This Same Earth
Page 11
Or whatever they had been.
She felt the hum of energy when Giovanni entered the room and looked up to see the vampire approach the table where she was sitting. Beatrice cursed mentally when she felt her heart begin to race, knowing he could hear it. She met his intense stare as he crossed the room, but she didn’t hang up her phone. Mano was still talking.
“—so I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. Hey, baby, I gotta go. Dan’s waiting for me to close up the shop. Love you.”
She stared back at Giovanni when she responded. “I love you, too. Have a great night! Miss you, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He sat down next to her and leaned his elbow on the table, propping his chin on his hand to watch her. He was wearing a charcoal grey button-down shirt, a pair of black slacks she knew would show off his incredible ass, and a small, satisfied smirk.
“How’s your friend, Beatrice?” he asked when she hung up the phone.
She gave him a tight smile. “My boyfriend’s great. I’ll have to apologize,” she said as she yawned. “I’m so tired today; he kept me up pretty late last night.”
“Is that so?” He leaned toward her, smiling when her heart picked up. “I’ll remember that. I’m sure I can think of inventive ways to stimulate you.”
She rolled her eyes and opened the document files he had requested through Dr. Stevens. “Fine. Whatever. Now, what do you actually want? Since I know you don’t need my help with the translations.”
“I really am looking for provenance on an old journal. I found it for my client, but he wants documentation on the origins,” he said in a more professional voice.
Beatice felt her heart sink. “Oh, you mean, you really only came for—”
“Asking for your help with the translation was a pure ploy for your attention, of course.” His eyes swept from her boots to her face, which she could feel heat up, much to her own annoyance. “I could have just requested the documents and not your help, but where’s the fun in that?”
She fought the smile that wanted to surface. “Well, here they are. Do you want me to go through them with you? I’m familiar with this set.”
“I’d appreciate your eyes. There are a lot to go through, and I know you’re far more familiar with them than I am.”
She smirked. “Well, it’s nice to be appreciated.”
“Let me know what else you’d like me to appreciate,” he whispered. “I’ll be happy to oblige.”
Beatrice bit her lip and ignored him as she began to sort through the letters on the table. She’d walked right into that one. She was having problems not reacting to the playful version of Giovanni she only had faint memories of from Houston. He could be very flirtatious when he let himself, but it was usually only when he hadn’t fed for a while and let his guard down.
“Need to go grab a bite to eat?” she muttered. “You’re in quite the mood.”
He leaned closer and she could hear him inhale, even though she refused to look at him. “Are you offering? Because I could have feasted last night, and I still wouldn’t turn that down.”
The blood rushed to her face. “Stop.”
“Stop what? Telling you how good you smell? How good you look? You look amazing, by the way. How about how good you taste?”
She could feel his breath on her neck.
You’re not supposed to be here! Beatrice wanted to scream. Where have you been?
His voice only dropped. “Should I not tell you how many times I’ve replayed in my memory the one time I tasted you in my bed? How I’ve dreamt about your skin? Is that what I should stop, tesoro mio?”
She could feel the heat radiating off him, and Beatrice knew he was as affected as she was. The smell of smoke and whiskey was even stronger than the night before, and she clenched her eyes, trying to keep herself from breaking down and throwing herself into his arms. Nothing about their attraction to each other had dissipated in the five years they’d been apart. She forced her mind into the present.
“Don’t. Just…don’t. Let’s get to work, all right?”
Please, she almost begged.
His green eyes raked over her face, and she saw the edge of his fangs peek out from behind his lips.
“Fine,” he murmured. “I’ll stop…for now.”
She let out a ragged breath and started sorting through the letters again.
Since he’d shown up the night before, Beatrice hadn’t been able to think of anything else. And she was furious with herself for not being able to give him the cold shoulder the way she’d imagined for so many years. She could lie to him, but he would know.
He’d always known.
She’d attacked Mano the night before, clinging to him as if he was a life raft. He’d been amused by her sudden rush of desire, but he was an enthusiastic participant, nonetheless. Afterward, Beatrice had lain awake for hours, shaking and confused. She felt herself slipping into the tangled maze of emotion that gripped her on rare occasions when she allowed herself to remember her last year in Houston, her abduction to Greece, and her time with Giovanni at his house in the Cochamó Valley. The persistent questions about her father’s whereabouts and what Lorenzo wanted from him had surfaced along with Giovanni, and she was already having trouble sleeping.
In the years she had lived in Los Angeles, Beatrice had carefully constructed a “normal life,” distancing herself from most of the more supernatural elements unless Carwyn or Tenzin happened to visit. She’d even been able to distance herself when she visited Cochamó, fooling herself that her visits could be part of her “normal” life since Giovanni was never there. Now sitting next to him, smelling him, sensing the familiar energy that always seemed to radiate from him like her own personal magnetic field, made her want to throw herself into his arms, wrap herself around him, and forget the past five years.
She felt the hum of energy when Giovanni entered the room and looked up to see the vampire approach the table where she was sitting. Beatrice cursed mentally when she felt her heart begin to race, knowing he could hear it. She met his intense stare as he crossed the room, but she didn’t hang up her phone. Mano was still talking.
“—so I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. Hey, baby, I gotta go. Dan’s waiting for me to close up the shop. Love you.”
She stared back at Giovanni when she responded. “I love you, too. Have a great night! Miss you, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He sat down next to her and leaned his elbow on the table, propping his chin on his hand to watch her. He was wearing a charcoal grey button-down shirt, a pair of black slacks she knew would show off his incredible ass, and a small, satisfied smirk.
“How’s your friend, Beatrice?” he asked when she hung up the phone.
She gave him a tight smile. “My boyfriend’s great. I’ll have to apologize,” she said as she yawned. “I’m so tired today; he kept me up pretty late last night.”
“Is that so?” He leaned toward her, smiling when her heart picked up. “I’ll remember that. I’m sure I can think of inventive ways to stimulate you.”
She rolled her eyes and opened the document files he had requested through Dr. Stevens. “Fine. Whatever. Now, what do you actually want? Since I know you don’t need my help with the translations.”
“I really am looking for provenance on an old journal. I found it for my client, but he wants documentation on the origins,” he said in a more professional voice.
Beatice felt her heart sink. “Oh, you mean, you really only came for—”
“Asking for your help with the translation was a pure ploy for your attention, of course.” His eyes swept from her boots to her face, which she could feel heat up, much to her own annoyance. “I could have just requested the documents and not your help, but where’s the fun in that?”
She fought the smile that wanted to surface. “Well, here they are. Do you want me to go through them with you? I’m familiar with this set.”
“I’d appreciate your eyes. There are a lot to go through, and I know you’re far more familiar with them than I am.”
She smirked. “Well, it’s nice to be appreciated.”
“Let me know what else you’d like me to appreciate,” he whispered. “I’ll be happy to oblige.”
Beatrice bit her lip and ignored him as she began to sort through the letters on the table. She’d walked right into that one. She was having problems not reacting to the playful version of Giovanni she only had faint memories of from Houston. He could be very flirtatious when he let himself, but it was usually only when he hadn’t fed for a while and let his guard down.
“Need to go grab a bite to eat?” she muttered. “You’re in quite the mood.”
He leaned closer and she could hear him inhale, even though she refused to look at him. “Are you offering? Because I could have feasted last night, and I still wouldn’t turn that down.”
The blood rushed to her face. “Stop.”
“Stop what? Telling you how good you smell? How good you look? You look amazing, by the way. How about how good you taste?”
She could feel his breath on her neck.
You’re not supposed to be here! Beatrice wanted to scream. Where have you been?
His voice only dropped. “Should I not tell you how many times I’ve replayed in my memory the one time I tasted you in my bed? How I’ve dreamt about your skin? Is that what I should stop, tesoro mio?”
She could feel the heat radiating off him, and Beatrice knew he was as affected as she was. The smell of smoke and whiskey was even stronger than the night before, and she clenched her eyes, trying to keep herself from breaking down and throwing herself into his arms. Nothing about their attraction to each other had dissipated in the five years they’d been apart. She forced her mind into the present.
“Don’t. Just…don’t. Let’s get to work, all right?”
Please, she almost begged.
His green eyes raked over her face, and she saw the edge of his fangs peek out from behind his lips.
“Fine,” he murmured. “I’ll stop…for now.”
She let out a ragged breath and started sorting through the letters again.
Since he’d shown up the night before, Beatrice hadn’t been able to think of anything else. And she was furious with herself for not being able to give him the cold shoulder the way she’d imagined for so many years. She could lie to him, but he would know.
He’d always known.
She’d attacked Mano the night before, clinging to him as if he was a life raft. He’d been amused by her sudden rush of desire, but he was an enthusiastic participant, nonetheless. Afterward, Beatrice had lain awake for hours, shaking and confused. She felt herself slipping into the tangled maze of emotion that gripped her on rare occasions when she allowed herself to remember her last year in Houston, her abduction to Greece, and her time with Giovanni at his house in the Cochamó Valley. The persistent questions about her father’s whereabouts and what Lorenzo wanted from him had surfaced along with Giovanni, and she was already having trouble sleeping.
In the years she had lived in Los Angeles, Beatrice had carefully constructed a “normal life,” distancing herself from most of the more supernatural elements unless Carwyn or Tenzin happened to visit. She’d even been able to distance herself when she visited Cochamó, fooling herself that her visits could be part of her “normal” life since Giovanni was never there. Now sitting next to him, smelling him, sensing the familiar energy that always seemed to radiate from him like her own personal magnetic field, made her want to throw herself into his arms, wrap herself around him, and forget the past five years.
