The Elemental Mysteries: Complete Series (147 page)

“About?”

He backed her up against the nearest bookcase, propping her on the edge of one deep shelf as his hands stroked down her legs, fingers teasing under the edge of her boots to tickle the sensitive skin behind her knee.

“Hoop skirts would make this problematic.”

“I think ahead that way,” she panted.

“Beatrice...” He hissed as his hands clutched at her thighs. Beatrice’s fingers tugged at the laces of his pants, as her other hand stroked him through the thick fabric. He bit back a groan when her hand closed around him. Desire? He had never known desire until he had known her.

“Now,” she whispered. “Gio, I need you.”

One hand reached up to the nape of her neck, angling Beatrice’s mouth to his as the other pulled at the drawstring that held her leggings tight. His hand slipped under the fabric and searched for her heat as she bit down on his lower lip.

Feeling how ready she was, he freed himself and drove into her with one swift stroke. Her satisfied cry echoed off the cold stone of the tower library, but Giovanni didn’t care who heard them. He pulled back and gave her a wicked smile. He’d dreamt about taking her in this room for years.

A few books fell to the floor as they moved faster, and his hand reached back to cradle her head so it wasn’t bashed against the hard oak shelves. He dove back toward her mouth, swallowing the cries of pleasure as he drove her toward the edge.

“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 had risen behind her, but it did nothing but spill over the sides, drenching the floor and trickling down the stairs. Giovanni growled, 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 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.