While he did that, Beatrice fastened the series of locks on the heavy wooden door and slipped off her shoes. She sighed when she turned around to survey the room where they would be living for… she had no idea anymore. “Wow, this is so beautiful.”
“It’s different. It’s all red.”
Giovanni was looking around their room with some confusion, but she could do nothing but admire the space. The ceilings were vaulted, and she could see what she guessed were the original dark wood beams crossing the center. The rest of the room was a stunning mix of modern simplicity and Chinese elegance. There were no windows, but carved wooden screens lined the walls and an intricately worked arch lined with silk curtains separated the bedroom from the sitting area.
Giovanni was still frowning. “She definitely redecorated since the last time I was here.”
“When was that?”
“About… a hundred years ago? I don’t remember exactly.”
She took a deep breath. “I forget how old you are most of the time.”
“I forget how old I am most of the time.”
Beatrice walked over to a low chaise, covered in red shantung. The whole room was decorated in rich crimson and black fabrics. “Somehow, I never pictured Tenzin having a flair for interior design.”
He chuckled. “I can almost promise you this is Nima. As rough as Tenzin can be, Nima is as cultured. They’ve been companions for many years.”
Thinking of the odd mood she’d picked up between her father and Tenzin, she asked, “Is Tenzin… well, were she and Nima together? Or… I don’t know anything about that part of her life, to be honest.”
He shrugged. “Neither do I.”
“Really?”
He cocked an eyebrow at her and walked over, placing his hands at her waist. “It’s not something she talks about. You have to remember, Tenzin has been alive for over five thousand years. I expect she sees those kind of relationships in a very different way than you or I do.”
She sighed and embraced him, wrapping her arms around his waist and putting her ear to his chest. His heart gave a single, quiet thump.
“Are you very angry with her?” She cursed herself for asking, but she had to know.
“You were crying.”
“That’s not her fault.”
“No, it’s your father’s fault.”
“No…” She looked up at him and traced around his lips with her finger. “It’s not anyone’s fault. You can’t blame anyone this time.”
He frowned as if her explanation was unsatisfactory, so she asked another question.
“Who are the lion and the dragon?”
He pulled back. “What?”
“Elder He, the other fire vampire?”
“Yes?”
“She said, ‘Who is this human who’s protected by the lion and the dragon?’ Was she talking about you and Baojia?”
Giovanni chuckled. “Yes, she’s quite dramatic, isn’t she? She always has been.”
“So, are you the dragon?” Beatrice teased, pulling at the back of his shirt as she walked backward toward the silk-covered bed beyond the arched doorway. “The dragon that breathes fire?”
He bent down and hitched up her legs around his waist, carrying her toward the bed and laying her on the red pillows. “We’re in China; the dragon is a water symbol here.”
“Oh?” she asked as his warm hands stroked along her waist. “So you’re the lion? Why are you the lion?”
“I’m from the West, and the lion is a symbol of the sun,” he said as he laid gentle kisses along her collar. “The sun is the mother of fire.”
“But…” She sighed as she felt the quick lick of amnis wherever his lips touched. Her heart began to race. “That seems kind of cruel. You can’t go out in the sun.”
He only smiled, and she could see the length of his fangs gleaming in the low light of the candles that lit the room.
“Tesoro mio, the lion may be a symbol of the sun…” He bent down, lifted her body toward his, and gave one long, slow lick from her collarbone to her ear. “But he hunts at night.”
Chapter Three
Mount Penglai, China
August 2010
Giovanni left Beatrice sleeping a few hours before dawn, after exhausting her body and quieting her mind. She wouldn’t talk about her feelings toward her father yet. He knew it was too soon. As she did with all new developments, she would take her time observing and thinking before she came to a decision.
But Giovanni could still be angry.
He was angry with Tenzin, who had kept the secret of Stephen’s location for her own cryptic reasons. He was angry with Stephen for running and questioning his motives with Beatrice. He was angry that he had to be in this place that tried his patience and set every instinct on edge. He knew exactly why Tenzin avoided her father’s court. It reminded him of the strictly choreographed social scenes of his human childhood, where even the color of a hat could have some hidden meaning.
Giovanni walked out of Tenzin’s rooms and into the central courtyard, spending a few quiet moments breathing the night air and wandering among the large limestone rocks placed around the garden. The scholar’s stones had been shaped by wind and water and were a popular symbol among the Eight Immortals, as they combined three of the four natural elements in harmony.
He stepped over a small footbridge and spied Beatrice’s father reading a book near the edge of a stream. The vampire must have sensed the changing energy because he immediately looked up and narrowed his eyes. Giovanni walked over, sitting on a stone bench opposite Stephen. He looked around the garden, but picked up no indications they were being observed.