Chapter 38
The vampire season felt like something from a regency novel. I’d fallen in love with it. To think, I’d pushed back when Laurent had first ordered our coming to Italy. The thought of missing all this was absurd.
My phone was full of photographs I’d sent to Ania.
She was beside herself with jealousy when I showed her some of the gowns I wore to various balls and outings.
I’d come up with an elaborate story, that I was dating a rich man who’d made his money in the Stockmarket.
Ania bought it, and it saved me from having to explain what was truly going on.
That would happen eventually, but preferably not over the phone.
“Ready, little flower?” Laurent took my hand and kissed my knuckles, his eyes never leaving mine.
“As I’ll ever be,” I said, offering him a small smile.
We were promenading at the Genia Gardens tonight. Everyone important would be there. A big fireworks show was set for midnight.
There wasn’t much to it, frankly. Just a lot of peacocking.
I climbed into the town car and Laurent settled in beside me, his hand resting on my thigh.
Tonight I wore a simple lavender silk and tulle gown with beads scattered about the skirt, making it glitter.
It hung just below my knees, the perfect length for a garden party, as Gio had assured me.
I’d paired it with a strappy pair of kitten heels.
At six feet tall, I hated making myself any taller. I’d already stand out.
Two more weeks had passed since the ball at House Bardanes. I was starting to think Laurent would never give me an answer. Perhaps it was time to accept this and move on.
He no longer tried to put his hands all over me. No longer tried to seduce me into giving in. Perhaps he had accepted it, too. Or maybe he was never all that desperate for me to begin with. In which case, maybe that was answer enough.
He still looked at me in ways that made my insides curl with heat.
I caught his eyes lingering on me and was all too aware of his desire to be near me, touching some part of me when we were together.
There was always a hand resting on my thigh, or an arm around my shoulders.
When he knitted our fingers together, he always brushed his thumb over the back of my palm.
Even in his meetings—especially in his meetings.
Our kisses continued, too. They were more fervent than ever, filled with a desperate longing, as if we could make up for our lack of touch with nothing more than our tongues. It was maddening.
“Nervous for tonight?” Laurent asked, leaning in to brush his lips against my ear.
“Oh. No.” I stole a glance at him before returning my gaze to the townhouses that rolled by our window.
I felt his gaze linger over me, like he wanted to press the issue.
Instead, he planted a kiss on the side of my head, then snatched my hand from my lap, taking it in both of his.
One of his hands laced with my fingers while the other caressed the back of my palm.
“You’re still determined to press your stubbornness against mine?”
My head jerked toward him. “I don’t wish to discuss this, Laurent.”
“Can you not accept me for who and what I am?”
I reared back. Is that what he thought? That I expected him to change? That I couldn’t accept him for who he was?
“Maybe you’re right.” I sighed, feeling my defeat for what it was. “Perhaps I’ve been unfair. I shouldn’t expect you to give me what isn’t in your nature to give. Let’s put an end to our battle.”
I said the words because I was exhausted. Tired of fighting the attraction between us. Tired of keeping my hopes up.
I thought making him desperate would force him to face his feelings—himself.
It hadn’t.
Laurent blinked at me. “Is this some sort of trick?”
“No trick.”
“Just like that, then? You’re willing to let this go?”
I closed my eyes, exhaling. “Yes.” I squeezed his hand.
His expression softened. “Then… I can touch you? Tonight?” The amount of hope in his voice caught me by surprise, but I knew better. I wouldn’t let myself fall for it—for him. I would begin the painful process of detaching my feelings from the physical aspects of our relationship.
“Yes, Laurent. You may touch me.”
The relief in his expression should have made me happy. Instead, it felt like another small death. “Thank fuck,” he breathed, using his free hand to tilt my face up. He kissed me, imbuing intention into the motion of his tongue. I felt his excitement, his yearning, even his relief.
I wished I could feel relief instead of the hollow ache building in my chest.
Laurent pulled away, a small frown marring his brows. “What is it?” he whispered, failing to hide the confusion creeping into his voice.
“Nothing.” I gave my head a rough shake and forced a brighter smile. “We’re here, I think?”
The car had come to a stop but we’d been too wrapped up in our discussion.
Laurent blinked, coming back to himself.
Vittorio had been waiting patiently, but upon my declaration, he opened the door and was around to mine in a flash.
Laurent’s gaze lingered, as if trying to read what I was feeling, to grasp the remnants of whatever emotion he’d detected.
I could have told him what it was. Hopelessness.
But I wanted to keep it disguised. I couldn’t change him, but I could change myself.
I could adjust my expectations and accept what he was willing to give.
I could lock away my feelings, knowing that without his heart, there may come a day when he’d hurt me.
Being hurt by others was nothing new to me.
I would weather this storm as I always had.
I would survive without his love—I had a lifetime of practice.
I climbed from the car, all smiles and grace. Deep down, I was already building the walls I’d need to protect what was left of my heart. I refused to be blindsided by this male. Laurent wanted to possess me, to please me, to care for me. I would let him.
Fireworks exploded across the sky in hues of blues and pinks and golds. I giggled, slightly tipsy from the bubbly I sipped all evening. I was on my fourth flute—perhaps one too many. Still, it had been a welcome reprieve.
Many of Laurent’s family had promenaded with us. We’d made a group of nearly fifteen, larger than most, walking the garden’s extensive paths, admiring the orchids it was most known for. Most of our party was now off mingling with their friends, sharing happy reunions as we watched the show.
Laurent stood on my right, his hand holding mine, our sides pressed together.
He’d been in a better mood than usual, likely due to my abolishing our restrictions.
It was all I could think of, what would come when we returned home.
It had been a month since we’d had sex and my needy body was growing more desperate by the minute.
My panties were already soaked with the prospect, and I was certain he could smell my persistent arousal.
His eyes had been on me most of the evening, rather than the massive garden we’d strolled through. It didn’t matter how colorful the roses were, or how expertly the hedges were shaped, or how exotic the orchids. It’s like he’d been imagining exactly what he wanted to do to me later.
Another set of rockets shot into the air. Shuddering booms followed each burst, mixing with the cries of excitement. I’d seen many fireworks shows. None of them had been this spectacular. I wondered if witch magic was involved.
Muted conversations happened all throughout the gathered crowd, many of the vampires taking advantage of the loud atmosphere to speak on more sensitive matters.
Marco stood on Laurent’s other side, holding a hushed conversation about a vampire they’d politically maneuvered into backing them.
Something about someone named Arashmid Saifi.
I wondered if he belonged to one of the big houses.
Laurent had told me about them, but I still struggled to keep up with vampire politics.
“I think I need another drink,” Zola whispered in my ear. “You want one too?” I shook my head, giving her a brief smile. She stood on my left, her arm linked through mine. “Where are the servers when you need them, hmm? Give me just a moment. I’ll be right back.”
I nodded, and she slipped away into the crowd.
Another boom shook the sky as a giant burst of white flowers glittered, their colors turning to shades of gold and blue. I sucked in a breath, grinning. Several more rockets fired off one after another, making my ribcage rumble. Boom. Boom. Boom.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” The unfamiliar, accented voice spoke close to my ear just as fingers wrapped around my left wrist. My heart quickened.
I jerked my gaze away from the sky just as I felt Laurent stiffen beside me, his conversation cut off abruptly.
The pressure on my wrist disappeared just as quickly as it had come, All I caught was a flash of golden blond hair before he melted back into the crowd.
A prickle of unease shot down my spine.
A second later, Zola was beside me, frowning. “Who was that?”
I had already turned toward Laurent. His expression made my stomach plummet. His eyes were wide and uncertain, fixed on where the vampire had disappeared. Then his gaze snapped to Zola. His next words were barely leashed. “Do not leave her side again.”
I frowned, but the sound of the loud bursts across the sky deterred me from asking him what had just happened. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost. I shared an uneasy glance with Zola, hoping she wouldn’t get in trouble for having slipped away. She’d only been gone a few moments. Less than a minute.
It had been enough; someone was waiting for that exact moment.
Eventually, Laurent’s conversation with Marco picked up again, but I could tell something was off.
My stomach was tied in knots for the remainder of the show, my mind tripping over the occurrence, replaying it.
I hadn’t seen his face, but his hair had been unmistakable.
Golden blond, just like in Laurent’s memories.
Just like the vampire who was supposed to be dead.
I knew what his face would look like if I had turned in time.
Laurent was silent as we drove home. He ushered me upstairs and into our suite in the townhouse, shutting the door behind us. The moment the door closed behind us, he snatched my wrist, bringing it to his nose. His expression hardened into one I couldn’t read. “He touched you, little flower?”
My mouth opened. Before I could respond, Laurent was hauling me into the bathroom, shoving my wrist beneath the faucet’s running water. He began scrubbing at my skin with soapy water.
“Laurent—stop! You’re hurting me.” He froze. When he resumed his ministrations, his fingers were gentler.
“I cannot stand the scent of anyone else on your skin—especially other males.” The possessive tone of his voice kept me from protesting. He was clearly agitated. “He touched you on purpose. What game is he playing?”
“I… Who? What game is who playing? You know who it was?”
But of course he did.
Laurent turned off the water and grabbed a towel, drying my skin, then holding my wrist to his nose and inhaling. He appeared satisfied with his efforts.
“Yes,” he bit out. “I thought perhaps you’d imagined it when you told me, but I was wrong.”
“Who?” My skin chilled. I already knew the answer.
He spoke anyway. “Lio.” The name came out like a curse. “My son. The last vampire I ever created.”