The Force of Wind
Page 42
Only Beatrice.
And her mind was an open book.
Her eyes pleaded with him. “Jacopo, you know I’m right. You know—”
“There has to be another way.” She still had no idea what she would be giving up, and the tears fell down her face.
“There isn’t!”
They were interrupted by a quiet knock at the door. Nima came in, bearing a bowl of broth with a soft smile and a gentle pat on Beatrice’s cheek. She looked between the two of them before she slipped out the door.
Giovanni walked over and secured the room, twisting the locks closed as he heard Beatrice go to the washroom. He heard the shower start to flow, but he stayed in the bedroom, listening to her as she washed the attack from her body.
She thought she knew so much, but as mature as she was, he knew she didn’t truly understand how much her life would change. It was impossible.
He was still sitting in the armchair when she came out, wrapped in a soft white towel. There wasn’t much time before dawn. Beatrice walked over and sat on his lap, curling into his chest.
Giovanni stroked her hair. “How do you feel?”
“Other than a sore throat, I feel fine.”
“Baojia had to pull the water from your lungs.”
“But he did. And I’m fine.”
“You might not have been. This is Lorenzo, please don’t underestimate him.”
“I know who my enemy is.” She didn’t. Not really. She only thought she did. “Don’t be angry with me,” she whispered as she kissed his neck.
His brow furrowed in frustration. “I love you. More than you can imagine. Don’t put yourself at risk. Do you have any idea what it would do to me?”
“I need to do this.”
“You need to wait.”
“I know you think that.”
He gritted his teeth and remained silent. The full force of her attack suddenly hit him, and he clasped her to his chest.
“I need you,” he whispered, peeling off the towel she wore. He needed the pulse of her heart against his chest. He needed the smell of her blood as it rushed through her body. He wanted to see her skin glow in the lamplight as he moved in her.
She met his kiss with equal fervor, gripping his shoulders as she straddled his lap. They made love frantically, face-to-face in the low light of the oil lamps, and she pulled him to her neck, asking without words for Giovanni to bite her and send her over the edge.
“You’re injured.”
“Please,” she whispered. “Please.” With a low growl, he gave in and bit, her warm blood coursing over his tongue as they both climaxed. He held her wrapped in his arms, rocking back and forth as he sealed the tiny wounds and pressed his ear to her pounding heart. He held her and walked to the bed, tucking her into his side as he began to feel the pull of day in his limbs.
Beatrice stroked a hand over his heart, feeling the slow thump as his body warmed with the rush of her blood. His hunger sated, Giovanni’s eyes began to droop, and she sat up, watching him as he fell into his daytime rest.
“I love you, Jacopo.”
He struggled to stay awake. “Ti amo. Stay. Stay with me today. Don’t leave.”
“I will stay.” Beatrice stroked his hair, and their eyes met. He recognized the familiar look of resolve. “I’ll never leave. I’m going to be with you forever.”
Giovanni’s lips tried to form the words of protest, but they lay silent in his mind before he blacked out, her flushed face the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes.
Chapter Twelve
Mount Penglai, China
October 2010
Beatrice watched Giovanni for a few minutes before he ceased breathing, and she knew he would not rise until just before dusk. She left his scent on her skin as she dressed in a pair of loose pants and a T-shirt. Then she left the room, locking it behind her. She ignored the chill in the air when she walked out to the garden and sat in the sun, closing her eyes as the warm rays touched her skin for the last time.
She let her mind drift to the night before. She had been practicing with Baojia, frustrated with her own fumbling attempts to best him.
“Deflect, girl!” He slapped at the blade of her dao with an open palm. “Where is your mind tonight?”
Her mind was on Lorenzo, who she had seen walking across the garden as they left earlier to practice outside. As soon as her heart began to race, Giovanni had rushed to her side, arguing with Baojia until the vampire had relented and taken their practice back to Tenzin’s rooms.
“I’m just… my arm is really sore; can we take a break? This full-weight sword is kind of killing me.”
He frowned. “You didn’t take this long switching from the practice jian. What’s your problem?”
She lost her temper. “Maybe I’m not an immortal, badass vampire, Baojia! Maybe I just need a fucking break for once. Is that too much to ask?”
He curled his lip in disgust. “You’re acting like a child. I should send you to your room until you have improved your attitude.”
She threw the sword on the ground. “Go to hell! I am not a child, and maybe I have a bit more on my mind than just your dumb sword practice. The last thing I need—”
“You will not treat your weapon in that manner,” he hissed.
Beatrice gasped when Baojia rushed to her. He stood, glaring into her eyes as he flipped the dao up with his foot, grabbed her hand, and slapped the handle into her palm. As the sword flipped in the air, it caught a finger, and she winced as she felt the blade slice her skin.
And her mind was an open book.
Her eyes pleaded with him. “Jacopo, you know I’m right. You know—”
“There has to be another way.” She still had no idea what she would be giving up, and the tears fell down her face.
“There isn’t!”
They were interrupted by a quiet knock at the door. Nima came in, bearing a bowl of broth with a soft smile and a gentle pat on Beatrice’s cheek. She looked between the two of them before she slipped out the door.
Giovanni walked over and secured the room, twisting the locks closed as he heard Beatrice go to the washroom. He heard the shower start to flow, but he stayed in the bedroom, listening to her as she washed the attack from her body.
She thought she knew so much, but as mature as she was, he knew she didn’t truly understand how much her life would change. It was impossible.
He was still sitting in the armchair when she came out, wrapped in a soft white towel. There wasn’t much time before dawn. Beatrice walked over and sat on his lap, curling into his chest.
Giovanni stroked her hair. “How do you feel?”
“Other than a sore throat, I feel fine.”
“Baojia had to pull the water from your lungs.”
“But he did. And I’m fine.”
“You might not have been. This is Lorenzo, please don’t underestimate him.”
“I know who my enemy is.” She didn’t. Not really. She only thought she did. “Don’t be angry with me,” she whispered as she kissed his neck.
His brow furrowed in frustration. “I love you. More than you can imagine. Don’t put yourself at risk. Do you have any idea what it would do to me?”
“I need to do this.”
“You need to wait.”
“I know you think that.”
He gritted his teeth and remained silent. The full force of her attack suddenly hit him, and he clasped her to his chest.
“I need you,” he whispered, peeling off the towel she wore. He needed the pulse of her heart against his chest. He needed the smell of her blood as it rushed through her body. He wanted to see her skin glow in the lamplight as he moved in her.
She met his kiss with equal fervor, gripping his shoulders as she straddled his lap. They made love frantically, face-to-face in the low light of the oil lamps, and she pulled him to her neck, asking without words for Giovanni to bite her and send her over the edge.
“You’re injured.”
“Please,” she whispered. “Please.” With a low growl, he gave in and bit, her warm blood coursing over his tongue as they both climaxed. He held her wrapped in his arms, rocking back and forth as he sealed the tiny wounds and pressed his ear to her pounding heart. He held her and walked to the bed, tucking her into his side as he began to feel the pull of day in his limbs.
Beatrice stroked a hand over his heart, feeling the slow thump as his body warmed with the rush of her blood. His hunger sated, Giovanni’s eyes began to droop, and she sat up, watching him as he fell into his daytime rest.
“I love you, Jacopo.”
He struggled to stay awake. “Ti amo. Stay. Stay with me today. Don’t leave.”
“I will stay.” Beatrice stroked his hair, and their eyes met. He recognized the familiar look of resolve. “I’ll never leave. I’m going to be with you forever.”
Giovanni’s lips tried to form the words of protest, but they lay silent in his mind before he blacked out, her flushed face the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes.
Chapter Twelve
Mount Penglai, China
October 2010
Beatrice watched Giovanni for a few minutes before he ceased breathing, and she knew he would not rise until just before dusk. She left his scent on her skin as she dressed in a pair of loose pants and a T-shirt. Then she left the room, locking it behind her. She ignored the chill in the air when she walked out to the garden and sat in the sun, closing her eyes as the warm rays touched her skin for the last time.
She let her mind drift to the night before. She had been practicing with Baojia, frustrated with her own fumbling attempts to best him.
“Deflect, girl!” He slapped at the blade of her dao with an open palm. “Where is your mind tonight?”
Her mind was on Lorenzo, who she had seen walking across the garden as they left earlier to practice outside. As soon as her heart began to race, Giovanni had rushed to her side, arguing with Baojia until the vampire had relented and taken their practice back to Tenzin’s rooms.
“I’m just… my arm is really sore; can we take a break? This full-weight sword is kind of killing me.”
He frowned. “You didn’t take this long switching from the practice jian. What’s your problem?”
She lost her temper. “Maybe I’m not an immortal, badass vampire, Baojia! Maybe I just need a fucking break for once. Is that too much to ask?”
He curled his lip in disgust. “You’re acting like a child. I should send you to your room until you have improved your attitude.”
She threw the sword on the ground. “Go to hell! I am not a child, and maybe I have a bit more on my mind than just your dumb sword practice. The last thing I need—”
“You will not treat your weapon in that manner,” he hissed.
Beatrice gasped when Baojia rushed to her. He stood, glaring into her eyes as he flipped the dao up with his foot, grabbed her hand, and slapped the handle into her palm. As the sword flipped in the air, it caught a finger, and she winced as she felt the blade slice her skin.
