Page 75 of The Vanishing
He leans into her once more, pulling her even tighter into his warmth and rubbing his lips against her forehead. “Please don’t change your mind,” he whispers. He kisses the line down her nose, so soft and tender that it gives Cellina a rush of goosebumps across her skin. When he hovers over her lips, brushing his full ones over hers, he says, “My heart couldn’t take it.”
She lifts her chin, kissing him hard—with everything. He meets her tenacity, shifting so that he’s on top of her with his weight resting on her chest, belly and hips. He’s heavy and divine, hard and thick between her gaped thighs. Giovanni lifts from the kiss, his eyes glowing green magnificence. Regal. “May I feed again?”
Cellina breathes a laugh, wrapping her palms against the small of his back. “You’re just going to town now?”
“Might as well…” He gives a weak shrug. He smiles, but something shadowed crosses his expression. “Don’t know when or if I can ever do this again. Please?”
“Of course you can.” Cellina moves her arms up, sliding her fingers into his hair. “Try not to be so disheartened. We’ll talk to Domenico together, alright? We’ll figure this out.”
He nods as he leans into her, his eyes focused on her as if she’s his first and last meal. His only hope. Cellina draws her knees up to cradle Giovanni’s heavy body and he licks her neck. At the same time he sinks his teeth into her, he slides his large palm down the side of her body, settling it in the curve of her waist and stroking his thumb against her skin.
Cellina breathes as he takes, closing her eyes. Before when he fed, the thoughts were loving but desperate—wild with hunger and need. Now, his mind feels calm. There’s gratitude flowing within her, lovingly swirled with something more. Reverence? It makes Cellina’s heart warm and her skin tingle.
She relaxes, opening her mind and body to him completely. At that moment, a deep wave rocks her entire psyche. It’s dizzying, as if she’s been struck with a severe case of vertigo. He pulls up from her neck, and before she can gather her senses, the cool rush of her nature expands within her, making her eyes shine bright silver.
Giovanni’s weight on top of her stiffens—the rich emerald-green haze of his aura intensifying around them. The pleasing scent of him consumes her as it grips her frame, but Cellina’s own nature fans out like starlight. She’s never seen her own unique aura manifest outside her body like this. As a first-gen, she has purebred blood within her, but she’s incapable of wielding and manipulating it as purebreds sometimes do.
Her essence melts into Giovanni’s—the image of it reminding her of a lava lamp. Slow, graceful and hypnotic before it bursts and shimmers. It pours into the emerald haze, intense and silvery before the fusion of their two auras cocoons their bodies.
The moment is dazzling, but lasts just a few seconds. The light dissipates, taking refuge in both their bodies as if by osmosis. Her nature is settling within her, but it’s warm and melty throughout her core. Different somehow. Reassuring. Even stronger. And something about Giovanni… The feel and scent of him are there, too. Inside of her.
Giovanni lifts up from her body, his eyes still glowing bright and his face a mix of just about every emotion possible. His mind is a complete mess: joy, relief, fear, intense guilt, worry. Somehow, she feels all of it.
Cellina places her hands on either side of her mate’s face and takes a deep breath. “We definitely need to speak with your father. Now.”
Thirty-Four
Two times…Cellina ponders.Not as “weird” as Nino and Haruka, but still pretty damn good.It isn’t a competition, but something about the ease with which their bond has formed gives her confidence.
Standing beside Giovanni now in front of his father, she needs that assurance.
Giovanni is holding her hand so tight that if Cellina doesn’t match his grip, he might crush it. The anxiety rolls off his broad shoulders above her. He’s staring straight forward: no game face. This face reads terrified. More like, “Please don’t scream at me and try to take this away from me.” Not that Domenico could take her away from him at this point. Not without endangering both of their lives.
Domenico and Cellina’s father could be brothers, except Giovanni’s father is taller, burlier and more headstrong. When he was younger and healthier, he reminded Cellina of a very handsome gladiator, or maybe an Italian Viking, if such a thing could have existed. He’s older now—his thick wavy hair is silver and his physique still imposing but less brawny as he sits upright in bed.
He stares at the two of them with faded hazel eyes, but there isn’t anger there. He’s silent, considering something in the bright golden rays of sunlight filling the intimate room. Giovanni’s body is trembling beside her. She adjusts their hands so that their fingers are entwined, then grips his palm even tighter.
At Giovanni’s silence, she smiles and bows her head. “Good morning, your grace. It’s good to see you again.”
Domenico frowns and purses his thick lips. “Cellina—do not call me ‘your grace.’ I know it has been many years since we last met, but you insult me with formalities… Besides, we are family now, it seems.” His frown breaks into a gentle smile. Cellina considers this a very positive sign. But when Domenico looks at Giovanni, his expression hardens. “You have bonded with this beautiful young vampire. Yet you did not discuss this with me—this intention nor your desire.”
Giovanni runs his free palm down his face and takes a breath. “I apologize, Father.”
“I heard of this first from Andrea through a phone call a couple months ago,” Domenico goes on. “I wondered when you would disclose this to me, the deep affection you’ve secretly harbored for his daughter. You relay every aspect of business and society to me—even detailed updates on your brother. But you confide in Andrea when it comes to your own private matters?”
There is rebuke in his tone, but Domenico seems less angry and more hurt by his eldest son’s secrecy. Giovanni rubs his forehead again and lowers his face. “I’m sorry—”
“I waswaiting, Giovanni. This is a critical decision that you should discuss with me—your biological father. Now you stand before me, bonded. It is inconceivable to me.” He sighs and closes his eyes. “Is this why you have not come home the past four days? To further conceal this from me? To delude me as if I were a fool?”
Cellina looks up at her silent mate. Giovanni’s eyes are still downcast. He’s like a wall standing beside her. An unsteady wall, teetering on the brink of collapse and steeling itself for the impact of a wrecking ball.
“Come here.” Domenico’s words are resolute. Giovanni peels his hand from hers and moves toward the large bed. Cellina takes a step forward, but stops herself. She brings her palms up to her cheeks, her stomach in knots. They hadn’t known they’d bond the second time he fed.
Or maybe deep down, they had? Cellina hasn’t readLore and Lust, Haruka’s infamous manuscript on forming vampiric bonds. Deep within her nature, though, she isn’t surprised. She knew it wouldn’t take very long for their energies to click, to latch on to each other in a metaphysical embrace and interweave their bloodlines for life.
Giovanni sinks to his knees at Domenico’s bedside. Normally, his square shoulders are back, proud with his broad chest forward. Now, they’re rounded and his head is lowered. Domenico looks down at him. “When your mother starved and died in the war, half ofmedied. This is the nature of bonds, and it is unusual that I have lived so long without her. With the equilibrium of my nature so ruined.”
Domenico lifts a large hand and places it atop Giovanni’s golden-brown head. His son’s shoulders flinch from the contact, but he remains still.
