Ben was quiet for a long time before he spoke again. “I guess that makes sense. You did go away for a long time.”
Giovanni sipped at the scotch he’d poured before he sat down. “I did. I thought I was doing the right thing for her.”
“Did you say you’re sorry?”
He sighed. “I’m not sure what to say. I still think it was necessary to leave her, so I’m not sorry I did that.”
“But you hurt her feelings!”
“I know,” he said sadly.
“So you should say you’re sorry for hurting her feelings then.”
Giovanni frowned. He hadn’t thought of doing that. Sometimes children really did see things more clearly.
“-and then ask her to marry you so she knows you’re not going to leave again.”
He inhaled his scotch. “Wh-what?”
“Well, you want to marry her and everything, right? I mean, you love her and all that stuff, and you don’t want her to go anywhere, and you want her to know you aren’t going anywhere again, so…you should just ask her, and then she’ll know you aren’t going to leave.”
His mind whirled. Strangely, the thought of marrying Beatrice hadn’t occurred to him, though he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Suddenly, Ben seemed like a genius. After all, she couldn’t ignore the inherent commitment in the request, could she?
“Ben, I’ll consider that, my friend.”
“Good. I think she’s cool. She’d be an awesome fake aunt.”
He snorted. “I should let you get back to your math work. Tell Caspar and Isadora I said hello.”
“Okay,” Ben sighed. “Tell B and Carwyn I said hi, too.”
“I will see you as soon as I am able, fake nephew.”
“I miss you and my basketball court, fake uncle.”
He grinned and said goodbye. His ears perked up when he heard Beatrice stirring in their bed. Carwyn had muttered about them sharing a room while they were under his roof, and his housekeeper, Sister Maggie, had glared, but he and Beatrice ignored them. He suspected that Beatrice was afraid her nightmares might return, and he didn’t like risking her peace of mind to appease the priest or the nun.
Besides, he thought, they were being frustratingly celibate.
Giovanni thought of how she looked curled into his side while she slept and the alluring scent of her blood when she woke, warm and sleepy as she stretched next to him.
He had gone longer without sex in his five hundred years-much longer at times if it was necessary-but he wasn’t going to lie and say he enjoyed it. Especially when the object of his desire slept next to him every night and inflamed his preternatural senses with her every pulse.
Feeling his fangs descend, he decided that he should brave the cold and hunt. There was little wildlife to choose from this time of year, and Sister Maggie had stocked donated blood for him in the kitchen, but he needed the exertion of the chase.
So he gritted his teeth and braced himself for the sour taste of mountain goat.
He walked down the hall to check on Beatrice and put on a shirt, only to find her twisted in the covers, her eyes darting behind her lids in the beginning of a nightmare. He quickly slipped into the bed behind her and pulled her to his chest, murmuring soothing words and stroking the hair back from her face.
She started and turned in his arms.
“Gio?”
“You were having a bad dream,” he murmured. “Do you remember?”
She took a deep breath and relaxed. “I…kind of. I remember hearing the ocean. It was echoing like it did when I was in Greece. The waves always echoed…”
She drifted off, sighing quietly as she relived the weeks she had spent as a captive under Lorenzo’s control. The water vampire had kept her isolated and alone in his compound in the middle of the Aegean Sea. Beatrice told Giovanni later she had never felt more trapped than in the small room that faced the ocean. It was why she chose to live in the hills in Los Angeles instead of on the beach. The sound of waves, though soothing to most, gave her nightmares at times.
He held her tightly, humming a tune he remembered from his human childhood. It was a song about a cricket that Giuliana had sung to him in the garden of her home in Arezzo. He remembered her lilting voice and the sun as it reflected off the water of the fountain.
“Gio?”
“Hmm?”
“What is that song?”
“‘Il Grillo.’ It’s a song about a cricket.”
“I like it. I didn’t know you could sing.”
“Hmm,” he breathed in her scent and pulled her closer. “My uncle liked it when I sang. Andros required it. I don’t really sing anymore.”
“It’s nice.”
“Thank you.”
She was quiet, but he could tell she had woken from her slumber, at least for a while. She normally had trouble getting back to sleep if she woke in the middle of the night. Ironically, she often slept better during the day.
“Gio?”
“Hmm?”
“Did you call home?”
He nodded. “Ben said hello.” And that I should ask you to marry me. What do you think?
“How’s Grandma and Cas?”
“Doing well and pestering him about cleaning up his room.”
She laughed quietly, and the shaking of her body against his reminded him why he had come to the room to begin with. The feel of her curves was starting to make his blood pulse.
“Beatrice, I need to go out.”
“No,” she murmured and pulled his arms more securely around her waist. “I’m too comfy here. Stay.”
“Tesoro,” Giovanni groaned quietly and took a deep breath. It didn’t help, he only managed to make his throat burn all the more and his desire spiked. “I need to go. I need to…hunt.”
She stilled, and her fingers dug into his forearm.
“You’re hungry?”
“Yes, I need to go out and hunt something. I need…I just need to hunt.” He tried to pull away, but she clung to his arms and his jaw clenched in frustration. “Beatri-”
“Drink from me.”
His blood roared when he heard her quiet voice and his fangs descended. “Are…are you sure?”
Beatrice rolled over and looked at him. “Yes. Will it be like before?”
“I won’t drink too much,” he whispered. “I promise.” He could feel his skin heat and his heart begin to beat.
She blushed, and Giovanni stifled a low growl as the heat flooded her face. “Not that. I mean, I don’t want to…you know. We probably shouldn’t-”
“If you tell me ‘no,’ I’ll stop.” Giovanni clamped down his self-control. “No matter what.”
“Okay,” she whispered and tilted her head to the side, brushing the hair away from her neck. The scent of her skin washed over him, and he swallowed a groan. His hands reached under the camisole she wore, splaying across her back as his mouth dipped down to her neck.
He nosed against her pulse, rubbing his cheek across the delicate skin of her collar and reveling in the scent of her pounding blood. His tongue flicked out and began tracing the artery. He could feel the amnis that ran under his skin spread over her everywhere their flesh touched.
Her bare shoulders. The small of her back. Everywhere his hands went, her skin prickled in awareness. He could scent her arousal and he struggled to control his own. He fought the urge to plunge his fangs into her neck, determined to enjoy the rare pleasure of her blood and skin for as long as he could.
“Gio?” she panted, arching against him. “Are you going to-”
“Shh,” he whispered. “Let me…” His tongue fluttered against the pulse point in her neck. “I don’t want to rush.”
“Oh,” she breathed out and reached up to run her hands through the hair at the nape of his neck. Giovanni trailed his fangs along her skin. He closed his eyes and held her for a moment, feeling the beat of her heart against his chest.
“I love you,” he whispered, as his hands stroked her back. He pulled her closer, but kept himself in check, determined to only take what she was offering.