Beatrice chuckled. “It’s kind of cute, to be honest.”
“Really?”
“You’re usually so dignified,” she raised her beer to take a drink, and Giovanni leaned in slightly with a small smile on his lips. “It’s kind of nice—”
Just then, he grabbed the beer out of her hand and jerked her arm toward his body. His nostrils flared and his eyes glowed as he pulled her hand to his face and inhaled deeply. Her heart rate shot up when she heard the growl rip from his throat, and his left arm coiled around her waist.
“Gio—”
“Where is he?” he hissed.
Chapter Nine
Houston, Texas
December 2003
“Giovanni, let her go.”
He was lost in instinct, trapped in the scent of the unexpected enemy on a human his nature had claimed, even if his mind had not. His fangs descended, spurred by the sudden rush of blood in his veins and the unseen threat. He wanted to sink his teeth into her, marking her as his own so no other would dare to touch her.
“Giovanni!” He heard the priest’s voice as if he was calling from far away.
“Gio,” she whispered; her pulse pounded in his ears, and the scent of her panic rolled off her in seductive waves. “Please, don’t—I don’t understand—”
His head inched toward her neck, the ancient, territorial compulsion roaring through him to drink and claim her blood as his own. He felt the current in his fingertips crawl across the girl’s skin as the amnis began to run through him and into her.
“Giovanni di Spada!”
He stared, hypnotized by the pulsing heartbeat that sped faster the closer he held her. His own heart began to thump faster and he bared his fangs.
“I will end you if you harm the innocent!” Carwyn roared in Italian, the language of his youth finally breaking through the haze that clouded Giovanni’s rational mind.
His hooded eyes flew open, and the vampire leapt away from the girl, staring at her in horror when he saw the tears coursing down her face. He stopped breathing and took another step back, pushing down the snarl that threatened to erupt when Carwyn stepped between him and Beatrice.
“Outside. Now!”
He tried to look around Carwyn. “Beatrice—”
“Now, before I throw you out!” he yelled as Caspar stood gaping in the doorway.
Giovanni threw open the terrace doors and stalked outside. Caspar met him pacing near the pool a few minutes later with a bag of blood from the refrigerator. Biting directly into the bag, Giovanni ignored the stale taste as he sucked it dry. He felt the volatile energy licking along his skin, so he stripped off his clothes, and dove to the bottom of the pool where he sat in utter stillness, gradually slowing the beat of his normally silent heart.
He watched the moon through the dark water, disgusted with his actions in the living room and furious with himself for losing control of his base nature after hundreds of years of strict discipline.
“What is our first lesson from Plato?”
“’For a man to conquer himself is the first and noblest of all victories.’”
“You must always be stronger than your nature. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Father.”
“It is the key to your survival in any circumstance. You more than any other.”
He didn’t know how long he sat at the bottom of the pool, but eventually his ears alerted him to the faint splash near the shallow end as something broke the still surface.
He shot up, shocked to see Beatrice sitting near the steps with her shoes off, and her feet dangling near the steps.
“Hey.”
He didn’t speak, but scanned the surrounding area, spotting Carwyn who sat, glaring at him from one of the chaises on the terrace. Giovanni nodded toward his old friend, his eyes communicating his careful control, and he saw the priest relax. He looked back to the solemn young woman who met his gaze without flinching.
“I would offer an apology, Beatrice De Novo.”
The girl had no idea how rare an occasion it was for Giovanni to admit wrongdoing, so she only narrowed her eyes. “Is it going to happen again?”
He paused, wanting to answer honestly. “I had underestimated how territorial I felt toward you. I won’t make the mistake again.”
“Why do you feel territorial about me?” she asked quietly.
He treaded water, still keeping his distance. “You are under my aegis, whether you accept it or not.” Giovanni ignored the sudden tension he sensed from Carwyn on the patio, choosing to lock his gaze on the girl at the end of the pool.
“What does that mean?” She looked at him, confusion evident in her features.
There was no need for her to know the full extent of his aegis, or that by claiming her, he had every right to drink from her as he wished. He decided the simplest explanation was best.
“It means I have taken responsibility for you in my world. Part of that responsibility is to protect you, and I failed in that tonight.”
“You stopped.”
He couldn’t speak, afraid that honesty would send her running. If Carwyn had not been there, he wouldn’t have stopped.
She must have seen the truth in his eyes. “Would you have killed me?”
Most definitely not. “No ... but I would have marked you. Without your permission.”