The Elemental Mysteries: Complete Series (85 page)

It just figured that the one time she left Gemma and Terry’s house without her guard was the day she would be kidnapped.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

She just couldn’t stand the idea of the rough-looking thug they’d hired to tail her during the day following her to the lingerie shop on Conduit Street.

Beatrice had been shaken by her argument with Giovanni the night before. She’d thought they’d been doing well, and her trust in him had been growing each night they spent together. When his frustration boiled over, she had been unprepared.

Not that she wasn’t frustrated, too.
 

He was right—she was attracted to him; that had never changed. And it was maddening to sleep next to him every night and morning knowing how he felt about her. Knowing that he wanted her. Knowing that making love to him would be amazing. She’d certainly had a taste of his passion during the infrequent feedings they shared. He never seemed to take much, but just the touch of his lips at her neck sent her shuddering toward release.

But Beatrice had held back, not wanting their physical attraction to overwhelm what she knew was the most important part of their relationship. She still needed to trust him.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she chanted as angry tears gathered in her eyes.

In the dim light of morning, when she’d finally removed her rumpled dress, she forced herself to confront her feelings for the vampire she shared a bed with every night.
 

She sat next to him in her robe, stroking his face before she rolled him over and removed his jacket. Her hands pressed against the iron weight of his chest, and she lifted his muscular arms to pull it off.
 

This immortal being that slept next to her every night was almost unimaginably powerful. His hands could snap her like a twig if he wanted. Even more, one simple touch from him could render her malleable to any whim he could imagine. Yet, Giovanni knew how she feared mental manipulation and had always restrained himself.

“Don’t you realize how I adore you? I wanted you to have a choice.”

He was waiting for her. He had been waiting for months. He had never wavered in his promise not to leave her again, and he had done everything in his power to make himself a permanent fixture in her life.

“I will earn the woman’s love, if I have lost the girl’s.”

She pulled his shoes off and set them at the foot of the bed before she leaned over to remove his tie. He purposely made it crooked so she would fix it. Such a small, human thing. He did it purely for her attention.

“Why do you call me by my human name?”

“Because I love you, Jacopo,” she whispered.

Beatrice felt tears on her face as the walls she had carefully constructed for the past five years fell, and she finally let herself imagine a future with Giovanni. Could she give up the life she knew to join him? Even more, could she imagine a future without him?

 
She curled next to him in bed, wishing for the sun to fall faster so he could be with her again. She lay next to him and considered trying to wake him but decided it would just be frustrating. She had tried more than once to rouse him during the afternoon to give him some important message, only to be disappointed when he had no memory of it when he woke.

And now, she sat in the bowels of the creaking ship, banging her head against the wall.
 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
Just letting him wake up next to you naked probably would have been a better idea than new lingerie, Beatrice.

They must have used chloroform or something similar, because she hardly remembered anything besides thick arms and something soft covering her nose and mouth. Then she’d woken in the swaying boat, alone and unharmed, which probably meant she was due for a visitor as soon as the sun set.

She stood up, pacing the room and trying to imagine any form of escape. There had to be something. There had to be someone. Someone she could plead with. Someone she could bribe. Someone who…

Her attention was drawn to the porthole. The sky was deep blue, and the setting sun turned the clouds gold.

In the distance, she could see land, closer than she would have expected for such a large ship, but then, she really didn’t know much about boats. She stopped pacing and started jogging in place, trying to loosen her stiff muscles and think.
 

Beatrice muttered to herself, “No way in hell am I spending another month of my life under this sick bastard’s control.”

She knew he wouldn’t hurt her, which dispelled some of the fear she’d felt five years before and gave her renewed confidence. No doubt the humans he had guarding her were under orders not to harm her either. She walked to the small bathroom in the corner of the room, relieved herself, and prepared to do everything possible to make keeping her a major annoyance.

She jumped up and down, doing as many of her warm-up exercises as she could in the limited amount of space. She mentally ran through the throws she had learned in her judo class, the hits and kicks she had learned from Gemma, and tried to quiet her mind the way Tenzin had always advised her. She hoped one of the humans had guns; she might be able to steal one.

As the sky darkened, she realized that the possibility of avoiding a vampire was probably non-existent. She sat on the bed, closed her eyes, and listened for the approaching footsteps. In the back of her mind, she realized that Giovanni would be waking soon. He would realize she was gone, but would he have any idea where she had been taken?

Beatrice heard footsteps coming toward her room. She could tell it was more than one person, but she couldn’t tell how many. The door swung open, but she remained on the bed, trying her best to look calm. A young, dark-haired vampire of medium build walked in and looked around, only glancing at her as his eyes swept the room. He was completely unremarkable except for the twin fangs she could see in his mouth. He murmured something over his shoulder in a low voice.
 
She had noticed Giovanni and Carwyn using the same tone when they didn’t want her to hear something.
 

With some ceremony that was probably meant to frighten her, Lorenzo swept into the room. His blond curls were shorter than she remembered, and his Botticelli face bore the smudges of healing scars around his mouth and left eye. He was still wearing the ridiculous white wardrobe he had favored in Greece, though he was dressed for the colder winter weather of Northern Europe.

“Beatrice, my dear, it has been too long,” he said as he looked down his nose.

“You look like a ski bunny. Nice sweater.”

“Ah!” his face brightened. “You have regained your delightful sense of humor. Excellent. You were so dreadfully dull when we parted in Greece.”

“You mean when your dad came and spanked your ass with his two friends? Yeah, that was awesome. Nice scars. You getting a
Phantom of the Opera
mask to go with those? They’re white too, if I remember correctly.”

He smiled, his cold blue eyes examining her as he leaned against the open doorway.

“That lovely De Novo sarcasm. I do so miss that about your father. And now that I know how much Giovanni loves you,” he sneered, “I’ll enjoy torturing you as well. As soon as we’ve secured Stephen, of course. You see—” He darted over and leaned down so she could feel his cold breath against her neck when he spoke. “—I’m going to find him first.”

“Good luck with that,” she choked out, disgusted by the chill that seemed to course over her skin at his proximity. “Even Gio—”

“Does not have the resources I do when it comes to finding people,” he said with a condescending smile. “He’s too virtuous. And once you tell me exactly what he knows about your father from his search, the combined information should be enough to put me well ahead in the race.”

“Don’t count on it. What makes you think I’m going to tell you—”

She choked on the words when his cold fingers grasped her neck, and she began to shake when she realized he was right. She would tell him anything.

Anything he wanted.

He knelt before her and let the cruel smile twist his lips as he forced his influence on her.

“No wasting time with friendly banter, Beatrice. I’ve been waiting too long to get what is mine, and I have little faith that our location is a well-kept secret. I need that book your father has. I’ve made promises that some are starting to doubt. And I will
not
—” She winced when his grip around her neck tightened. “—be denied any longer.”

His touch was not the soft caress of Giovanni or even the sick, teasing touch she remembered from the last time he’d held her. It was the cold burn of ice that gripped her throat; the sensation quickly spread over her skin and nausea turned her stomach.

The ache spread from his fingers, around her neck, and up to the base of her skull as she stared into his frigid, blue eyes. She couldn’t speak, but her teeth began to chatter and the goose bumps spread down her body. It was as if his touch had frozen her and, as the creeping cold slipped into her mind, Beatrice knew she was powerless to stop the invasion.

“Where is your father?”

Her teeth chattered when she answered. “I—I don’t know.”

“Has Giovanni been in contact with him?”

Her mind screamed at her to tell him nothing, but she couldn’t stop the words as they tumbled out of her mouth.

“Postcards.”

“Explain.”

“Dad left clues for Gio, and he sent me…postcards.”

“Who sent you postcards, Beatrice?”

“G—G—io sent me postcards,” she rattled. “From the places he f—found clues.”

Beatrice could feel the tears trickling down her cheeks, and she was surprised that they didn’t freeze against her cold skin. But as she saw the spotted condensation on the porthole, she realized that no one in the room was cold except her. In fact, if someone touched her skin, she imagined it would still be its normal temperature. But Lorenzo told her nerve endings she was freezing, and her body reacted accordingly.

“What kind of clues?”

“He—he wouldn’t tell me.” Beatrice wondered if the knowledge of her vulnerability was what had caused Giovanni to hold back the information, and she was suddenly grateful for his stubborn, determined, forward-thinking ass.

“He sent you the postcards?”

“Yes.”

“From where? I want every location he sent a postcard from. List them all.”

And with trembling lips and tears in her eyes, Beatrice gave Lorenzo the location of every place Giovanni had found a clue left by Stephen De Novo in the previous five years.

Warsaw.

Johannesburg.

Lima.

San Francisco.

Tripoli. Santiago. Shanghai. Stockholm. Budapest. Novosibirsk.

She told him everything she knew.

And as she told him, Lorenzo came to sit next to her on the small bed, putting an arm around her as he played with her hair. He twisted it in his right hand while his left hand played with her fingers.

“Your skin is so lovely, Beatrice. Have I ever told you that?”

“N—no.”

“It is. It’s no wonder he likes you. I can see his bite marks on your neck now.” He bent down to run his lips against her skin, inhaling deeply. “Do you like it? When he bites you?”

She wanted to pull away. To strike him. But she was utterly frozen and had no choice but to answer as the cold fingers of Lorenzo's amnis stroked her mind.

“Yes.”

“Does his bite make you come?” he purred into her ear.

Beatrice tried to resist. She pictured walls going up in her mind, blocking the creep of his influence, but the twisted fingers flowed over and around the walls, forcing her to answer.

“Y—yes,” she whispered.

“How delicious you smell. Sweet, but not overpowering. Very much like I remember your father tasting. Maybe I should have kept him like my father keeps you. Quite convenient having a regular meal.”

The angry tears still fell down her face as she realized how powerless she was.

“Of course,” he whispered her hidden fear as his fingers slid up her arm. “I could just keep
you
. Maybe my father is on to something with his human women. Who cares if you bruise a little when I’m done with you? If you’re interesting enough to keep him occupied, perhaps you are worth my time.”

“N—no!” Just the thought churned her gut. “I don’t want—” And yet it didn’t seem to matter what she wanted. She could feel the suggestion take root in her mind, and her arm lifted until her fingers were nestled in the soft golden curls on his head. She stroked them, and he hissed in pleasure.

“Such lovely, delicate hands, Beatrice. Why are your knuckles so bruised, precious girl? Surely you haven’t been practicing your ridiculous martial arts like you did in California. Surely you know...” His lips brushed against her cheek, and he whispered into her ear,
“You cannot fight me.”

He snickered a little and pierced her earlobe with one fang, quickly lapping at the blood with his cold tongue before he rose and straightened his clothes. She immediately felt the chill leave her, and Beatrice resisted the urge to shake.