“Drink from me.”
His blood roared when he heard her quiet voice and his fangs descended. “Are…are you sure?”
Beatrice rolled over and looked at him. “Yes. Will it be like before?”
“I won’t drink too much,” he whispered. “I promise.” He could feel his skin heat and his heart begin to beat.
She blushed, and Giovanni stifled a low growl as the heat flooded her face. “Not that. I mean, I don’t want to…you know. We probably shouldn’t—”
“If you tell me ‘no,’ I’ll stop.” Giovanni clamped down his self-control. “No matter what.”
“Okay,” she whispered and tilted her head to the side, brushing the hair away from her neck. The scent of her skin washed over him, and he swallowed a groan. His hands reached under the camisole she wore, splaying across her back as his mouth dipped down to her neck.
He nosed against her pulse, rubbing his cheek across the delicate skin of her collar and reveling in the scent of her pounding blood. His tongue flicked out and began tracing the artery. He could feel the amnis that ran under his skin spread over her everywhere their flesh touched.
Her bare shoulders. The small of her back. Everywhere his hands went, her skin prickled in awareness. He could scent her arousal and he struggled to control his own. He fought the urge to plunge his fangs into her neck, determined to enjoy the rare pleasure of her blood and skin for as long as he could.
“Gio?” she panted, arching against him. “Are you going to—”
“Shh,” he whispered. “Let me…” His tongue fluttered against the pulse point in her neck. “I don’t want to rush.”
“Oh,” she breathed out and reached up to run her hands through the hair at the nape of his neck. Giovanni trailed his fangs along her skin. He closed his eyes and held her for a moment, feeling the beat of her heart against his chest.
“I love you,” he whispered, as his hands stroked her back. He pulled her closer, but kept himself in check, determined to only take what she was offering.
He could, however, give her a taste of what she was missing.
Giovanni rolled over her, and his lips closed over her neck. He nipped at it, savoring the rush of blood to the surface. His fangs pierced around her artery, and she gasped in pleasure as the sensation of his bite combined with the electric current that ran from his lips and over her skin.
He was determined to drink slowly, but she cried out when he bit and her hands pressed his head to her neck. She arched under him as her rich blood filled his mouth. He moved against her, letting his hands roam as her blood ran down his throat, soothing and inflaming him at the same time.
It was nothing like the empty feeling Giovanni had experienced when he drank from random humans. Beatrice’s touch, her smell, everything about her drew him in. When he moved, it was in time to her breath and pulse. It was need. Love. Nothing could compare to it.
He felt his amnis snap when she peaked, and her body shuddered underneath his. Her heartbeat hammered against his lips and he took one last draw from her neck before he pulled away. Their bodies slowed as he licked the last of the blood from her neck and sealed the small wounds. His hands stroked her hair, her shoulders, and down over the curve of her hips.
“Gio,” she panted. “That was…”
Even as her blood coursed through his system, Giovanni hungered for more. Pushing down his own desire, he pressed her to his chest and breathed deeply, deliberately slowing the rush of his blood as he held her.
“Thank you, Beatrice.”
“You’re welcome. Did you get enough?” She was already falling asleep in his arms.
He smirked. “For now.”
She rubbed her face into his chest and released a sigh. “Don’t leave, okay? Stay with me. Just…stay.”
He closed his eyes and sent up a silent prayer that she would do the same.
“Always.”
“I can’t believe you told her the story about me and the bear,” Giovanni muttered to Carwyn as the priest piloted the Range Rover through the twisting mountain roads.
Carwyn gaped at him. “I can’t believe you didn’t. I thought you were trying to impress this woman.”
“I hardly think that story impressed her, you idiot.”
“Well,” Carwyn shrugged. “It made her laugh, anyway.”
Giovanni glanced at Beatrice, who had fallen asleep in the back of the vehicle as they made their way to London. “I love hearing her laugh.”
“She has a great laugh, doesn’t she? Did she tell you the story about when she fell off the motorcycle when I was teaching her to ride? She was so terrible at first! She broke two fingers, and we had to wait six months for her hand to be strong enough to shift again. She had such a good sense of humor about the whole thing.”
Giovanni glared at him. “You broke two of my woman’s fingers?”
Carwyn cocked an eyebrow at him. “Careful now, you’d been gone for two years at that point. I doubt she’d appreciate you calling her ‘yours.’”
Giovanni crossed his arms over his chest. “You knew better. You knew I was coming back.”
“Oh, aye, but she didn’t, did she?”
He was silent for a few minutes before he muttered, “Benjamin says I need to apologize to her.”
Carwyn’s eyes popped open. “You’ve not apologized to her? For leaving for five years? Why on God’s earth is she even talking to you?”