Dark Symphony Page 0,11

wholly evil, wanting those around them to suffer endlessly.

The wolf began to search throughout the palazzo. How had the intruder come into the house without triggering the elaborate alarm system? Byron simply became mist in the way of his people and streamed through a partially closed window in one of the many unused rooms. Any vampire could do the same. The wolf trotted up the curving staircase on the east side of the palazzo where Antoinette's cousins made their home.

Antonietta shoved open the door to her rooms with the flat of her hand. She had moved much too quickly and was grateful the children hadn't left their toys out where she could trip over them. Ordinarily, they were very good about such things, but little Vincente sometimes forgot. More than once Antonietta had suffered a minor bruise and damaged pride stumbling over one of his trucks. Once, she would have tumbled down the stairs if Justine hadn't been with her to catch her. Vincente denied he was playing with his toys on the forbidden stairway, but his father. Franco, had punished him all the same. Marita, Vincente's mother, wrung her hands together and wept aloud for the terrible treatment of her son, but for once, Franco prevailed, furious that Antonietta had nearly tumbled down the marble stairs.

Thoughtfully, Antonietta closed the heavy door to her suite and leaned against it as it occurred to her that Vincente might have been telling the truth. Someone else could easily have put his toys at the top of the stairs in the hopes of causing an accident

Damn you! You have me thinking conspiracy.

There was a small silence. Byron was shocked that she had used the intimate form of communication between lifemates so easily. She was a strong telepath - and more. She often called him to her with her music, yet she seemed unaware of it.

You are finally coming to terms with what is happening around you. Deliberately closing your eyes to a possible threat is not wise.

Antonietta began to slowly slip the small pearl buttons from the fastenings on her blouse. Her fingers were shaking with cold and maybe fear, so it was difficult to manage.

I could come and help you.

Antonietta gasped, looked around her room as if she might glimpse him there in her world of darkness.

His laughter was soft. Flirtatious.

The night belongs to me. I come out of the shadows. I can be anywhere. Even there in the room with you right now, helping you to undress.

There was a drawling caress in his tone that sent liquid fire racing through her body and pooling low into an aching need.

I always know when you're in the room with me, and you're not at this moment.

Antonietta realized she was beginning to stop trembling, and she was smiling in spite of the events of the evening and the serious situation. Byron was deliberately warming her, making her relax.

I don't think helping me undress is a particularly good idea. What are you doing? The idea of helping you undress takes my breath away.

There was a short silence. Antonietta draped her blouse over the back of a chair. Her fingers trailed over the silk, wishing she were touching Byron's chest. The idea of him helping her undress robbed her of breath, too. Of speech. She couldn't think straight. Dragging the tie from her hair, she began to pull out the weave as she crossed to her bathroom.

I am searching the palazzo to see what the intruders were up to and examining your cousins to make certain they were not fed poison or drugged. A much more interesting question is, what are you doing? I'm taking the braid out of my hair.

Byron closed his eyes and inhaled sharply as if he could drag her scent deep inside his body.

There is something very erotic about a woman letting down her hair. Have you removed your slacks? My blouse.

She admitted it without hesitation. It was part of her dreamworld. He was far away and it was a harmless game. And it distracted her from thinking about the terrors of being nearly killed. Of someone hating her enough to want to kill her. Antonietta's fingertips moved across the swell of her breasts. She ached for his touch. She had never wanted a man more.

It doesn't make sense. It makes perfect sense.

She had never talked with any man this way, not even a lover. She had never blushed or stammered or deliberately tempted a man. Byron never once had given her