“Well, obviously it wasn’t for you, but from the way she looks at you, it was for her.”
“But I never felt for her what I feel for you. I have an affection for her; I consider her a friend.”
“And I’m not trying to interfere with that, Gio. I understand, I’m just-”
“Did she beat you like this because I love you?” he asked in a whisper.
Beatrice stopped his hands and turned so she could look him in the eye. She placed one hand on his cheek. “No. We were sparring, and she’s a good teacher. My sensei in L.A. would have treated me just the same. Well, if he was a vampire.” She shook her head. “It wouldn’t do me any favors for her to go easy on me. I need to know how to fight.” She turned back around to face the fire, and he continued to brush her hair out.
He finally spoke again. “Is this because you don’t trust me to stay? The fighting? Is it because you think I’ll leave you again?”
“You can’t be with me all the time. You have to sleep during the day, and I don’t want you following me around all night, either. We’d both go nuts.”
He put the brush down and laid his hands lightly on her waist.
“Maybe I’ll lock you in with me during the day,” he said in a teasing voice, pinching her waist and putting his chin on her shoulder. “I think I could keep you occupied.”
She rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t dare. I would draw all over your face while you slept. I’d write, ‘I’m a pretentious ass’ on your forehead.”
Beatrice felt him chuckle and his skin was cool, so she knew he was no longer angry.
“Where does it hurt,
“Can your blood do anything? What if I drink a little?”
“Unfortunately, it only works on open wounds for humans.” He turned her and rolled her pants up to her torn knees. He bit his finger and started rubbing the blood into the cuts. She felt a tingle as it spread over her skin; then she saw the wounds start to knit together before her eyes.
“That is wicked cool.”
He smirked. “If you were a vampire, some of my blood would help heal your bruises, too. But your human metabolism would break it down before it could take effect. It will help on any open wounds, though. Give me your hands.” He held out his hands and she placed her palms into them as he bit his thumbs and spread the healing blood over the cuts there, as well.
“Thanks.”
He shrugged and finished looking over her arms, healing, then cleaning any wounds he found. Finally, he tilted her face up and she saw him pierce his tongue. He licked from her chin, mending the cut there before he traced along her bottom lip. She could feel the tingling before he caught her lips in a gentle kiss.
Giovanni sighed into her mouth and wrapped his arms around her. Even though his embrace was gentle, Beatrice winced when he touched her shoulder, and he backed away.
“Sorry, sorry,” she muttered. “I’m still pretty sore.”
He picked her up and laid her down on the bed, stretching out beside her and rolling up her shirt.
“Don’t apologize. Just tell me where it hurts.”
“What are you-”
“Heating pads for hands, remember? Tell me where it hurts.”
She slowly relaxed as he kneaded her sore body, making his hands almost painfully hot at times to treat the battered muscles. By the time he was finished, she was limp as a rag and half-asleep.
“Tell me what happened in France,” she murmured.
“Shhh. Tomorrow, Beatrice. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“Okay…night.”
He wrapped his warm arms around her, and she drifted away.
Chapter Fifteen
The Swan with Two Necks was not a pub where tourists would venture. In fact, as Giovanni looked around, he thought even the fiercest of immortals would balk at entering the dark bar in London’s Docklands, if for no other reason than to avoid tasting a human with Hepatitis, which was never a pleasant experience.
But the dark pub was the known meeting place for the canny water vampire he and Gemma were finally meeting that night. Tywyll only had one name, as far as anyone knew. And his name was the only thing most humans or vampires knew about the dark vampire whose skiff moved up and down the River Thames, trading and controlling the valuable flow of information Giovanni needed to access.
He had brought Gemma along because Terry had jokingly informed him the night before that Tywyll had a rather unexpected, and very unrequited, infatuation with his old friend. He had been avoiding spending time alone with Gemma since Beatrice’s revelation of Gemma’s feelings for him.
“So, ye’ want to know whether yer boy ha’ been on the river, do ye’?”
Tywyll took a gulp of the porter in front of him. He was a small, dark man with an enigmatic middle-aged face that indicated he could have been turned anywhere between ages twenty and fifty, depending on when he had lived his mortal life.
Giovanni had long suspected Tywyll could give Tenzin competition in the age department. He glanced at Gemma, nodding toward the old vampire.
“If you had any information about Lorenzo, Tywyll, we’d be most grateful for it.” She smiled. Gemma was perched precariously on the bench in the small booth where they had found the man, and her legs were pressed to his as she scowled at Giovanni across the table.
“Eh, lass, I’m sure you and yer man would be most grateful, but what of the Italian next to ye’? Is he wantin’ the goods as well?”
Tywyll stared at Giovanni with hooded eyes. He knew that Giovanni wanted the information, but what he needed to know was if the fire vampire recognized the favor that would be owed for his cooperation.
Giovanni nodded. “I would be grateful for any information you could obtain about my son’s whereabouts or activities, Tywyll.”
Understanding offered, Tywyll sat back in the booth and took another sip of his pint. He eyed Giovanni with dark delight, happy to be doing a favor for the feared immortal.
“I’ll not lie to ye’, he’s not been upriver that I’ve heard. And I’d know. I might be makin’ my way down to the mouth of the river in the next week or so. If I hear anything of value, I’ll let ye’ know.”
It was as close to a promise of investigation as they would get from the old vampire. Tywyll had a reputation as a loner, which was unusual for a water vampire, but Giovanni had long suspected that, like Tenzin, the vampire was simply too old to comfortably socialize with others more steeped in the modern world.
Instead, he maintained an extensive list of contacts up and down the river who owed him favors of one sort or another. If Lorenzo was in London, he was probably in a boat. If he was in a boat, then Tywyll would be able to locate him.
“Thank you ever so much, Tywyll,” Gemma started. “As always, it’s a pleasure to see you. Of course-”
“We’ll be staying to finish our drinks,” Giovanni added quickly. “I’m living near the water now and I’m considering buying a boat of some kind. I’d greatly appreciate any insight you could give me.”
The old vampire grinned and glanced at Gemma from the corner of his eye, keen to play along with Gemma’s discomfort if it meant he could spend more time with her.
“Well, now…it all depends on what yer wantin’ the vessel for, doesn’t it?”
“You know, Giovanni, I used to consider you a friend. That time has passed.”
He chuckled and twisted the woolen scarf around his neck as he and Gemma walked the damp streets. They had left the car and driver in one of the more recently gentrified areas of the Docklands where the old Bentley wouldn’t be as conspicuous.
