Page 6 of Fangs, Frost, and Folios
To think.
Ben had already moved on to a new subject. “My uncle just called me. How would you feel about going to California for Christmas this year?”
“We can do that. It will be warmer.” She glanced at the birds, who were grooming themselves on a fifth-century Indian dagger. “Can we take the birds with us?”
Ben pursed his lips. “You know, I feel like Arthur and Drew would be unhappy if we didn’t ask them to housesit and take care of the kids.”
“Arthur and Drew like our loft and our roof garden. And our proximity to the theater district during the holiday season.”
“And us.”
She sighed. “Layah and Harun don’t like their dogs.”
“I don’t think Layah and Harun have even met their dogs.” He walked over and floated until he was face-to-face with her. “Gio and B are going to England for a job. They want us to go stay with Sadia so she’s not alone. On the off chance they get delayed, they don’t want her without family on Christmas.”
A holiday in Los Angeles with Ben’s diabolical little sister all to herself?
Tenzin smiled. “We can leave tomorrow night.”
Two
They landed at Stansted Airport north of London just before dusk, two nights after Giovanni threw away the model ship. He hadn’t spared a minute before communicating with Gemma Melcombe, the earth vampire who ruled London with her mate and husband Terrance Ramsay.
The vampire world was one of warlords, territories, and courts built on favor and favors. Humans might see it as medieval, but it kept the peace among highly competitive predators. Seeking permission to work in a vampire’s territory was often perfunctory, but it prevented competing interests from clashing in front of a mortal audience.
Since they were old friends, working in Gemma’s territory was never an issue, and Giovanni maintained a country house in Kent that he rented out to oblivious humans when he wasn’t using it.
Beatrice was already awake when he roused from his day-sleep. She’d inherited the strange quirk of day-walking from her sire, so while she found a few hours of rest in the middle of the day, she had hours to spend reading and passing time while the sun ruled.
He opened his eyes and saw her sitting in the lounge chair across from the bed where she usually read when they were flying. Her hair was undone, spilling over her shoulders in rippling waves from the braid she’d worn the night before. Her hair was dark brown, nearly black, and her skin was pale with olive undertones bestowed by her human blood.
Her deep brown eyes warmed when she saw he was awake. “Good evening, husband.”
Giovanni leaped out of the bed like the predator he was and pounced on her, caging her on the lounge chair as he bent down and inhaled a deep breath at the curve of her neck. She smelled of honey and something citrus that lingered on her skin.
“I already took my shower for the night.” She put her hands on his chest. “You’re naked.”
“I hate sleeping in clothes.”
“Oh, that’s right, you do.” Her hand ran from his chest, down his abdomen, and closed around the erection that was more than wide-awake. “Is this for me?”
“Always.” He ran his fangs along her neck. “You’re wearing clothes.”
“We’ve been parked in a hangar for two hours. I took a shower and got dressed to pass the time.”
“We pay the staff well; they can wait for us.” He slid off the chair and down to his knees in front of Beatrice, his fangs slicing open her neat grey button-front shirt. “I’ll buy you a new one.”
“Yes, you will.” She slid off the wrecked garment and immediately rid herself of the hateful underthings that were blocking Giovanni from seeing her body. “Someone is in a mood.”
“I’m feeling festive.” He looked around. “I’ll need to find some mistletoe to carry around with me.” He tugged off her slim black pants and picked her up, then walked the few short steps to the bed and tossed her on the mattress.
Beatrice propped herself up on her elbows. “You know the use of mistletoe is a remnant of pre-Christian druidic practices associated with male virility.”
“Even more reason to carry some around.” He lifted her leg, peppering kisses along the curve of her calf, the back of her knee, and up the inside of her thigh. “Male virility, you say?”
She lifted her other foot and slid one toe up the underside of his erection. “Not really something you need to think about.”
“Vixen.” He grinned and dropped her leg, covering her body with his own, taking her mouth in a greedy kiss and sliding between her thighs until he was seated to the hilt.
