The Elemental Mysteries: Complete Series (26 page)

Still chuckling, he watched her as she tasted the last scotch, but the laughter died when he saw her close her eyes.
 
She licked her lips, and he could see the flush stain her cheeks.
 

“
This
one,” she murmured.
 
“This one’s my favorite.”
 

He could see the slow pulse in her neck, and he watched as her tongue darted out again to taste.
 

“Oh?” he asked in a low voice.
 

She nodded.
 
“Sweet and smoky.
 
It almost—it tingles in my mouth.”
 
Her eyes opened and he realized he had leaned toward her without thinking, her hypnotic tone drawing him in.
 

He fought the rush of blood in his veins until he realized they were being watched from the corner and her face was tilted toward his as if she was asking her lover for a kiss.
 

Placing an arm around her waist, he pulled her toward him and leaned down to cover her mouth with his own.
 
He meant for it to be simple, a light kiss to cover the deception of his claim on her, but he tasted the gold whisky on her lips as they moved under his own.
 

She was kissing him back.
 

And he couldn’t stop his hand from stroking the gentle curve of her back or his mouth from opening to hers.
 
His tongue reached out, sampling the sweet taste that lingered on her lips as she opened her own mouth to taste his.
 
A soft sigh left her as they kissed, and the scent of her breath mirrored the taste of the whisky.
 

She moved closer, and his other hand reached up to her neck, pulling her more deeply into their kiss.
 
He could feel his thumb linger over the pulse point under her chin, stroking lightly as it raced.
 
He lost track of time; all he could think of was the soft feel of her body as she leaned into him, the scent of her breath, and her taste as it overwhelmed his senses.
 

It was clear and sweet, and the faint human memory of drinking cool water on a hot day flickered in the back of his mind.
 
He wanted more.
 

Much more.
 

He pulled her closer and felt the delicate press of her breasts against his chest.
 
A low kind of growl began to rise from him when he felt her heart beat against him.
 
His fangs descended and her roaming tongue found them, but instead of recoiling, a soft moan came from her throat and her hand lifted to stroke his cheek.
 

It was the moment when he felt the urge to lay her down on the couch, brush her long hair aside, and drink deeply from her neck that he began to back off.
 
The sudden realization of where they were and who she was began to take hold, and he loosened his grip, trying to regain his rigid control.
 

Giovanni didn’t want to create suspicion, so he let his lips trail to her ear.
 
She was still breathing rapidly, and her other arm had reached around his back.
 

“They’re watching,” he whispered hoarsely in her ear, letting his lips brush against the soft skin there.
 

Beatrice panted a little, and he could still feel the blood rushing through her veins.
 

“What?” she asked in confusion.
 

“Gavin and a few others.”
 
He swallowed, ignoring the low burn in his throat.
 
“They’re watching us.”
 
He closed his eyes, continuing his deceit.
 
“They think we’re together, remember?
 
We should leave now, but make sure we don’t give ourselves away.”
 

“Don’t give—oh,” she let out a sharp breath.
 
“Right.
 
They think…right.”
 
She swallowed and he tried to ignore the acid note in her voice.
 
“Wouldn’t want to give them the wrong impression, would we?”

He hesitated before answering, “No.”
 

He lingered at her ear as she calmed her breathing, brushing a kiss across her flushed cheek before he drew away from her.
 

Giovanni avoided her eyes as he pulled out his wallet, leaving more than enough to cover the drinks on the coffee table.
 
He stood, holding out his hand to help Beatrice up.
 
She took it and he could feel the stiffness in her fingers.
 
Nonetheless, he pulled her to him, tucking her under his arm as they made their way out of the building.
 

He felt her stiffen as he nodded toward Gavin in the corner, and he hoped that her expression didn’t give them away.
 
He couldn’t risk a glance.
 
She tried to pull away from him when they got out the door, but he still held her close.
 

“Watching,” he said.
 
“Someone is still watching.”
 

Giovanni held her small body under his for as long as he could, feeling the fleeting comfort of the contact he knew would soon be denied.
 
He opened the car door slowly, finally releasing her as she got in.
 
He walked to the driver’s side, anticipating her sharp rebuke as soon as they were alone, but she was silent as they pulled onto the main road.
 
After a few moments, her silence bothered him more than her anger.
 

“We’re not far from my grandmother’s house.
 
Could you just drop me off there?” she asked with careful nonchalance.
 
“I’ll drop by the house tomorrow and get my things.”
 

“Beatrice—”

“I’m sure my grandmother’s wondering where I am.
 
I’m usually not out this late, even on nights I work.”
 

His mind raced, trying to find something to say that would break through the coldness in the air, but he couldn’t.
 
Taking their kiss too far had been his mistake.
 

“Of course,” he said quietly.
 
“I’ll let Caspar know to expect you sometime tomorrow.”
 

She was silent again when he glanced at her profile.
 
Her face was impassive, and her eyes were shadowed as she stared into the night.
 

“The notes about the Lincoln documents are on the desk.
 
Since I found them, I’m going to take some time off.
 
I need to help my grandmother with some things.”
 

He pushed back the protest that sprang to his lips and gritted his teeth.
 
“Of course.
 
How many days do you need?”

She shrugged.
 
“I’ll let Caspar know.”
 

As they pulled up to her grandmother’s house, he saw her gather her purse and release her seatbelt.
 
She opened the car door and exited the Mustang as soon as it had stopped.
 
He looked over at her, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes.
 

“Beatrice…” he began, trying to forget the feel of her lips against his.

She paused, bending down to meet his eyes, as if daring him to protest.

He opened his mouth, but words escaped him when he met her dark stare.

“Good night, Dr. Vecchio.”
 

She shut the door firmly.
 
He watched her walk to the small house and go inside then glanced down the street, looking for the surveillance vehicle that was supposed to be watching.
 
Noting the license plate of the unobtrusive minivan parked down the block, he leaned his head back and sighed.
 

He couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of her lips against his and her sweet taste.
 
Her body fit against his perfectly; he indulged himself in the memory of her small breasts pressed against his chest and the feel of her hands stroking his jaw.
 
While he enjoyed sex with the women he usually fed from, he never pursued any sort of personal connection with them farther than a shared, fleeting pleasure.
 

With Beatrice, he realized the lines were beginning to blur.
 
Reminding himself of his purpose in pursuing the girl, he shoved down the more tender feelings that threatened to surface.

Giving one last glance to the light that filled the room on the second floor, he revved the engine to a low growl and pulled away.

Chapter Twelve

Houston, Texas

February 2004

“You’re sulking.”
 

“Am not.”
 

“Yes, you are.”
 

Her grandmother eyed her from across the kitchen table.
 
Isadora set down her book and looked at her granddaughter with a raised eyebrow.
 

Beatrice looked down at her toast.
 
“How was your date with Caspar?”

Isadora smiled.
 
“It was wonderful.
 
It would have been much more pleasant if we hadn’t spent half the night talking about you and Giovanni sulking in your respective corners.”
 

“Hmm,” she hummed.
 
She couldn’t suppress the satisfaction she felt hearing that Caspar said Giovanni was sulking, too.
 

She hadn’t seen him for two weeks.
 
Not since the night she was forced to face the hard truth that Giovanni, polite and cultured as he seemed, sucked on strange women’s necks for sustenance and probably did a lot of other things she didn’t want to think about.
 
The night she had been informed that she was viewed as a kind of property or pet in his world, no matter how he tried to sugarcoat that fact.
 

The night he’d kissed her.
 
And she’d kissed him back.
 

And what a kiss it was,
she thought with a sigh.

Remembering it was enough to raise her temperature.
 
The way his lips had moved against hers, and the barely perceptible shiver she’d felt from him when her tongue touched his fangs.
 
His arms.
 
The heat.
 
His hands on her back ...she shook her head and tried to push back the memory, but she could feel herself blushing as she sat at the table with her grandmother.

She cleared her throat.
 
“I doubt Giovanni is sulking.
 
Caspar just likes to pester him.”
 

“How long as he worked for Gio?
 
Caspar talks about him like he’s known him his whole life.”
 

She didn’t know the whole of Caspar’s story, but she knew Giovanni said they’d been together since Caspar was a boy.
 

“You’d have to ask him.
 
I think he may have worked for Gio’s family.”
 
There, that was vague enough.
 
She’d let Caspar fill in whatever details he wanted.
 

While her initial promise to set Caspar and her grandmother up on a blind date had been in jest, the more Beatrice had thought about it, the more it made sense.
 
When she’d asked Caspar about it, he’d been enthusiastic at her attempt at matchmaking.
 
They’d gone out the night before and Isadora was glowing.

“Well, he’s lovely.
 
And has such a wonderful sense of humor.”
 

“Unlike his boss,” she muttered as she drank her coffee.
 
She may have said it, but she knew it wasn’t true.
 
Though he had a dry, acerbic wit, Giovanni’s humor was one of the things she liked most about him.

And she couldn’t deny she liked him.
 
Though she had been attracted to him from the beginning, the more she learned, the more she was drawn to him.
 
He could be so aloof, but she was beginning to see the “opposite of frosty” side Carwyn had told her about weeks ago.

That kiss
, she thought again as her grandmother chattered on about her date.

“Beatrice, you should go back to work.
 
You’re avoiding him.
 
Does this have anything to do with feelings you may have developed—”

“Nope,” she lied, cutting her grandmother off.
 
“No feelings.
 
He’s my boss.
 
I’m just taking some time off.
 
I have some projects that need my attention, Grandma.
 
And I don’t want you and Caspar gossiping, okay?
 
I’m just…taking some time off.
 
That’s all.”
 

She gulped down the rest of her coffee, ignoring the almost laser-like stare she knew her grandmother was giving her.
 

“Well, aren’t you full of shit!
 
Also, Caspar and I will gossip about anything we please.”
 
She smiled sweetly at Beatrice, who finished up her toast and stood to leave.
 
“Working tonight?
 
It’s—”