“I love you,” he whispered as she clenched around him. “I love you so much.”
Beatrice’s fingers dug into his shoulders. He could feel the painful dig of her nails, but he stared into her eyes as the pleasure blinded her. His hand gripped her bare thigh. If she hadn’t have been a vampire, they would have left bruises.
He felt his own climax approaching and slowed, pressing his mouth to hers and pouring his pleasure into their kiss as his amnis flooded her body. He felt her hands reach up to frame his face, and her own energy flowed over his skin in a soft wave. He closed his eyes and came with a groan.
Giovanni laid his head on her shoulder and put his arms around her waist, pulling Beatrice closer as their hearts beat in unison. He could feel her stroke his hair, running her fingers along his neck where she drew the moisture against his skin, cooling him as he relaxed into her touch.
“I love you, Jacopo,” she whispered.
He matched her breaths and laid soft kisses along her neck.
“I wish I could write as my uncle did.” He pulled away and looked into her eyes, sparkling with love and satisfaction. “I don’t have the words, Tesoro mio.”
She smiled at him anyway and pulled him down for one more quick kiss before he set her down on the floor. They righted their clothing, smiling and sneaking glances toward the stairs and the sounds of the party.
“Do we have to go back?” she asked.
Giovanni grinned. “Unfortunately, yes.” He pulled up his pants and quickly tied the strings that held them in place, shaking his head the whole time. “I hated wearing these clothes when they were in fashion.”
She giggled and snuck a hand around to pinch his backside. “I kind of like them. And don’t you like my boots?”
He eyed the curve of her calf, the smooth line of her waist, and her breasts riding high in the stiff bodice. “I like your costume far better than mine, that is no question.”
She only laughed, and he watched her struggle to get the drawstring tight enough. He finally reached over and grabbed her waist, drawing them tight with a smirk.
“I’m going to have to dance.”
“What?” She laughed.
“Dance. Move in a regular pattern to the rhythm of music. Surely you’re familiar with the concept.” He pulled her hand and led her down the stairs, in no rush to rejoin the party.
“We have to dance?”
He chuckled. “You certainly may, if you like, but listen to the music.”
Giovanni paused and cocked his head. He heard the strains of the violin and the guitar. “Unless you are well-acquainted with the galliard, feel free to sit this one out.”
“The gall-what?”
He pulled her down the hall. “The galliard. It’s a dance Livia was particularly fond of, and she’ll want me to dance one with her.”
“I’m biting my tongue here...”
He snorted. “It’s not exactly the tango, Beatrice. It’s all very formal.”
“I’m just trying to imagine you dancing.”
“Me?” He raised his eyebrows in shock. “My wife, I am an excellent dancer.”
“Oh, really?”
“Really. I had a dance instructor from the time I was a boy.”
She snickered. “This, I can’t wait to see.”
“So happy to amuse you.”
“Also, you better teach me the tango.”
He reached down and pinched her as they passed two of the solemn guards. “That, my love, will be my pleasure.”
Giovanni bowed toward Livia, pleased that they had been joined by a group of twenty or so other immortals as they danced. He looked at the edge of the crowd, where Beatrice leaned against a pillar, watching him with an amused smile. He winked at her before he turned his attention to his partner. He saw Livia’s gaze flick toward his wife, then she lifted a hand, and the musicians paused.
“We should dance la volta!” The other dancers smiled with delight, pleased to take part in the vigorous, but more intimate, dance. He smiled stiffly and bowed toward her again as the music resumed.
They began the intricate steps. At the first turn, Livia sprang, and he lifted her, waiting the few beats of the music before he turned and set her down again. They repeated the steps, weaving among the other dancers as they moved in formation.
“Are you enjoying the party?” she asked during one lift.
“Quite. I can’t remember the last time I danced.”
They separated for one turn, then were back next to each other.
“And how is your wife liking Rome?”
“Very well. Thank you.”
“And your guests? You should bring them to the house one evening. We’ll have a quiet dinner in their honor.”
Giovanni suspected that a “quiet dinner” could easily involve forty or more people.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He spotted his opportunity. “Speaking of guests, Beatrice’s friend wanted me to thank you for the cosmetics you sent over. She was quite taken with them. How is your business?”
She smiled and her eyebrow lifted slightly. “Business has been very rewarding lately. Thank you for asking. And how is your search?”
He was about to answer when he saw a flash of gold hair at the edge of the crowd. Giovanni was swept into another turn, and when he spun back, the gold was nowhere to be found. His eyes searched for Beatrice. He could not find her.
“Giovanni?”
He frowned down at Livia. He had lost step in the dance. She laughed.
“It has been some time since you’ve danced.”
Giovanni picked her up into another turn. When he set her down, he spotted Carwyn leaning against the bar, flirting with a redhead in a brilliant blue dress. His friend was grinning, not paying attention to anything but his conversation.
“You seem distracted. Am I boring you?”
“I... no, Livia, of course not.” There it was again! A flash of golden curls under a brocade hood.
“You never answered my question.”
“What question?”
He finally heard the music drawing to an end.
“How goes your search for your son?”
Had he told Livia he was searching for Lorenzo? She knew he was searching for Andros’s books. The music stopped. The crowd clapped. And he looked down into her scheming brown eyes. Giovanni’s heart began to pound.
“I don’t know, Livia. Perhaps you might be able to tell me.”
Just then, he heard Beatrice gasp. He recognized her sharp inhale from across the room, and his hand reached down to grasp the dagger tucked into his boot. The fire flared along his collar. He looked up to see Lorenzo smiling at Beatrice with bared fangs while two of Livia’s guards held his wife back.
Giovanni hissed and flung the dagger across the room, aiming straight for Lorenzo’s neck, only to have it intercepted by the chest of another guard. The vampire grunted and turned to look for the source of the blade.
Within seconds, Giovanni’s fire burst out, lighting his arms, though the thick leather jerkin Livia had sent for him prevented the fire from spreading over his torso. His arms reached out and grabbed the two guards who approached him, immediately engulfing them in flames while the crowd ran screaming and the guards turned to ash. He heard Carwyn shout, and the marble beneath his feet shifted. Another swarm of guards ran for him as he looked for Beatrice.
“Stop now, Papà!”
Lorenzo held a sword to her throat as Beatrice snarled and Livia’s guards restrained her. Giovanni stilled immediately. The ground beneath him grew still. Everyone froze exactly where they were.
“I’ll cut her head off given the word.”
“Hold, Lorenzo,” Livia said as she stepped between them. “I have no reason to harm the girl.”
His eyes darted to Beatrice, who was held by four guards, arms twisted behind her back. The water of the fountain has risen behind her, but it did nothing but spill over the sides, drenching the floor and trickling down the stairs. Giovanni gro
wled, but forced the fire back. He looked for Carwyn, who was surrounded by more guards, though they did not touch him. His old friend was watching the scene with a calculating blue stare.
“Livia!” Emil Conti pushed forward. “What is the meaning of this? What kind of violence have you allowed in your own home? And toward your guests?”
Giovanni could tell the crowd was as confused as Conti was. A low murmur began to rumble and a frantic energy filled the air, causing his heart to beat faster.
“Emil, thank you for asking.” Livia raised her voice, the small woman speaking with authority as she continued to stare at him. “I am taking Giovanni di Spada as my prisoner. It is my right.”
Conti sputtered. “What? What ri—”
“I accuse him here as the murderer of my husband, Niccolo Andros, his own sire.”
The murmur grew. Emil Conti drew back, a horrified look on his usually placid face. Livia stepped closer, standing in front of Giovanni and looking up as the fire coursed along his collar and the guards held onto his leather-clad torso and legs.
“You foolish boy!” Livia spat out and slapped him. “Don’t you know? No secret stays hidden forever.”
A red haze fell over his eyes, and Giovanni opened his mouth to speak, but a breath of air whispered in his ear.
“Silence, Jacopo.”
His eyes darted around the room, stunned by the sound of the name only one other knew. The glittering immortals of Rome were tittering like panicked birds as Livia and Emil argued. The whisper came again.
“Say nothing to her.”
Giovanni blinked and looked again. Carwyn was staring at him in shock. Beatrice was standing by the fountain, but the sword had been lowered from her neck. Everyone around them was frozen, as if waiting for a command. He was sure that no one else had heard the ghostly whisper.
He looked to Beatrice and her eyes met his, pleading with him. She was furious. Frightened. He mouthed, ‘Ti amo’ at her, frowning when she began to struggle again. Just then, an apparition took shape behind her; a man appeared from the shadows of the room.
He was dressed in long, flowing robes, and he held a finger up to his lips. He glanced at Beatrice, and his mouth moved in a silent murmur. A moment later, the whisper came to Giovanni’s ear.
“Do not worry for your woman, Jacopo. Be still. Be silent. Give your enemy nothing.”
Giovanni stopped struggling, and a strange calm stole over him.
Because when an immortal as ancient as Ziri spoke, he listened.
Chapter Nine
Castello Furio
June 2012
She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. Everything seemed to move in slow motion around her, as if the castle had been plunged to the bottom of the sea. Silent. Why was it so silent?
Beatrice stood frozen as Livia’s guards pulled Giovanni away into the twisted maze of the castle. Finally, what felt like dozens of hands released her, and she lifted her arms with an unspoken scream. A roaring filled her mind, like a river rushing over a cliff, and she felt the pulse of energy behind her.
The water in the fountain rose, trembling and quivering at her command. Beatrice narrowed her gaze on Lorenzo and Livia, who stood next to each other. The vampires of the hall seemed to drift like lost as sheep in the confusion.
Her rage driving her, she stepped toward her enemies, only to be tackled from the side. When she realized it was Carwyn, the scream died in her throat, but she still struggled.
“Stop,” he whispered fiercely. “Contain yourself for now.”
“Can’t.”
“You must.”
In the safety of his arms, the roaring began to clear and sound filtered back to her. The confused murmur of the crowd. Emil Conti’s voice arguing with Livia. Lorenzo’s arrogant laugh.
The laugh caused her rage to bubble up again, and Carwyn’s grip on her grew even tighter as he pushed her to a small alcove.
“Lord in Heaven, you are strong, B.”
“Let me go.” Her voice sounded foreign to her ears. Quiet. Feral.
“That’s really not the best move right now. If you were in your right mind, you’d know that.”
“Let me go.”
“We have to find out more. She won’t harm him. Look around the room. Everyone’s in shock. She’s going to feel out the crowd before she makes a move. I have a feeling she’s not pleased. I somehow doubt Lorenzo was supposed to show up tonight. She’s not happy with him.”
His arms embraced her, but they were not Giovanni’s arms. She began to shake again.
“My dad... Ioan. They took Gio. They took him.”
“Christ, we’ve got to get you out of here. Now. You’re going to collapse or explode. Possibly both.”
She felt wind at her feet, and a sharp longing for Tenzin rose in her. Tenzin. She needed Tenzin now. Where was Tenzin?
“Come with me, priest. Bring the woman.”
Who did that voice belong to? It was cold and comforting at the same time. And... familiar. Her eyes flicked to the silhouette at the entrance of the alcove. Amnis swirled around the voice, filling the small niche.
“Ziri.” Carwyn’s voice was cautious, but she recognized the hint of optimism.
“This is a surprise. I did not see her making a move for weeks. Lorenzo has not pleased her by appearing like this.”
“What are you—”
“We must get her out of here. Her rage will not be contained for long. Come, Mariposa.”
Her eyes darted to his when he spoke her childhood name. Ziri stepped toward her, and she could finally make out his eyes. The whites shone in his dark face. Despite her shock and anger, she blinked. The vampire’s irises were a pure, deep black.
“Who are you?”
He held out a hand, and she felt the whisper of air stroke across her cheek.
“I am Ziri, and if you allow it, I will call you my friend.”
Carwyn had darted out of the alcove to go look for Emil Conti. Ziri swept Beatrice down a dark hall that led outside. Once out of the suffocating walls of the castle, the wind vampire picked her up and flew her to the car. He tucked her into the backseat and waited outside for the priest.
Beatrice blinked, as if coming out of a dream. What was she doing? They had taken her husband! She was just about to shove her way out of the car when the door opened and Carwyn slipped in, grasping her wrists the minute they raised to shove him back.
“Ah-ah. Calm yourself, Beatrice De Novo. Now is the time to listen.”
She had found her voice. “They took him. Let me go!”
“No.” He let go of one arm to pound on the divider, and the car jerked forward. Beatrice reached over and punched him in the jaw.
“Let go of me, damn you!”
He grabbed her wrists again. “Beatrice, look at me.”
She was shaking with anger.
“Beatrice, you need to understand that Gio is in no mortal danger right now.”
Her fangs descended and she tasted blood in her mouth. “You say that when he was taken by that bitch? By that backstabbing bitch? With Lorenzo there? With—”
“With hundreds of witnesses watching her take him. He is, right now, a political prisoner. And no one knows anything. There are factions within factions that will all try to manipulate this situation to their own advantage. She has accused him, but everyone knows that she’ll lie if it suits her purposes.”
Her face fell. “But—”
“Whatever you’re about to tell me, don’t. Right now, your husband is a bargaining piece to Livia. He is safe.” Carwyn locked his eyes with hers. “Do you understand? He is safe. No harm will come to him as her prisoner. At least not right now. She won’t make any rash moves; she’s too smart for that.”
The reality of the situation began to take hold, and Beatrice felt the rage slipping away. In its place was a bone-deep pain. Carwyn must have caught the shift, because he let go of her wrists and pulled her into his arms. She shook with suppressed grief as the dark car mad
e the twisted journey back to Rome.
When they pulled up to the house by the Pantheon, Ziri was already waiting by the gate. Carwyn paid the driver and the black car sped away. They stepped through the green door and the smell of cardamom hit Beatrice’s nose.
“Tenzin!” she cried into the courtyard and felt the rush of wind as Tenzin sped to her.
“What has happened?” Small arms encircled her, embracing and lifting her when she stumbled. “What has happened tonight? Where is Gio?”
Ziri stepped into the courtyard. “Livia arrested him. It was unexpected.”
Beatrice felt Carwyn on one side, holding her, when Tenzin dropped her arms. Her hiss was vicious. “What? That arrogant dog took my boy? I will kill her!”
“Lorenzo,” Beatrice muttered as they made their way into the silent house. “She’s the one helping Lorenzo.”
Tenzin said, “I know.”
“How?”
“What do you think I’ve been doing for the past few weeks? It doesn’t actually take me that long to get across the ocean.”
Beatrice heard Ziri’s low chuckle as they made their way up the stairs, careful to keep silent as they walked to the library so they wouldn’t wake Ben.
“What am I going to tell Ben?” she whispered. As tough as Ben pretended to be, she knew he adored Giovanni. Depended on him. Giovanni was the constant. Nothing could harm him. She felt frozen by grief and confusion.
“Shh, my girl,” Tenzin whispered. “I will get him back. Do you hear me?”
“They took him. How could they take him?”
“With trickery and surprise. That is how.” Tenzin’s arm slipped around her waist. “But they have lost the surprise, and no one will hold him for long.”
Dawn was close when the four of them settled into the library. Beatrice collapsed on the couch. Carwyn sat next to her. Ziri and Tenzin both stood by the cold fireplace. Beatrice was reminded of the fireplace in the tower that Giovanni had lit. Other memories assaulted her. The warm grasp of his hands. His burning kiss. Would that be her last memory of him? The last time he touched her?
“Whatever dark, depressing thoughts you are entertaining, B, snap out of them.” Carwyn’s voice was brusque and, surprisingly, exactly what she needed to hear. “Taking political prisoners is commonplace in our world. She won’t hurt him. She might torture him, but it won’t be anything he hasn’t endured before.