“So, he made you into the ideal man, and then he killed you?” she choked out, still reeling from his scent and the energy that poured off him.
He gave her a sad smile. “No, then he turned me into a demigod.”
“What?” she asked, suddenly wondering if she needed to call Carwyn for an immortal psych consult.
He snorted, “Well, that’s what he thought, anyway. He thought vampires were the demigods of Greek mythology.”
“Ah, so what you’re saying is…he was completely nuts?”
“Absolutely
She shook her head and watched as he reached over to grab a bit of the dried apricot on her plate.
“And you lived with him for ten years?”
He nodded. “Ten years as a human, and then longer after I was turned. But Lorenzo…” He trailed off when he saw her shiver.
Placing the plate on the small table by the bed, he crawled over to her again, gathering her close and tucking her into his side when he stretched out under the blanket. “I don’t know how long he had Lorenzo. And his name as a human was Paulo.” Giovanni sighed. “He was a sad thing, always anxious for Andros’s attention. Never quite good enough for my father.”
“Why was he there?”
Giovanni shrugged. “As a servant mostly, though Father liked to insinuate he would turn Paulo, too, when it was time. Just to keep Paulo happy.”
“But he didn’t.”
“My father…” Giovanni paused with a frown. “He was a complicated vampire. Cruel, horrible, and completely single-minded. But perceptive, as well. He was a genius in his own way, and he saw something in Paulo,” he said. “Something I should have paid attention to before my pity overwhelmed my reason.”
“What?”
“Cruelty. My father said that Paulo did not have the character necessary to be a good vampire, so he would not turn him.”
“When did Lor-Paulo figure that out?” she asked as Giovanni’s hand stroked along her hair. She curled into his side and he held her tightly.
He took a slow breath before he answered. “He found out five years after I was turned, the night I persuaded Paulo to kill my father.”
Beatrice gasped, but Giovanni was staring at the ceiling, lost in his memories, and wearing a hollow look.
“You mean-”
“I knew I would never get away. He would always be stronger than me, and after he knew I could wield fire, Andros would never have released me. What he had planned, I wanted no part in. I couldn’t get away on my own, but I knew I could get away with help. Andros was vulnerable during the day. He was vulnerable to humans if they knew where he rested. If it was someone he thought he had control of. And Paulo was so greedy…for gold, for power.”
“What are you saying?”
“So I promised to turn him if he did it.”
“Gio, what did you-”
“And I traded my father’s life for my son’s immortality.”
Chapter Twenty-five
“I think it’s time for us to go home.”
Giovanni looked at her, nodding silently as their horses rode across the meadow near one of the rushing waterfalls that dotted the valley. They had been riding for two hours after waking in his bed that evening.
“I told you we would stay as long as you liked.”
“It’s been a month.”
He smiled. “I’m impressed you put up with me for this long.”
“Well,” she said with a wink, “you’re a bit of a bed hog, but at least your feet aren’t cold.”
He chuckled. “Good to know, considering I haven’t slept next to anyone in well over a hundred years.” In reality, it had been far longer since he’d trusted anyone to sleep next to him when he was defenseless-not counting Caspar as a child-but he didn’t feel the need to elaborate.
“Really?”
He shrugged, and continued riding back toward the house.
Though it had tested his control, Giovanni refused to feed from her again, slipping out of the valley to find the nearest larger town to hunt the previous week. Her blood had sustained him for as long as he dared, but he did not want to risk losing control again.
While Beatrice showed no hesitance in furthering their physical relationship, he knew that once he had truly taken her to his bed, his territorial nature, combined with his deepening attachment to her, would make it practically impossible for him to allow her to leave.
“It’s not that I’m unhappy here, it’s just-”
“You have a life to get back to, Beatrice.”
He could hear the hesitation in her voice when she finally answered.
“What will you do? Will you go back to Houston?”
He nodded. “I will. For now.”
“Does that mean you’ll have to move?”
“I don’t know.”
He stopped his horse near the small bridge over the stream near his house and waited for her to catch up with him.
“Do you know-”
“I know as much as you do. Carwyn and Tenzin are in Houston, waiting for us to return. I need to talk to them before I make any decisions.”
They stared at each other and Giovanni could see the beginning of goodbye fill her eyes. He had not told her he loved her, though he knew he did. He still had doubts that her feelings were more than the product of a youthful infatuation and the stress of their tumultuous time together.
He grabbed her reins and reached across to pull her onto his lap. Giovanni settled his arms around her hips, which had filled out since they had been in Cochamo and rested his chin on her shoulder, drinking in the contact for as long as he could.
He led her mare beside them as they crossed the stream, and warmed her with his arms when a light mist began to fall.
“I love it here,” she whispered.
“So do I,” he said, thinking more of the girl in front of him than the valley they crossed.
They had spent their nights in peace, sleeping next to each other for most of the day and exploring the valley at night. He had shown her his favorite parts of Cochamo, and they spent hours in the company of Gustavo, Isabel, and their large family, who welcomed Beatrice like an old friend.
“Can I come back sometime?”
He brushed a kiss across her neck. “You can come back any time.”
They fell into silence for the rest of the ride. When they returned to the house, he picked up a note someone had slipped under the door.
