The Elemental Mysteries: Complete Series (134 page)

“And when that moment comes, I want you to remember how you feel right now. I want you to remember this moment for the rest of your existence because that is what will keep the humans around you safe from the monster that lives inside you. That lives inside all of us.”

Her eyes were dull as she stared at him. Her hands limp and lying at her sides.

“I hate you.”

“I love you.”

October

“Beatrice?”

She glanced at him, but didn’t speak.

“Have you fed tonight?”

He looked so calm as he wrapped his needless scarf around his neck and prepared to go down to the lodge for Ben’s lessons.

She nodded.

“Call if you need anything.”

She shrugged and turned back to the fire. They hadn’t exchanged blood since she had killed the old man. Her logical brain understood why Giovanni had allowed her to do it, but the gaping void in her chest, the hollow that never seemed to be filled, was only growing deeper the longer she let her anger fester.

And she couldn’t see a way to bridge the gap that had opened between them.

An hour later, there was a knock at the door. So focused on the fire, she failed to register the approaching energy. A storm system had moved into the valley, bringing thunder, lightning, and causing her senses to go haywire in the charged air.

Beatrice rose and went to the door, gasping when she recognized the smell of cardamom on the other side. She flung it open and Tenzin was there, silent and soaked from the rain. Her shorn hair hung in thick chunks around her face as she waited on the porch.

Simultaneous rage and love reared up in Beatrice. She raised her hand to strike, but Tenzin only reached out and caught her fist before it made contact. Beatrice shook, then she crumbled to the ground, sobbing out her grief, anger, and heartbreak as her father’s mate knelt down and gathered her in an embrace. Tenzin kicked the door closed and tucked Beatrice’s head under her chin, rocking her back and forth as Beatrice clutched at her dirty white robes.

“I’m here, my girl. I’m back.”

November

“It’s normal to feel that, you know.”

Tenzin and Beatrice were sparring on the edge of a clearing as one of Gustavo’s men looked on. A human, one of the guides that worked in the valley during the summer months, sat at his feet. While Beatrice had very good control around humans most of the time, Tenzin had emphasized the importance of learning how to fight while the distraction was nearby. Considering Lorenzo had used the scent of human blood to pin her and kill her father, Beatrice was quick to agree to the practice, no matter how much her throat burned.

“Feel what?”

“That void from Stephen’s loss. It will fade with time, but there will always be a trace. You were sired from his blood; it would be unnatural to not feel the lack of him.”

They moved in a dancing fight, Beatrice’s style having developed into something uniquely her own in the year since she had turned. It was a melding of the martial arts that she had practiced as a human, Gemma’s vicious street-fighting, and Tenzin’s flowing, but lethal, ballet. Though Tenzin was still faster, Beatrice was more than able to keep up.

“Do you still feel it?” Tenzin cut her eyes toward Beatrice before she punched out in a swift uppercut.

“Sorry,” Beatrice muttered through her fractured jaw. “Stupid question.”

“Have you talked to Giovanni about it?”

“Why?”

Tenzin smacked the back of her head. “Are you stupid, girl? Do you forget that he lost his father, too?”

“Oh, well...” Beatrice had no idea how much Tenzin knew about Andros’s death, but she wasn’t going to say. Giovanni had told her that no one could ever know that he had a hand in the death of his sire. She would not reveal his secrets, not even to Tenzin.

“And however that came about—” Tenzin looked down at the ground. “And I have always had my suspicions—your husband understands the loss you feel. He has felt it himself. If you need to talk to someone, he’s the one vampire here that would understand. If you haven’t talked to him about it, you’re stupid.”

Beatrice held a hand up and paused. “Are you coming back with us to L.A.?”

Tenzin frowned. “I suppose I am. Why?”

“Because apparently, I need you to tell me when I’m being stupid.”

December

She was glowing. Her face may not have blushed anymore, but his wife had been glowing as she sat next to Ben and opened presents earlier that evening. They had gathered at Isabel and Gustavo’s house, Beatrice and Giovanni, Tenzin, Carwyn, and Ben. All together, and she had not struggled to control her bloodlust once.

Giovanni imagined that he was glowing, too.

She lay on the couch, stretched out and listening to him play bits and pieces from the Nutcracker Suite as dawn approached. She hummed along, horribly out of tune, as always, but he didn’t care. He heard her stand and walk toward him. She placed her hand on his shoulder and he leaned into her arm, rubbing his cheek against her flesh and enjoying the crackling, excited energy that filled the house.

They would go back to Los Angeles soon.

“Gio?”

“Hmm?”

She sat next to him for a moment before she ducked under his arms and straddled his lap. He pulled his hands away to grab her waist, but she winked and placed them back on the keyboard. “Keep playing.”

Giovanni chuckled. “What game are you playing, woman?”

She put her arms around his neck, nipping at his ear and nuzzling into his neck. “I think...”

“Yes?” Despite his preternatural concentration, he was having trouble focusing on the Tchaikovsky.

“I think that maybe I do want to learn to play.”

His eyes rolled back as she let her fangs scrape along his neck. “Oh, I think you’re quite adept at playing already, Tesoro.”

“No.” She giggled. “An instrument.”

“I’m allowing that joke to pass. Too obvious.”

She laughed and cuddled into him, wiggling on his lap as he struggled to concentrate on the keyboard. “Not piano though.”

“No?”

“No, maybe... guitar. I could be a rock and roll chick. Not electric, obviously... well, maybe I could figure something out. I mean, if I really tried, I could probably figure out a way to make it work. Maybe an insulated case of some kind, but I’d have to make sure it didn’t damage the guitar... What?”

He grinned and ceased playing, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his mouth to hers in a long kiss. His hands reached up, running through her hair and teasing the pins out that she had used to put it up earlier.

“I love you madly, Beatrice De Novo.”

She smiled and nipped at his chin. “I love you, too.”

“Welcome back.”

Chapter One

Los Angeles, California

March 2012

Giovanni woke with a start, and Beatrice looked up from across the room. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of their large bed to stare at the photograph of the Ponte Vecchio, which hung on the wall of their bedroom.

“Hey.”

He blinked before he looked over at her. Beatrice smiled. Her husband looked as if he was still halfway dreaming.

“Good evening. Did you rest at all today?” He rose and walked to her, bending down to kiss her bare shoulder. He still refused to wear any sort of clothing to bed. Since their room was blocked by a sturdy, reinforced door, multiple locks, and an electronic monitoring system that she’d had custom made for them, Beatrice just decided to enjoy the view. No one would be breaking in.

“I rested a few hours. You looked like you were dreaming. What was it about?”

He shrugged and walked to the small kitchen area, heating a bag of blood and leaning over to sniff the coffee pot she’d added in the corner of their room.

“Was it about your father again?”

He was silent for a few minutes, but she didn’t try to fill the space. Giovanni finally turned with a frown on his face. “I don’t know why I’m having so many dreams about him.”

She cocked her head. “Because of me? Because I lost my dad? Because we’ve been talking about that?”

“Perhaps.”

She had finally taken Tenzin’s advice and confided in Giovanni about the gaping wound that Stephen’s loss had left. As predicted, he understood completely. Just sharing the hurt had done more to lessen the grief than any of her own efforts.

“Gio... there’s no chance that Andros could be alive, is there? I mean, you didn’t actually see him die. He was just ash when you woke up. Lorenzo was the one who saw—”

“Beatrice, how did you feel when your father was killed?”

Tears sprang immediately to her eyes. “Like... something was ripped from my chest. Empty. Physical pain would have been a relief.”

He only looked at her and nodded. “I felt the same. Despite how much I hated Andros, I loved him, too. And the pain of my father’s death woke me from my day rest, even though it was practically impossible to wake me when I was that young. I know he is dead.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I just—”

“It’s a valid question. Don’t apologize.”

He turned and picked up the bag of blood he had heated in warm water, drinking it quickly before he walked across the room. He picked her up and brought her back to the bed. Though she didn’t need to sleep, his presence—the silent meditation of his touch—allowed Beatrice to rest her mind.

The sun still peeked through the edges of the windows, so they lay silently, curled together as her amnis wrapped around its mate. Though he didn’t move, she could feel Giovanni’s invisible energy stroking along her back and neck, fluttering over her skin and soothing her.

“What are you doing tonight?” she asked in a drowsy whisper.

“I’m introducing one of Gustavo’s sons to Ernesto. Diego has some business in Los Angeles and he asked for an introduction.”

“Oh, you get to play politics. Lucky you.”

He pinched her side when she snickered. “Your grandfather asked for you to come, as well, but I made an excuse for you. I’m not going to next time.”

She leaned over and kissed him. “Thank you. You’re the best husband in the whole room.” Beatrice squealed when he dug his fingers into her sides. Immortality had not lessened how ticklish she was. If anything, it had made it worse.

“Why? Why did I sign up for this abuse for eternity? What have I done to deserve this woman?” He chuckled as he continued to tickle her. Soon, she was gasping under him.

“Stop!” she panted. “Stop. I’ll...”

An evil grin spread across his face. “You’ll what?”

She brought an arm around and trailed her fingers down his back, teasing his spine as he shivered. Giovanni may not have been ticklish, but she knew exactly how to torment him.

“I’ll... save some hot water for you!”

Beatrice darted out from under him and into the luxurious bathroom, locking the door behind her. She laughed and started the shower, only to hear the door splinter behind her. Giovanni tossed the broken wood to the side and strode into the room.

“We didn’t need that door.”

She drove the grey Mustang through the busy streets, pulling up to the old warehouse where Tenzin had set up a practice studio. The ancient wind vampire was already there, and Beatrice could hear her pounding on one of the training dummies.

“You’re coming later, right?” Ben grabbed his gym bag and opened the door.

“Yeah, I’m just meeting Dez for dinner, and then I’ll come back and practice with you guys for a while.”

“No rush. I think she’s meaner to me when you’re there.”

Beatrice laughed and reached across to ruffle his hair as he tried to squirm away.

At fifteen, Ben Vecchio had all the marks of a boy on the verge of manhood. He had shot up the year they had been in Chile and was far taller than she was. Beatrice guessed he would rival Giovanni’s height when he was full-grown. His chest was starting to fill out and lose its scrawny appearance, helped along by the intense physical training that Beatrice and Giovanni insisted on for his safety. His curling hair, deep brown eyes, and quick smile already attracted enough female attention to keep a grown man happy, much less a teenage boy.

Ben was well on the way to breaking a few hearts, and Beatrice absolutely adored him.

“Tell Dez I said ‘Hi’ and let her know I’m here when she gets tired of the old fart.”

“She told the old fart she’d marry him, so I have a feeling you’re out of luck.”

He leaned down and winked. “Engaged is not married, B. There’s hope until there’s a ring on her finger.”

She shook her head. “You’re shameless.”

“Yep. But I’m cute, too. See ya!” He slapped the top of the car and walked into the warehouse, whistling.

“Shameless,” she said as she pulled away.

She turned at El Molina Avenue and parked on the street, glad to have found a parking spot so near the cafe where she and Dez met on Thursday nights. She could already hear a new band warming up inside, and no one was sitting on the patio, so she grabbed a table, glad for the clear night sky. Dez arrived a few minutes later, and Beatrice shoved down the instinctive hunger that tickled the back of her throat.