Bel laughed.
And, yeah—they had the same doofus sense of humor. Years ago, Kos had become the brother Pedro never had. Bel very well might be another.
But it was still confusing. What the hell was Bel, if he wasn’t a vampire? Pedro had to ask. “So if I—God forbid—had sex with a woman and knocked her up, would that make little Bel-style half-vampires?”
Bel gasped, stepping back as if Pedro had punched him. “No. Vampires can’t make babies. They’re infertile.”
Pedro ran his gaze up and down Bel’s form—a body as tall and ripped as his father, same black hair, same green eyes. Bel wasn’t the apple fallen near the tree, he was a frickin’ clone. “Don’t bullshit me—”
“I don’t know how it happened. Andre says he doesn’t either. It’s bullshit, obviously. He did it—he has to know.”
“Maybe he’s not really shooting blanks.”
“Pedro, he’s two thousand years old. If that were true, I’d literally be one in a million.”
He had a point there; Pedro nodded.
“My mother wanted a baby. She learned of some trick to make it happen—begged him to go through with it. He told me that much, but says that he doesn’t know the trick.”
“So you’re, like, the only one of you?”
“Yes. I’m the only one.”
“Do you have hemoglobin or Hemocuprum in your blood?”
“Really? That’s your question?”
Pedro nodded again, and his head felt like an overfilled water balloon.
“Both. I have both—fifty-fifty.”
Pedro took a step toward the counter and lifted the flasks containing the two solvents that Bel had just made. Then he set them down, captivated by what he saw in the stainless steel surface—his reflection. His shocking yellow eyes glowed back at him, the unsettling reminder of all that he had lost. He wiped the countertop, but they were no less vivid. And, all at once, he knew.
“We need to look for another element.”
“What’s that?”
“Gold.”
Chapter 33
ANDRE FOUND ZOEY WATCHING THE TELEVISION in the living room shared by the household women. Her bare feet were up on the coffee table, and he observed her unnoticed. It was hard to sense her mood, but seeing her do something so mundane stirred his possessiveness. Suddenly, a comfortable, domestic life with Zoey was almost as tempting as her blood.
The doorframe bit into his shoulder blade, and he shifted. She turned to look at him, her expression unreadable. Muting the television, she said, “Hey.”
“I just wanted to check on you after all those…revelations. Make sure you aren’t upset.” He couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice.
She crossed her arms and leaned against the arm of the couch. “Oh really? You were worried my embarrassment might turn fatal, and had to come check on me?”
Fair enough. So they both knew it was a pretense. He grinned.
“Do you want to sit down?” Making room, she scooted to the far side of the sofa.
He shouldn’t. He did.
Sitting as far away from her as he could on the sofa, he looked at the television. “What are you watching?”
“A travel show about Rome.”
“May I?” He held up the remote for permission to turn the sound on again.
“Sure.”
They watched the host sample from a plate of olives.
“Have you ever been there?” he asked her.
“I have. I did the grand tour in college. Me on a train with an oversized backpack. I spent almost a week there—longer than I’d planned. I really liked it.”
“It is an incredible place. I have not seen it years…” In truth, it had been centuries, but he did not need to say that.
“When did you go?”
“The last time was before Mila died. But I was born nearby.”
“You’re Italian? I thought you were Croatian.”
She switched off the television and turned her breasts toward him. Her whole body, really, but he noticed her full, firm breasts first.
With effort, he looked at her eyes. “Roman, really. But I consider myself Croatian. I lived there so much longer, and that is where I became a vampire. So I am bound there forever.”
“Bound, like the blood bond?”
“Similar, but not the same. We become ill when we leave our native soil.”
It was charming the way she bit her lip when she was thinking. “This is the wasting disease you mentioned?”
He nodded.
The corners of her mouth turned down. “Are you sick?”
The worry in her voice pierced him. “I was getting weaker,” he said instinctively. “But I’m getting better now.”
“Is that why you look younger than you did on Monday?”
Nothing got past her. It made him proud, as if she was his to be proud of. “Yes. It is the wine. It cures the disease. At least I think it does.”
Understanding lit up her face, making her even lovelier.
“That’s why you want to find the other vampires? You want to give them the wine!” Her voice rose higher than its normal alto with excitement.
“Yes.” It was the last secret between them and her guess had made him an honest vampire. The unexpected lightness of relief came over him.
She sunk into the couch, becoming thoughtful. Finally, she asked, “How did you wind up in Croatia?”
“My parents had a small farm outside of Rome. I joined the legion to escape their meager existence.”
“The Roman legion?” She tilted her head and leaned in. “Did you wear a bronze pointy helmet?”
Interesting—she knew some Roman history. His chest puffed up. “I was a centurion. My helmet had the red-feathered crest.”
“A centurion. Of course you were. I should have guessed. Did you wear one of those skirty-things?”
“It was a tunic, not a skirt, thank you. We all wore them.” He plucked a loose thread from the couch cushion. When he looked up, there was laughter in her eyes. “I much prefer a pair of jeans, though.”
“Yeah?” Her eyes roamed over him brazenly.
That one word did dangerous things to him. But her cocoa-colored eyes still held a playful glint. He could be a good boy too. He rerouted the conversation.
“I served in southern France. I was fascinated by the vineyards there. I began to dream of my own land, my own vines. It must have been in my blood.”
“So to speak.” She winked.
Was she testing him? Davo, he would prove he was as willful as her. Nonchalantly, he went on with his story. “When my term of service ended, I received land in Illyricum. Rome was sending retired soldiers in an attempt to civilize the savage place. It was not called Croatia until the Slavs moved in six hundred years later, but it has almost always been home.”
“What’s it like?”
“Šolta, where I lived, is stunning. The Adriatic is so blue, the vine-covered hills drop right into the water, and villas like this one sit on the hillsides. I wish I could show you.”
“Me too.” Her eyes dropped to the cushion between them.
“And we could go to Rome.” It was a flight of fancy, said to cheer her up. They both knew it could never happen.
“You’d hardly recognize it with all the cars.”
Cars? All things considered, he had adjusted remarkably well to the countless changes he had seen in his lifetime. But sometimes they were too damn jarring. The idea of Rome full of cars—that was wrong. “I have to see that.”
They both reached for the remote control to turn the television back on. When her hand brushed against his, she pulled it back. He pushed the power button and set the remote back down. Then, he took her hand inside his and rested them on the couch in the distance between them. Holding hands, they watched the television host explore Rome in its ancient, modern glory.
He did not mind the tiny Italian cars zooming past the Coliseum nearly as much as he expected to.
&
nbsp; When upbeat accordion music began to play and the travel show rolled its credits, Zoey turned off the television.
“If I’m stuck here for a while, I’m going to need something to do.”
“What do you mean?” Andre asked.
“I mean, I’m a workaholic. I don’t take vacations, I don’t relax, and I don’t sit behind magical shields and twiddle my thumbs.” God knew, if she sat on the couch and watched TV with Andre much longer, she’d be in his lap, halfway to being a vampire in a matter of minutes.
“I see. Do you have something in mind, or shall I put you to work in the kitchen?”
“I dare you to try.” She raised her eyebrows in challenge, but her lips quirked of their own accord, betraying her delight. The way he teased her wiped away her worries and made her giddy, like he was her first crush. “I assure you, the other humans would revolt with one taste of my cooking.”
She drew her knees up to her chest and leaned against the arm of the couch. “So instead of playing chef, why don’t I keep working on your project.”
He sat up, suddenly serious. “You understand that it may be a waste of time?”
“I have time to waste. And maybe I can accomplish something, now that I know the truth. Tell me about the vampires you want to reach. How many are there?”
“There were almost four hundred of us living in Dalmatia. We all fled to the United States. I assume they fare as well as Kos and I with the wasting disease. So, unless Hunters have found them, they live, though they are weak.” Where his brow had been newly smooth, the old furrow reappeared.
“Will they die, if they don’t get the wine?”
He bent forward and placed his chin in his hands. The angle of his back was the same tragic line she’d first seen when they met in the bar. She’d wondered what could burden a man like him. Now she knew.
“They may die regardless. As yet, the wine seems to be making me stronger, but not Kos.”
His jaw muscles bulged and ground. Her fingers reached to caress them. Oh, right. She pulled back. He was a fortress. He didn’t need her. Still, she wanted to take away his burdens.
“You don’t know why?” she asked.
“I have no ideas. My only hope is that it is affecting him more slowly, simply because he is younger and less powerful than me…”
His fear for Kos made the air heavy. She waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she knelt on the couch and placed her palm on his back, rubbing small, soothing circles. Some of his tension eased under her hand. His back rose and fell with a deep breath.
“He saved me when Mila died, and now I cannot save him.”
She pulled him up to see his face, and cupped his handsome jaw in her hand. His nostrils flared and his fangs glinted behind parted lips, but the pain in his downturned eyes kept her close. He was no threat.
“Andre, you don’t know for sure. And believe me, it does no good to despair. Tell me this. Why are the vampires in hiding?”
“We went into hiding to protect each other, so that if one of us was found, he or she could not lead the Hunters to the others. This plan was my suggestion, and a poor one, since, as you know, it means I have no way to reach them.” He had said as much before, on their nighttime walk to the spring.
He closed his eyes, resting his head in her hand. Did her touch comfort him? Her heart was full, imagining she could give him any peace. She had to swallow to choke back the emotions coming up her throat. Her voice came out thick with them. “I see. Were you their leader?”
“Not formally, although I was nearly the oldest. Among vampires that affords me authority. And it is why I feel so responsible for their fate.”
“Do you think so? I suspect you could be only as old as Pedro and still feel responsible.”
Eyes still closed, his smile was sad when he said, “Perhaps you are right.”
Suddenly, she couldn’t bear the intimacy. She dropped her hand from his face and tucked it behind her. In response, he picked up the end of her ponytail and a gentle tug made her scalp tingle as he rubbed her hair between his fingers. She wanted him to pull it so that she fell into his arms. She wanted to hold him and promise that Kos and all his old friends would be okay. But what right did she have to make promises like that?
She was a chicken, and he was a hero. He had suffered a loss at least as painful as hers. But, while she had retreated into a lonely existence, he embraced his family, took responsibility for his friends, and insisted on making a home for everyone he loved. What would it be like if he loved her? Could she have a home again? Did she want one?
“Tell me about your life in Croatia. Did you live in fear? Did you hide in the cellars all day?”
“No, we were not afraid. It was idyllic, until the end. Life has a way of moving slowly when it lasts for centuries. I watched the seasons change, I played cards with my friends, I cultivated my vines. When I married Mila, I took great pleasure in watching the boys grow.”
“But you never played catch with them in the sunlight?”
His eyes darted from her ponytail to her face, and he examined her closely. His green eyes went dark, and she felt her skin heat with a blush. He had told her he could hear her heart and smell her every reaction to him. But he’d never confessed to mind reading. Still, he knew what she was really asking.
“The longing for the sun never goes away, Zoey. We simply accept it as a condition of our existence, the way you accept you cannot fly, or breathe under water.”
“But I’ve never done those things. Once, you did feel the sun on your skin.” Something in her was desperate to understand what that life would be like, if…
“As I said, it never goes away, but it does not pain me. Many things you do in daylight can be done at night. In Croatia, each year, everyone gathered at my home for the Night Harvest. It was our great festival. We picked the grapes and crushed them, we drank and danced all night…there can be joy without the sun.”
As he spoke, she could see his white teeth between his moist lips. She couldn’t take her eyes off them. Long after he stopped speaking, she continued to stare. He licked his lower lip, just a hint browner than his olive skin.
“Zoey?”
Her blood pounded in her ears. “Yes?”
“I am going to kiss you.”
“Please,” she breathed.
His body crushed her into the couch, and his mouth opened onto hers. She was ready to be devoured. Lips, fangs—whatever. Everything. A mindless surrender.
His tongue filled her mouth, softly stroking her own. She groaned around it and arched her body up to press into him. He slowed the kiss and pulled back, brushing his lips against both her cheeks, then her eyelids. She opened them to find his eyes right above hers.
“Sweet, I have nothing to offer you. Do you understand? My home is under attack. At any moment I may be driven away, to die slowly all over again. All I have…” He put his hand over her sternum, where her heart raced.
When she understood what he meant, it beat even faster, thudding so hard it hurt. He was offering her his heart? She gasped, couldn’t catch a breath.
His eyes went wide, and he was on his feet in an instant.
“Davo. I am sorry, Zoey. I do not know what came over me. For a moment…”
Air. The oxygen rushed in, clearing her mind.
He wiped his hand over his forehead. “But, you have made it very clear you do not want—”
“Don’t apologize. You have also been clear we are playing with fire. I’m sure I was giving you all the wrong signals. It’s my fault. I’ll go back to my room.”
“That would be best.”
At the door, Zoey’s hand came to rest on the doorframe and she fell back into her vision of the wine shop. That ivory label with red metallic letters came suddenly into focus.
“Andre?”
“Yes, sweet?”
“Let’s call it Blood Vine.”
“Blood. Vine.” When he said it, his accent thickened to its most exotic.
She shivered, gripping the doorframe.
“Yes. That’s it. By the gods, Zoey. You’ve done it.”
Her face felt tight as she cast him a smile over her shoulder. She couldn’t shake the feeling she was walking away from the only home she would ever know.
Together, Pedro and Bel made short work of the third solvent, but then Pedro lost his wind. He pulled a stool up to the counter and collapsed, resting his head on his folded arms.
Bel powered up the chromatograph, which whirred so softly only vampire ears could hear it. Then his vampire crew blew into the workroom. “Sundown already?”
“Just now,” one of the men said.
Pedro kept his head down, not caring who spoke.
“Did you get your satellite feed working, Ani?”
“Da. All clear. No sign the Hunters are interested in the vineyards.”
“Good. Then same protocol as last night—patrol the perimeter without giving the Hunters any sign you’re there. If they see you in the vineyards, they get clued into the importance of the wine.”
“Can’t have that,” Omar said in a baritone that vibrated Pedro’s bones and made his eardrums itch.
He shuddered. His senses, his body, weren’t his own anymore.
Bel’s working-class London accent was easier on Pedro’s ears. “Anybody hungry? You all can slip into town one at a time.”
The group murmured enthusiastically.
“I do need two escorts for Kos’s friends. If you’re charming, they might even be up for a little feeding and fun. Pedro’s not hungry and they have to go to work in the morning.”
“Not hungry?” Omar asked.
Pedro cringed from either the mention of his freakish vampire abnormality, or the sound of Omar’s voice—he didn’t know. He simply pressed his face into the crook of his arm and willed the world to go still and silent around him.
Two vampires volunteered as escorts, then the crew trod out of the workroom in a cacophony of jokes, laughter, and earth-pounding footsteps. When the door closed behind them with a soft thud, he inhaled deeply.
Bel’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, stinging like a burn without heat. “Man, you need to get some rest. I can finish this on my own.”
Blood Vine Page 21
