Kiss Me, Kill Me Read online

  After a longer silence, Lorenzo sighed and said solemnly, ‘I will make you a deal, my friend. I will help you. And you must promise to do the same for me—if it ever comes to that.’

  They shook hands to seal the deal.

  I buried my face in the cushions. The image of Lorenzo bringing his sword down over that vampire’s neck assailed me. Except then my mind put Greg in the other vampire’s place. I struggled to wipe the picture from my mind. I fought not to sob loudly.

  What would I do? Becoming a vampire was imposed upon both Greg and Lorenzo. Could I choose it of my own free will?

  If I chose it, in centuries or millennia from now, would Greg and I be like those two from the alley tonight? That aside, how could I let Greg suffer? How could I let him do what he was planning? I couldn’t bear the idea of him ending his life purposely.

  I turned these things over and over in my mind. I cried silently for what seemed like hours until I finally fell into a fitful sleep.

  When I roused, daylight was filtering through the sheer curtains, the heavier drapes having been kept tied back overnight. Greg was lying on the floor beside the sofa where I had spent the night. His arm was stretched upwards, his hand covering mine. I watched him for a long time while he slept. He looked peaceful. His wounds were fully healed, no evidence of the carnage of the previous evening. And he was the most precious thing I’d ever beheld. I had the overwhelming urge to touch him. I wanted to stroke his perfect face. I fought the urge, not wanting to disturb him.

  As I watched him, a sadness came over me again. All the same questions I had been asking myself the night before filled my thoughts.

  The next thing that filled my thoughts were my injuries. I was sore and achy in numerous places. I raised my hand, half averting my eyes, anticipating a nasty sight.

  I saw with surprise that it appeared to be okay: while not perfect, the skin was healing up just fine. There was pain deep in my bones, but it had nothing on the night before. My knee had undergone about the same degree of improvement. I gingerly patted my throat. It seemed all right. I couldn’t detect gaping wounds, at any rate.

  For the first time since arriving at Lorenzo’s home, I properly took in my surroundings. I was in a large, elegant room. The furniture was the kind of stuff that would have The Antiques Roadshow salivating and drooling down its own chin. The soft furnishings were predominantly rich creams and light golds, with a splash of red here and there. Magnificent vases were filled with lilies and roses. Marble sculptures, gold clocks, richly coloured plates, and burnished metal bowls decorated the niches and surfaces. A huge oil painting of the city of Rome, viewed from one of the city’s hills, hung above the marble-clad fireplace.

  The minimalist in me would have usually had a conniption in response to all the things. Either my opulence and clutter settings had been recalibrated following my visit to the Vatican, or Lorenzo had managed to pull off opulence plus a load of knickknacks in a tasteful way.

  Piled on a side table beside the sofa where I was lying were a number of old books. And they weren’t merely old-ish like the prized hardback copy of The Hobbit on my bookshelf. These were old-old. The kind of old you’d find in a museum. Or the abode of a two-thousand-year-old vampire.

  I pushed my feet against the arm of the sofa and scooted up closer to the table. I hissed with pain. Obviously, the back of my head hadn’t fully healed. I wondered what it looked like back there since I hadn’t seen the damage.

  Greg’s eyes immediately snapped open. In a blur of movement, he was kneeling and leaning over me.

  ‘Are you alright, baby?’ His face was creased with worry.

  ‘It still hurts a bit, but I think I’m on the mend.’ Obviously, drinking the blood of a vampire did not come close to actually being a vampire when it came to the healing of injuries caused by other vampires. Despite the dismal state he’d been in the night before, Greg looked as good as new.

  The bright and shiny vampire investigated my throat. His mouth drew into a tight line. He gently turned me onto my side and checked out the back of my skull. ‘Fucking bastards,’ he muttered under his breath.

  When he rolled me onto my back again, he feathered fingertips over my forehead. ‘We’ll give you more blood today so you can heal properly. You’ll be back to normal in no time.’ He brushed back a lock of my hair, tucking it behind my ear. Bending forward, he kissed me softly on the mouth. When he pulled back, his eyes were glistening a little.

  ‘Ana,’ he said in a rough voice, ‘I’m sorry you had to go through so much pain. I’m so sorry I couldn’t do anything to protect you. I—’

  I cut him off by grabbing the back of his neck, dragging him towards me and placing my mouth over his. I kissed him deeply, moving both hands to his face, holding him firmly where I wanted him. I wanted to go on kissing him endlessly but stopped when I heard someone clearing his throat.

  We both glanced up to see Lorenzo in the doorway. He had obviously showered and was now dressed casually yet impeccably, in dark brown slacks, a crisp white shirt with tan pinstripes, a brown leather belt and matching loafers. He also had a tan jumper draped over his shoulders; the sleeves tied at his chest. He looked as though he belonged on the pages of a glossy magazine, driving the yacht and laughing with his other nattily attired friends. Except for the fact that Lorenzo, himself, was no model.

  ‘Good morning, young lovers,’ he said with exuberance.

  ‘Good morning,’ Greg and I returned simultaneously.

  Lorenzo approached the sofa, intently observing the pair of us, his smile reminiscent of Mona Lisa’s. I realised that since Lorenzo had been around for so long, he could have been DaVinci’s muse. I had to suppress a laugh as I pictured Lorenzo in a dress and wig, posing for the famous portrait.

  ‘Well,’ said Mona Lorenzo finally. ‘Let us examine our lovely patient, shall we?’ He scrutinised my hand, knee and throat. He adeptly felt the back of my skull, fingers probing here and there. He made a satisfactory sound. ‘You are healing nicely, no? Nevertheless, I believe another dose of blood will be of great benefit to you.’

  Without further ado, he bit his wrist and put it to my mouth. I didn’t argue, drinking until he told me to stop.

  He held my chin and stared into my eyes. ‘Hmmm,’ he said, nodding and doing that Mona thing again. I had no idea what his ‘hmmm’ meant, or what he was speculating upon. I waited for him to expound. Instead, he straightened up and smoothed out his trousers.

  ‘You may freshen up in the bathroom down the hall,’ he said. ‘Claudio has laid out all that you need. And when you have finished, he will be awaiting you in the kitchen. He is preparing a hearty lunch.’

  ‘Thank you, Lorenzo. For…everything,’ I said.

  ‘Come now, do not mention this. You are both my honoured guests. Be sure to hurry along. Claudio will be agitated if the food goes cold.’ He rolled his eyes and grinned.

  Greg scooped me off the sofa and took me to the bathroom down the hall. It was an obscenely huge and opulent thing. A study in marble. The vanity counter held a collection of glass bottles containing oils, scrubs, creams and God knew what else. A sandstone urn was filled with glossy dark green foliage along with more lilies and roses in light pinks and creams.

  The pièce de résistance was a magnificent bath, flanked by fluted columns and reached by a short flight of wide marble steps. The bath was already filled with steaming water and pink rose petals.

  ‘Holy cow!’ I whispered. ‘They sure know how to treat guests at Hotel de Lorenzo.’

  Placing me on my feet, Greg’s brief smile faded as he watched me check out my throat in the mirror. I had lines and patches of thin pinkish skin in places.

  I spied a packaged toothbrush. I grabbed it and ripped it open. Greg squeezed toothpaste onto it, and I shoved it in my mouth. It had been maybe twenty-four hours but seemed more like five days since I’d last experienced any dental hygiene.

  Greg held me upright while I brushed my teeth. I wasn’t sure that I
was actually in any danger of falling down, but I wasn’t about to protest. Greg had his arms wrapped firmly around me. I was leaning against him. Bonus: when I bent over to spit and rinse, my butt and his groin got all friendly like.

  We stripped our clothes off. Greg picked me up again and carried me into the shower. He sat on the timber bench with me on his lap—my butt and his groin still best mates—while he washed me. Everything was done with such painstaking care, it was as if he was afraid I might break at any moment.

  After all the blood and gunk from the previous night had been washed away, Greg stood, exited the shower, mounted the steps and lowered me into the bath. Sitting behind me, legs either side of mine (butt/groin BFFs), he held me. He stroked my arms, kissed my temple a couple of times and did not speak a word.

  Usually if I was in this position with Greg, I would have initiated some wet sexy times. I knew better than to try that now. He was in overprotective-vamp mode. I had no hope of getting lucky while my skin was all paper-thin and pink, with the back of my head looking like…I didn’t even know what. So I just leaned back against him and enjoyed soaking amongst rose petals and oil-infused water that smelled like…I didn’t even know what. I didn’t know much these days. My head injury must be worse than I suspected.

  I also enjoyed being alive and having my very alive vampire holding me close and loving on me in a chaste and lovey way.

  When Lorenzo had said Claudio laid out all that I needed, he wasn’t exaggerating. There were clothes—women’s clothes in my size. Soon, I was dressed in brand-new khaki pants and a white sleeveless shirt. I’d also been supplied with underwear, shoes and a belt. Everything fitted perfectly.

  Apart from having skills in vampire-body-part conflagration, ash collection, driving, corridor lurking and (hopefully) hearty lunch preparation, Claudio was a personal shopper extraordinaire.

  As I slid my feet into the tan leather shoes, I reflected upon my fuck-me shoes. The ones that had turned into fuck-you-you-heinous-vampire-bitch-from-hell shoes. Shoe purchases were an important part of a girl’s life. Who knew they could be life-saving? I’d remember that next time I balked at dropping a hefty sum on some fancy footwear.

  I was all kitted out, nevertheless, I felt a bit naked, missing one vital thing. My handbag had been lost in the melee the night before. While I could handle the loss of lipstick and tampons, my phone was another story. To make matters worse, Greg had lost his as well. Neither of us having a mobile, plus the fact that we’d lost all the information on them…it was almost like losing a limb or something. The fact that we’d have to get new numbers was going to be a pain in the butt.

  I made myself focus on the bright side. Phones could be replaced. Neither of us had lost a limb. Or a life. You have to put things into perspective sometimes.

  Greg and I joined Claudio in the kitchen. He was polite but rather more reserved than Lorenzo. Our thanks were accepted graciously and with the assurance that nothing was a problem. It soon became obvious, however, that conversation was not one of Claudio’s best things.

  Claudio and I ate in silence while Greg sipped on a glass of blood. He seemed to enjoy the taste of it, so I assumed it was of the human variety.

  Lunch for the humans was of the osso buco variety, filled with melt-in-your-mouth meat, plus perfectly cooked, non-mushy vegetables, and teamed with thickly buttered, crusty, freshly baked bread. Lucky Claudio wasn’t a talker because there was no way I would have swapped my chowing-down for chin-wagging.

  I could sense myself getting stronger by the minute. The vamp blood along with this hearty stuff was making me feel G.O.O.D.

  When I reached out to snag another piece of bread to mop up my gravy, I noticed my table partners seemed preoccupied with their own thoughts, both chewing over something, stewing over whatever was troubling them. The atmosphere could not be described as cheerful.

  I had no idea what Claudio was thinking. He was biting the inside of his cheek and furrowing his brows as if he was pondering some rather heavy business.

  Greg wasn’t much different. He stopped brooding only long enough to give me a wistful gaze, which was followed up by a sigh before he went back to contemplating the bottom of his wine glass. I could hazard a guess as to the subject of his reflections. My own thoughts immediately went to the topic.

  What the hell was I going to do about this mortal versus immortal question?

  Was there to be osso buco in my future? Or would I be on a lifelong liquid diet? Shallow considerations? Yep. Shallow was easier than deep. Plus, I was still a little hungry. I shovelled more bread into my gob and contemplated all the foods that would hurt me to have to give up.

  I was listing all the different varieties of chocolate when Melanie popped into my head. I remembered her “last meal.” The Tim Tam Suck. I felt tears trying to bubble up.

  A chirpy voice stopped my impending tears and broke all three of us out of our individual broody reveries.

  ‘It is all settled, my friends. I have made the arrangements.’ Lorenzo gave a decisive clap and grinned at Greg.

  Greg smiled broadly back at Lorenzo, as did I, despite the fact that I had no idea what he was talking about. I detected no alteration in Claudio’s countenance.

  Lorenzo continued, ‘We will all travel to Tuscany today. I have informed my staff to prepare the house for two additional guests. We will arrive by this evening.’

  Greg answered my puzzled look. ‘Lorenzo has a villa in Tuscany. He and Claudio had planned to go there today for business. We’ve been invited to spend a few days there and have some R and R.’

  ‘Oh my goodness! That’s amazing. Thank you, Lorenzo.’ I’d known this guy was cool. As of that minute, it was official—Lorenzo Gardini was the shit. Like, seriously.

  ‘It is my pleasure,’ he replied. He placed his hand on my head as if he were giving me a blessing or something. The action had a paternal vibe. I guess it would be hard not to feel paternal when you had millennia to everyone else’s scant decades.

  ‘Greg, what about our stuff?’

  ‘Lorenzo’s taking care of it.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Lorenzo. ‘I have a driver on his way here with all your belongings from the hotel.’

  Wow, this guy can organize anything. Wonder if he does weddings?

  Hey, where did that thought come from? Last I checked, no one had asked me to marry them.

  Approximately two hours later, we were all in the car again and heading to Tuscany. Claudio insisted that he drive, so Lorenzo dismissed the driver who had brought our luggage from the hotel.

  I discovered that Lorenzo’s car was indeed a Rolls Royce—a Phantom, to be exact. Greg stretched me out on the back seat again with my head resting on his lap. I was horrified to see that even though the car had obviously been cleaned since the previous night, there were still light bloodstains on the white leather upholstery. Greg and I had bled all over a Roller! Surely there was a law against that kind of thing. It was probably rule number one in the Rolls Royce owner’s manual.

  Lorenzo (who I’d learned was originally named Marcus Cornelius Lucretius), kept us entertained for almost an hour and a half with stories of his life. The more he spoke, the more in awe of him I became. He had such an exuberant storytelling style that I wished I could listen to him forever. Contrary to my wishes, his pauses became lengthier and lengthier over time. His head tilted sideways, coming to rest against the side window, and he fell asleep.

  Claudio still wasn’t saying much. Every now and again he would glance at his partner. Not once did I detect any sign of love or even fondness. There was only a kind of determined concentration. I resolved to quiz Greg later and find out his take on Claudio.

  Greg still hadn’t broken out of his melancholy mood. He sat quietly and stroked my hair and my cheek. When he spoke, it was only to ask if I was okay or if I was comfortable.

  I followed Lorenzo’s lead and took a nap since my other companions weren’t being fabulous company.

  Chapter Sevent
een

  When I woke, Greg was lifting me from the car. The hot, dry air, after the cool confines of the Roller, was a slight shock to the system.

  I blinked at the thing beyond Greg’s shoulders. ‘Is this the villa?’ I whispered incredulously.

  ‘Yes. This is it.’ Greg widened his eyes, giving me a can-you-believe-this look.

  When the word villa had been mentioned, I’d imagined something less mansion-y and more, well…villa-like. Smaller. I’d pictured smaller.

  This was a wide-fronted two-storey building with large timber-framed, arched windows regularly punctuating the stone walls. There was a porte cochère in the centre of the façade through which part of the circular gravel driveway ran. Smack dab in the middle of the circular drive stood a three-tiered sandstone fountain.

  As Claudio and Lorenzo were unloading luggage from the car, the front doors to the villa/mansion were opened by a little lady clad top-to-toe in black. While slightly hunched over with age and sporting a full head of white hair, the way she briskly approached showed she was still quite fit. She’d wrangled the monster-sized old timber doors on her own, so she must be doing okay.

  She welcomed Lorenzo warmly. There were kisses on both cheeks. She did it, and he did it. Then she held his face in her hands and spoke rapid Italian. He said some stuff. Something about us being his friends, that he wanted us to feel at home during our stay, and…I don’t know what else.

  Lorenzo introduced us to the lady, whose name was Maria. Maria gave Greg and me a quick yet thorough looking over. If she was wondering why Greg was carrying me, she didn’t ask. She just nodded once the inspection was over and led us to the house. She patted Claudio’s arm as he walked beside her. He didn’t pat her back, both of his hands being occupied with suitcases, but he and Maria had a bit of a chat along the way.

  The house was decorated in a more rustic style than Lorenzo’s city home, and it suited the “villa” perfectly.

  Greg and I were shown to our room upstairs. After Greg set me on my feet, he extracted our toiletry bags from the suitcase and took them to the ensuite bathroom. It’s usually the first thing I do when I arrive at a hotel. Greg was trying to look after me in every way possible. I’d kiss that gorgeous vampire when he returned. I also needed to inform him that he didn’t need to haul me about in his arms any longer. I was capable of self-ambulation by that point.