Page 7 of Fangs, Frost, and Folios
They rocked together in lazy loving, laughing and rolling in the sheets until Beatrice’s back arched in ecstasy and Giovanni chased her climax with a burst of furious pleasure. He felt flames rise on his back, but his mate drew water to his skin, cooling it and soothing the ache before it could take root in his flesh. Steam filled their stateroom and enveloped them in a warm cocoon.
Burning was one of the few harms that could befall an immortal. To die, they had to burn or lose their heads.
Giovanni only lost his head metaphorically in the presence of his wife.
“I love you.” He lay on his back, drawing her head to his chest and playing with the ends of her hair. “Life with you is like an extended holiday.”
She burrowed her face in his chest. “We’re very lucky.”
“We are.” The scope of their challenge jumped to the forefront of his mind. “How long do we have before Christmas?”
“Fourteen days.”
“Fourteen days.” He nodded. “We’d probably better start the drive out to Hereford. Gemma found a house for us, but it’s a three-hour drive from London and even longer from the house in Kent.”
“So you called Gemma?”
Giovanni smiled. “She’s very happily married to Terry now. No lingering feelings for this old vampire.”
“She still flirts with you.”
“Only to make Terry jealous.”
“I’m going to stab her one of these days. Not anywhere fatal, just somewhere painful.”
He sat up, pulling Beatrice onto his lap. “I do love when you get jealous and violent.”
“Just don’t tell our impressionable daughter.” She brushed his hair back from his forehead. “I’m supposed to be setting a good example.”
“Good examples are highly overrated among the twelve-year-old set,” he said. “More bad examples are warranted, I think. She’s probably far too safe for her own good.”
“Remember when Ben got death threats when he was fourteen?”
Giovanni sighed. “Yes.”
“Tenzin is with her,” Beatrice said. “Nothing will happen when Tenzin is with her, and if there’s anyone who can set a bad example for her—”
“It’s Tenzin.”
“Exactly.” Beatrice rested her chin on Giovanni’s shoulder. “Okay, let’s get dressed and go drive in the mud. Did your ex-girlfriend at least get us a good car?”
“If by good car you mean a 1983 Range Rover with crank windows and dodgy heating, then yes. Absolutely.”
The drive to Hereford in a manual-transmission Range Rover was bumpy, muddy once they got off the main road, and twisting. Beatrice had never been to Herefordshire, and she’d never been to rural England at Christmas.
She’d enjoyed the lights and festive decorations she’d seen as they drove through the village. There were brightly decorated trees and holly wreaths along with a light dusting of snow that reflected the moonlight and brightened the night.
She tried not to feel guilty that they were seeing all these charming things and beautiful scenery without Sadia and Ben but reminded herself that Ben was a grown man and had an immortal lifetime of travel in front of him, and Sadia was a preteen who was only interested in what her friends were interested in. Lately that meant graphic novels, vintage concert T-shirts from bands Beatrice had listened to in high school, and LED lights stuck all over her room.
And swords. She did love a good blade, and Beatrice was proud of that.
“Do you think Tenzin and Ben are in LA yet?”
“They usually take three days to fly unless they’re in a rush.” Giovanni navigated a narrow stone bridge and wound the Range Rover through the hedgerows past Hereford town. “Probably tomorrow night.”
“She’ll be happy when they get there,” Beatrice said. “She always loves it when they visit.”
“Sadia is fine,” he said. “She’ll hardly miss us.”
