The Stars Afire

by Elizabeth Hunter

  “Perhaps both of us can try,” the other said, leering.

  With a swiftness that was more than a little inhuman, Zeno turned to them. She could see the edge of his fangs when he gritted his teeth. He gripped both of them on the side of their necks and hissed, “Leave the piazza now, and do not ever speak to her again.”

  Without another word, both boys turned and left the square. They did not look at her. They did not turn back. There were no obnoxious comments thrown over their shoulders. It had all happened so quickly; no one in the crowd even turned to stare.

  Speechless, she felt Zeno grab her hand. He pulled her to a secluded corner near the fountain, and she could see a cold-eyed man turn to watch them with narrowed eyes.

  “Is that the vampire?” she whispered.

  “Fina,” he growled, raking his hand through his hair. “I am sorry. I have a possessive streak and—”

  “Are we safe?”

  “I would never hurt you.”

  “No, from that vampire over there.”

  He turned and hissed something in an unknown language. Slavic, perhaps? With a grim smile, the other immortal melted into the night.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I promise—”

  “Would you ever use your… whatever that was on me?” Her eyes felt huge, blinking as if to clear the frightening image from her mind. “Like you did on those boys?”

  “Fina, no.” He leaned his forehead against her temple and she felt it in her hand, like a trickling of warm water stealing up her arm. “Do you feel that, cara?” he whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “That is amnis.”

  “What you used on the boys.”

  “I can manipulate the human mind with it. I can move the earth with it. I feed it with mortal blood, and it keeps me alive, even after one hundred years on this earth.”

  She couldn’t stop the shiver that overtook her. Zeno wrapped his arms around her shoulders and she felt it again, heating her skin. That warm trickle of energy spread over her limbs, as if an invisible blanket fell.

  “I can use it to warm you. I can bring you extreme pleasure. But I will never use it to manipulate your will, Serafina. I promise you.”

  “How can I be certain?”

  “Because I wish to use far more enjoyable methods of persuasion to convince you to accept me.”

  She looked up. “Accept you how?”

  His dark brown eyes burned into hers. “As a lover. A friend. A part of your life. Your son’s life.”

  “You do not wish to date me,” she said breathlessly.

  “We are beyond that. We know each other. Maybe not our bodies, because we have only just met. But my mind recognized yours. From the first letters. I have kept them all. Every one.”

  “I suspect you keep all your letters. Neatly filed. Organized by date and cross-referenced by mutual acquaintance.”

  A smile broke through his severe expression. “See? You do know me. But yours are the only ones I pull out to read over and over. Trying to guess who you are from the angle of your signature. They stay in my desk.”

  “I keep yours in my briefcase,” she murmured.

  “In the red-striped pocket?”

  Her eyes went wide again. “How did you know?”

  “Because I know you too.” He bent down, lips brushing over her forehead. “The girl with the fiery name and the careful signature. Cautious Fina.”

  Her heart was going to beat out of her chest.

  “Loyal Fina,” he whispered as his nose touched hers. “Beautiful Fina.”

  His lips pressed against her own and she leaned into him, opening her mouth as Zeno’s hands came to cup the back of her head. Soft, searching kisses turned into deep tangles of tongue and lips and teeth. She felt them, growing long in his mouth, the fangs that had so frightened her.

  She pressed closer, devouring him. Swallowing the groan that came from her throat. He tasted of heat and wine. The tip of her curious tongue reached up to caress the length of one fang, and Zeno growled into her mouth. His hands fisted in her hair.

  “Stop,” he said against her lips. “We must stop now or I will steal you away. Then Giovanni would burn me alive for kidnapping his best employee.”

  A strangled laugh from her mouth. “Oh yes. I’m sure.”

  “No, really. Burning is what he does to his enemies.” His thumb brushed the edge of her mouth, and when he pulled it away, she could see the smear of red. Had she cut her lip on his fangs? She hadn’t felt a thing.

  “The kissing.” He closed full lips over the drop of her blood, then teased her with a glimpse of his tongue running over one fang. “Mmm. The kissing comes with practice.”

  “Oh.” And there was her face. On fire again.

  Zeno smiled wickedly. “You’re beautiful, Fina. And your taste…” His eyes flicked over her body. “I can’t wait for practice.”

  “Zeno—”

  “When does Enzo go to sleep?”

  “What? I… I don’t—”

  “I can be patient, but I don’t want to be.” He took a step back. “Do you need patience?”

  Did she?

  No.

  She wanted him to heat her blood again. To make her feel alive in ways she hadn’t since she’d become a mother. She wanted Zeno to see the red lace under her clothes. She wanted to know just what he meant by practice.

  “He’ll go to sleep as soon as we get home,” she said. “It’s very late.”

  “Good.”

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her back to the market stalls in the piazza, carols playing on pipes and flutes filling the air while they walked under twinkling gold lights. When they got back to Giovanni and Beatrice, she could see her son rubbing his eyes. Fina realized it was almost midnight.

  “Time to go, I think,” she said cheerfully. “Enzo, did you have fun?”

  She saw her son eying Zeno’s hand as he held hers. The vampire showed no sign of letting her go anytime soon. Nor did she want him to. Still, the public declaration made her a little nervous.

  Enzo looked from his mother’s flushed face to Zeno, then back again. He smiled. “Yes. Very fun. But Gio was right. Some of those pipers were just terrible.”

  Chapter 4

  Zeno sat back, leaning against the stone walls that lined the courtyard, closing his eyes as he listened to the comforting sounds of a family retiring for the night. He heard Angela’s quiet snores in the downstairs bedroom. The guard’s unobtrusive footsteps. Enzo’s sleepy murmurs from the second story. Beatrice whispering something just past Zeno’s hearing as she and Fina talked in the hall.

  Giovanni came to stand beside him, holding out a glass of red wine. “You don’t take spirits, am I correct?”

  He shook his head. “Too strong. Wine is all I can handle.”

  Zeno was still young for an immortal, with keen senses that had not been dulled by centuries. While older vampires like Giovanni could enjoy the brandy or whisky he’d consumed as a human, Zeno’s taste was still too sensitive. The heavy red wine, with its hints of earth and smoke and mushroom, was as complex as he could stand.

  “Mmm,” he said after the first sip. “My thanks. This is excellent.”

  “Do you need to speak to me?”

  He curled one corner of his mouth up in a rueful smile. “Do I?”

  Giovanni sat on the bench across from him. “She is under my aegis, Ferrara.”

  “Ah, I forget how old-fashioned you are.”

  “Not old-fashioned. Cautious.”

  Zeno shrugged. “You know I am a bastard. I have no sire and no political allegiance.”

  “You live in Rome but work within the church. I will admit that Emil Conti may not have required a formal pledge from you—”

  “He has not.”

  “But that does not mean he has overlooked you. You could be an asset to him. He’s aware of it.”

  “Conti’s not a bad sort.” He took another sip of wine. “But I have no interest in politics and power pl
ays. I never have.”

  Giovanni finally smiled. “Why do you think I like you so much?”

  “I desire her, Giovanni.” All amusement fled his expression. “More than desire.”

  “If she is willing, I have no objection to a liaison of course. If your interest lies further—”

  “I think it does.”

  Giovanni raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Think?”

  “It does, dammit.” He frowned and raked a hand through his hair. He really did need that haircut.

  “Zeno—”

  “I lost my temper in the market like a newly turned child,” he said. “I thought of her when I had only her letters to hold. And now that I have met her in the flesh…”

  “She’s a lovely woman.”

  A bitter laugh escaped him. “For the first time in one hundred twenty years, there is something I want to possess. And I haven’t even slept with the woman yet. You know how this instinct will be once I have her.”

  Giovanni opened his mouth, then closed it. He thought for a moment before he spoke. “I do not know her well. I suspect you know more of her, though you’ve only just met in person. But I will say this: She is human. Do not waste time. The years stretch out before us, centuries with which to pace ourselves. She does not have that. She’s young. But every second is precious.”

  “Do you object to our relationship?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m not her father, only her employer. And her necessary protector in our world.” Giovanni smiled slowly. “Unless she has another, of course. You know the offer still stands.”

  “I cannot abandon my work.”

  “So don’t.” He sipped his whisky. “Take your precious letters with you. Or borrow them in batches to work on in Perugia. I’m sure you can persuade or bully Arturo into it. God knows you’ve scared away all the suitable assistants in Rome. There is more than enough room for both of you to work in the library there. She’s alone, Zeno. Think about it. I need to hire someone to watch over her and the library. Wouldn’t you like it to be you and not someone else?”

  Zeno paused, knowing that to take Giovanni’s offer would change the balance of his eternity. “I’ll think about it.”

  He saw a light go on in Fina’s bedroom on the third floor.

  Giovanni stood and said, “Don’t waste a minute.”

  Zeno set the unfinished glass of wine on the stone bench and walked into the house, up the three flights of stairs that led to her room, quietly conscious of the sleeping humans around him. They would not hear him. And he heard no sign of Giovanni and Beatrice. They had fled the property, affording Zeno and Fina privacy.

  He tapped softly on the door, and she opened it. Her cheeks were delightfully flushed with the redness that so often marked them. She probably hated it, but it delighted him. Her lips looked like she’d been worrying them between her teeth.

  “Invite me in,” he whispered, tamping down his hunger.

  She frowned. “Do I need to do that?”

  “Yes.” The innocent question made him grin. “But not for any supernatural reasons.”

  “Oh.” She opened the door wider. “Please. Come in, Zeno.”

  He walked through the door and quickly turned, setting the lock for privacy. He held his finger to his lips as he walked toward her.

  “Quiet,” he whispered. Finally reaching her, he leaned down and brushed a kiss across her lips. “We must be quiet.”

  She clutched at the lapels of his coat, but he tugged it off. Then his shirt. He toed off his shoes. And while he did that, she started to undo the buttons on her blouse. He put a hand up to stop her.

  “Why?” she said.

  “I like to unwrap my own presents.”

  She smiled and let him slip the buttons loose to reveal dark red lace that barely covered her. It was the color of wine. Of blood. He grew even harder than he’d been, and his fangs fell in his mouth.

  “Fina,” he groaned as his mouth tasted the lace.

  “Red for luck,” she said.

  “My luck or yours?”

  “Both, I think.”

  He fought his instincts to take, take, take as he slipped the lace aside to taste her skin. Though he knew how to make his bite pleasurable, he did not want to try it their first time together. It might be too shocking, and he had plans to ensnare his little human quite thoroughly into his world.

  “Cara mia,” he whispered, pushing her back toward the bed. “We must be quiet, but I do not want to be.”

  “This time,” she said, quieting him with her lips.

  This time.

  He smiled into her kiss, the possessive instincts assuaged. There would be a next time. And a next. In fact, Fina might not know it, but Zeno decided in that moment he had no intention of letting her go.

  She laid herself before him, baring her body in the moonlight, and Zeno realized it was an entirely different kind of possession when the object of your desire offered herself. He had given up every worldly object in order that those things might not own him. But he surrendered himself to her arms, happy to claim Fina as his own.

  “Mine,” he whispered as he kissed down her body. The words didn’t feel grasping or controlling. They were sweet on his tongue.

  Because, in fact, she was the one who possessed.

  He tasted her skin. The sweet arousal between her thighs. Fina’s fingers clenched in his hair as she gasped with pleasure, and he decided perhaps he didn’t need a haircut after all, because the quick pleasure-pain made him focus.

  Focus.

  She was soft. Mortal. He had to be careful. He heard her heart pounding. Could feel the rush of her blood.

  When he finally entered her, he could not hide the fangs that grew long in his mouth, not even when he tried. He turned his head to the side but felt her hand pressing his cheek, forcing his gaze back to her. Forcing his lips to meet hers in a searing kiss.

  “Fina.”

  “I do not fear you, Zeno.”

  He thrust harder, for every part of her accepted him in that moment. Fina stroked his fangs, cutting her tongue on the edge of them. Zeno took it. He only had so much control, after all. He sucked her tongue in his mouth, tasting the sweet tang of her blood. Like a drop of the finest wine, it slid down his throat.

  Seconds later, she came again. A few moments after that, Zeno followed her.

  And it was a lovely fall.

  Giovanni held Beatrice’s hand as they walked through the gate and into the courtyard. It was only a few hours before dawn, and they’d spent most of the night running around Rome, racing each other from one Christmas tree to the next and playing tag in the Piazza San Pietro like giddy children. More than one of Rome’s numerous immortals saw them. None commented on their mad behavior.

  Sometimes it was good to be a terribly feared monster.

  Beatrice tilted her head and bit back a smile. “Wow. That’s energy, Zeno.”

  “They’re still…?” He tried not to laugh. “Indeed they are.”

  “I think it’s been a long time for both of them.”

  He gave her his most pitiful expression. “For me as well, tesoro.”

  She calculated in her head. “Really? Ten hours?”

  “Practically an eternity.”

  “That’s what you get for not giving me presents in a timely fashion, you insatiable man.”

  He reached down and palmed his wife’s firm backside, caressing one of his favorite personal landmarks. “I am insatiable. Are you complaining?”

  “No,” she said, tugging him into the house and running to their room.

  He tackled her just inside the door. Then, ignoring the faint cries of their guests’ pleasure, he set about sating the hunger their playful romp through the city had aroused. After, when she lay boneless against his chest, he let his eyes close, content to slip into day rest as he felt the tiny pulls of the sun.

  “Gio?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You never
answered me the other day.”

  He frowned and opened his eyes. “About what?”

  “What would you have done if I hadn’t wanted to become immortal?”

  The dark swept down. “Why do you ask this? It is a pointless question.”

  “I want to know.”

  He rolled away. “Beatrice—”

  “Would you have left me when I got too old?”

  He spun around, eyes wide. “What? No. Why would you even ask me that?”

  She shrugged. “I just… I was thinking about Zeno and Fina. And Natalie too.”

  “I believe Natalie will turn when their children are old enough. Why are you asking me this?”

  “Why won’t you answer?”

  Because the black memories fell over him. And they were heavy. So heavy.

  “What do you want to hear?” he asked in a rough voice. “You want to hear that I would have watched you grow old? Raged silently at the loss of the one woman I have ever loved? That I would have counted the minutes and seconds of your life? Agonized over every stupid human way you could be killed?”

  “Gio—”

  “Do you want to know how I thought about it? Before you had decided on a life with me? When you were still mortal and so vulnerable? That often the darkness grew so black that I almost begged Tenzin to turn you without your consent because your fury would have been nothing to your death?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, crawling to him and throwing her arms around his neck. “You’re right. It was a stupid question. I’m sorry, Gio. I’m sorry.”

  She kept apologizing, but he stopped listening. He only wanted to hold her. Wanted to feel the strength of her arms. The touch of her amnis as her energy twined around his. He let his head fall on her shoulder.

  She would be more powerful than him one day. The richness of her blood was evident, even in her youth. The thought did not threaten him. It reassured him.

  “I would have loved you every minute I was allowed,” he whispered. “And I hope you would have never known how much it hurt to lose you. I would have wanted only joy. Only peace. And when you were gone, I would have let myself burn. Because I have lived a long time, and the centuries would be too weary without you.”

  Her arms tightened around his neck. “Don’t die, Gio. Don’t ever leave me alone.”