This Same Earth

  Giovanni said nothing as he wrapped an arm around her waist and escorted her down the stairs of the theater and into the starlit night.

  They rushed through the lively streets of the Providencia district, ignoring the flow of pedestrians and the call of music from the clubs, stopping only at lights where they kissed without thought of the people around them. It was eleven o’clock, and the warm streets of Santiago were still filled with late summer crowds, but they ignored all distractions as they hurried back to the private entrance of their hotel.

  Giovanni paused when they were finally alone, pulling off his jacket and taking a calming breath to cool his skin. She stood near the open terrace doors, looking out on the lights of the city. The night air was soft as he placed his hands on the bare skin of her shoulders.

  “Tesoro mio,” he murmured. “My Beatrice.”

  He bent down to kiss behind her ear and closed his eyes as he felt the heat rise between them. He brushed at her dark hair, smoothing it away as it fell loose down her back. He could feel the rush of his blood as his heart picked up pace. Giovanni struggled to control the fire that wanted to burst from his skin.

  “Do you know how I love you?” she whispered.

  He wrapped both his arms around her waist and held her to his chest for a few moments, breathing in her scent and listening to the rush of her pulse. His lips kissed above the single button that held the halter of her dress in place. “How do you love me?” he murmured against her skin.

  Beatrice turned in his arms and placed a hand on his cheek. “I love you forever.”

  He paused, staring into her eyes. They no longer held even a trace of doubt. She had said that she loved him, but for the first time, as Beatrice looked at him, Giovanni felt as if he held her heart in his gaze. There was no caution. No reservation. His breath caught in his throat and his heart raced.

  “Don’t you know,” she said with dancing eyes, “how I adore you?”

  Giovanni smiled to hear his own words from so many months ago repeated on her lips.

  “Do you love me?” he asked.

  “You know I do.”

  “And do you trust me?”

  A slow smile bloomed on her face. “Yes.”

  “Finally.” Giovanni’s lips swept down to meet her own, and his left hand came around her waist and pulled her away from the window. He returned to her bare shoulder, trailing his hand up to slip the button of her halter loose, then down to catch the edge of her dress.

  He felt her quick intake of breath, and she gave a small cry when both his palms cupped her breasts and his mouth bent to her collarbone.

  “Too long,” he groaned against her skin. The current raced over his skin. “Beatrice, I—”

  “I love you, Gio,” he heard her whisper. “One life is not enough.”

  His hands slipped the rest of her dress down her body. Most of her bruises had healed, and Beatrice stood before him with nothing hiding her from his eyes. She smiled and reached for his shirt, quickly undressing him as his hands trailed along her arms and the blood raced through his body.

  Her skin was flushed, and he felt his fangs grow long in his mouth, but he had fed earlier in the evening and was not hungry for blood. He stepped toward her and lifted her in his arms before he walked them to the bed. He lay down facing her and let his hands leisurely explore the dips and curves of her body before his mouth followed, tasting and licking along her skin, letting his amnis spread where they touched until their senses were so heightened he thought the flames would burst from his fingertips.

  ‘Love is a single soul dwelling in two bodies.’

  He could feel the blood rushing in her veins, and even the tiny hairs on her arms reached for him as they embraced. Giovanni rose to meet her lips again; he deepened his kiss, exploring her mouth as her hands traced along his jawline and the back of his neck. She pulled him closer, her heart racing against his heated chest as they finally immersed themselves in the passion they had suppressed for so long.

  Giovanni knew he could not forget himself or lose control the way he might have wanted, so he focused on her eyes, her mouth, her breasts, and the pulsing life he held in his arms.

  He braced himself over her, threading his hands with hers and ducking down to taste her again before he whispered the question he had waited so many years to ask.

  “Forever?”

  A brilliant smile spread over her face. “Yes.”

  He pressed his cheek to hers when he entered her, and the sounds of the city masked their cries as they made love through the night.

  Cochamó Valley, Chile

  April 2010

  “You really are a better rider.”

  “Told you.”

  He smiled at her flushed cheeks and tousled hair. Only the thought of hiding away in the Cochamó house could have pulled him away from the quiet hotel room where they spent the past week. They had scarcely come up for air. She teased him that it was a good thing he didn’t have to breathe. Giovanni had to agree.

  “You should see her with a rifle, Gio,” Gustavo remarked as he led them into the valley. “She’s an excellent shot.”

  “I got to be pretty good with a nine millimeter, too!”

  Giovanni smiled as she and Gustavo caught up on news. In many ways, Beatrice was more familiar with his friends than he was. He had spent so much time flying around the world the previous five years that he was out of touch with those he cared for most. As he looked at the woman who had captivated him, he let out a contented sigh.

  “Gio,” he heard Gustavo say, and he looked over to the burly earth vampire. “Tell me what the current news is. Should Isabel and I be on our guard? Should we alert our families?”

  He frowned at the reminder that all was not right in his world. “The last time I talked to the Frenchman, he had tracked the three cargo containers that left the ship, but he had no idea which one Lorenzo was in. The best indications we have say he has gone east. We’ve already sent word to Tenzin, but until we know more—”

  “And B’s father? Is there any news of him?”

  Giovanni glanced at her. “No.” The flushed, happy look Beatrice had worn fled with the mention of her father and Lorenzo.

  He sidled his horse next to hers and reached an arm around her waist. She leaned into him and allowed him to pull her across his lap. He nodded toward Gustavo, tossed him the reins, and watched as the other vampire spurred his horse, leaving them behind. They rode in silence for a few minutes as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

  “I’m starting to think he’s really dead.”

  “We have no reason to think that, tesoro.”

  He helped her swing a leg over and scooted back so she sat comfortably in front of him in the gaucho saddle. He handed her the reins and placed his arms around her waist. They rode in silence over the summer meadows lit by moonlight, past the rushing waterfalls, and through the dense forests on the trail to their house.

  She finally spoke again. “What was your happiest time?”

  “Ever?”

  “Yeah? Did you like it better before electricity and all the modern stuff that trips you up?”

  He only chuckled, and she looked over her shoulder.

  “What?”

  “My happiest time is now, woman. Isn’t that obvious?”

  He could see the flush creep onto her cheeks and down her neck. He smiled wider and let his chin rest on her shoulder as his hands trailed up her torso, teasing under her breasts.

  “Hey now.” She nudged him. “I’m not sure I’m that good at riding.”

  “We could find out. It’s good to challenge yourself.”

  “No.” She laughed. “Besides, you can control yourself for another couple hours until we get home.”

  “But can you? Remember…” He reached down to tickle the inside of her knee and she squirmed. The horse gave a disapproving whinny.

  “Behave!”

  “You never should have let me find out where you are ticklish. That was
a strategic error, Beatrice.”

  “I’ll figure out your weakness one of these days.”

  You, he thought, though he remained silent. She was, perhaps, his greatest weakness. They rode quietly for a few more minutes before she spoke again.

  “Really, though? Now? With the mortal danger and running everywhere?”

  “Well.” He frowned. “I won’t miss that. But you’re with me now. And you are safe.”

  She looked over her shoulder and lifted her mouth for a kiss. “I’m happy, too.”

  “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.

  “Okay, tell me what you found.”

  “Whatever tricks Tywyll taught your father, he learned them well. Combine that with a brain like yours, enhanced by better vampire processing and memory…he’s stayed one step
ahead of me for years.”

  “But you found—”

  “What is the saying? Breadcrumbs, tesoro. I found breadcrumbs.”

  He pulled her closer as he continued. “As I told you before, in each location I found some clue. I would get a call, or a note, or some indication that he had been inquiring after one of my books or my services, something like that.”

  “But when you got there—”

  “He would be gone. I would always find a hotel room, recently occupied, with some trace—a note, a receipt, something that would tell me it had been his.”

  “And that’s where you sent the postcards from?”

  “Yes.”

  “So he didn’t try to hide that he’d been there.”

  Giovanni shook his head. “Quite the opposite. It was almost as if he was waving a flag, then ducking out of sight.”

  He could almost hear the wheels turning in her head.

  “So what if the locations were the clue? There has to be a—a method. A pattern, some—”

  “I thought the same,” he said, shaking his head. “I thought the locations must be some kind of code or pattern, but there was nothing. I even played with the latitude and longitude for each city, looking for some kind of method to the seemingly random appearances.”

  “So why did you send the postcards?”

  “In the back of my mind, I thought that perhaps the cities would mean something to you. I thought that perhaps you would see something I wasn’t.”

  He could feel her sigh as he stroked her back to try to ease the tension building in her muscles.

  “No,” she finally whispered. “Those weren’t even places he talked about going. I mean, some of them were, but they were all fairly major cities, so there wasn’t anything that stood out.”

  “Yes, after that first sighting in Iraklion, all the cities were major urban—”

  “Where?”

  “Iraklion or Heraklion. Crete. It was the first place I got any news of him. The director of the Archaeological Museum—”

  “You didn’t send me a postcard from Iraklion.”

  He blinked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think to start sending them to you until I’d left Crete, and by then—”