Blue-Blooded Vamp by Jaye Wells Page B

helmets, naturally. Because that would be ridiculous.
    Thus far, Giguhl had remained silent, lest he give away his demonic identity. But once he got a load of our ride, he climbed up my shoulder to hiss in my ear, “Douchemobiles?”
    I shrugged and covered the cat’s commentary by giving him a pet between the ears. But he was totally right. The flames on the sides of the bikes did seem a tad overkill.
    “Please,” Damiano said. He climbed on the Vespa and indicated I should get on behind him.
    Back in Los Angeles, I’d been the proud owner of acherry-condition Ducati. After experiencing the thrill of one hundred and eighty horses galloping between my thighs, the mere idea of riding on this child’s toy nicked at my ego. I probably could have jogged alongside the entire way to Chiara’s and not get winded.
    But under the weight of thirteen expectant stares and the promise of getting to the bottom of Persephone’s disappearance forced me to harness my pride.
    Cradling Giguhl to my chest, I swung a leg over the low back of the scooter. I refused to wrap my arms around Damiano, however. He simply shrugged and fired up the engine. Unlike the dead sexy roar of my Ducati’s stampeding engine, this damned thing
whirred
to life like a cheap vibrator.
    “How much horsepower does this thing have?”
    Damiano pursed his lips, thinking it over. “She has eleven horses.” He patted the buzzing engine proudly.
    My mouth fell open, but before I could laugh or make a snarky comment, he took off. The acceleration barely jostled me. Giguhl looked up at me from my chest and rolled his eyes. No doubt we’d laugh about this later. In the meantime, I thanked the gods I didn’t know anyone in Rome who might witness the indignity of me clutching a hairless cat on the back of a fucking Vespa.
    As we wound our way through Rome’s streets, Damiano chatted like we were on a Sunday drive. “So how are you enjoying your time in Roma thus far?”
    I frowned at his back. “It’s fine.”
    “Excellent. You should see the sites.” He waved his hands around like steering was optional. “Experience the romance of the Eternal City.” He kissed his fingertips.
    “Yeah, I’ll be sure to do that,” I said, and didn’t bother covering the eye roll since he couldn’t see me anyway.
    Apparently, this guy was completely unaware of the chaos facing all the dark races. Even though the drama was centered stateside, the assassination of the Despina was sure to have wide-ranging effects for all the vampire covens in the world.
    As we drove, the other vampires would occasionally close in the ranks like a motorcade, but the narrow streets and insane traffic made anything other than single file impossible for most of the trip.
    “Will you be in town long?”
    I sighed and shot the guy a level glare. “How much farther?”
    He stiffened. Whether this reaction was due to my rudeness or a translation issue, I didn’t care. I just wanted to get there already and figure out what the hell Persephone was doing in Italy. “It is just there.” He pointed to a building across the street and down a bit. The building he indicated was nothing short of a villa.
    I’d expected the leader of Rome’s vampires to have impressive security, but no dice. Not one gate, video camera, or guard with a machine gun. Chiara Rossi was either incredibly cocky or incredibly stupid. Possibly both.
    Our lame biker gang turned left into an alley next to the building and pulled around back to a driveway of sorts. Above us, the building’s rear rose up, all leaded windows and carved columns and huge balconies. Just beyond the driveway, a garden lay dormant in February’s chill, but I imagined in the spring it would be like a little Eden in the city.
    I jumped off the scooter before Damiano pulled to a complete stop. He and the other vamps got off their bikes more slowly. I stood there, waiting for them to lead me wherever I was supposed to go, but they all just stood there. I