Immortal

by V. K. Forrest

  Fin said nothing, almost holding his breath. He knew what would come next. It was a familiar, sad tale among vampires all over the world. The explanation.

  “We returned home to my father’s villa. They came when we slept.”

  He was surprised by this turn in her story. Most vampires in the world, like the Kahills, had been turned into vampires by God as punishment for their sins.

  “The Franceschis sent mercenary vampires—”

  “Had to be those damned Ukrainians,” he guessed aloud.

  “Ukrainians, to our villa in the dark of the night. They held us down”—she sobbed softly—“and made us what we are today. Unlike the Kahills, we have no life cycles; we look as we did that night.” She took a breath. “And we have no hope.”

  “I’m so sorry, Elena,” he whispered, his throat raw with emotion.

  “So am I.”

  For a long time he held her in the inky darkness. His eyes drifted shut. He was beyond tired; he was weary. When he woke later, it was to her touch. He felt Elena’s lips against his, her bare hip pressed to his. He was still fully dressed. When he reached out to take her in his arms, he found that she was naked.

  Some people might think sex between vampires was rough, vicious even. Sometimes it was. But tonight, Fin’s touch was nothing but gentle. His kisses, even his playful bites were tender. He shrugged out of his clothes, wanting…needing to feel her naked skin against his. He kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her hair. He caressed her breasts, kissing them lightly, then took a nipple in his mouth. Her soft moans filled his head and his heart. All he wanted to do was take her away from that bloody morning in Florence, even if only for a few minutes.

  Fin moved unhurried, savoring the feel of skin against skin, bathing in the scent of her, in her touch. Tonight, he didn’t have sex with Elena; he made love to her.

  He stretched out on his side, his legs entwined with hers, and gazed into her eyes. He took his time, caressing the gentle swell of her abdomen, the curve of her hips, the long muscular length of her thighs. He kissed her navel, then the downy patch of dark hair below.

  Elena moaned, running her fingers through his hair. He rested his cheek on her inner thigh and drew his fingertips over her mons veneris.

  “Fin, please,” Elena murmured, tugging on his shoulders. “I need you. I need you to make me feel alive.”

  He kissed his way back to her mouth and then gazed into her eyes again. “Elena—”

  “Shh,” she hushed, pressing her finger to his lips. “No talking.” She parted her legs beneath him and lifted her hips. “Just this.”

  He dropped his head to her shoulder and pushed inside her. She gasped and sank her nails into his shoulders. At once they began to move together, first separately, then as one, and all too soon, it came to an end. Fin did not take her blood. There would be time for that later. They both found release and then he eased back onto the bed and drew Elena into his arms. He pulled the sheet over them both and held her tight as her tears fell. Fin wasn’t the kind of man who cried, but that night, in his heart, he knew Elena cried for both of them.

  Chapter 20

  Elena adjusted her sunglasses, glancing at her niece and nephew lying on beach towels a few feet away. Celeste had just excused herself to walk up to the house to use the ladies’ room and Alessa had gone with her mother. Very early this morning, Elena had heard Beppe enter the house. She had not gotten up because Fin still slept beside her, and she did not want him encountering her nephew in the hallway on the way out, as he had Lia. But in the last week Elena had come to the conclusion that she could no longer ignore her nephew’s irresponsible behavior. Obviously, Lia had not been able to stop him from prowling the streets at night. It was time Elena stepped in. She sighed resolutely. And if she was going to speak with the two older children alone, she would have to make it quick.

  She rose from her beach chair, taking her filmy white cover-up with her. “Beppe and Lia, let us take a stroll along the beach.”

  “I don’t want to go for a stroll,” Beppe whined. “It’s hot out here. I’m going to the house.”

  Part of her family’s curse, which Celeste often saw as a blessing, was that not only had the children never matured physically, but not emotionally either. Despite their age, more than six hundred years old, they still behaved like adolescents. “It was not an invitation, it was an order,” Elena said from between clenched teeth.

  Lia hopped up. Beppe followed suit.

  Elena walked south along the edge of the beach, the outgoing tide lapping at her bare feet. She took long strides, forcing her niece and nephew to nearly jog to keep up. She was so angry with Beppe, she’d barely been able to keep quiet this morning, waiting for the opportunity to speak with him. “Nephew, where were you last night?” she demanded.

  When he didn’t answer at once, she looked at him. “No need to lie. I know you did not return until dawn. I heard you when you came in through the back door.”

  Lia looked at Beppe. They obviously had a secret.

  “Young lady? What do you know about this? I thought you were going to speak to him?”

  Lia remained silent. She was a good girl, but she had always adored her brother, always looked up to him. This would not have been the first time she had covered for him.

  “You swore to me that you would tell me if he was up to no good,” Elena reminded her.

  “He…hasn’t been. He’s just been hanging out with humans, is all. The only reason I didn’t tell you,” she went on quicker than before, “was because I knew you would disapprove, even though it was nothing.”

  Elena studied Lia’s face for a moment, then Beppe’s. They continued to walk, avoiding a human mother and her red-haired infant playing at the water’s edge. Red-haired baby girls always made Elena sad. Her little Maria had had the most beautiful dark red hair. “Humans!” She shook her head. “I should go to your mother right this moment,” she said.

  “No!” Lia exclaimed, grasping Elena’s arm.

  Elena halted. The sun was bright and hot and the warm sand beneath her bare feet felt heavenly. She hated the idea that she would soon have to leave this little paradise, leave Fin. But she knew she would. Perhaps sooner would be better, before Beppe got into trouble and put them all at risk.

  Lia grabbed Elena’s hand. “He hasn’t done anything wrong. I swear it. He’s just talking to other teens. Kids like us.”

  “They are not like you,” Elena said firmly. “Have you been talking with the Kahill teens, as well?”

  “We haven’t told them our dirty secret, if that’s what you’re asking,” Beppe lashed out.

  “That will be enough disrespect,” Elena snapped back.

  Lia tugged on her aunt’s hand, drawing her attention away from Beppe. “Please, Zia, don’t make us go home yet,” she begged. “We only have two more weeks.”

  Beppe stood slightly apart from them, digging a hole in the sand with his feet. Elena looked up to see Celeste in the distance, standing at their chairs, gazing out onto the water, apparently looking for them.

  “You have to stop going out at night,” Elena told Beppe, her voice soft but steely. “Or I will tell your mother and we will return to Italy at once. You know that will be the decision made.”

  “Then she has to stop, too,” he protested, pointing an accusing finger at his sister.

  Elena looked at Lia with surprise.

  “You heard her coming in this morning, not me.”

  “I followed him is all,” she assured her aunt, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “I swear it. I was just keeping an eye on him like I promised.”

  “Yeah, right,” Beppe muttered, crossing his arms over his pale chest.

  “There you are,” Celeste called, waving to them from down the beach.

  “I cannot believe the two of you cannot be trusted for a few weeks,” Elena admonished. Her sister was approaching. She had to make it quick.

  “Promise me, Beppe. No more human blood, or you w
ill regret it.”

  Beppe was silent.

  “Promise me,” Elena pushed.

  “I promise,” Beppe hissed under his breath.

  “What’s going on?” Reaching them, Celeste tilted her big straw hat to look at Elena. She chuckled, glancing from one to the next. “Everyone looks so serious.”

  “I was trying to get the scoop on Zia Elena’s new boyfriend, Mama, but she won’t say a word.” Lia smiled up sweetly at her mother. “She has a date with him tonight. A real date.”

  “I’m going to the house. It’s hot out here.” Beppe eyed Elena with distaste, but his mother missed it.

  Elena glanced away.

  “Me, too,” Lia said cheerfully. “When I come back down, I’ll bring cold drinks for everyone.” She took off after her brother.

  “What was that all about?” Celeste asked when the children walked away.

  Elena followed them with her gaze for a moment, then looked back at her sister, reaching to take her hand. They started north again, along the shoreline, toward their beach chairs. “Nothing to worry about. The water looks inviting. Shall we take a dip in the ocean?” she asked, sounding more cheerful than she felt.

  Celeste smiled from beneath the rim of her straw hat. “Yes, let’s.”

  Elena glanced once more in the direction of the children. Only two more weeks, she thought. Two more weeks with Fin. Surely they couldn’t get into serious trouble in two weeks.

  That evening, Fin sat back in his chair as Eva set a pub glass of Tavia’s best honey stout in front of him. From across the table, Elena watched suspiciously as the barmaid set down a second glass.

  “Trust me,” he assured her.

  “I do. I am just not sure I trust your taste in libations,” she teased.

  Sexy, red-haired Eva eyed Elena appreciatively, then turned back to Fin and lifted an eyebrow. Hot, she telepathed.

  She’s mine, he returned. Find your own girl.

  Trying my best, Eva quipped. What’s she doing here? You know Tavia frowns on bringing humans into the pub.

  She won’t protest this one. At least not too strongly. The proprietor, Tavia, had some sort of reverse territorial protectiveness. She didn’t care all that much about the Hill per se, but she was fiercely protective of those inside it.

  Eva lifted the other eyebrow. Do tell.

  Long story. Another day.

  Eva took one more long admiring look at Elena, making no attempt to conceal her lust, and then sashayed away, her tray tucked under her arm.

  “Sorry,” Fin said, lifting his glass. “Our resident lesbian vampire. No offense intended.”

  Elena raised her glass. “None taken.” She touched her glass to his.

  No words were necessary between them as they toasted. In the last week, Fin had grown closer to Elena than he could remember having been to a woman in centuries. He’d learned a lot about Elena and her family, but he couldn’t get enough of her or her story. It was so different from his own, but in many ways, so tragically similar. He only wished his life wasn’t so divided right now; he desperately wanted to spend more time with her. He didn’t have more time. He still had victims’ family members calling him at the station every day, demanding answers, and he still had none. It had been more than two weeks since Richie’s death and with each passing day, Fin became more anxious. He couldn’t help himself; he was just waiting for the next human to drop.

  “So what do you think?” Fin watched Elena take another sip of the home-brewed stout. “Tavia’s considered one of the finest brewers in the east. We keep telling her she ought to start bottling her stuff. She’s got it all over the local brewery, Dogfish Head.”

  “I cannot say it is as good as the wine my father produces from our vineyards.” She smiled a smile that was both sexy and warm. “But it is interesting.”

  “I could order wine for you, if you prefer,” he said quickly. He’d have ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon right now, if that was what she wanted. Flown in from France. He was just so happy to have a female companion again. One he was allowed to be with.

  “No, this is good. I like to drink whatever is native to the places we visit.”

  Fin was fascinated by the way her family lived and protected their secret. They were isolated most of the time in their villa in a remote area of northern Italy, but once a year, the family left the confines of their self-imposed prison and went out into the world on summer holiday. They’d been doing so since the mid-seventeenth century.

  “So this is the infamous Hill.” She glanced around.

  “This is it.” Fin gazed around the familiar room of the pub and sighed. It evoked so many memories, so many feelings, good and bad.

  Frank Sinatra played from an old jukebox in the far corner of the public room. It had to be his uncle Sean, seated at the bar, who had dropped coins into it. Or maybe Sean’s brother, Mungo. Fin had spoken to both of them when he entered the pub with Elena. Sean had greeted Fin as if they had not seen each other in weeks, as if one of them had, perhaps, been out of town, not because Sean had been parked on the bar stool for the last month. Fin wanted to ask him when he intended to return to work as the police chief, or if he had resigned and his officers were just not aware of that development. But Fin held his tongue; this was neither the time nor the place and it was not his responsibility. Sean was the General Council’s problem, and he would leave him to them.

  “It’s been here quite a long time, hasn’t it?” Elena asked.

  “A long time,” he echoed. “It’s the second oldest continuously operated bar in the United States, right after the White Horse up in Newport. If it hadn’t been for the hurricanes in the eighteenth century, it would be the oldest.” He leaned toward her, across the small table, enjoying giving her the little history lesson. “The place was originally built down near the water, on top of a sand dune. Tavia and her father finally surrendered to the elements and rebuilt inland, here, on higher ground. Clare Point sprung up helter-skelter around the pub and year-round, this place is the heart of our sept.”

  “You mean your family?”

  He nodded. “Tribe, clan, sept, different words used in different parts of the world at different times. We were a sept in Ireland when the mallachd, the curse, was placed on us. So we still see ourselves as a sept, even in these modern times.” He glanced around the dark room, nostalgically. “No one fights, no one makes up, no one buys a new or used truck without word going around inside the Hill.”

  Elena studied her surroundings, taking it all in. He watched her, liking the idea of sharing this part of himself with her.

  The walls of the pub were dark wood wainscoting, stained by years of spilled ale and pipe smoke. The floor was planked hardwood, once washed regularly with sand and seawater, now with something more acceptable to the state health inspectors. There were heavy wooden booths along two walls, and a few scattered tables and chairs in the middle. The bar that ran the length of one wall was built of wood from the ship that had carried the Kahills to Clare Point. Stained by salt water, years of abuse, and more than a few worm holes, the bar was as much a part of the sept as its individual patrons. The long, etched and gilded mirror reflected the faces of those Fin had known for centuries. He caught sight of Uncle Sean’s reflection and returned his attention to his half glass of ale.

  “Locals only,” Elena said, crossing her long legs.

  Tonight she was wearing shorts and sandals. He could see her red bikini top poking out at the back of her neck and she looked so good he could have eaten her. Or at least taken a bite out of her.

  “Am I welcome here?” she asked. “Have you told anyone?”

  The truth was that if they were to take a vote, the Kahills would probably have preferred that Elena not be there, even if she was a vampire. Even if she was one of the living dead, she was still an outsider. But no one would dare ask Fin to ask her to leave, and for tonight, that was enough for him. He couldn’t think beyond tonight. He didn’t dare think about the future or wha
t meeting Elena could mean. They hadn’t broached that subject. Right now, both of them were happy just to live in the moment.

  “Just Regan,” he said, uncomfortably. If she asked why he hadn’t told anyone else she was a vampire, he wouldn’t know how to answer because he didn’t know why. Maybe it was just because he wanted something or someone to himself for once. Living so communally for so long made him wish sometimes he could have something of his very own. Even if just for a little while. He also hadn’t said anything because he didn’t want anyone jumping to irrational conclusions; Elena and her sister were outsiders. Vampire outsiders. Someone who didn’t know them might think one of them could be the killer.

  “And?” she plied. “Was Regan surprised?”

  “Nothing surprises him.” Suddenly feeling his twin brother’s presence, he glanced up just in time to see Regan walk through the door. “Speak of the devil.”

  Regan gave a wave but took his time, greeting other people as he made his way toward Fin and Elena’s table. He said hello to Malachy, parked next to Sean on a bar stool, then Mungo stopped him to talk about the Orioles, who were on the road this week and losing, as usual. Fin knew from experience that that conversation could be lengthy.

  “So what about your sister?” Elena asked, settling her dark-eyed gaze on Fin again.

  He hesitated. Elena did not have the ability to read minds: not vampires’, not humans’, not even her own cursed family’s. It was an interesting, unexplainable reality of vampires; different vampires in the world had different supernatural abilities. Some, like Elena’s family, had almost none.

  So Fin didn’t have to tell her the truth. Of course, how long could that last in this town? With this crowd?