This Same Earth

  Deirdre finally wiped her eyes and pulled away from her father. She gave Beatrice a hard look, but before Giovanni could rebuke the widow, some unspoken communication seemed to pass between the women and the tension drained from the room. Deirdre turned to him with a veiled expression.

  “Giovanni, forgive my outburst. I will leave you so that I may see to my family.”

  “Deirdre...”

  “And you, Beatrice, thank you for helping to find those who killed my Ioan.”

  “Of course.”

  Carwyn and Deirdre walked out of the library to join the vampires who surrounded a bonfire lit in remembrance of their kinsman. Giovanni watched them through the window until he heard a quiet sniff behind him, and he turned. “Beatrice?”

  “Is that what you want?” Tears were in her eyes, and her arms were folded across her chest.

  “What—”

  “Is that what you want for us? For me to give up my human life and be tied to you like that? So connected that either of us would want to die if something happened to the other?”

  Yes.

  No matter how painful Deirdre’s loss was, Giovanni had also seen the incredible joy her bond with Ioan brought. “You know my feelings for you. And what I want.”

  “To become a vampire. Like you. To live in the dark and watch all my family and friends die around me.” She dashed the tears from her eyes. “But I’d have you, right? And what if I lost you? Or what if you left me again?” Her eyes flashed out the window toward Deirdre. “What then?”

  “I won’t leave you again,” he said gently, walking across the library. “And you see only the sadness, but what if we could have a thousand years together? More? Even if we had only one hundred years together, isn’t that more than a mortal man could give you?” He stood in front of her, gripping her shoulders and willing her to see the devotion in his eyes. “What if we had ten? Or only one? Do you think Deirdre regrets any of her time with Ioan because of her grief now?”

  “I don’t know,” Beatrice whispered. “It’s too much, Gio. Everything’s changing so fast. This is not my world. And it’s so much bigger than anything I could have imagined.”

  He shook his head. “We live on the same Earth, Beatrice. The world has not changed, only your perception of it.”

  “I don’t know what I want,” she whispered.

  “And I finally do.” He embraced her, feeling the race of her heart against his chest. “I’ve spent five hundred years waiting to feel toward anyone the way I feel toward you.” He clenched his jaw when he spoke again. “I know you want to be cautious, but remember that, too.”

  Beatrice’s pulse began to even out as she calmed herself, taking deep breaths until her shoulders relaxed. She took a step back and her hands unclenched.

  “I feel like I’m falling sometimes. I feel like my life is out of control, and I don’t know my way around.” She shrugged helplessly. “I’m a stranger here.”

  He reached his hand out and she took it. “You’re not a stranger to me.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Northern Wales

  January 2010

  A week later, Beatrice and Giovanni travelled by horseback through the rugged mountains of Snowdonia in northern Wales. They followed Carwyn, who was hospitable enough to travel above ground for the benefit of his guests. They were stopping in Carwyn’s house in Wales for a few nights before continuing on to London to meet with his daughter and her fiancé, a water vampire who ran London and had extensive contacts throughout Britain and the continent.

  The leads into Ioan’s death had dead-ended in Dublin, but Beatrice had found two boats in the port that were owned by shadow corporations that looked promising. One was headed to London, and the other had been tracked to La Havre. Either could have been Lorenzo, but they would have to go to London before they could find out more.

  “I’m sorry you’re visiting my home for the first time under these circumstances.”

  Beatrice looked over and smiled at Carwyn. “Don’t apologize. I’m sorry I’ve been so moody lately.”

  He pulled his mount back and kept pace with her as they made their way along the trail. Giovanni had ridden ahead, familiar with the terrain and, she suspected, wanting to give her and Carwyn some time alone to talk.

  He shrugged. “It’s a crazy world you’ve found yourself in, darling girl. I can hardly blame you for not feeling entirely yourself.”

  “I’m glad to be visiting anyway.”

  “How’s the bike?”

  “Good,” she smiled. “I’m happy you convinced me to buy the Triumph.”

  Carwyn nodded. “Anyone looking after things? While you’re away?”

  “Well, officially I’m still on my vacation time, though Dez and Matt know what’s really going on and are watching the house. I’m going to have to figure out something to do about work, though.”

  “Ah, so Dez is finally in on the secret, is she?”

  Beatrice nodded. “She is. And she and Matt are dating now.”

  “About bloody time,” he muttered.

  “Hey, watch the language, Father. Don’t you have parishioners around here?”

  Carwyn chuckled and looked around the snowy valley. “That I do, though I hardly think any of them are out on a night like this.”

  Though she was bundled in the warm woolen clothes she had bought in Ireland, Beatrice still shivered as they made their way through the cold, desolate hills leading toward Carwyn’s mountain home.

  “So Matt and Dez are finally together,” he continued.

  “Yep.”

  “And you and Gio?”

  She fell silent and looked sideways at him. “What about us?”

  Carwyn shrugged and gave a wry smile. “Distract an old man with some juicy gossip. What’s going on with you two? I know you and Mano broke up.”

  “Yeah,” she said quietly, surprised by how much it still hurt, “we did.”

  “And you and Gio are obviously more than friends. You always were. Anything else is pure denial. So why aren’t you two together now?” She may have been glaring at him, but the priest only offered a wink.

  “He left me, Carwyn. For five years he stayed away, and he knew where I was the whole time. Am I supposed to just forget all that time because he comes back and tells me he loves me?”

  Carwyn lifted an eyebrow. “He told you he loves you?”

  She shrugged and looked at the mounded cairns that started to appear at regular intervals along the path.

  “Do you love him?”

  She wouldn’t have answered for anyone but him, but Carwyn was one of the people she trusted most in the world.

  “Honestly? I don’t know. I think part of me never stopped, but the other part of me doesn’t quite trust him to stick around.”

  They rode in silence for a while longer.

  “I understand where you’re coming from, B—and heaven knows I told him he was wrong to stay away for so long—but at the same time, I do understand why he did it.”

  Beatrice scowled at him. “You know, I’m pretty sick of everyone thinking they know what I want more than I do.”

  Carwyn chuckled and brushed at the red hair that fell in his eyes. “I’m sure you are, but let me tell you, the time you were in L.A., without him, you did a lot of growing. It was lovely to watch, you know, to see you come into yourself. Do you think you would have grown the same ways if he had been there? Or if you had stayed in Houston with him?”

  She clenched her jaw. “It’s not that I don’t agree with what you’re saying. I do, but—”

  “Or what kind of life would you have had if you were traveling all over the world with him? The work he was doing, B—tracking your father, shoring up alliances—it was important. And then he found Ben—”

  “I get it!” she blurted. “He had more important things to do than hang around and entertain my crush. Fine. I get it. Can we change the subject please?”

  “Oh, so it was a crush, was it?”

 
She clenched her hands and spurred on her horse. “I am so damn tired of know-it-all vampires telling me how much more they know about life than I do! Maybe what I felt for Giovanni back then was a kind of hero worship. I don’t think so, but maybe. Then he leaves, and I try my hardest to move on with my life, but I always feel kind of like I’m faking it.

  “Then, when I finally feel like maybe I can have a life without him, he comes back!” She forced back the tears that gathered in her eyes. “And it’s like everything I felt for him gets taken out of the closet, dusted off, and is stronger than ever. And he acts like it’s no big deal.”

  “B—”

  “Do you think that’s fun? Do you have any idea how guilty I feel that I could never love Mano the way he deserved because I was so hung up on Gio?” She bit her lip and brushed at the angry tears that filled her eyes.

  “B—”

  “And I’m supposed to make this huge decision about being with him when it has so many implications. Because I won’t be with him and grow old while he stays the same. I won’t do it. It would be cruel to both of us. So, on top of deciding how I feel about him, I have to make the decision about whether I want to end my human life and drink blood for eternity.”

  “Beatrice—”

  “You wanted to know? Well, that’s how I feel, Carwyn!” She sniffed. “And I’m probably a giant shit for dumping all that on you right now, but you did ask.”

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

  She sniffed again. “If I become a vampire, will I stop crying every time I get pissed off? Because that would be a definite mark in the plus column.”

  Carwyn chuckled. “I’ve no idea, but your tears would be kind of pink. Very...cute.”

  “Great,” she swiped at her cheeks that were dusted with salty frost. “So I’d look stupid and I’d stain my clothes.”

  He snickered; then he laughed, and soon Beatrice was laughing along with him. After the tension of the past two weeks, laughing with Carwyn felt like coming up for air.

  He reached over and squeezed her hand as they climbed the hill. “You’ll figure it out between the two of you. I have to confess, other than the odd, unexpected emotional outburst—thanks for that—it’s rather entertaining to watch. Don’t give in too easily, I’m having fun needling him about it.”

  “Good to know we amuse you.”

  “Oh, yes. Better than wrestling,” he snickered. “Well, maybe not quite.”

  “We could always make Gio wear one of those lucha libre masks while we bicker at each other.”

  “Excellent idea! I knew I liked you for a reason.”

  “You’re ridiculous, you know that? Though he did confess to wearing a Zorro hat in a past life.”

  Carwyn shook his head. “Oh, he loved that thing. Looked absolutely ridiculous on him. Wore it for years in South America.”

  She snorted and looked across at him. “I missed you, Carwyn.”

  He winked at her. “Missed you, too. Despite all this, there’s a light in your eyes I haven’t seen for a long while.”

  She sniffed again and swallowed the lump in her throat. “If I do decide…I mean, if things work out with us and…I’m not even sure how to ask something like that.”

  He smiled gently. “Well, if you’re not asking what I think you’re not asking, then the answer would be…I’d consider it an honor to call you my daughter, Beatrice De Novo. I already consider you a part of my family.” She looked across at him and realized his eyes looked a little red, too.

  Beatrice reached over and squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry I never got to meet your son.”

  “I’ll see him again, darling girl,” he said in a rough voice. “Of that, I have no doubt.”

  The following night, she sat next to Giovanni on the bed, reading a manuscript she had found in Carwyn’s huge library. The priest had mentioned she was welcome to borrow anything she liked while they were in his home.

  Though Carwyn’s house was built into the mountains like Isabel and Gustavo’s, she could still hear the wind blow bare branches against the thick stone walls that protected them, and she shivered at the crack of ice as it hit the rocks.

  She looked down and saw Giovanni begin to stir from his daytime rest. They’d slept next to each other every night since Ioan had died. Beatrice slept more soundly next to him, and he seemed reassured to keep her close and secure in his chamber. He never pushed, though his obvious desire for more was becoming harder and harder to resist.

  Giovanni stretched beside her, looking for all the world like a very large, sexy cat waking from a nap. His eyes were closed and she took a moment to admire his body. She insisted he wear pants to sleep, though she knew he considered bedclothes of any kind irritating.

  He refused to wear a shirt, so she had a clear view of his perfect physique, at least from the waist up. Knowing he had been kidnapped and molded by a madman to look like the ideal of male perfection still didn’t lessen her appreciation for the end result.

  She wondered if that was a moral failing of some sort.

  “Mmm, tesoro…” he mumbled something in sleepy Italian as his eyes blinked open.

  “Still don’t speak Italian, Gio.”

  His hooded eyes raked over her breasts with sleepy languor as he whispered something else she couldn’t understand. She could feel her face heating up, and decided from the tone of his voice, it was probably a good thing she didn’t speak Italian.

  Probably.

  He began to reach for her, so she decided a drastic subject change was in order.

  “How you do kill an immortal?”

  Giovanni was obviously taken aback but looked surprised, not offended. He stretched again and sat up, crossing his arms on his chest as he leaned against the headboard of the sturdy bed in his room at Carwyn’s house.

  “Good evening to you, too. And how to kill an immortal?” he mused. “Well, that’s obviously the wrong word, isn’t it? Immortal.”

  Her heart faltered for a moment as she thought of Ioan. “You know what I mean.”

  “We like to call ourselves immortals.” He reached over and played with a lock of her hair that had come out of her ponytail. “Makes the more civilized of us feel a bit better about feeding from human beings. Which we aren’t anymore, but we once were. Makes us slightly less barbaric in our own eyes.”

  She leaned against his shoulder and let her cheek rest against his bare arm.

  “You’re not barbaric, Jacopo,” she said. “You’re one of the kindest men I know.”

  His skin automatically heated against her cheek. “Why do you call me by my human name?” he asked softly.

  “Would you rather I didn’t?”

  “No, I…it is comforting to hear it again.”

  His hand came to rest on her left arm, and his fingertips traced gentle circles along the inside of her wrist.

  “Am I the only one who calls you Jacopo?”

  “You’re the only one who knows my name.”

  Beatrice closed her eyes and gave in to the comfort of his warm hands. The low hum that always accompanied the touch of his skin on hers soothed her. As she sat in bed, enjoying the feel of him, she realized if she was robbed her sight, her hearing—of every sense she had—but could only feel his touch, she would recognize him by that alone.

  She sighed and smiled, closing her eyes as she relaxed into him.

  “‘Tu sei tutta bella, amica mia, e non v’è difetto alcuno in te,’” he murmured.

  “Hmm?” She roused herself from drifting. “What does that mean?”

  He tucked her head under his chin. “It means you’re beautiful.”

  She smiled and turned her face to press her cheek to his chest.

  “Do you dream? I’ve always wondered that.”

  She heard him let out a soft chuckle. “I do sometimes. Not often though.”

  “What do you dream about?”

  He hummed a little, still sounding sleepy as he played with the ends of her hair. “The past. The future. You
.”

  She had no idea how to respond to that. I dream about you a lot, too. Have for years. You’re usually naked.

  “So.” She cleared her throat a little. “I’ve been reading Ioan’s book about vampire biology. I remember you said he was a doctor. It’s fascinating.” Speaking of naked, did you pose for some of those diagrams? I’m pretty sure I recognize your abs.

  He reached his left arm around to the table where she had set the manuscript.

  “Ah, I remember helping him with this one. Deirdre did some of the sketches. Excellent resource.”

  “I’m sure you get tired of answering all my questions, so I thought I’d just take advantage of the library since we have a few days here.”

  He smiled. “I don’t get tired of answering because you ask good questions. So feel free to take advantage of me any time you like.”

  She swatted his arm playfully. “Haha.”

  He only chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “What a good little librarian you are, tesoro.”

  “Don’t be patronizing.”

  “I’m not. Just teasing you a bit. So, what have you learned, Miss De Novo?”

  “That you aren’t immortal, but you are very hard to kill.”

  Giovanni nodded. “Yes we are. Fire and losing our head are the only ways I’ve ever heard of.”

  “Really? Definitely no wooden stakes, huh?”

  He shook his head. “No, though that would take a long time to heal if anyone tried.”

  “Unless you’re surrounded by your element, right? Like when you burned Lorenzo and he dove in the water, he knew he would heal faster that way.”

  “Yes, though burns still take years to heal completely, unless you’re a fire vampire. But if Carwyn was injured, he could heal very quickly if he went to ground.”

  “So Tenzin—”

  “Is practically impervious to serious injury unless she’s buried or drowned.”

  “Wow.”

  “‘Wow’ is a common reaction, yes.”

  “And you?”