to the curb in front of Diana's place. The two of them walked into the house and were promptly greeted by Maria. Lucifer raced down the hall from Diana's bedroom and, with one giant leap, the great cat pounced at Salvatore's chest.
He caught the feline in both hands. Holding it close to his face, he stared into those iridescent green eyes. The feline purred loudly and began lapping at Salvatore's face like a puppy.
"Well, it's good to see you again, too, old friend."
Salvatore stroked the cat affectionately. Diana looked at him with an expression of curious astonishment.
"The two of you know each other?" she queried.
"Of course! I'm the one who gave him to you."
That statement raised more questions than it answered, but Diana wasn't given the chance to ask any of them.
"Diana, why don't you get ready? I wouldn't want you to be late for work. Besides, it will give Maria and me a chance to talk."
She smiled, nodded her agreement, then hurried off. Diana certainly didn't want to be in the room for this conversation. Maria and Salvatore moved to the dining room.
As they sat across the table from one another, she eyed him suspiciously. Maria knew something was up. She just didn't know what. She never knew what to expect from him.
Four years ago, he'd shown up with a four-year-old orphan and a large black cat. He claimed to be a distant member of the family and explained that Diana's parents had been murdered. Of course, the little girl didn't know that detail. She only knew her parents were dead and now she was alone.
At the time, it seemed the girl was in a state of confused shock. Salvatore explained to Mike and Maria that it was the girl's wish to live with them. If they were willing to look after her, he'd ensure that a generous monthly stipend would be provided to them.
The monthly sum would be more than adequate to provide for the girls' needs. In fact, there would be enough to compensate Mike and Maria for their kindness. The couple would've happily cared for their niece even without any financial assistance, but Salvatore insisted they accept the money to ensure the girl would want for nothing.
He also had one demand. The public education system in this city was notoriously poor and he insisted that she attend the best private school in town. In return for their cooperation on that issue, Salvatore would personally cover any related expenses.
It seemed a reasonable request to Mike and Maria. Naturally, they were inclined to oblige. That was the first and the last time they laid eyes on Salvatore Sabatini, until three nights ago, when he'd shown up at the party.
Maria was particularly curious why he'd returned after all this time. Where had he been? Why had he moved here? More importantly, what did he want and how exactly did he fit into the family tree?
Salvatore listened to Maria's thoughts. He knew what she was thinking, but would provide few answers. He was willing to tell her only what she needed to know, nothing more.
"Can I get you something to drink?" Maria offered.
"Thank you, but no. That won't be necessary. However, there is something we need to discuss."
He could sense the uneasy anxiety and apprehension in her.
"What might that be?" she inquired.
"I've asked Diana to stay with me for the summer. She was rather excited at the prospect."
"Just for the summer?"
"That's what I offered, but I will allow her to stay for as long as she desires. The choice of where to stay and when is entirely hers."
"I can't say as though this pleases me. Mike and I love Diana very much and we're happy she's here. To be honest, it concerns me that none of us knows much about you."
"I am well aware of your concerns, Maria. However, consider the fact that I am the one who brought her to you in the first place. I have provided for her every financial need. I would have taken her myself, but it was her wish to stay with you. Now, she would like to stay with me for a while."
It was true. He had brought Diana to them. Except for the apparent trauma of losing her parents, she was unharmed and he did seem to genuinely care for the girl.
"Yes, of course. But can you look after a teenage girl properly? They can be quite difficult, you know."
"I understand your concern. Diana has always been a well-behaved child and I wouldn't want to see that change. Besides, she won't be far. You can stop out anytime you like. You know my door is always open for family."
Maria still wasn't convinced and was reluctant to accept this unwanted change. She knew nothing of this man. Could he be trusted with an adolescent girl? For all Maria knew, he could be some deviant pervert or a serial killer.
"Look, Maria. Why don't we cut through the bullshit? Tell me, what's really on your mind?"
The question aggravated Maria. It was a delicate subject and he wasn't going to like what she had to say. Then again, he asked for it.
"She's just a child, Salvatore, and you're much older than she. I've seen how the two of you look at each other and it's not right! It's not just familial love in your eyes. It's something else entirely and I don't like it!"
"I know what you think you've seen, Maria. I also know where your thoughts lead and why, but you haven't a clue about what's really going on."
"Is that so?" she hissed. "Then why don't you explain it to me?"
Salvatore leaned back in his chair and smiled so politely it almost seemed smug.
"Because I don't have to," he said casually. "Quite frankly, it's none of your concern. What's more, you really have no say in the matter. Need I remind you that I am her legal guardian? Ultimately, the decision is mine and mine alone."
Salvatore paused to gauge her reaction. If that didn't put Maria in her place, he could always use vampiric charisma and bend her mind to his will. He preferred it not come to that, but he wasn't above using the dark gifts for personal gain.
Maria gave no verbal response. Her mind was seething, but she knew it was not the time or place to fight him on this. If she wanted to come out on top, there were other ways to deal with the situation.
Salvatore knew the battle was over, but the war had only just begun. He stood, started for Diana's room, then paused. He glanced back at Maria, who was still fuming.
"Oh, don't worry about the monthly payments. You'll still get them. In fact, the amount has just doubled."
As if the money meant a damn to Maria. That was simply spiteful. He was adding insult to injury and deliberately rubbing salt in her wound. Maria silently vowed, one way or another, he would regret that.
Salvatore turned and continued on his way. Standing outside Diana's room, he knocked on the door, then entered. She was already dressed for work and flashed an inquisitively hopeful look.
"Good news! You'll be staying with me for the summer. I've arranged everything with Maria."
Diana was pleased to hear it and smiled excitedly. She gave a little squeal of delight. Scurrying around the room, she grabbed a few personal items and stuffed them in a small bag.
Ten minutes later, that little silver sports car rolled to a stop on Esplanade Avenue. They exchanged quick goodbyes and Salvatore explained that he had business to take care of, but he'd be back at closing time to pick her up. Diana smiled brightly, gave him a quick hug, then went off to work.
Business was slow, but that suited Diana just fine. It gave her a chance to tell Lafitte and Sam about Stormhaven Manor. She described Oak Alley, the mansion, and especially the Devil's Playground. She explained in great detail the garden, the pool, the waterfall, the sculptures and the Grotto.
Lafitte was happy that she had an enjoyable time and even said as much. He thought the place sounded wonderful and mentioned he'd like to see it sometime. However, Sam was predictably less supportive.
The more Sam listened to Diana go on about it, the more aggravated he became. Eventually, feelings of jealousy and rage caused his blood to boil. His mind filled with tortured fury until he erupted. Torrents of angry and jealous words flowed from him and crashed all around Diana.
"He's not the wonderful person he pretends to be! He's hiding something! You may not see it, but there's something very wrong about this entire situation! There's something dark and menacing about him. He's going to hurt you, Di. I don't like him and you can't trust him!"
Diana found Sam's tirade a little absurd and very amusing. She couldn't help but laugh at his behavior. That proved to be more than Sam could endure.
He glowered at her, then stormed out through the kitchen door. Sam needed to cool off and he knew it. Angrily, he paced about the alley smoking a cigarette while kicking furiously at an empty tin can.
Diana hadn't meant to hurt Sam's feelings, but he was being ridiculous. Salvatore had been nothing less than a gentleman. Sure, there was a minor age difference and maybe he was hiding a romantic interest in her, but Diana harbored feelings for him, too. Exactly what feelings she didn't know, but she certainly wanted to find out.
Besides, he'd been nothing but kind to her and Diana felt safe with him. Surely, he wouldn't do anything to hurt her. There was nothing menacing about him in the slightest. Clearly, Sam's jealousy and possessiveness clouded his judgment.
As the evening passed, Sam regained his composure and they spoke no more of things that might provoke another outburst. In a day or two, this whole thing would blow over and the episode would be forgotten. Still, Sam's little scene was enough to remind Diana how very peaceful and stress-free life was at Stormhaven. She definitely looked forward to going back home.
'Home', the word echoed in her mind. She already thought of that place as home and it seemed strangely amusing to Diana. She'd spent only one day there, but it felt like home to her. Stormhaven is where she belongs.
The evening faded to night. Business had been so slow that Lafitte suggested they close up shop and knock off early tonight. That sounded good to Diana and Sam certainly had no objections.
Only one lingering customer remained. He'd been sitting there and watching Diana for the last hour and a half. She paid no mind. Guys were always checking her out and those were the ones who usually left nice tips.
It was just part of the job. Diana quickly learned that guys left better tips when she wore makeup. They left even bigger tips when she flirted a little and acted as though she didn't have a brain in her head. That's the way guys like 'em, young, pretty, and dumb.
Eager to get him out of there so she could finish up and leave, Diana sashayed to his table with a bright but clueless smile. When she placed his check on the table, he grabbed her hand and stood close to her.
"Hey, hot stuff. When do you get off?"
"Now," she replied casually.
"You wanna go somewhere?"
"Yeah," she paused. "I wanna go home."
He put his hands on Diana's hips and pulled her close.
"Your place or mine?" he grinned.
"Mine," she said with a smile, then gently pushed him away. "And I'm going there alone," she laughed.
"You don't know what you're missing, baby."
"No," she challenged. "You don't know what you're missing, but you can watch it walk away."
He wasn't pleased with this turn of events. Diana turned to take a step, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back. He held her wrist in a painfully tight grip, which was neither friendly nor polite.
"Let go of me!" she yelped. "You're hurting me."
At this, Lafitte rushed into the dining room. The man glanced at him, then back at Diana. Lafitte spoke in a smooth voice and looked at the man very seriously.
"I suggest you let the lady alone, asshole."
Although Lafitte was a very large, very imposing, and very muscular figure, the man seemed undeterred.
"Get lost, faggot!"
Lafitte was not the kind to get upset about a silly derogatory slur. However, he was angered at the guy's lack of respect for his female friend. Lafitte's face turned menacing, his voice deepened, and he seemed every bit the two hundred ten pounds of hulking masculine muscle he was. There was nothing flamboyantly queer about his manner now.
"You got about three seconds to get your motherfuckin' hands off that girl and get your stumpy, shriveled, white dick the fuck up outta my joint."
"Or what?" The man replied with amusement in his voice.
Sam appeared from behind Lafitte. He casually sauntered a few steps closer, but then stopped. He stood halfway between Lafitte and Diana.
The man stood very still behind her. Generally, nothing about Sam was intimidating, but at this particular moment, there was something very disturbing about him. When he spoke, his voice was smooth, calm, and eerily toneless.
"Or else people are gonna call you lefty from now on."
Sam thumbed the deadly sharp edge of his massive meat cleaver. That polished steel butcher's blade gleamed in the light. Even more threatening was his expressionless face. The unblinking, intensely icy-cold stare of Sam's steely gray eyes was more horribly menacing than anything else.
In that moment, there was something within Sam that seethed with the most evil and malicious force Diana had ever experienced. Beneath that expressionless face and frigid stare raged a tempest of murderous fury. It flowed from the darkest part of his soul and filled the room with a palpable maelstrom of viciously psychotic hate.
There was no doubt in the man's mind that Sam was willing, even eager, to carry out his threat. The man decided it was in his best interest to leave. He released Diana's wrist and slowly made his way toward the door.
Not once did he take his eyes off the shiny steel cleaver. Nor did he turn his back to Sam. Not even as he stumbled backward out the door.
Diana thanked the guys for their assistance. Lafitte smiled, then walked to the door and locked it. Sam turned to Diana.
"Listen, Di. I'm sorry for that outburst earlier."
"Forget about it," she smiled. "I know you're just looking out for me and I'm lucky to have friends who honestly care."
Sam hugged Diana. Lafitte wrapped his massive arms around both of them and squeezed gently. Sam was the first to break up the little love fest.
"Come on, guys. Let's get this place closed up and get the heck out of here."
Thirty minutes later, they stood in the alley outside the kitchen door. Lafitte locked it and the three bid each other farewell. Lafitte walked east to Esplanade Avenue and turned north. He was in a rush to get home, get cleaned up, and head over to Bourbon Street for a wild night out.
Sam lingered a few seconds longer. He hugged Diana, then shuffled to Esplanade and turned south. Diana started for her car. Then she realized it wouldn't be in her usual spot.
"Oh, hell!" she muttered. Now that she thought about it, there wasn't much point in closing early. Diana would still have to wait for Salvatore to pick her up.
⚜️⚜️⚜️
Chapter 13
Heavy footsteps approached rapidly from behind. They echoed loudly in that dark and narrow alley. The sound startled Diana and she turned, but it was too late.
Heavy hands were viciously upon her. They shoved and pushed with brutal strength. Her body smashed against the unyielding brick building with such violent force that her forehead literally bounced off the wall.
Diana's voice cried out in pained agony. Blood flowed into her right eye and streamed down that side of her face. In a daze, her knees gave out and her limp body tumbled to the ground.
A rush of wind was followed by a muffled thud and the sound of a man groaning in pain. Again, hands were upon her, but they were not the same hands that had pounded her head against the brick. These hands were far more caring.
With gentle strength, they turned Diana over and propped her against the wall. A velvety soft touch brushed the blood from her eye and she stared into a shadowed face, but it quickly vanished. Through a confused haze, she saw Salvatore standing in that dark alley.
There was a crumpled form lying on the ground, but it was moving. It was a man. He climbed to his feet and pulled a knife with a very long blade from his right boot.
Diana recognized him as the guy who accosted her earlier that night. His lips peeled back into a malicious sneer, exposing a mouthful of tiny sharp teeth. He twirled the knife about. He rolled it between his fingers, flipped it through the air, and deftly caught it.
He wasn't just some street punk with a toad sticker. He was a trained fighter with experience using a blade, but his little show seemed to have no effect on Salvatore. The man snarled and lunged.
He sliced, stabbed, and slashed with deadly precision. Salvatore moved with unbelievable speed. Stepping, bending, leaning, he easily evaded each of the man's attacks and did so with such ease and grace it almost looked as though he was dancing.
This caught the man slightly off guard, but it also angered him. Salvatore stood directly in front of his assailant. Perfectly calm and even smiling, he taunted his opponent.
"Is that the best you can do?" Salvatore laughed. "I suggest you go home and practice. Maybe in a couple of years, you might actually learn how to use a weapon properly."
That prompted another furious onslaught. The man moved like a whirlwind. He smoothly unleashed a rapid and persistent succession of lethal attacks.
Salvatore moved with such speed, grace, and precision that it made Shaolin monks seem slow, clumsy, and awkward by comparison. With his left hand tucked behind his back, he moved in tight, close, and dizzying circles around the attacker. Only occasionally would he lift his right hand to deflect an oncoming blow.
Without warning, Salvatore reached out and knocked the gleaming blade from the man's grasp. In that moment, the man hesitated only a fraction of a second. Salvatore seized that opportunity to bitch slap the guy squarely across the face.
The blow was sufficient enough to knock the man back a step. Furious, he spat a mouthful of blood to the ground. With rage building beyond his control, he growled like an animal.
An evil glint flashed in Salvatore's eyes. A dark and devilish smile played on his expression. Salvatore smugly shrugged.
"If that's all you got, now it's my turn."
With blinding speed, Salvatore's body transformed into a tornado of motion. Hands, wrists, elbows, shoulders, knees, and feet struck like lightning. An unceasing barrage of blows attacked from every possible angle and direction. A furious storm of relentless pain rained down upon the man like the wrathful scourge of god.
It lasted only seconds and the man crumpled to the ground. He was unconscious, but still alive. Salvatore rushed back to Diana.
She stared at him through a deepening mist. Her vision funneled through a hazy darkness. Then everything went black.
Salvatore scooped her limp body into his arms and stood up. A sudden awareness came to him. They were not alone. A third mortal lurked in the shadows. Using the dark gift, Salvatore reached out with his mind and probed the mortal's consciousness.
Panic-stricken thoughts, violent emotions, a series of horribly bloody and gruesome images flashed like a slideshow. This mortal's mind was not healthy. In fact, it was seriously disturbed, psychotic, and sociopathic.
Salvatore carried Diana to his car, opened the passenger-side door, and gently placed her unconscious body in that leather bucket seat. He climbed behind the wheel, started the engine, and drove off. That dangerously chaotic mind did not follow.
Diana groaned. Her eyes opened and she turned to Salvatore. Staring at him dumbly, she spoke.
"Where did you learn to fight like that?"
He glanced sidelong at her.
"From the people who invented it," he grinned, knowing that statement was far more literal than she'd ever suspect.
"You've been to China?"
"I lived there for quite some time. Occasionally, I return to visit old friends."
"Mmm," she murmured and closed her eyes. With a soft moan, she drifted back to unconsciousness.
When she awoke, Diana found herself at Stormhaven, lying on the couch. Salvatore knelt beside her with a tiny crystal bowl. It contained a clear syrupy liquid. He applied that gooey concoction to a bruise on her knee using a cotton ball.
Diana moved to touch her forehead. He quickly grabbed her hand. She looked at him quizzically.
"I've already treated your head wound. Please, try not to touch it."
Diana's hand dropped to her side. In truth, the gash on her forehead was already healed completely and he didn't want her to realize that just yet. In a matter of seconds, the bruise on her knee would vanish altogether as well.
"Does it hurt?" he asked solicitously.
Diana paused a moment and took stock of herself, but Salvatore knew that she was perfectly fine and felt no pain.
"No, nothing hurts. In fact, I feel surprisingly good."
"There's a potent painkiller in that stuff."
He nodded to the delicate dish that he'd set on the coffee table.
"What is it?" she asked curiously.
"It's an ancient Chinese secret," he laughed, knowing she wasn't old enough to get the commercial reference. "Don't worry. It's all natural and non-toxic. That stuff will have you healed by morning. It has a few pleasant side effects, but nothing harmful."
"Side effects? Like what?"
Again, he laughed.
"You tell me."
Diana sat upright on the couch. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then it hit her.
A gentle euphoria permeated her body. Diana felt unusually strong, flexible, and healthy. She opened her eyes and was awestruck by what she saw. Colors were so vivid they almost vibrated. A spectrum of colored light danced on everything in view.
The most minute details seemed intricately enhanced somehow. Light and shadow played harmoniously all around her. It was like she'd spent her entire life looking at the world through a hazy film, but now that was wiped away.
A thousand smells floated through the air. Each was distinct and identifiable. She could smell the leather upholstered chair in the corner, the unlit vanilla scented candles on the mantle across the room, the black and charred ashes of burned oak in the fireplace.
A hundred different sounds crackled in her ears. She could hear Lucifer's breathing as he slept on that leather chair in the corner. She heard the constant musical trickle of the waterfall in the backyard and the slow rhythmic beat of Salvatore's heart.
Most overwhelming was the myriad physical sensations. The fabric of her clothes against her skin, the feel of that suede upholstered couch under her palms and fingers, was sensuously stimulating. Even the motionless air in this room possessed vibrating currents and slight temperature shifts that caressed her sensitive skin.
It was all so wonderfully intoxicating. Diana's heightened senses flooded her body with stimulating excitement. Everything possessed a new dimension of texture and seductive sensuality.
Her face glowed with an excited childlike exuberance. Without warning, Diana jumped to her feet and left the room. Salvatore followed with an amused grin.
She ran to the kitchen and deeply inhaled the sweet tropical scent of all that fresh ripe fruit. Their rich, deep, and vibrant colors danced like a kaleidoscope before her eyes. It was a magnificent feast of epicurean delights that decadently pleasured her senses.
Salvatore took a delicate long long-stemmed glass made of fine Austrian crystal and set it before Diana. He retrieved a chilled bottle of Dom Perignon and opened it. The long-stemmed glass filled with that tantalizing and sparkling champagne.
The sparkle in Diana's dazzling dark eyes matched the effervescent liquid in that glass as Salvatore handed it to her. She closed her eyes and sniffed at it. She smiled and sighed breathlessly.
"What is it?"
"It's the most romantic champagne in all the world. Possessing such a voluptuous perfume, so sweet an edge, and so subtle a caress, that it's like falling in love. It makes the blood run hot and fills the soul with poetry.
It's like sex in a glass. The light, sweet, silky mousse is more seductive than a fickle mistress. That's the only way to describe it."
The mellow timber of his voice seemed even more melodic and seductive than usual. The sound of it gently stroked the passionate flames of Diana's desires. Affectionately, his voice soothed and massaged her with tender vibrations.
Diana sipped the delicate blend of elegant Chardonnay and rich Pinot Noir. A million tiny bubbles danced against her lips and on her tongue. It was crisp, clean, cool, and sweet. It was like drinking liquid starlight. For the first time, Diana understood what poets meant by the phrase 'nectar of the gods'.
"Close your eyes," Salvatore purred in a silky warm voice.
Diana did as she was instructed. He lightly brushed a ripe crimson strawberry across her pink lips. Slowly, softly, her teeth sliced into the succulent little fruit with a gushing, sticky, wet sound.
The silky soft texture dissolved like cotton candy on her tongue. The juicy sweet pulp melted deliciously in her mouth. Its delicate flavor enhanced by the lingering essence of that sparkling champagne.
Diana sighed, almost moaned, with the sheer sensual pleasure of it all. She smiled dreamily and opened her eyes. Salvatore watched her closely and a deviously wicked grin crept into his expression.
"Feeling adventurous, Diana?"
His voice was not only seductive but daring and delightfully tempting. Without a word, Diana smiled and nodded. A playfully naughty gleam danced mysteriously in her dazzling dark eyes.
He reached for a pineapple and large sharp knife. With amazing skill, he quickly sliced and chopped the fruit. Holding a bite-sized wedge, he flashed an evil grin.
"Hold this between your teeth," he commanded.
Diana took the pineapple wedge from his fingers with her teeth.
Gazing seductively into her eyes, he placed his hand on her cheek with his thumb extended under her chin. Slowly, he leaned close to her. Tilting her face, his tongue lightly touched her skin.
In one gradual and agonizingly pleasurable motion, his velvet tongue blazed a trail from her collarbone, along the side of her neck, to just below her earlobe. A wave of licentious felicity shivered her body. A moan of elation emanated from her throat.
Turning her face, his lips brushed softly against hers as he removed the fruit. The salt from her skin was a delightful contrast to the sweet citrus tang of the pineapple. The flavors mingled in a titillating harmony of complementary opposites.
Diana pulled him down into one of the high-backed stools. She reached for another pineapple wedge. Her gaze didn't waver from his as she held it to his lips. He took it between his teeth, just as she had done for him.
Diana's hands pressed their palms against his chest. She could feel the pulsing throb of his heartbeat. Leaning close, her playful tongue danced across his skin. It traveled the length of his neck, as his had done to her.
He wrapped his arms around Diana's tiny waist and pulled her close. Her hand snaked up his chest, over his shoulder, and to the back of his neck. She cradled his head lovingly as she plucked the fruit from him. Again, their lips met briefly, softly, and tenderly.
Diana lingered close to him and savored the intimacy of that moment. It was at once comforting and exciting. Reluctantly, she moved away from him.
He slipped that glass of champagne into her delicate hand. Raising it to those soft pink lips, she emptied the crystal flute and placed it back on the counter. Diana sauntered over to the electronic touch screen.
One moment later, a romantic and rhythmic melody drifted softly through the room. She turned, flashed a mischievous grin, then stepped outside. Curiosity tantalized Salvatore and he followed.
⚜️⚜️⚜️
Chapter 14
The Devil's Playground was even more breathtaking at night. Diffused shades of inviting blue and warm pink light filtered through the shimmering water in the pool. The trees, bushes, and shrubbery were decorated with tiny cream-colored bulbs that twinkled like stars in the lush greenery.
Black-light illuminated the translucent white marble statuary. Each sculpture glowed with an eerie bright white aura that was tinged with the slightest cerulean tint. The figures appeared otherworldly, like specters, apparitions, and ghostly vapors that lurked silently in the darkness of this garden paradise.
The romantic music was infectious and the lights were hypnotic. Diana stepped very close to him and pressed the palms of her hands to his chest. She stared solemnly into his eyes and her hands glided over his sheer satin shirt. The slippery smooth material romanced her fingertips as she slowly unfastened each pearl button.
Her slender fingers slipped boldly beneath that flimsy fabric. With palms flat against his taught chest, her hands slid up to his neck, then along each powerfully sculpted shoulder. A soft rustling sound drifted to Diana's ears as Salvatore's shirt slipped from his body and floated listlessly to the ground.
Turning slightly and stepping back, the silky fingers of her right hand trailed from his shoulder, across his smooth chest, and down over his finely shaped washboard stomach. Her fingers momentarily lingered on that clasp at the waistband of his slacks as a mischievous smile played on her beautiful face.
A devious glint glimmered seductively in her eyes as she took one more step back. With arms crossed, she reached for the bottom of her form-fitting t-shirt. In one smooth motion, Diana peeled off that shirt and tossed it casually on a deck chair. Her unwavering gaze only enticed him further as Diana shimmied out of her tight denim shorts.
Turning away, she reached around to unclasp the white satin brassiere. Suddenly, Salvatore's hand caught hers and gently pulled it away. Diana froze momentarily. She could feel the heat of his body standing very close behind hers.
His fingers softly touched the side of her neck. Playful fingers traced the lines of her body, down her back until they reached that clasp. A thumb and forefinger deftly pinched the thin elastic material and unfastened her delicate garment.
With both hands on her hips, he pulled her against him. Salvatore's fingers teased her skin from the gentle curve of those narrow hips, up the sides of her tiny waist, along the sloped ribs, and over her back to her shoulders. Pushing at those two silky straps, his fingers moved down the arc of her shoulders as his face leaned close to her neck.
Diana could feel his hot moist breath on her skin as the satin cups fell from her breasts. Those ribbon-like straps slid down her arms, followed by his fingers. His right arm slithered around her bare waist. Fingers faintly brushed across her skin just above the waistband of her matching white satin bottoms.
He gave a gentle squeeze, pulling her tight against him, teasing the back of her neck with his nose as his left hand tossed her bra on the deckchair. His hands lightly touched her wrists. Slowly, he lifted her arms straight out to either side and guided them toward her ponytail, then he whispered in her ear.
"Let your hair down for me."
He stepped back. Diana granted his request. Her fingers found the hair tie. Seeing her standing there, half-naked with her arms raised, was indescribably alluring.
The outside edge of a very round and curved breast barely peeked around the sideline of her back. It was only a silhouette, just a small glimpse at one of her intimate treasures. That was sexy, he thought, beautiful and sexy.
Pulling free of that elastic tie, those silky fine locks tumbled down her back. She gave a little shake of her head. That lustrous black mane swayed gently against her skin and tickled her naked back.
Again, he stepped close to her. This time, his left arm slipped around her tiny bare waist and pulled her even closer. His right hand reached up to gently gather and brush her silken hair to one side.
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her neck. Diana tilted her head to give him better access. As he nuzzled there, his fingers traced long that satin waistband, then slipped inside. Those fingers slid smoothly from the center out to each side of her hips and one slight tug dropped the silken garment to her knees.
Kneeling behind her, he helped Diana step out of that little satin thong. He tossed it into the chair with the rest of her clothes. Finally, she was completely undressed.
Salvatore rested his cheek against her bare baby-soft bottom. Gently, lovingly, adoringly, he kissed one cheek, then the other. He placed one hand on each of her feet.
As he stood up, his hands moved up her naked flesh. They fondled her calves, teased the backs of her knees, and slinked around front toward the inside of her thighs. Their soft caress continued the journey, traveling precariously close to her most private treasure.
Skillful fingers teasingly skirted that part of her anatomy and traveled on toward her hips, stomach, and ribs. His silky touch playfully avoided contact with her breasts. It circled around, but so very close to them.
His hands carried on, across her chest, just above the gentle swell of her breasts, to her collarbones, down her shoulders, then back up to her neck. One hand under Diana's chin, he tilted her face skyward. Her head fell back to rest on his shoulder and loving lips kissed her cheek.
Turning to face him, their eyes met and locked. Her hands found his waist and unfastened his pants. Slender fingers unzipped them and they fell to his feet. As he had done, she slid her hands in his shorts, hooking her fingers in the waistband, and pushed them to his knees.
She started to kneel before him, but he caught her by the arms, just below her shoulders. He pulled her up and close to him. She wrapped her arms around him as he held her. For a moment, they simply stood there, locked in that embrace.
With gentle strength, he squeezed her close and lifted her tiny nude body from the ground. He stepped from the puddle of clothes, which pooled around his feet. Taking a few steps forward, he set her back down.
Hand in hand, side by side, they walked to the edge of the pool. Together in that primordial paradise, the nude couple looked very much like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. Even the darkly seductive fallen angel lurked in his little cove, silently watching and waiting.
Sweltering water enveloped them in its wet warmth. The tropical lagoon felt more characteristic of a heated bath than a pool. It was so very feverish, in fact, the night air seemed slightly chilled by comparison.
The steamy heat of the water, in contrast to the seemingly cool air, was a sensuously stimulating combination. Gentle currents caressed their naked bodies. Liquid fingers penetrated into every little crack, impregnated every crevice, and lovingly fondled every inch of exposed flesh.
Still holding hands, Diana led him across the pool, through the cascading veil of the flowing waterfall, into the romantically lit grotto, and to the overflowing edge of that boiling cauldron. She slipped over that edge into the jacuzzi and he followed. Those powerful jets forced copious streams of tiny bubbles against their nakedness.
Effervescent globules of air frothed, foamed, and fizzed around their naked bodies. Like a hundred hands with a thousand silky fingers, blisters of bubbles erupted against Diana's sensitive and exposed skin. The concupiscent sensation massaged, tickled, teased, and titillated every secret part of her anatomy.
A million electrical impulses bombarded her senses. Erogenous pleasure overwhelmed her awareness. Carnal stimulation inundated her consciousness to the exclusion of all else.
Ever-increasing waves of orgiastic bliss fanned the flames of illicit desire within her. Undulating ripples of unbridled passion surged through her adolescent body. Diana could no longer restrain her impassioned impulses.
She moved close to him, put her arms around him, and pressed her lips to his. Salvatore wrapped his arms around Diana and pulled her naked flesh close to his. He kissed her softly, tentatively, and lovingly. His lips were gentle, pliant, and satiny smooth.
Diana's silky long legs encircled his waist and she locked her ankles behind him. He pulled her even closer. Her supple young body yielded to his gentle strength and conformed to the shape of his body. She simply melted against his hot wet skin.
Diana's plump young breasts crushed against his firm chest as he held her close and kissed her neck. Diana guided his lips back to hers. She kissed him a little more passionately than before.
He felt her lips part and her velvety soft tongue against his lips. His body shivered with the electric pleasure of it. Her insistent mouth was hungry and greedy. He returned her kiss with even more passion, more love, and more desire. He kissed her in the intimate adult way a man kisses a woman.
In that moment, intimacy alchemized into passion. The passion flowed from her to him. There it mingled with his and that amplified passion flowed back to her. In this way, desire in one, fueled desire in the other. That maddening and seemingly endless cycle brought them both to a fevered pitch.
His hands caressed her nude body and hers did the same to him. Gentle and loving fingers petted, explored, roamed, probed, touched, teased, cradled, and fondled naked wet flesh. Aching bodies, longing hearts, and lonely souls fused by mutual desire into one being. Together, each found sweet comfort in the other.
Diana's febrile heart beat wildly and fervently. The sound of it thumping in her chest and the sound of that sweet virgin blood, throbbing through her veins with each rhythmic pulse, thundered in his ears. That horribly delicious sound caused his own pulse to race.
Suddenly, he released Diana from that passionate embrace. He turned and moved away from her, shamefully hiding his face. This abrupt and unexpected interruption of their little make-out session bewildered Diana.
"What is it? Did I do something wrong?"
In the heat of the moment, Salvatore had lost control of his dark and predatory nature. Those lethal vampiric fangs had exposed themselves and he didn't want Diana to see them. His tongue carefully brushed against those two razor-sharp points.
"No, no. I just bit my tongue and it hurt. That's all."
Summoning all the self-control he could muster, Salvatore retracted those dangerous serpentine incisors by the sheer force of his will. Diana rested her delicate hands on his shoulders solicitously. Slender fingers affectionately pulled him close.
"Aww, poor baby," she consoled. The slightest hint of amusement played in Diana's musical voice. "Here, let me see."
Feminine hands tuned his face to hers. A single finger coaxed Salvatore's tongue from his mouth. Diana leaned close and teasingly licked at his velvety tongue with hers. Greedily, she sucked it into her mouth, but he pulled away from her.
"Wait, Diana."
A perturbed expression of impatience flashed across her face.
He smiled kindly, then affectionately gathered her close. How tender and fragile she seemed in his arms. In that moment, she felt so very delicate to him.
There was something so purely romantic in the way she kissed, in the way she touched him, in the way she let him touch her. There was no hint of guilt in her, no sense of shame. Nor could he detect the rebellious teenage defiance such feelings sometimes produce.
"Diana, I think we both know where this is leading."
He gave a sidelong glance at the large round bed with its satin sheet, piles of pillows, and animal skin blankets. Her gaze followed his and she knew exactly what he meant.
"Are you certain you want to do this?" he asked.
Her voice was timid and shy, but she responded without a moment's hesitation.
"Yes."
"Maybe you should take a little time to consider your decision. I don't want us to do anything in the heat of the moment that you might regret in the harsh light of morning."
"I won't regret this," Diana replied and she seemed so innocently self-assured.
"How do you know? Things have a way of looking very different in the daylight."
"I know because I love you. I want you. I want you to fall in love with me."
"Why?"
"Because you're someone worth falling in love with. You're a dream, a fantasy..."
Salvatore interrupted, "So are you, little girl."
Diana flashed a brief smile. Then a longing sadness filled her eyes as she continued.
"I love you and I adore this place. If we were in love, this would truly be my home too."
In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to wrap Diana in his arms and take her to bed, but he didn't and she moved away from him. She slipped into that crescent-shaped ribbon of water and Salvatore followed. She lifted herself to the rough stone floor and walked to the edge of that great round bed.
She turned to face Salvatore. She stood before him in all her naked glory. Her nude little body was completely exposed to his appreciative gaze.
Diana stood before him without embarrassment or shame. She wanted him to look at her, to see her nakedness, her vulnerability. In some dark and secret way, it thrilled her.
Her wet body glistened in the soft warm light of this secret cave. Her long dark hair tumbled down past her shoulders and around her breasts. Even with those narrow hips, she was voluptuous.
There was something seductively exhibitionist about the way she stood there and gazed back at him. There was an illicit thrill in seeing her this way. In that moment, she was all things naked, good, and sweet to him. In that setting, Diana was a goddess to be worshiped and adored.
She spoke softly with an urgent plea in her voice.
"Make love to me."
With those words, the goddess demanded her tribute.
⚜️⚜️⚜️
Chapter 15
Lying next to her, feeling Diana's naked body beside him in that usually empty bed was comforting. How very unusual it was to not sleep alone. Silently, he studied her as she slept with the perfect trust of childhood.
He adored the ease with which she was willing to go to bed with him. Although Salvatore had not made love to Diana as she asked, he had joined her in that bed. How wonderful it felt to touch her naked flesh, to hold her close, and to kiss her.
It was truly a decadent pleasure. It was hedonistic bliss. It was enough for both of them to just be there in that moment and in each other's arms.
Still, there was an illicit thrill being so close to her in such an intimate way. He liked feeling this sense of immoral danger. Knowing that she was asleep and helpless beside him was so very tempting.
How easy it would be to take her, ravage her, violate her. She was so very young and innocent. How deliciously wrong that would be.
How delicious indeed! Nevertheless, it was not yet time for that forbidden little pleasure. The time to utterly destroy her innocence would come soon enough.
Diana opened her eyes to find herself naked and alone in that large bed. The soft and fuzzy rabbit pelt was unbelievably scrumptious against her bare skin. It fell from her body as she sat up. That long dark hair tumbled past her shoulders and around her breasts.
The scent of chlorine lingered in her hair and clung to her skin. The odor seemed offensively strong. It burned in her nostrils and she didn't like it. She slipped from the bed and into that crescent-shaped ribbon of water.
Passing through that cascading sheet of water at the east side of the waterfall, Diana emerged in the brilliant morning light of the Louisiana sun. It seemed unusually bright and hurt her eyes. As she climbed from the pool, something else caught her attention.
There was a small recess on that side of the waterfall. It seemed odd that she hadn't noticed the little alcove before. Curiously, she moved closer and Diana smiled to herself at what she found there.
Protruding from the stone surface was a showerhead. Below that, she found two control valves for hot and cold water. Tucked in a little opening was a bottle of shampoo, a bar of soap, and a disposable razor.
Salvatore leaned against the balcony rail and watched in silence as Diana adjusted the temperature of that little outdoor shower. He watched as she washed her long black hair. What an absolute vision of loveliness she was.
Secretly watching her, in such a private moment and without her knowledge or consent, was a forbidden voyeuristic thrill. It seemed so intimate and personal. Rarely did life present such a purely tender and endearing experience.
As Diana bathed her nude little body, Salvatore continued to spy on her. He smoked his cigarette, sipped his coffee, and relished the moment. Few sinful pleasures could rival the decadence of that first coffee and cigarette of the morning, he thought.
In that bright morning sun, the water sparkled on Diana's skin and she was beautiful. To see her hands touching her own body and to watch as she shaved her legs was an exquisitely intimate glimpse of femininity. It was rare moments like this, Salvatore mused, that made life worth living.
When Diana reached for the water valves, he silently moved back into the room. She'd never know that he'd stolen this precious little piece of her soul. That would forever remain his treasured secret.
It was far too perfect, far too sweet. Sharing that personal memory with anyone, even her, would only spoil it. To ever put that private experience into words seemed crude and disrespectful somehow.
Diana stepped from the alcove and walked into the kitchen. On a counter, she found the morning paper. The lead story proclaimed the city's serial killer had struck again.
Included was a photograph of the latest victim. Diana was shocked to recognize the face of the man who had attacked her in the alley last night. She took a minute to read the article.
According to police reports, the body was found near the warehouse district. Apparently, the serial killer had slightly altered his murderous pattern. This was the first male victim. All others had been adolescent girls.
However, authorities were certain this crime was perpetrated by the infamous serial killer because the method of death was identical to the others. The body was completely drained of blood with a large gash on his neck. Of course, other evidence and clues supported the theory, but such details were not being released to the public at this time.
Diana carried the paper upstairs and walked into that mysteriously stocked closet. She reached for a pair of denim jeans, but hesitated as her hand touched the fabric. A shudder of disgust poured over her.
The material felt so very coarse and rough between her fingers. The mere thought of that stiff and abrasive cloth against her body suddenly seemed repulsive. In fact, the thought of wearing anything at all seemed wrong and unnatural.
As much as the idea of spending the entire day walking around nude appealed to her, she thought it may be a little awkward with him around. If she had this place all to herself, Diana wouldn't bother getting dressed at all. Then a black satin slip with spaghetti-string shoulder straps caught her eye.
The soft material caressed Diana's body with a lovingly smooth touch as it slipped lightly over her. Picking up the paper once more, she left that little room. Odd metallic sounds echoed through the mansion. Curious, she followed the noise to its source.
Walking to the east wing, she found that first room on the north side of the hall with doors open wide. Intrigued, she peeked into the room. In the center was a massive block of white marble. Salvatore was tapping at it with a little mallet and chisel.
Sensing her presence, he stopped, turned, and smiled at Diana. He motioned for her to enter. Like the other rooms, the exterior wall was mostly glass. Beyond those French windows and doors was a balcony, which provided a wonderful view of the Devil's Playground.
Unlike the other rooms, however, were the plaster walls. Amazingly, the west wall was extravagantly painted. It was divided into three panels. The center panel was a very large reproduction of Botticelli's famous painting entitled 'The Birth of Venus'.
Diana moved close to study it carefully. Obviously, it was hand-painted. The nude figure of Venus was literally life-sized and stood a little taller than Diana.
The detail was astounding and the colors were spectacular. Oddly, the brushstrokes were almost non-existent. The texture of those pigments was unbelievably smooth and flat. Nonetheless, the work itself was very textured.
The veins in the leaves, the ribbed and scaly surface of the giant seashell, those silky strands of the goddess's hair were impressively rich, deep, and vivid. The light and the balance, the depth of detail and realism, were like nothing Diana had ever seen before. This work was a masterpiece of sublime talent.
The other two panels were clearly inspired by Michelangelo. The one to the left depicted Adam and Eve fleeing from Eden. The panel to the right represented the temptation in the garden. Both of these were selected from Michelangelo's work in the Sistine Chapel. Those particular panels were often referred to as 'The Temptation' and 'The Fall'.
However, this work was much larger. Again, the figures were life-size and a little taller than Diana. The original work was really quite small and lacked detail by comparison.
Another notable difference was the style of the painters. Michelangelo's figures were too stout, too wide, almost plump and distorted, with stubby little hands and fingers. This work featured a couple that conformed to a contemporary standard of attractiveness.
They were tall, slender, and athletic with angelic faces. These figures were more perfectly proportioned with far more graceful lines than the originals. The colors were more spectacular and the exacting details were infinitely more defined. Michelangelo's original work seemed bland and amateurish compared to this.
Salvatore directed Diana's attention to the ceiling and she almost gasped at the sight of it. The entire length and width depicted Michelangelo's 'Creation of Adam'. Here too, the figures were more representative of conventional beauty, the lines more graceful, and this work was far more detailed than the original.
Diana turned to Salvatore. He was beaming with pride and a vague awareness settled in her consciousness. Suddenly, it was clear to her that he had painted these masterpieces.
Looking at him with mallet and chisel in hand, it was apparent that he had sculpted those magnificent marble statues in the garden as well. Salvatore recognized this intuitive understanding in her dark eyes and he laughed. It was a deep and mirthful laugh.
He pointed to the east wall, but there was nothing there. The plaster had been sanded smooth as glass. It was primed, flat and dull, but perfectly white. Diana flashed a quizzical look and he spoke softly.
"That wall is yours. It has been prepared just for you. Think of it as virgin canvas. I want you to paint it."
A large white sheet was folded on the floor. Salvatore grabbed one edge and tossed it back with a flourish. Countless unopened tubes of acrylic paint, rows of expensive brushes, and a jar full of freshly sharpened pencils were revealed. Diana's dark eyes sparkled brilliantly at the sight of it.
"You have anything special in mind?" she asked.
"Paint whatever your heart desires. I leave the composition entirely to you."
"It's a large space. I'll have to give it some thought and plan it out."
"As you wish," he shrugged. "Although, you could simply grab a brush and start painting. If you don't like it or change your mind, we can always refinish the wall and begin again."
Diana plucked a pencil from the jar and immediately began sketching on the wall. Salvatore smiled, turned, and chipped away at that mammoth block of marble. For hours, they continued, absorbed in their work, consumed by the creative process, and completely oblivious to the passage of time.
They worked for the better part of the day before Salvatore suggested a break. That's when Diana remembered the newspaper article and showed it to him. He, too, recognized the man in the picture, but Salvatore seemed oddly disinterested.
"Karma is a bitch," he said with a shrug. "What goes around, comes around." With a little chuckle, he added, "It serves the bastard right, though."
"Don't you think it's kind of weird?" she asked.
"Now that you mention it," he paused. "It does seem rather strange that a serial killer would alter an established pattern. Then again, such individuals aren't exactly the pinnacle of mental health or logic."
"That's true," Diana conceded.
"But enough discussion of such unpleasant things. You remember when I dropped you off at work yesterday and I mentioned having some business to take care of?"
"Yes, I remember."
He grinned mischievously and said, "Come, follow me."
⚜️⚜️⚜️
Chapter 16
Taking Diana by the hand, he escorted her downstairs, through the Grand Hall, and out the front door. He stood in front of her, placed her hands on his shoulders, and commanded Diana to close her eyes. She did as he asked.
Walking backward, he led her to the driveway along the east side of the property. He stopped, placed Diana's hands at her sides, then stepped behind her. Salvatore instructed Diana to open her eyes.
Directly in front of her gleamed a glossy new Lotus Elise. It was orange with black accents and sparkled like a diamond in the evening sun. Diana turned to Salvatore.
"I bought it for you yesterday. I hope you like it," he grinned. "That old blue Honda you've been driving is a bit of an eyesore."
"Oh, you shouldn't have..."
"Well, if you don't like it, I can send it back," he teased.
"No, it's beautiful and I love it! But don't you think it's a little extravagant?"
"Not at all. Actually, it's quite sensible. So many of the city streets are too damned narrow and parking is always such a pain. Having a small car is a necessity."
"That's true, but this isn't exactly an economy car. I can barely afford gas with fuel prices the way they are. Not to mention the cost of insurance and maintenance. It is a lovely gift. It's just not very practical."
"To hell with practical! Why be practical?" he laughed. "Here, this is the second surprise."
He placed a small envelope in her hand. She opened it and removed a thin plastic card. Flipping it over, Diana immediately recognized the familiar little object.
"A debit card?" she asked.
"That's right. You'll have to activate it at any ATM and choose a PIN code at that time. This account belongs to you and you alone. I can deposit money into the account, but I can't withdraw even one penny."
"That's a nice gesture, but you needn't give me any money. I do have a job, you know."
He laughed amusedly.
"You don't understand. Remember when we discussed your future? Remember when I said you'll have decisions to make that will affect the rest of your life and that I wanted you prepared to choose wisely?"
"Yes."
"Remember, too, my warning the time would come sooner than you might expect?"
"Yes, I remember."
"This is where it begins, Diana. You see, as executor of their estate, all your parents' assets were entrusted to me. Consequently, I established a trust fund in your name and transferred all their financial resources to that trust. The money in that account is your inheritance. It rightfully belongs to you."
Diana was shocked.
"This is the first I've heard of it."
"I know, but that's unimportant. What you need to understand is that, according to the terms of this trust, you'll receive five hundred dollars each week while you're eighteen. From that point, the amount doubles. However, it remains my responsibility to manage the fund until you turn twenty-one. At that time, all control reverts to you."
A thought crept into Diana's mind. It seemed inappropriate to ask, but she was curious to know. Exactly, how much had been left to her? Knowing her thoughts, Salvatore didn't give her a chance to ask.
"Four years ago, it was a respectable little sum. The amount has grown since then. I made some rather wise investments and now it's quite substantial. Suffice it to say, you'll never starve to death. Consider yourself financially independent. In fact, you'll never need to work a day in your life, if you so chose."
Those statements weren't exactly true. There was a trust fund in her name and it was quite an impressive sum, but her parents' estate had little to do with it. They had little money, no life insurance, and didn't even own their home.
Salvatore, on the other hand, was a man of incalculable wealth and inexhaustible means. After thousands of years, he managed to accumulate unbelievable resources. In the past, he acquired many priceless treasures and vast real estate holdings throughout the world. However, by the last half of the 1900s, he liquidated nearly all of his material possessions.
For the first time in history, it was possible to make money with nothing but money. The world's stock exchanges, investment opportunities, and international banking have made many men extremely wealthy in this modern era.
In prehistoric times, wealth was built on trading and bartering. Historically, however, land ownership was the only means of generating any real fortune. Then the world changed. Bankers and the merchant class arose. Great wealth was to be made primarily from trade.
Again, the world changed with the advent of industrialization and financial gain was amassed through the production of goods. With the advent of commercialization, the middlemen and brokers became the newly rich. Most recently, technology was the big money maker.
Salvatore was there to witness and capitalize on each new trend every step along the way. Millennia after millennia, he watched civilizations rise and fall. He studied and understood the nature of man. He learned from the development of society.
This provided unparalleled insight and foresight. These two things, in addition to those dark gifts, had been the key to his survival and prosperity. Now, he used this trust fund as a duplicitous means of passing some small portion of that prosperity to Diana.
"Why don't you get dressed and take it for a spin. You could run into town and activate that card."
Diana giggled with glee.
"You wanna ride along?" she asked.
Salvatore shook his head.
"No. I have a few things to take care of here."
Diana was obviously disappointed by his response. He smiled and a devious glimmer sparked his brilliant blue eyes.
"When you get back, why don't we get dressed up, go out for a late dinner, and a wild night on the town? Would you like that?"
"Why, Mr. Sabatini, are you asking me out on a date?" she teased.
"Yes, Miss Sinclaire. I believe that I am."
"Then I suggest you do it properly, Mr. Sabatini."
Salvatore's baby blues sparkled like blazing sapphires and he laughed. He reached for her hand and held it gently in his. Gazing directly into her dazzling dark eyes, he spoke softly and his voice simply oozed charm.
"Miss Diana, would you allow me the privilege of being your companion this evening?"
"Why certainly, Mr. Sabatini. I'd be delighted."
He smiled, bowed, and kissed her hand. She returned the smile, curtsied, and batted her eyelashes in the style of a true southern belle. At this, they both laughed.
Within minutes, Diana had dressed, slipped behind the wheel, and piloted that exotic little sports car down the drive. That powerful supercharged engine roared as the car sped eastward along Old River Road and toward town. In a matter of seconds, it was out of sight.
⚜️⚜️⚜️
Chapter 17
Darkness had fallen over Stormhaven by the time Diana returned. A long black limousine was parked at the end of the drive near to the house. It was a curious sight and Diana wondered what it was doing there.
She rushed into the house, but stopped dead in her tracks soon as she entered. Through those double French doors to the living room, she saw Salvatore. He was in the arms of a sultry, slender, but curvy redhead.
The woman affectionately pressed her lips to Salvatore's cheek as she held him in her embrace. Anger boiled in Diana's face and a twinge of jealousy panged her heart. A queasy nausea gnawed at the empty pit of her stomach.
Salvatore saw Diana's pained reaction. He placed his hands on the redhead's arms, just below her shoulders and gently, but firmly, pushed the woman away. He smiled innocently and called out.
"Diana, come meet Amorette."
The woman turned to face Diana. She was very petite and the green velvet dress hugged every delicate line, every luscious curve of her small body. Amorette smiled, but it was a cold, detached, and insincere smile.
There was something very wrong about this woman. Her skin was too pale. Her eyes were too green. Her hair was too lustrous and there was something about her smile. That smile was all wrong. It was venomous and evil.
Diana entered the room apprehensively and eyed Amorette suspiciously. The redhead would have been very attractive if it wasn't for the menacing aura that emanated so strongly from her. The woman seemed sinister and serpentine.
Amorette possessed that cold, distant, almost slimy, sort of snake-like repulsiveness. She even moved with the deceptively slow, smooth, and undulating slither of a snake. Her iridescent green eyes sparkled as brilliantly as her emerald earrings and they radiated a supreme dislike of Diana.
A subtle change crept into Amorette's expression. Her face was unnaturally smooth with no lines, wrinkles, or creases. With a smug sense of superiority, she spoke in a heavy French accent.
"Hello, Diana."
Unmistakable undertones of contempt and disdain poisoned her words. Clearly, she was not pleased by this interruption. It was obvious that Amorette did not like Diana. It was also clear that feeling was mutual.
Diana did not like Amorette or her presence here. Diana did not like the familiarity between Amorette and Salvatore. Diana definitely did not like the way Amorette had looked at him. Amorette looked at Salvatore with a lustful and hungry desire in her eyes. It was the way Salvatore often looked at Diana and the animosity between the two women was palpable.
Suddenly, Diana realized the cause of Amorette's displeasure. The sultry redhead was jealous of her. This realization filled Diana with a new sense of confidence.
No longer was she threatened by the woman or her presence. The insecurity, suspicion, and unexpected shock of finding those two in that intimate embrace faded away. With a relaxed sense of calm, Diana seized the advantage.
Placing her arms around Salvatore, Diana pulled him close and kissed him full on the mouth. It was a deep, lingering, and passionate kiss. Her hand lovingly caressed his cheek as she spoke.
"Hello, daring."
Diana turned and stood with her arm around Salvatore's waist. She smiled smugly at Amorette and greeted her with a syrupy sweetness in her voice.
"We'll be going out for dinner shortly. Would you care to join us?"
Amorette gave a throaty and husky laugh.
"No, my dear. I'm afraid that I have a previous engagement."
Her smile turned even more malicious. A wicked glint glimmered in those catlike green eyes.
"Perhaps another time, my child."
Amorette moved close and placed her hand against Diana's cheek.
"I'm certain the three of us would have a positively orgasmic time with each other," Amorette purred. Then she kissed Diana's lips sensuously and provocatively.
That gesture caught Diana off guard and her whole body stiffened. She found this woman repugnant and offensive. A shiver of revolting disgust rippled through her.
Amorette pressed her palm over Salvatore's heart, kissed his cheek, and bid him farewell. Stepping back, her fingers slipped along his chest, down his stomach, and treacherously close to his maleness before breaking contact. Amorette walked in her typical, slinky, and slithering fashion to the door.
Pausing at the open threshold, she turned once more to the couple still standing arm in arm. Amorette lifted a delicate hand, pressed her lips to those slender fingers, and blew a kiss to Diana and Salvatore. Giving a little wave with a teasing wiggle of her fingers, Amorette closed the door behind her.
Neither Salvatore nor Diana spoke a single word. The limousine crept slowly down the drive. It was the only sound to disturb that silence. Certain they were alone, Diana turned to Salvatore.
"How do you know her?"
Diana emphasized the word 'her' as though it was distasteful. The contempt in her voice was the same as if she had been referring to a whore. Her tone was accusatory, as though she'd returned home to find him in bed with another woman. Salvatore was amused by Diana's reaction.
"That's so sweet," he chuckled. "You're jealous of her."
Diana's blood boiled. Fingernails gouged her palms as fingers curled into clenched fists. Her face turned scarlet with rage and she exploded. A furious storm of angry words assaulted his ears.
"You think this is funny? Do you think this is some sort of a game? Is it amusing that I shared your bed last night and tonight I find you in the arms of another woman? I don't find the situation even the slightest bit humorous! Do I mean so little to you?"
She was beautiful in her fury. Her dazzling dark eyes flashed with rage. Her feathery brows furrowed with intensity. Gleaming tears streaked crimson cheeks flushed with scarlet anger. The pained agony of a broken heart lurked bittersweet behind hurt-filled eyes.
No, her pain and anger weren't funny. It wasn't humorous, but it was beautiful. It was beautiful and delightfully exciting.
The tangible passion in her voice, the pleading and exquisite pain in her eyes, those soft sensuous tears were magnificent. The powerful anger, the dangerous rage, the impassioned fury, the tempest of unbridled and pure emotion betrayed the darkness within Diana. It was that darkness her mysterious eyes had only hinted at until now.
Now he understood with perfect clarity the indefinable, ethereal, and irresistible force that had drawn him to her. It was the inescapable allure of that darkness within her. The darkness compelled him and captivated him. Darkness had always driven his desire, his insatiable craving to take her, possess her, dominate her, ravage her, to devour her body and soul.
Still, the emotions poured from her. Harsh and angry words flowed from soft and kissable lips. Tears flowed freely now, streaming down her wet cheeks. Moist drops darkened her shirt where they fell in splatters on her chest.
"Who is she? Did you sleep with her? Is she your secret lover, your mistress? Is that her bedroom upstairs? Is that her bed, her clothes in the closet, her jewelry, and her perfume?"
The relentless tirade battered him until he could stand it no longer. Salvatore grabbed Diana by her arms. His unyielding grip held her tightly, but with gentle strength. His hands just below her shoulders were hard as steel, but they held her as lovingly as a velvet glove.
"Stop it!"
He gazed into her eyes tenderly and affectionately. His voice rolled soft and sincere.
"Listen, Diana. She is nothing to me, less than nothing. It's you, Diana. It's all for you, the room upstairs and everything in it. I bought it all for you. The clothes, the jewelry, the perfume, and the bed, it's all for you."
She stood utterly motionless and speechless. His words, though soft and gentle, were just as impassioned as hers had been. His eyes pleaded with unspoken desperation. They begged for her forgiveness, for compassion, for love.
"Don't you see? I love you, Diana. I always have. Since the day we first met, I have loved you and only you. Take a look around. This place is for you. Everything you see is for us to share, you and me. It's you that I love. It's you that I want, no one else but you. Do you understand?"
For a long moment, they stood there in silence. His words slowly settled in her mind. Her tears still flowed, but they were different now. They were tears of relief, tears of understanding, tears of love. Her voice came weak and trembling.
"But the way she looked at you, the familiarity between you..."
"Forget that," he scolded. "It's true that she and I have a past. I won't lie to you about that. I won't ever lie to you about anything, Diana, even though I know the truth will sometimes hurt you. However, you must understand that she is the past. We were lovers once, but that was a very long time ago, long before you and I ever met, before you were born, in fact. Understand when I say that you are my present. You are my future. You are my life now."
"You swear that's not her bed in the room upstairs?"
"Of course it's not her bed, Diana! Tonight was the first time she ever set foot in this house. That I swear. Seeing how it's upset you, this is the last time she'll ever set foot here. I promise you that."
"So who is she and what was she doing here tonight?"
"Amorette is the daughter of Armand de Bourbon and a spoiled little brat. She's a cold, empty, and heartless bitch. She's truly a cruel and vile creature. She cares for nothing but power and her lust for that is insatiable. Amorette was only here tonight on behalf of her father."
To hear Salvatore speak of Amorette in that manner soothed Diana's heart, but only a little. Salvatore paused and frowned. A veil of painful darkness fell upon his face and he shook his head.
"Well, that's not the only reason," he grimaced. "I don't want to tell you this, but... She wanted to resume our old relationship. I told her that was completely out of the question. I wasn't interested in her or anything she could offer. I informed her, in no uncertain terms, that my heart now belongs to another. What she and I once had is in the past and that's where it would remain. She didn't much like it, but she knows better than to press my patience."
"Who is Armand de Bourbon?"
"A very powerful man. We've had business dealings in the past. He wanted to personally welcome me to the city. Unfortunately, he's out of town and sent Amorette to deliver his message and extend a gracious invitation to meet with him upon his return."
"Does he know about you and her?"
"He does, but he also knows that she's a spoiled brat. He knows it was Amorette who pursued me. He knows that Amorette was to blame for the unpleasant dissolution of the relationship. Armand bears no ill will toward me over the whole sordid affair."
Diana weighed his words carefully. He looked at her for a moment. She was calm and composed now. The tears had dried from her face. Only the dark spots on her shirt gave evidence she had cried. Well, that and the tiny clumps of moist spiked eyelashes.
Together, they sat on the plush suede couch. Salvatore placed one arm around Diana. With a deep breath and solicitude in his voice, he spoke.
"What about you, Diana? Do you want to punish me for things that happened before you were born?"
"No, not for the past. My concern is the present, what happened here tonight, what could happen in the future."
"Diana," he purred. "I did not invite Amorette here tonight, nor shall I invite her here in the future. This place is yours and mine. It's our sanctuary. There is no need to fret over the future. I assure you. We will have no further contact with her."
A strange look of curiosity peaked in Diana's expression. A new question burned in her thoughts. Actually, it was an old question. One she'd asked before, but Salvatore had managed to avoid answering.
"As long as we're discussing the past and you're in the mood to confess, tell me, when did we first meet?"
His face suddenly darkened and sadness melted his expression.
"I was hoping you wouldn't ask about that."
"Why?"
"The circumstances that brought us together were not pleasant."
⚜️⚜️⚜️
Chapter 18
"What do you remember about the last few days you spent in Illinois?"
"Not much, I'm afraid. Bits and pieces mostly. It's all a little hazy, but I remember the graveside service."
He reached over and gently took her hand. It felt very small and very fragile to him. He gave it a soft little squeeze.
"Close your eyes and describe what you see."
A strange sensation flowed through her. Diana's eyes fluttered and closed. Everything faded away. Her mind drifted gently back to that awful day.
"I'm standing in the cemetery and someone is standing beside me. A man, a stranger, someone I don't know, but I feel safe because he's there. He's holding my hand and that's comforting."
"What happens next, Diana?"
"I'm sad because my parents are gone and I'm all alone. I start to cry, but the man kneels down and puts his arms around me. He hugs me, holds me, and comforts me. Somehow, he makes all the bad feelings go away. It's almost magical."
"And then?"
"I feel safe, warm, and loved. I recall thinking that he was like a guardian angel, sent to take care of me, but he wasn't an angel. He was a man. He dried my tears and I looked into his face."
"And what did you see?"
"I saw blue eyes, sparkling blue eyes, like blazing sapphires. They were kind, gentle, and caring eyes. Then I saw..."
Diana's eyes opened wide, breaking her trance-like state. She gazed at him with an expression of sudden understanding.
"I saw you!"
"That's right and the next day, I asked you to choose..."
"Who I wanted to live with and who I wanted to take care of me."
"And you answered?"
"You, I wanted you to take care of me."
"That broke my heart, because I wanted to take you, but it simply was not possible."
"So, I chose to stay with Aunt Maria and Uncle Mike."
"I brought you down here and they were grateful to have you. That's when I gave Lucifer to you. Then we said goodbye, but I promised to return. Mike and Maria welcomed you into their home and loved you like a daughter."
"Yes, they did."
"I never forgot that promise, Diana, and I never forgot you. Not a single day passed without thoughts of you."
"And that's why you've returned, to keep that promise?"
"Yes."
"So why couldn't I remember all this till now?"
"My guess is the shock of what happened was simply too much for a young girl. Your mind repressed those memories to protect you from the trauma. Regardless, now you know and it's probably best not to dwell on such memories. Let's talk of happier things. Shall we?"
"Like what?" she asked.
"How about fashion to start with? There's an excellent selection of evening dresses in your closet upstairs. I'm certain you can find some elegant thing to wear. What do you say we get cleaned up, then go out for a fabulous meal and a carefree night on the town?"
Diana wasn't exactly in the mood to party, but she could do with a good hot meal. Most of the day had passed and she'd eaten nothing. The thought of a hot shower sounded good to her as well.
After a little more coaxing, Diana begrudgingly agreed they should at least grab a bite to eat. Together, they exited the living room and climbed the stairs. Each went to their bedchambers and prepared for the evening.
Diana wasted no time in stripping off her clothes and stepping into that steamy shower. The hot water worked its usual magic. It soothed her body and calmed her mind.
All tension and worrisome thoughts melted away. They flowed out from her and washed down the drain with that clear cleansing liquid.
Feeling relaxed and refreshed, Diana thumbed through the assortment of fine evening dresses in that walk-in closet. She noticed they were all designer labels and quite expensive. One in particular caught her attention.
It was made of soft and sensuous black satin. The material felt so very silky smooth under her fingers. Yes, that's the one she'd wear tonight. The sheer fabric would feel fantastically scrumptious against her body.
Standing before that large oval mirror mounted on the vanity, Diana recalled Salvatore's words.
"It's all for you, the room upstairs and everything in it. I bought it all for you. The clothes, the jewelry, the perfume, and the bed, it's all for you."
That's what he'd said and suddenly, she realized this was her room. Everything in it belonged to her. All these things had been chosen specifically for her.
Diana examined that matched set of combs and brushes, which lay atop the antique brass vanity table. She held a heavy and highly polished metal brush. It was cold in her hand and engraved with an intricate design. Most likely, it was sterling silver and very old.
Diana sorted through the many bottles of perfume. There was the predictable selection of Obsession for women, Giorgio for women, and Navy for women. There was a bottle of White Diamonds, some unusual vanilla-scented perfume from Mexico, which Diana didn't recognize, and the inexpensive vial of the sweet scent simply called Beautiful.
Most unexpected was the one-ounce bottle of Jean Patou's Joy, which carries an eight-hundred-dollar price tag. That was a popular fragrance among Hollywood celebrities and has a heavy floral scent of precious rose and jasmine. Next to it sat three other perfumes by the same designer, Amour Amour, Adieu Sagesse, and Que Sais Je.
Next to those was a fifteen-hundred-dollar-per-ounce perfume named 24 Faubourg made by the French fashion house, Hermes International. Behind it was an equally expensive bottle of Annick Goutal's Eau d'Hadrien. Diana held that close and inhaled its scent. It possessed a fresh citrus blend of Sicilian lemons, grapefruit, and cypress.
A limited edition fragrance called Les Larmes Sacrees de Thebe combined frankincense and myrrh. It filled an exquisite Baccarat crystal bottle. This little item retailed for about seventeen hundred dollars.
There was the unmistakable fragrance of heavy jasmine from Parisian couturier, Gabrielle 'Coco' Chanel. One of the world's most famous perfumes, a bottle of Chanel Number Five this size carried a price of nearly eighteen hundred dollars.
Nearby was a specially commissioned vial of Henry Dunay's Sabi. That possessed a staggering cost of thirty thousand dollars an ounce. Most unbelievable was the bottle of Imperial Majesty. With a two hundred fifteen thousand dollar price tag, it was the most expensive perfume in the world!
Imperial Majesty was a limited edition signature scent by Clive Christian. Only five bottles were made each year. The fragrance is priced at twenty-one thousand dollars an ounce. However, the primary reason Imperial Majesty flaunts such an extravagant price is that Christian packaged seventeen ounces in a Baccarat crystal bottle and mounted a five-carat diamond into the eighteen-carat gold collar.
Setting by itself, on the opposite end of the large vanity, was a peculiar crystal vial. It was marked only with the name Diana. Curiously, she picked it up and turned it over. The bottom was marked with the name Guerlain.
That was a boutique on Champs Élysées in Paris, which offered a service called Le Parfum Sur Mesure. It included a personal consultation, which required between six months to a year and allowed customers to create their own perfume with the help of the store's fragrance director. When finished, no one else can purchase any custom scent and the cost of that service averaged roughly thirty-six thousand dollars.
It was inconceivable to her that anyone would spend such an absurd amount of money on anything as frivolous as these designer fragrances. My god, Diana thought. Well over a quarter million dollars worth of perfume was sitting there. That was simply insane.
Again, his words echoed in her mind.
"It's all for you, the room upstairs and everything in it. I bought it all for you. The clothes, the jewelry, the perfume, and the bed, it's all for you."
Those were his words and they haunted her. Then more of that conversation floated back to her. Had he declared his feelings for Diana? In the passion of that moment, had he professed his love for her?
Yes, he had. Diana was certain of it. Salvatore's imploring voice filled her thoughts.
"I love you, Diana. I always have. Since the day we first met, I have loved you and only you. It's you that I love. It's you that I want, no one else but you. Do you understand?"
No, she hadn't understood, not just then anyway. But now? Now, she was beginning to.
What other confessions had he made? Diana thought hard for a moment. Then she recalled his elegant declarations.
"Take a look around. This place is for you. Everything you see is for us to share, you and me. Understand when I say that you are my present. You are my future. You are my life now."
As she stood in that room, a new understanding flooded over her. A powerful feeling of belonging enraptured her. He loved her and he wanted her here.
Somehow, she knew that Salvatore wanted her to stay here indefinitely. He wanted her to live here and with him. Diana realized that she would never have to leave this place and in that moment, she felt this truly was her home.
A wonderful feeling of contentment filled her completely. Diana beheld this room and everything in it with new eyes and a new sense of ownership. Now, she understood!
A sudden knock at the chamber door roused Diana from her reverie. She opened it to find Salvatore dressed in his usual finery, looking suave and debonair. For a man, he certainly had excellent fashion sense.
Salvatore grinned and his brilliant eyes glimmered as Diana stood before him. The dress she'd chosen was elegantly daring and sophisticatedly sexy. The smooth black satin clung tightly to her tiny waist and accentuated the gentle feminine curves of her hips.
Its full-length gown flowed gracefully down to her ankles. The shiny fabric parted perilously high along her left thigh and exposed the long tanned skin of that silky smooth leg. As for the top half, it was positively scandalous.
The wide V-cut neckline plunged all the way down to the waistline and revealed the plump cleavage of her young breasts. It had no sleeves and no back or sides to speak of. The ribbon of black cloth fastened at the back of her neck and lightly draped over her chest before tapering as it continued toward her waist.
Her shoulders, arms, the sides of her ribs and her back were bare and exposed. The flimsy fabric gently floated over her skin. Even one careless motion or the slightest slouch threatened to reveal more of her body than would be socially acceptable.
"How do I look?" Diana asked with a smile and gave a little turn to provide him with a complete view.
"Rape-able," he responded with that typically charming grin and a lust-filled glimmer in his eyes. "That dress seems more appropriate for the bedroom than a late dinner."
Diana laughed and the musical sound of it made her seem all the more alluring.
"It's one of the dresses you bought for me, but if you don't like it, I can wear something else," she teased.
⚜️⚜️⚜️
Chapter 19
The French Quarter is a warren of narrow little streets, which have occupied the same six-by-thirteen-block area for nearly three hundred years. Bordered to the southeast by the Mississippi River, Rampart Street to the northwest, Canal Street to the southwest, and Esplanade Avenue to the northeast, the Quarter is the oldest and most famous neighborhood in the city. It's a local community with grocery stores, restaurants, banks, a police station, and many private homes.
However, the most remarkable feature of the French Quarter is the ambiance and atmosphere. The antebellum architecture is authentic and genuine. The buildings are not historic reproductions.
The Quarter is one of the best-preserved historical neighborhoods in this country. In fact, to this day, it remains the only intact French Colonial and Spanish settlement in the United States. The district exudes such strong old-world influence that you actually feel as though you are standing in a foreign country.
It's nearly impossible to truly appreciate the splendid grandeur of the French Quarter without sufficient knowledge of history and the Quarter has a very long and rich history, indeed. Besides being one of the most visually interesting settings in America, it's a place of significant historical importance.
The settlement was founded by the French Mississippi Company, under the direction of Jean Baptiste Le Moyne, Sieur de Bienville, in 1718. It was named for Philippe II, Duke of Orleans, who was Regent of France at the time.
The entire colony was centered around the Vieux Carré or Old Square. Some people still refer to this district by that old name. Today, however, it's most commonly referred to as the French Quarter or simply as the Quarter.
La Nouvelle Orleans was first established as a fortress city. Originally, the settlement intended to control the flow of resources from North America and protect the wealth those resources produced for France. The city's geographic position was of great strategic importance.
As a shipping port situated at the Gulf of Mexico, it allowed France to control access to the interior of North America via the great Mississippi River and thus was a highly desirable locale. However, the unique geography of the river delta made this a challenging location in which to build a city. At that time, most of the area was nothing more than beautiful but useless swampland.
Over the years, possession of the settlement changed hands multiple times. The French colony was granted to the Spanish Empire by the Treaty of Paris in 1763 and remained under Spanish control until 1801, when it reverted to French control. Finally, in 1803, Napoleon sold the territory to the United States as part of the Louisiana Purchase.
While Spanish rule was relatively short, it had some lasting and significant effects. Specifically, the French Quarter was virtually destroyed by two unfortunate fires during that period. The Great Fire of 1788 burned more than eight hundred fifty buildings. Six years later, an additional two hundred buildings were lost in a second blaze.
Those two catastrophic fires destroyed most of the Quarter's old French colonial architecture, which allowed the colony's Spanish overlords to rebuild in accordance with contemporary standards. Subsequently, the buildings were reconstructed in typical Spanish style with those wonderful wrought iron balconies, galleries, and central courtyards.
The old French peaked roofs were replaced by flat tiled ones. Wooden siding was replaced by fire-resistant stucco and was painted in those pastel hues that were so fashionable at the time. As a result, colorful walls, roofs, and elaborately decorated ironwork dominate the architecture of the French Quarter. Today, many buildings date back to that rebuilding effort, which explains why the dominant architectural style is actually Spanish, not French.
All of this Salvatore explained as the couple made their way, arm in arm, toward the restaurant and Diana listened with sincere interest. For her, it was like one of those local tours that she was so fond of. Only this was more intimate, more romantic.
A crowd of young college kids, who were obviously tourists, had been following close behind the pair as they strolled along Royal Street. They, too, had been listening to this little private tour of the Quarter. The females of the group in particular listened intently to Salvatore's seductive voice and this did not escape his attention.
Diana remarked how she was especially fond of the balconies and their lacy ornate ironwork. Acknowledging her interest, Salvatore continued but directed his oratory toward that subject.
"Wrought iron balconies, which line these narrow streets, are one of the French Quarter's most prominent and memorable features. Visitors like to photograph them. Artists love to paint them. Hotels and bars promote them as an ideal perch from which to view the constant parade of people passing.
Interestingly, balconies often serve as a space of personal expression for the inhabitants of these buildings. Commonly, they resemble a tropical garden teaming with ivy, ferns, bromeliads, begonias, and bougainvillea. Others use them as elevated displays to exhibit personal treasures that include everything from artwork and antiques to such oddities as suits of armor.
The fact that wrought iron is strong, resistant to rust, and quite malleable made it an ideal material for such ornamental metalwork. You see, back in the day, blacksmiths worked with wrought iron, which was made and refined in charcoal fires, because charcoal iron withstands corrosion for hundreds of years. That's clearly evident from much of the ironwork in the Quarter, most of which is already two hundred years old.
That was its major advantage in a tropical climate such as we have here. Unfortunately, traditional decorative ironwork is not easy to maintain. Repousse, that is, metal which has been shaped or decorated with patterns in relief formed by hammering and pressing, is typically difficult to paint.
In fact, a majority of balcony railings in the French Quarter are actually made of cast iron, not wrought iron. Most of the cast iron metalwork in the Quarter dates to the 1850s when that fashion of adornment was quite popular. Once milled steel was introduced, wrought iron gradually disappeared."
Glancing back, he noticed the little group had not yet lost interest. So just east of the Andrew Jackson Hotel, he stopped and directed everyone's attention to the building on the south side of the street.
"This is something really interesting."
He said as a mischievously charming grin played upon his face. He crossed the street with Diana still locked in his arm. Surprisingly, the group of college kids followed.
The guys were obviously less interested than the girls. Nonetheless, the females grabbed their fellas by the arm and dragged them along behind. The small group gathered near Salvatore and Diana. One of the guys leaned against a metal pole that supported the gallery above them.
"Galleries are an architectural feature you'll often see in the French Quarter. Locals always make a distinction between balconies and galleries. A balcony is narrow and self-supported. A gallery is much wider. It extends over the entire sidewalk and is supported from the ground by iron poles or columns."
Salvatore explained and pointed to the very pole the young man leaned against so casually.
"You'll notice many galleries have a collar of curved and upturned spikes protruding near the top of each column. These are an old sort of security feature. They were installed as much to keep burglars out as to protect what was inside. Any father of a teenage daughter understands exactly what purpose they serve. Locals have a special name for those spikes. They call them Romeo-Catchers.
One night, at this very gallery in fact, a man decided to take his family out to dinner. However, his daughter didn't feel up to it. She pretended to be sick, but insisted the rest of the family go without her."
The boys exchanged knowing glances and smiled at each other. Salvatore noticed this and grinned.
"I'm sure you can guess where this is going, right?"
He asked and the boys all nodded in unison. Giving a little chuckle, Salvatore continued with the story.
"After the family had left, her beau showed up. Naturally, they started to do exactly what teenagers do when their parents aren't home. As luck would have it, soon as the family arrived at the restaurant, father realized that he'd forgotten his wallet. So, he returned home to fetch it.
Foolishly, the boy didn't leave through the back door when he heard the father coming. Of course, he didn't think to hide quietly downstairs. In his infinite wisdom, he bounded upstairs to the daughter's bedroom.
Well, the father walked in and he immediately knew something was up. A noise echoed from upstairs and he did what any good southern man would do in that situation. He grabbed his shotgun.
His daughter cried and pleaded. She tried to stop him because she didn't want him to go upstairs and kill her boyfriend. The father simply moved his daughter aside and went up the steps.
Later, her father said the shotgun wasn't loaded. At least, that's what he claimed in the official police report, which was reprinted in the newspaper.
By the way, you can find that report at the town hall. All those old papers were transferred to uncataloged microfiche. So you'll have to do a bit of searching. Nevertheless, it is there if you really want to find it.
Anyway, the boy had a brilliant idea. He was going to jump away from the gallery. Then, just after he passed the Romeo-Catcher, he'd grab onto that gallery pole and slide safely down.
Everything was going well. He was all set and just about to jump. Then suddenly, the father burst through the door.
The boy saw that angry father with a shotgun in hand. The young fella was so frightened that he immediately jumped or maybe he slipped. At any rate, in his haste and anxiety, the boy grabbed right onto that pole.
The Romeo-Catcher impaled his leg. It tore through his thigh, through the pelvic bone, and up through his stomach, but it didn't stop there. Witnesses claim they heard the CRACK... CRACK... CRACK... as it broke through each of his ribs."
The boys exchanged excited and approving smiles. They reveled in the brutal imagery. Their female companions, however, shivered and shook their heads in disgust. Salvatore grinned and continued his little narrative.
"For one gruesome moment, the boy was suspended on the Romeo-Catcher and simply dangled there. Apparently, his collarbone had caught on the spiked hook. However, that tiny bone wasn't strong enough to support the full weight of the boy's limp body for long. It also broke and the boy fell to the street below.
Now, understand, the brain remains conscious approximately forty-five seconds without proper blood supply and they say from where the eviscerated boy lay, he stared up at that Romeo-Catcher. The boy saw his disemboweled intestine had been ripped from his body. Like a bloody ribbon, it streamed from his stomach and trailed up to that iron spike."
Salvatore paused and looked directly at the youth who still leaned against that gallery pole.
"So if you're standing here on a warm summer night, leaning on that very pole, and feel something wet and sticky dripping on your shoulder, if you touch it and look at your hand, when you realize it's blood, don't panic. Even if it's dripping into your hair, even if you look up and see human guts oozing down that pole, don't bother to scream. For if you run up and down this street, screaming that someone's been killed on the gallery, no one will pay any attention. The locals have heard it all before. In fact, multiple accounts of that same story have been reported in newspapers and they date back for ages."
"Bullshit!" Grinned the young man.
Salvatore laughed with wildly wicked delight. He raised a single eyebrow and gave a half-shrug.
"I've seen the papers down at the library, but if you don't believe me, you can look for yourself and make up your own mind."
With that, Salvatore and Diana moved on, leaving the group of youngsters all staring at the Romeo-Catcher and wondering how much of the story to believe.
⚜️⚜️⚜️
Chapter 20
Built nearly two hundred years ago, Bourbon House was located at the corner of St. Peter and Bourbon Street. Presently known as Embers Steak House, it has been home to many locals, movie stars, and other famous people.
The Embers was an excellent place to enjoy the charm and ambiance of the old French Quarter, while dining on fresh seafood, great steaks, and authentic Cajun or Creole cuisine. With ornate and intricate ironwork, it boasted the largest gallery on Bourbon Street and offered a truly spectacular view. From romantic little tables on that broad second-story gallery, couples could watch all the night's festivities taking place on the street below.
When Diana and Salvatore entered, they were immediately met by a charming young hostess. She escorted them through the crowded restaurant, up to the second level, and to a cozy candlelit table on the gallery. Everyone seemed to stop and stare at the attractive couple as they passed by.
Customers paused with forkfuls of food halfway to their mouths. Some were dumbstruck and fell silent mid-sentence. Still others turned nearly backward in their seats to gaze at the spectacle. More than one person choked on their drinks. Even the wait-staff were distracted from their duties.
This was something that Salvatore had grown accustomed to. Everywhere he went, people were invariably mesmerized by his presence and inexplicably drawn to him. It's one of the blessings bestowed by the dark blood, but having this stunning young girl at his side captivated even more attention than usual.
Of course, her youthful appearance and that scandalously bold evening dress exacerbated the crowd's reaction. Either Diana did not notice or she did not care. Regardless, none of this escaped Salvatore's notice.
Reaching out with the dark gift, he scanned their thoughts telepathically. He could not help but smile secretly to himself at those things that run through mortal minds.
Behind her professionally polished smile, the hostess wondered exactly what type of relationship existed between these two. Was she his girlfriend, his wife, or maybe his sister? Certainly, she wasn't his daughter. There was a strong familial resemblance and there was an age difference between them, but surely not that much.
Numerous men entertained libidinous thoughts of carnal acts they desired to commit with Diana. Only three of them decided she was jailbait and attempted to push such thoughts from their minds. More than a few men looked quickly away from Diana, not wishing to be caught staring lustfully at her by their significant other.
A small child gazed upon Salvatore and Diana, thinking they looked like the type of figurines that set atop wedding cakes. That struck Salvatore as a sweet thought. He smiled warmly at the adorable girl.
Her long golden tresses curled about that cherubic face. She was dressed in white lace and ruffles. The child's big blue eyes beamed brightly back at him and she giggled with glee as Salvatore passed by.
Several women were positively shocked that Diana would dare to wear such a dress in public. Still others eyed Salvatore suspiciously for the way he held Diana close to him. Those women thought Diana was clearly too young and that Salvatore most definitely held inappropriate and probably criminal intentions toward her.
Reading minds certainly ranked near the top of the list as one of those favorite abilities that had been granted to Salvatore by the dark blood. It always aroused in him a sense of forbidden pleasure. The secret and voyeuristic thrill of using that dark gift never ceased to enthrall him.
That thrill was second only to the gift of vampiric charisma. The power to glamour, to seduce, to mesmerize, to force his will upon others, that was even more intoxicating. An ability to manipulate the thoughts and actions of others was so sublimely insidious, so utterly devious, so completely evil.
Although walking through this crowd of people with Diana at his side and with all those eyes upon them, that was absolutely enchanting and nearly eclipsed any blessings the dark blood could possibly offer. At that moment, Salvatore felt as good as Diana looked. His heart filled with sinful and excessive pride just to be seen with her.
They were seated at one of those romantic little tables on the gallery and the waitress appeared promptly. Salvatore immediately ordered a bottle of White Zinfandel. The waitress eyed Diana suspiciously for a moment, then politely asked to see her identification.
Salvatore reached inside a breast pocket of his suede suit jacket and held up two Louisiana state-issued driver's licenses. The waitress examined them perfunctorily and handed them back to him. She apologized for the inconvenience and explained it was just part of the job.
Salvatore smiled politely and stated that it was no problem at all. He wouldn't want the young lady to get in any trouble with her employers, he explained. She smiled apologetically and offered to take the rest of their order.
After that was done, the waitress hurried off to give their order to the kitchen. Certain the girl was out of earshot, Diana laughed and plucked the little plastic card from where it lay on the table. She examined it closely.
According to the fraudulent birth date on that license, Diana Sinclaire was twenty-two years old. Again, she laughed and raised her eyes to Salvatore.
"A fake ID card? Shame on you," she whispered.
"Oh, there's nothing fake about it. I assure you. It's quite genuine," he paused. "It will withstand the closest scrutiny. Even if an officer of the law runs it through the system, it will appear perfectly legitimate."
"How ever did you manage that?" she asked.
"Let's just say I have a connection at the DMV," he laughed.
The waitress appeared once more and set the bottle of wine and two glasses on the table with a smile, then hurried off again. Salvatore poured it into those glasses and handed one to Diana. Much to her surprise, it was not clear or pale yellow as white wines typically are. In fact, the sparkling liquid possessed a light rose blush.
With a devious smile, she raised it to her lips and sipped that illicit glass of wine. It tasted clean, crisp, and slightly fruity. Diana nodded her approval and Salvatore smiled at her.
For a long moment, they simply sat there and gazed adoringly into each other's eyes. Without warning, Diana moved close and kissed him in a very intimate and adult manner. It was a long, deep, and passionate kiss.
Salvatore could taste the illegal wine on her lips and it made that felonious kiss all the more sweet. Every person within view of their table, which consisted of nearly the whole dining room, watched this little display of affection intently. Salvatore's vampiric ears detected the soft gasp of astonished disapproval from a woman seated in the far corner.
"Do you realize every person in this establishment is staring at us right now?" he whispered.
Diana smiled and whispered back, "They're staring because they're envious. Every woman in this room wishes she were in my place and every man wants to be you."
Salvatore smiled at that thought. Then his expression turned dark and solemn. He shook his head in disagreement.
"They're staring because I gave you that glass of wine and you don't look old enough to be drinking it. They're staring because of the intimate fashion in which we just kissed. They're staring because you look like a teenager and I do not."
"Laissez les bon temps rouler," Diana quoted the city's official motto, which literally means 'Let the good times roll'. "Who cares what they think?"
"I do. They think I'm a sexual predator, you know. They think that I'm taking unfair advantage of an innocent child, that I'm seducing you."
"You are seducing me. At least, you'd better be! But there's nothing unfair about that and you're not exactly doing it against my will. I am a consenting party to this, you know."
"I know that and you know it, but that's not how others will see the situation."
A look of concern crossed Diana's face and that was followed by a frown.
"Are you feeling guilty about me, about us, about our relationship?"
Salvatore gently clasped her hand in his and laughed.
"No, of course not! I never feel guilty about anything. Guilt is a useless emotion. It's nothing more than a tool of manipulation used by other people to force you into doing what they want you to do. It's a false and unnatural feeling, an illusion, invented only as a means to control a person against their will.
Guilt is unnecessary emotional baggage. Once you understand that, it's easy to free yourself from its evil and tyrannical grip. Like a bag of bricks, you simply set it down, walk away, and never look back.
Besides, it's unhealthy and foolish to give that kind of control over yourself to another person. It's unwise, irresponsible, and dangerous to place your personal happiness in someone else's hands."
"You never feel guilty?"
"Never! Everything I think, feel, say, or do is justified. There is just cause behind all of it."
"Then why be concerned about what other people think of our relationship?"
"I don't care really. To hell with their filthy morality! But I want you to be aware of the repercussions that might arise from your decision to pursue this romantic relationship. There are very real and serious risks involved for both of us.
You need to realize that I am placing myself in a very precarious situation by falling in love with you, by encouraging you to fall in love with me, and by allowing our feelings for each other to continue. There are emotional, psychological, and legal consequences to what we are doing here. You must understand this relationship carries dangers, pitfalls, and consequences for both of us.
I know it feels like fun and games to you right now, but this is quite serious. I am serious. I'm not playing games with you. You need to know that."
Salvatore paused to let the full weight of his words settle in Diana's mind. He could tell by her expression that she understood the severity of the situation. As Diana carefully considered this, the waitress arrived with their meals.
Naturally, dinner consisted of all the local delicacies. In addition to the entrees, all the requisite side dishes were present, including fried crawfish, gumbo, Creole jambalaya, fried okra, hush puppies, and Cajun andouille. The food was absolutely first-rate and would have pleased Epicurus himself.
When they'd finished that feast, Salvatore and Diana leisurely emptied the bottle of Zinfandel. Light and pleasant conversation ensued. In the course of discussion, Salvatore's expression suddenly shifted to one of curiosity.
"Diana." He purred in that typically seductive and velvety voice. "What do you want out of life?"
At first, she found the question amusing. Then her expression turned sullen and sorrowful. A secret and bitter sadness lurked in the dark depths of her dazzling eyes.
"Does it matter?"
"Yes," he paused. "What you want is very important. It matters to me."
Diana sighed softly, then smiled sincerely.
"Honestly, I really don't want anything, except for you, of course."
"Surely, you desire more than that. There's so much this world has to offer. There must be something."
"Isn't it enough that I love you and only desire to make you happy?"
"No, that's not enough. It takes more than that. Trust me on this. I know from experience. Love is fleeting and impermanent. Eventually, passion always fades and leaves you feeling empty.
Besides, you should never live to make another person happy. That's a terrible burden and it doesn't work. Nor should you ever rely on another to make you happy."
Diana looked at him dubiously. She loved him. She felt safe with him and Stormhaven felt like home to her. Those were the only things of importance to her and they were far more important to Diana than Salvatore could possibly know.
Mike and Maria were good to Diana and she had no doubt they loved her very much. They had welcomed her into their home and into their lives with open arms. However, it was their home, not hers.
That had always bothered Diana. For some reason unknown to her, living with them just didn't feel like home. It never had and it never would. It just wasn't the same, but living with him felt right somehow. All she wanted was to spend the rest of her days with the only man in this world who made her truly happy.
Diana reached out and placed her delicate hand in his. She moved close and gazed into his eyes with great intensity. Her other hand reached up and rested affectionately on his cheek.
"Just love me." She pleaded. The desperation of that expressed need burned in her liquid eyes and it caused Salvatore's heart to ache.
"I do love you."
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Chapter 21
After dinner, they walked to Jackson Square. As it has been for nearly a century, musicians, fortune tellers, artists, jugglers, and other such amusements filled the square. Salvatore escorted Diana to a highly polished black lacquered carriage, which was hitched to a pair of magnificent white steeds.
He held her hand and helped her ascend to the cushioned red velvet seat. Then he climbed in and sat very close beside her. Placing his arm around Diana's shoulder, Salvatore pulled her close and she eagerly snuggled up to him.
Not only was a nocturnal carriage ride through the Quarter romantic, but it was a good way to digest a meal before joining the wild nightlife on Bourbon Street. With a slight lurch, the carriage started to move slowly down the street. The rhythmic clip-clop of the horse's hooves clicked on the pavement. Immediately, that sound reinforced the old-world charm and ambiance that permeated this place.
As the carriage moved smoothly along those timeless streets, Salvatore pointed out places of interest and explained their historic significance.
"Like I said earlier, the entire city was originally centered on the French Quarter. However, the Quarter itself is centered around the Palace d'Armes, which was renamed Jackson Square in honor of General Andrew Jackson. Notice that statue of him in the center of the square. It's a tribute to commemorate his defeat of the British at the Battle of New Orleans. That military success largely aided his successful campaign to become the seventh President of the United States.
The impressive iron fence surrounding Jackson Square, its beautiful formal gardens, walkways, and benches, is largely credited to the Baroness Micaela Almonaster de Pontalba, who lobbied for and financed them.
Because of its central location, its proximity to the Mississippi River, and its historic buildings, this square has been the center of shipping, commerce, and community life for nearly three hundred years.
St. Louis Cathedral is the oldest continuously active cathedral in the United States. It originally formed the center of this settlement. As you see, it still dominates the backdrop of Jackson Square.
The Presbytere is that building just to the right of the Cathedral. It was originally known as the Casa Curial or Ecclesiastical House because it was built as a residence for the Capuchin monks. However, it's now a Mardi Gras Museum.
The Cabildo is that building just to the left of the Cathedral. It was the site for the signing of the Louisiana Purchase. Presently, it's a State museum.
Located between the Cathedral and the Cabildo is a narrow cobblestone walkway known as Pirate's Alley. Originally named Orleans Alley, it has long been the subject of legend and lore. Some stories are true and many are false.
Some claim that it was a haven for pirates in days past. Others claim that slaves were sold at the adjacent St. Anthony's Garden on Royal Street. Most likely, there is little or no truth to either. However, it does make for interesting stories.
Why it was called Pirate's Alley is left to conjecture. However, there are a few facts to be considered. Looking down the alley, you'll notice that directly behind the Cabildo is the old Spanish Dungeon. It's difficult to believe that pirates would hang out between a dungeon and a church.
Most probably, it was nicknamed in honor of Jean Lafitte and his Baratarian pirates who helped Andrew Jackson defeat the British. It's also possible the term was a colloquial expression that suggested being thrown into the dungeon, similar to expressions such as 'the joint', 'the big house', and 'the hoosegow'. The fact is, nobody really knows for certain.
Located in Pirate's Alley is the Faulkner House. It's named for William Faulkner, who authored his first novel while residing there. Directly across from that is an iron fence, which surrounds St. Anthony's Gardens. Participants of the annual Spring Fiesta Pirate Alley Art Show display their work on that fence each year.
At times, you'll find Pirate's Alley warm as a courtyard on a spring morning. Other times, it's as foreboding, cold, and dark as any fog-shrouded street in London. Morning, noon, evening, and night, it is perpetually changing like the seasons."
The antique carriage glided smoothly through the Old Square on its suspension of soft metal springs. Salvatore pointed out each place of interest along Decatur Street.
"That's Artillery Park, which was formerly known as Founders Park. It provides a rather good view of the French Quarter. That canon you see on display is a replica of those used during the Civil War."
The amount of information and knowledge Salvatore had locked away in his memory amazed Diana. She wondered how he could possibly remember all these facts and, more interestingly, when had he learned them. Considering that he'd just moved here, it was surprising how familiar he was with the city's history.
"Here's the historic French Market, which dates to 1791. It's the oldest farmer's market in this country. The market is open twenty-four hours a day. It includes both a farmer's market and a flea market where you can find everything from cooking ingredients to t-shirts and souvenirs. Regrettably, the fresh produce section seems to dwindle each year.
That bronze statue near the entrance depicts Joan of Arc and is an exact copy of the famous equestrian statue located at Place des Pyramides in Paris. The statue was presented to this city as a gift from the people of France by President Charles de Gaulle.
Joan of Arc, also known as the "Maid of Orleans", was a French peasant girl. She reportedly had visions of heavenly beings. More importantly, she led an army to break the siege of Orleans. That was a turning point of the Hundred Years' War. Consequently, she became a French national heroine."
After that romantic and informative little carriage ride, the couple made their way back to Bourbon Street. Walking into the first bar they came to, Salvatore ordered a strawberry daiquiri and slipped the icy cold drink between her slender fingers. Diana flashed a delightfully devious smile. She sipped eagerly at the illegal slushy.
Salvatore glanced at Diana. She gave an approving nod and they exited that bar. They merged easily into the parade of people and continued to move along the street.
Dominated by bars, jazz clubs, hotels, restaurants, strip clubs, and boutiques, Bourbon Street has long been the city's most famous locale. With its year-round, nearly twenty-four-hour-a-day, and seven-day-a-week party atmosphere, it's often compared to Amsterdam because of the similar 'anything goes' reputation.
Salvatore pointed out the iridescent orange and white blockades at each intersection along Bourbon Street. When he spoke, his voice rolled soft and smooth to Diana's ears.
"Each evening, the street is closed to vehicle traffic and it becomes an extension of those festivities taking place inside the bars and music halls. Generally, the celebration continues all night and through most of the day."
Music drifted out of the many open doors and windows. Sounds of Jazz, Blues, Zydeco, and Rock 'n Roll filled the air. Crowds of people danced and drank in the street as if they too had spilled out the open windows.
"As you see," Salvatore continued, "drinking on the street is not only legal, but encouraged. The unwritten rule on Bourbon Street has long been 'eat, drink, and be merry'. However, the police are very quick to deal with disorderly behavior. So laissez les bon temps rouler, but don't lose control."
Salvatore and Diana strolled along arm in arm. He pointed out Pat O'Brien's Bar with its piano lounge, garden patio, and side bar. He explained that place was famous for inventing a popular drink known as the 'Hurricane'.
As they continued through the seven busiest blocks of Bourbon Street, Salvatore pointed out a few of the many well-known local drinking establishments. Places such as the Famous Door, the Bourbon Street Blues Club, the Tropical Isle, the Funky Pirate and the Old Opera House were familiar to both locals and visitors alike.
However, the most famous bar in town was the Old Absinthe House. That was a requisite stop for every visitor who toured the French Quarter. It was one more of the city's unwritten laws.
Salvatore explained, "For two hundred years, Jean Lafitte's Old Absinthe House has flourished as one of the city's most prominent social scenes. As with most things in the French Quarter, half the fun of this place requires a cursory knowledge of its colorful history. Rumors and facts about this place intertwine to form the stuff that legends are made of.
In the nearly two centuries since its opening, many celebrities have walked through these doors. Oscar Wilde, P.T. Barnum, Mark Twain, Jenny Lind, Enrico Caruso, General Robert E Lee, Franklin Roosevelt, Liza Minelli, and Frank Sinatra have all been here at one time or another. In fact, framed photographs of such famous patrons are displayed on the walls.
The building bears the name of Jean Lafitte's because a meeting between the infamous pirate and General Andrew Jackson was rumored to have taken place here. Supposedly, they planned their victory strategy for the Battle of New Orleans on the second floor, which is now called Jean Lafitte's Bistro. Additionally, many of those who work here will be happy to share their Jean Lafitte Ghost Stories with you.
Built in 1806, the building was erected by Pedro Front and Francisco Juncadelia of Barcelona to house their importing firm. For the next forty years, it was a sort of an early corner grocery that bartered in food, tobacco, and Spanish liquor.
In 1815, the ground floor was converted into a saloon known as Aleix's Coffee House and was run by the nephews of Senora Juncadelia. This coffee house was later rechristened 'The Absinthe Room' when mixologist Cayetano Ferrer created the famous Absinthe House Frappe here in 1874.
Absinthe was liquor made from wormwood, among other things. It possessed a bitter licorice flavor and was greenish in color. Originally popular in Europe, it found quite a following here. The Absinthe House became a favored establishment for those who enjoyed drinking the peculiar alcohol.
They say that it was the preferred drink of many famous people. Reportedly, artists and writers found inspiration in absinthe-induced stupors. Rumor has it that Edgar Allen Poe's writings were essentially composed under the influence of nearly fatal mixtures of absinthe and brandy. It's also rumored that Jack the Ripper was driven mad because of his addiction to absinthe.
As it turns out, absinthe was indeed a dangerous substance. Wormwood possesses narcotic properties and the consumption of absinthe often caused hallucinations, delirium, madness, and even death. Consequently, it was outlawed in the United States by the year 1912.
The original bar was to be destroyed at the start of Prohibition as a powerful message that absinthe was to be abolished from the United States and would not be tolerated. Fortunately, the bar was removed from the Absinthe House and moved, under the cover of darkness, to a warehouse on Bourbon Street in order to save it.
That warehouse became known as The Absinthe House Bar until the actual bar was returned to its rightful home in early 2004. That warehouse is now known as the Mango Mango Daiquiri Shop. Today, the bar is again part of this historical building and a three-million-dollar renovation has returned the place to its original turn-of-the-century splendor. Presently, the place is operated by Tony Moran, son of the local legend 'Diamond Jim' Moran.
The building now houses Tony Moran's Restaurant and Jean Lafitte's Bistro. However, the front room remains the tavern known as Jean Lafitte's Old Absinthe House and still possesses the authentic decorative marble fountains with antique brass faucets, which were once used to drip cool water over sugar cubes into glasses of absinthe. They align the bar, which easily accommodates some fifty patrons and antique chandeliers dangle from the exposed cypress beams. Calling cards adorn the walls and no visit is complete without leaving your card with the millions of others who have given testimony to the Old Absinthe House's motto: Everyone you have ever known or ever will know, eventually ends up at The Old Absinthe House."
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Chapter 22
Diana and Salvatore spent the next few hours browsing the little shops and boutiques on Bourbon Street. They visited the many bars and music halls. They talked and laughed, but they spent most of the evening locked in each other's embrace and gently swaying in rhythm to the ever-present music.
As the couple strolled down St. Peter Street between Royal and Bourbon, they unexpectedly met Sam and Lafitte. The two young men exited Preservation Hall, where they'd been listening to the local musicians. The sound of traditional Dixieland Jazz floated out of that building along with Diana's friends.
Lafitte was genuinely surprised and pleased to see her. He greeted Diana with a friendly embrace. Then he turned to Salvatore and introduced himself with typical effeminate flair.
Lafitte offered his hand to Salvatore in a very feminine fashion. With a warm and friendly smile, Salvatore clasped it between his own two hands and gave a few soft pats to the back of Lafitte's hand. It was a polite and friendly gesture, but not too friendly.
It was a gesture that carried a subtle message. It clearly communicated that Salvatore was comfortable with Jacque's sexual preference on the one hand, yet did not share it on the other. This was both expected by and acceptable to Jacque.
However, Sam's reaction to this chance meeting was not so gregarious. While he was pleasantly surprised to see Diana, he was not pleased to find her in Salvatore's company. Sam was even more displeased by Diana's manner of dress and he flashed a reproachful glance at her, then a spiteful look at Salvatore.
Always the charming diplomat, Salvatore gracefully suggested the two young men should visit Diana at Stormhaven Manor the next day. He explained it was not fair that he had been monopolizing Diana's time and he admonished that she should spend more time with her friends. Predictably, Jacque thought it was a splendid idea, but Sam was less excited about the prospect.
Nevertheless, Sam wouldn't pass up an opportunity to spend the day with Diana. He only wished Salvatore wouldn't be there. Regardless, he grudgingly accepted the invitation.
After a short conversation, the two parties said goodbye and continued on their separate ways. Salvatore and Diana returned to the French Market on Decatur Street. They decided to end the night with one final stop at Café Du Monde.
Established in 1862, Café Du Monde was a traditional coffee shop and remained open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. It closed only on Christmas Day and whenever the occasional Hurricane passed through. The café had long been known for its blend of dark roast coffee and chicory, which was served either Black or Au Lait. The latter was mixed with hot milk, either white or chocolate. Café Du Monde was also famous for another curious item called Beignets, which were square French-style doughnuts lavishly covered with powdered sugar.
The couple found a table in one quiet corner. It commanded a view of the entire room, yet provided them with enough privacy to engage in soft conversation. Over their steaming cups of coffee, Salvatore again questioned Diana.
"You know, you really didn't answer my question earlier."
"Which question was that?"
"What do you want, Diana? What do you need right now? What can I give you besides pretty clothes, a car, and a home?"
"I told you. I only want you to love me."
"And I told you that I do love you, but what else do you want out of life? What are your hopes and dreams? What are your aspirations for the future?"
Just as before, her expression turned sullen and sorrowful. That secret and bitter sadness returned and filled the dark depths of her eyes.
She sighed.
"It doesn't matter."
"It does to me." He countered. "I'm getting everything I want from you. Everything I need, but you..."
"No, you don't understand." She interrupted. "I'm just a teenager. The world sees me as a child. I'm an outcast from the adult world.
What can a teenager do? I can't legally smoke, drink, start a career or get married. Society will not allow me to start building a life. I want my life to begin, but it's simply not a possibility. Nobody will take someone my age seriously."
Salvatore smiled sympathetically.
"I take you seriously and I understand better than you think. What you fail to realize is that such things don't really change much as an adult. In every situation, there is an opposing force. There are always limitations and obstacles. There's always someone who tries to stand in your way and those who want to see you fail.
However, these are only excuses. They're not the real issue here. Have you forgotten the trust fund? That gives you the financial means and the freedom to start building a life.
Wealth isn't just a luxury. Money is power and financial independence is the key to true freedom. In this world, a person is only as free as they can afford to be and you can afford a great deal of freedom. So the question remains, what do you want out of life?"
"Therein lies the crux of the problem, I guess. The shameful truth is, I really don't know what I want. I'm only certain of what I don't want."
Salvatore wanted to laugh, but feared she would take it the wrong way. He knew all too well what she meant and how she felt.
Diana continued. "You see, as with most people my age, life is little more than a routine. Every day I get up and go about that routine. I am trapped in my own life. Circumstances beyond my influence have walled my life in boredom, routine, and hard work. Any future in which I might have any power to control or determine the course of my life always seemed a long way off.
Even worse, any such future was nebulous and uncertain because I lack that burning desire to do, have, or accomplish anything. When you don't want anything, life seems empty and meaningless. So where does that leave me?
I know myself well enough to realize that no career or job could ever bring any real contentment. It may bring a certain amount of satisfaction, but not any real fulfillment, let alone true happiness.
Above all, I know that I don't want the so-called American dream, which has been manufactured, packaged, and sold to everyone for the last sixty years. A husband, two mortgages, two kids, two car payments, and a dog sounds more like a nightmare to me than a dream.
Every day, I see those depressed and miserable faces on their commute to or from work. They lie to themselves and everyone else. They've convinced themselves that what they've found is what they meant to find. They tell themselves and everyone else that they're happy, but it's not true.
You can see it in their eyes when they think no one is watching. Whatever dreams they once had are dead and gone. Their lives are empty, filled only by stress, anxiety, desperation, and disappointment.
They have given up on life, on their dreams, and on genuine happiness. They've settled for less than everything they wanted, less than what they deserved. Still, they paint on those false smiles and insist they are happy."
A solitary tear rolled down her face, leaving a wet trail in its wake and Diana paused. Salvatore reached up and softly brushed her cheek. He gazed solicitously into those soft and sad eyes as he dried that tear. His whispered voice caressed her mind when he spoke.
"And that's not good enough for you. Is it Diana? An ordinary life would never bring you any lasting satisfaction or contentment. You refuse to settle for less than everything you want, less than everything you deserve. It's not enough to convince yourself that you are happy. You need the real thing, genuine happiness. It's not enough to be like everyone else. You need something different, something better. Even if you don't know exactly what that something is."
"That's right. I've been searching for something unknown. I've been looking for someone to change my life. I've been waiting for a miracle in my life.
Then I met you and now things are changing. I've finally found some measure of real happiness, some sense of direction and purpose. I no longer invent some reason to get out of bed each day.
When I'm with you, everything else fades away and seems so irrelevant. I feel safe and loved with you. I feel as though I belong with you, which is the only thing that matters to me.
You have introduced me to an entirely different way of life. You don't take life too seriously and that feels right somehow. You don't struggle against life. It's more like you float through it.
Most people don't actively live their lives. They are driven through each day, compelled by fear, anxiety, and uncontrolled cravings. Most people spend their day on an emotional roller coaster. Like a pendulum, they swing from one extreme to another, alternating between ecstasy and pain, but not you. You're different.
With you, each day of life is filled with exciting new amusements and adventures. Every experience is some decadent delight or sinful pleasure to be relished in some sort of hedonistic nirvana."
"And yet these changes are not entirely welcome. Are they? The feelings you have for me are unsettling. Something about this relationship frightens you. Doesn't it?"
Diana's cheeks reddened with shame and embarrassment. She looked down to hide her eyes from his knowing and penetrating gaze. It was most unnerving how perceptive this man was.
"Please understand." Diana began. "This is all new to me. I've never experienced these feelings before. It bothers me that I feel so much and so strongly for you. Partly because I hardly know you, but mainly because I don't know where this is going. I don't know what the future holds.
I fear that you may want more from me than I am able to give. The fact that I love you and want to be with you doesn't change the way I feel about not wanting to fall into that trap of the American dream."
Salvatore reached out and lovingly held her hand. His voice rolled warm, smooth, and cheerful.
"Diana, if that is your greatest concern, there's no need to worry. I only desire what you are willing to give. I'll ask nothing more from you than that.
I will stand behind you and walk beside you in this world and through this life. I will share the journey with you, but only so long as you desire me by your side. Rest assured, I don't want that accursed American dream any more than you do.
Always remember, your life is exactly that. It is your life. It belongs to you and you alone. The power and freedom to choose, to direct your life, lies in your own hands. I would never ask you to relinquish that.
As for the uncertainty that our future holds, don't concern yourself about that either. The trick in finding happiness is to forget the past and never worry about the future. Simply live in the moment, Diana. What happened yesterday or what may happen tomorrow is irrelevant. Today is all that matters."
"That's precisely my point," Diana explained. "Today I have you. Today you love me, you want me, and you let me love you. That's all that matters to me. That's all I want. I couldn't ask for anything more than what you've already given me.
This very minute, I have food in my stomach and beautiful clothes on my body. Tonight, you will give me a warm and safe place to sleep. You care about me. You want me with you. You make me feel safe, loved, and desired. What else could I possibly ask for?"
Salvatore laughed.
"You may be young, Diana, but you have an old soul."
He glanced at his watch.
"Well, it's quite late. We should be getting home. You should have been asleep hours ago."
"But I'm not tired." The girl protested.
Salvatore raised one eyebrow and flashed a look of fatherly disapproval as he spoke.
"Do I need to lecture you on the needs of a teenage body?"
A devious thought glimmered in Diana's dark eyes and a mischievous smile played on her expression.
"I know what this teenage body needs." She teased. "And I think you're right. You should get me into bed."
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