This Same Earth

“How long do you want to stay?”

“How long can we?”

He shrugged. “We probably shouldn’t leave Benjamin with Caspar and your grandmother for much longer, or they’ll never agree to babysit again.”

She burst into laughter, and he joined her. He knew she missed the boy, too. They had spoken to Ben that afternoon and he was doing well with the closest thing he had to grandparents, but he did mention that he missed his basketball hoop.

“When all this is over, if it’s ever over-”

“It will be over someday, I promise you.”

“When it’s over, what do you want?”

“To do?”

“Yes.”

He thought for a few moments. “Just to have my life back. With you. Like it was when we first met.”

He felt her sigh in front of him as they crossed the last bridge before they reached the house. “I want that, too. Just working with you and being normal.”

“Oh yes.” He snapped his fingers and tossed a blue flame into the night. It hovered in front of them, lighting the way so she could see as they passed through the overhanging trees. “Very normal.”

She snorted. “You know what I mean.”

Kissing her cheek, he hugged her around the waist as they broke through the last of the trees and into the meadow that surrounded their home.

“I know what you mean.”

Moonlight poured over her bare skin as she moved over him at the edge of the secluded pool. The mist from the waterfall surrounded them, cooling his skin as they made love. She was a vision as she rode him, her head thrown back in the cool night air as the water dripped down her neck. He reared up, letting his fangs scrape the valley between her breasts before he teased her neck, flicking his tongue behind her ear until she moaned.

“Yes,” she panted. “More.”

Giovanni felt her hands run through his damp hair and down his neck as she drew his head toward the pounding pulse in her throat. His tongue traced over her skin as they moved together, and he wrapped one arm around her back to steady her as he tugged her neck to the side, exposing the lush vein.

“Gio,” she whispered. “Now.”

He emitted a low growl before he sunk his fangs into her, drawing on the rich blood she offered as he felt her tense and shudder around him. She cried into the night as she came, and he grasped the ends of her dark hair as she arched back.

She didn’t stop moving and he hissed when he felt the edge approaching. Her fingers bit into the thick muscle of his shoulders, and he pulled away from her neck to taste her mouth. He moaned into their kiss, then bent to lick the small wounds at her throat before he buried his face in her hair and groaned in release. He didn’t pull away, but stayed linked with her, enjoying the shivers that coursed over their skin as they rocked together under the stars.

“Tesoro.” He listened with satisfaction to her racing heart. “Remind me to suggest swimming more often.”

“It is your favorite waterfall.”

“Even more so now,” he said with a grin.

They were soaked, and he framed her face with his hands as the water collected on their skin, running down in rivulets as they smiled and laughed together and the moon reflected in the ripples of dark water beside them.

Later, they stretched naked on the wool blanket she had tucked into their saddlebag, and he wrapped his body around her, chasing away the night chill. His hands explored each curve, leisurely studying her unique topography. In five hundred years, he’d had lovers he’d cared for, but none like her. Never before had one woman captured his heart, his body, and his mind as Beatrice had.

“What are you thinking right now?” she asked as his fingers traced over the soft rise of her belly.

“I am thinking, for the first time in five hundred years, I wish I could give you children. I regret that I cannot. It is not possible.”

She lay back, silent as she looked up at the stars. Finally, he heard her soft voice.

“Have I ever told you about my mom?”

“Not really.”

“She didn’t want me. She and my dad were never married, though I think he did ask at some point. But she didn’t want to be pregnant or married. She kind of…had me for my dad. Then she took off.”

“She was a foolish woman.”

Beatrice shrugged, and he clamped down on his instinctive anger.

“She didn’t want to be a mom. She could have gotten rid of me. She could have abandoned me to some stranger, but she didn’t. She gave me to my dad and my grandparents. And they loved me. So I can’t be too angry with her. I was probably better off.”

“My mother died of a fever. I think I was around five years old. I’m not sure. I know I was very young.”

“And then your uncle found you.”

“And then my uncle’s friends found me-purely by chance-and apparently I was a replica of my father, so they knew I was his bastard.”

“But your uncle was kind.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Very kind.”

“So, Jacopo…” She rolled him over on his back and laid a slender arm across his chest as she met his gaze. “We know better than anyone that family is what you make it.”

“You would make a wonderful mother,” he whispered.

“Maybe I will be one day…somehow,” she said with a soft smile. “I think I have time.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and brought his mouth to hers for a soft kiss. “Yes, you will have time.”

A week later they were lying in their bed in the early evening as a fire burned in the grate and reflected off the mica in the hewn granite wall. Beatrice was watching the lights dance and laughing at a story Ben had related when she’d called him that afternoon.

“So he was reading the recipe and somehow read one quarter teaspoon as one quarter cup,” she said as she held back the laughter.

“And?”

The incredulity covered her face as she looked up at him.

“Really?”

“What?”

“Haven’t you ever baked?”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Only the bad guys.”

She snorted and rolled over to fold her arms on his chest.

“Well, there was a little bit of cleaning to do when the brownies ran all over the oven.”

“As long as he was the one doing the cleaning.”

“I have no doubt of that. My grandma has been forcing reluctant men to clean for years. My grandpa. My dad…”

She choked, and he caught her chin between his fingers, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“Do you want to know?”

“What are you talking about?” she muttered.

“You have very carefully not asked me any more about your father. You know I was looking for him. I know you received the postcards, but you seem reluctant to ask any other questions.”

She pursed her lips and wiped at a tear that had come to one eye. “I’m not sure what I thought. I guess part of me always hoped he would find me. That he would come to L.A.”

“He was in San Francisco once, but that was the closest he ever came that I know of.”

She thought for a few more minutes as he played with the ends of her hair.