“Because,” she swallowed, “you drink…I mean, you’re a…”
Giovanni slowly parted his lips and the tip of his tongue peeked out as he ran it slowly along his top teeth, two of which were now noticeably elongated into very sharp, white fangs.
“You’re a vampire,” she whispered.
He nodded slowly, and they sat across from each other in the small compartment, both seeming to gauge the other’s reaction.
“You’re afraid,” he said.
“Yeah, well…duh.”
He smiled a little at her exclamation, and it revealed his long canines even more clearly.
She leaned forward and rested her forehead on her hands. “I’m dreaming. Or crazy. I’m probably crazy, right?”
“You know you’re not.”
She looked up and barked out a sharp laugh. “Oh, you really have no idea.” She stared at him, then back to the blue orb hovering above them. Then she looked down at the scuffed messenger bag he always carried, and the dark hair he brushed out of his face as he stared at her with inscrutable eyes.
“Are you going to kill me?”
His eyebrows furrowed together, and he almost looked offended. “No, of course not.”
“Why ‘of course not’? How do I know? Don’t you drink human blood?”
“Not unless you’re offering, but I’m really not all that hungry. And I wouldn’t kill you if I did. I’m not young and I don’t have to drink much.”
“Well, that’s…comforting.” She cocked her head at him.
“It should be.”
She eyed his chest for a moment, and then her eyes darted to the wooden bar that ran around the elevator. She heard him snicker.
“On the off chance you were able to break that railing, and make a stake, and drive it into my chest—which is harder than it looks, trust me—it wouldn’t do anything more than give me a rather nasty chest wound and ruin one of my favorite shirts. Relax, I have no interest in hurting you.”
Her eyes met his and she could feel the blush coloring her face. She suddenly felt embarrassed that she’d thought about killing him when she’d been in his company for weeks and he’d never so much as said a rude word.
“What if I don’t believe you? What if I run screaming to the security guard when we get out of here and tell him you’re a vampire?”
He chuckled a little, and then he stretched his feet across the elevator and crossed his ankles. “Feel free. After all, who would believe a crazy story like that, Beatrice?”
“Right,” she frowned. “Right. No one would believe me because vampires aren’t real.”
He chuckled in amusement. “Everyone knows that.”
She swallowed audibly and nodded. “Of course they do.”
“Besides.” There was a blur in the elevator, and she gasped as he seemed to materialize sitting beside her.
“How—how did you—”
“Shhhh.”
Beatrice could feel his whisper like a caress along her skin and her entire body reacted to him. Her heart raced. Her skin prickled. As she sucked in a breath, she realized even the air around her felt charged. He leaned in and his hand reached up to trace her cheek. It felt as if an electrical current ran along her skin when his fingertip touched it, and she shivered.
“All it would take is a few moments,” he murmured, “and you wouldn’t remember a thing about me.”
She felt a tingle at the nape of her neck, and she realized it felt like something was vibrating under her skin. She gasped again and scrambled a foot away from him, shoving his hand away.
“What was that?”
“Amnis,” his accent was strong as the word curled from his lips.
“Uh…” Her forehead wrinkled in concentration. “Is that Latin? It’s been a while, I don’t remember—”
“Current. I call it ‘amnis.’ Some immortals who believe in magic call it ‘glamour’ or ‘thrall,’ but it’s not magic. It’s simply energy manipulated by the current that runs under our skin.”
His logical voice spurred her natural curiosity. “Really? That’s…weird, and kind of fascinating. So really? You can just make me forget all this? Because I can tell you, that’s not sounding real likely at the moment.”
Giovanni smiled. “Yes, I can tap into your cerebral cortex and manipulate your memories, your senses, even the words that come out of your mouth.”
For some reason, the thought of him messing with her brain suddenly scared her far more than the idea of him getting hungry.
“Have you done that to me before?” she whispered. “Did you make me trust you?” A thought occurred to her and her temper flared. “Did you use that on my grandma?”
“No, Beatrice,” he spoke calmly. “Trust is an emotion, and I can’t manipulate emotion. Those are centered in the limbic system, and amnis doesn’t seem to affect that. That’s also why some long-term memories are harder to erase or change.”
She stared at him as he sat next to her with the same academic expression he wore when transcribing documents. “You’re talking about all this like it’s some kind of science experiment.”