A Hidden Fire
Page 73

She heard him take a deep breath, and she had a feeling he wasn’t smelling the soup.  Cursing, she glanced over her shoulder and caught him watching her.  He definitely looked hungry, she just wasn’t sure for what.
She cleared her throat and took a deep breath.
“Go, do your vampire thing.  Don’t kill anyone, okay?”
“I never do.”  He was still watching her, and she could see his fangs peeking out from behind his lips.  She could feel her temperature rise when his eyes were on her.
“Gio!”
“Hmm?”  He looked a bit startled, but stopped studying her ass like it contained the mysteries of the universe and met her eyes.
“Go, you need to…eat.  I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Right.”  He cleared his throat and she caught him glancing at her neck.  “Right.  I’ll just…be back later.”
“Later.”
“Right.”
“Bye.”
And he finally slipped out the door.
Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the stove.
“You do not want the insanely attractive vampire to kiss you, B.  Nope, you don’t.  Just ignore that reaction and…” She trailed off as she remembered the sight of his long, muscular legs, defined waist, and broad shoulders as he cut through the pool the night before.
She let out a sigh and shook her head.
“Nope.  You most definitely do not want him to bite you.  And he’s just hungry, anyway.  He’s not flirting with you, it’s just your blood.  It’s a normal, natural—”
She gasped when she heard the door slam.  Giovanni spun her around, pulling her into his arms before his mouth crashed down and his arm encircled her waist.  He pushed her up against the cabinets and his other hand grasped the back of her neck.  His hard body pushed against her own, and his arms lifted her against the counter.  She gave in to her own desire and moaned into his mouth, tangling one hand in the dark curls at the nape of his neck as the soup spoon dangled uselessly from her other hand.
Giovanni kissed her for a few heated moments, stealing her breath and causing her head to swim.  His fang nicked her lip and she felt his tongue swipe at the trickle of blood near the corner of her mouth before he gave a deep groan and pulled away.
He stared into her eyes, panting before he bent down to whisper in her ear.
“It’s not just your blood.”
She whimpered in the back of her throat, and his hands drifted down to her waist, squeezing once before he was out the door again.
This time, she stared at the kitchen door until she heard his Mustang roar down the drive.  After a few moments, Carl and his partner began patrolling the grounds, and she saw the guard’s familiar face pass by the window in the kitchen.
She was still breathing heavily when she heard the soup hiss on the stove.
“Damn it!”
He returned to the house three hours later, looking flushed.  His eyes had lost the hungry look from earlier in the night, but she still felt them as he walked into the living room.  Beatrice had raided Caspar’s cache of old horror movies; she was pondering whether their earlier kiss was something they needed to talk about.
Or possibly repeat.
She saw him sit down in his chair, which she often stole during the day because it was, by far, the most comfortable in the room.  He took a deep breath and glanced at her.
“It’s very odd.”
“What is?”
He frowned a little and stared at the television.  “Your scent is all over my house.  Everywhere I go, I can smell you.”
She cleared her throat, feeling suddenly self-conscious and wondering whether she needed to check her deodorant more often.  “Sorry.”
“No need to apologize.” He shrugged.  “You smell lovely.  It’s just different.  Having you here.  It’s…nice.”
They watched the rest of the movie in silence.  Beatrice had turned the volume down so she could hear the comforting sounds of Carl and his partner as they patrolled the grounds.
“How was dinner?” she asked nonchalantly.
“Do you really want to know?”
She didn’t.  She didn’t even know why she asked, and she shoved aside the irrational spurt of jealousy. “No, not really.”
“Stale.  Boring.” He gave her a heated look.  “Merely adequate.”
“I said I didn’t want to know, Gio.”
“Well, maybe I want to tell you, Beatrice.”
“Why?” She scowled.  “Why do I need to know about that shit?”
“It’s not always done in anger,” he murmured, and she glanced back to the almost silent television screen.  “Sometimes, it’s done purely for sustenance, because a vampire needs blood to survive.  Sometimes it is done in anger, but sometimes, it can be highly pleas—”
“I’m going up to my room.”  She shut off the movie and stood.
“You need to change your clothes.  We’re going out.”
She spun around on her way to the stairs.  “What?  Why?  Where are we going?”
He stood and walked toward her, his hands hanging casually in his pockets.
“We need to go to The Night Hawk.”
She immediately flushed when she thought of the pub, and she started walking upstairs.  “I don’t want to go there again.”