Kiss Me, Kill Me Read online

  I looked out the window at the view. The garden was designed with perfect symmetry. The flower beds that were cut into the lush lawns were bursting at the seams, overflowing with cream roses in full bloom. All the other plants were precisely clipped hedges. Rows and rows of them. Beyond that, rolling hills of golden summer-dried grass, interspersed with large swathes of green crops.

  Greg joined me at the window. He stood behind and put his arms around me. His great big exhale ruffled my hair. I leaned against him and experienced butt-groin déjà vu.

  I remembered I had business to attend to. I turned in his arms and took his beautiful face between my hands. Stared into eyes I needed to gaze into for the rest of my life. I brushed my mouth against his. I dragged my lower lip slowly over his. Then over his upper lip, where it caught for a moment before pulling free.

  Greg made a short, sharp sound from deep in his throat that was filled with want and need. It hit me right in my girl parts.

  There was another sound: a throat clearing. ‘Scusi,’ said Claudio from the corridor. ‘Maria has food ready for you downstairs.’

  My girl parts wanted to cry. My stomach, in no way concerned with the emotional state of my nether regions, was on board with the idea of food downstairs. It let out an expectant rumble to make everyone aware of this fact.

  We followed Claudio towards food. At the top of the stairs, Greg bent and made as if to grab me up in his arms again.

  ‘Greg, I don’t need you to keep carrying me around. I’m okay now.’

  He got the stubborn look. ‘What if you fall down the stairs? I’ll carry you until you’re back to normal.’ Another reach for me.

  ‘No,’ I said, stepping away. ‘Thank you. But seriously, I’m perfectly capable of walking.’ My knee ached and made a few internal crunchy noises when I walked. Not that I’d tell the vampire who was metaphorically holding a big roll of cotton wool, ready to wrap me in it.

  Greg’s stubborn was currently large. It had its own energy. It pulsed from his person. ‘Kayana, you were so badly injured. You have to be careful. I don’t want you hurting yourself again.’ He sounded as though he was angry, but his eyes showed fear. He was doing his level best to hide it under all the bossiness and stubbornness. It wasn’t working. Because if the stubborn was large, the fear was humungous.

  My poor man. All my close brushes with death were taking their toll on him. Two wasn’t a large number as far as numbers went. When you were talking about near-death business, however, the number was significant.

  In addition to the car crash and the vamp-freaks in the alley, I’d also had a couple of potential-for-death episodes. If I included the rape-y fellows in the alley back home and Stewart (a colleague who ended up being a psycho stalker), that added up to four. A huge number.

  I stepped closer to Greg again and placed my palm on his cheek. ‘Baby, I feel so much better. But I’ll tell you what, if you stop hauling me around all the time, I’ll let you carry me on the stairs.’ Look at me, compromising like a boss. ‘Only on the way down, though. I doubt I’m in danger of falling up the stairs and injuring myself. And this stands until I inform you that I’m one-hundred percent. After that, you may only carry me to bed…or another appropriate location…for the sex.’

  He stared at me, unblinking, for a long moment. He trapped his upper lip between his teeth and narrowed his eyes.

  I waited.

  Without warning, he scooped me up in his arms.

  ‘Argh,’ I said slash squealed.

  ‘For the sex.’ He repeated my words, amusement in his voice and in the way the corner of his mouth crooked. He was shaking his head as he carried me downstairs.

  ‘Out of everything I said, it figures you’d focus on those last three words. You’re out of control, you know. You’re like, sex-mad or something.’ How I wished he was sex-mad right now and was carrying me somewhere appropriate, or even inappropriate, for the sex.

  He huffed a laugh against my hair. ‘When you’re all fixed, I’m gonna sex you so fucking madly you won’t know which way’s up.’

  ‘Argh,’ I groaned slash whimpered.

  My panties prepared to be dampened.

  I opened my mouth to whisper dirty, sexy things to Greg, but then there was Claudio again, halfway down the corridor, waiting to usher us somewhere. This guy was a big wet blanket, dampening my sexy times. Dampening and sexy times usually go together perfectly. This was in the bad way.

  He showed us out to the back of the house. There was a large paved, undercover outdoor area where a table had been set for dinner. On the flowered tablecloth were candles, a vase of roses from the garden and place settings for two. I was just about to ask Greg why there were only two settings when Lorenzo breezed in…or out, rather.

  ‘Now Claudio and I must leave you,’ he announced, smiling. ‘We have business to attend to and will not return until the early hours of the morning. Please make yourselves comfortable and avail yourselves of anything you wish. Maria will be here, should you require assistance.’ He pressed a key into Greg’s palm. ‘This will unlock the refrigerator in the cellar. You will find what you need there.’

  ‘Thank you, Lorenzo,’ said Greg, pocketing the key. ‘Good luck with your meetings.’

  ‘You’re welcome. And thank you, my friend. I might need that good luck of yours.’ Lorenzo clasped his fingers together, pursed his lips and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. He looked so cute, and I had the strange urge to hug him.

  I glanced at Claudio, who was doing his Claudio thing. Which was nothing.

  ‘Have a wonderful evening, lovebirds,’ Lorenzo said with a slight bow of his upper body, before making his exit with Claudio in tow.

  Maria came out from the kitchen the next moment. She placed a whopping bowl of ravioli in front of me, along with a bottle of red wine so old, I couldn’t read the faded writing on the label.

  ‘Oooh, ravioli!’ I exclaimed. Because those little pockets of pasta goodness are one of the best things.

  She patted my hand, seeming pleased by my pasta-love outburst. She then bustled away.

  Greg went to the cellar. I, meanwhile, tucked into my pasta. It was good, filled with some sort of meat, maybe veal, and smothered in a tomato-based sauce with fresh basil and shavings of real parmesan cheese. Not the long-life stuff you get in the shaker with the aroma of stinky feet.

  This pasta so deserves my love.

  Greg came back to the table carrying a cut-crystal glass containing red not-wine. He sipped it unhurriedly.

  I couldn’t help wondering who the blood donor was. I also couldn’t help hearing the voice in my head. The voice said, If you become a vampire, it’ll be you swallowing a body fluid from some random person. The person could have Hepatitis or HIV or…really bad hygiene, plus cooties. I told the voice to shut up and focussed on the fact that vampires can’t get any of the bad H things or cooties.

  Greg poured me a glass of wine. I stared at it hard and sniffed it. Then I took a tiny sip and held it in my mouth, ready to spit. Not because I’m a professional wine taster. I wanted to make sure it was not not-wine, a.k.a. random-person body fluid. It wasn’t. It was wine-wine. And it was some good shit.

  We ate and drank quietly, gazing out at the landscape.

  The back garden was lovely: similar in concept to the front, with the exceptions being that here were a number of large trees as well as a few groupings of orange roses amongst the cream. There was no fence around the perimeter. I imagined in the wetter months, the rolling green hills would meld into the green of Lorenzo’s property, giving the impression that the surroundings, as far as the eye could see, belonged to him. Maybe they did.

  A warm breeze blew across the garden, tumbling spent petals from their stems to scatter across the lawn, bringing the heady fragrance of roses with it. My enhanced senses, courtesy of Greg’s and Lorenzo’s blood, made the scent almost intoxicating.

  When I finished my pasta, I sighed heavily. Then I yawned.

  Greg gave me
what I was coming to think of as his new normal smile—a weak one that was sad around the edges. ‘I believe you’re ready for bed.’

  ‘Mmmm, probably.’

  Between one blink and the next, Greg was up and lifting me out of my chair.

  ‘Despite the rules I dictated earlier, regarding you hauling me about, I’m not going to argue the fact that you have me in your arms.’

  ‘Why is that?’ Greg asked curiously.

  ‘I’m as full as a tick. I can barely move. And I may have consumed a little too much of that wine. At this point, I could possibly manage falling up the stairs.’

  Maria came out to clear the table. She began gesturing and speaking rapid Italian that I could barely make out. I eventually understood that she had another course of chicken with something or other, and there was dessert, too. I told her that I was extremely full, tired, and needed to go to bed.

  She ranted a bit more, waving her hands furiously. She even shook her fist once. Again, I couldn’t get everything but managed to decipher that she was under the impression young people these days just didn’t eat right. When she had finished her tirade, I thanked her profusely and apologized for not being able to finish the courses she’d prepared. At least, I hoped that’s what I’d said.

  With that, Greg bolted upstairs with me. He closed and locked the door behind him.

  ‘Geez, she’s a scary old bird, isn’t she?’ he said, giving a mock shudder.

  ‘Yup. She managed to send a big bad vampire running up the stairs with his tail between his legs.’

  ‘Tsk. Vampires don’t have tails. And if I had one, it wouldn’t be between my legs.’ A pause. ‘My nuts may have shrivelled a bit, though.’

  We grinned at each other.

  I wanted to ask Greg if he needed me to examine the shrivelling to see if there was anything I could do to help the situation. I thought better of it. Greg was still in carrying-me-about mode. He’d undoubtedly shut me down. And in spite of understanding the reason, rejection wasn’t my best thing.

  Not long after, we were lying in bed. The mattress was so soft and comfortable—nowhere near resembling the beds we would have been sleeping in if we were at a hotel. I sighed as I sank into it, thinking I’d like to be kept in the manner to which I had become accustomed. I wondered if there were Hotel de Lorenzo’s all over the country.

  ‘Hey, Greg. Have you noticed the way Claudio looks at Lorenzo?’

  ‘Yes, I have.’

  ‘What do you think’s going on there?’

  Greg chewed his lip. ‘It seems Lorenzo is fond of Claudio, but I don’t believe he feels anything more than that. He told me, point-blank, he doesn’t want to spend eternity with Claudio.’ Greg’s jaw tightened and he looked away, taking a deep breath. I pretended not to notice, and after a few moments, Greg continued. ‘Lorenzo told me he only loved one person, who died a long time ago.’

  Greg then told me the story of young Lorenzo (Marcus, back in the day) and the love of his life. I pretended to be hearing it for the first time. What I didn’t have to pretend was the moisture that built up in my tear makers upon hearing the tale again. When Greg finished the tragic account of the distant past, I dabbed at the wetness.

  There was an interval of silence, and then Greg said, ‘Because of the way Lorenzo treats him, maybe Claudio feels that he’s more of an employee, rather than Lorenzo’s partner.’

  ‘Yeah. He certainly does a lot of errands for Lorenzo.’ Preparing lunches, picking out clothes for unexpected guests, picking up vampire remains in alleys… ‘It makes me a bit uncomfortable when I see the way he looks at Lorenzo. And he always seems so brooding and, I don’t know…like he’s constantly thinking extremely serious thoughts.’

  ‘Hmmm, I know what you mean.’ Greg pondered for a time before saying, ‘Let’s forget about Claudio. I want to talk about us.’

  ‘Oh? Okay.’ Segueing from the topic of eternity and the love of people’s lives, Greg was going to come right out and ask me, ‘Do you want to be a vampire or what?’ I knew it. I held my breath, waiting for it.

  ‘So, tomorrow, you and I are going to drive around and explore this region and make the most of our time here.’

  I knew nothing, apparently. I breathed a small sigh of relief. ‘That sounds great. It’s so pretty around here. I can’t wait to see more.’

  ‘Me too. Maybe we can check out a few wineries along the way.’

  Wineries sounded good. But Greg would probably end up carrying me around again. Although, there were worse things than having my vampire’s arms around me while being pressed close to his chest. I will endure!

  It was a shame Lorenzo couldn’t join us, though. Not for the carrying part but the tour-guide part. I bet he’d be able to tell us tidbits of information that couldn’t be found on Wikipedia. On the subject of Lorenzo— ‘So what’s our host up to with this business of his?’

  ‘There’s a group of vampires here—a council, like the one in Rome—that gets rid of the bad element in vampire society.’ I could tell Greg wasn’t keen on reminding me about the bad elements who’d attacked us. ‘Lorenzo’s the head honcho of all the Italian councils. He travels to each region and meets with the groups regularly.’

  ‘Wow. So, we went straight to the top, hey?’

  ‘Yep. Go big or go home, as they say. You know, despite having been around for so long and being so powerful, Lorenzo’s really down to earth. He’s a good bloke.’

  ‘I know. I like him a lot. I want to hug him. Often.’

  ‘He probably wouldn’t mind that at all.’ A pause. ‘I wouldn’t mind being hugged by you, either.’

  ‘Tsk. Such a needy vampire. Don’t know how I put up with you.’

  Then I hugged my vampire up good. Pressing my body against his. Kissing his chest.

  I fell asleep, aching for him.

  * * * * *

  The following morning, after a Maria-sized breakfast of sausages, bacon, eggs, mushrooms and tomatoes with toast (not that the serving was actually the size of Maria, although it wasn’t far off), Greg and I headed out. Maria hadn’t done any scary fist-shaking. Instead, she’d patted me on the cheek repeatedly, pleased that I’d eaten enough to feed…or kill…an army. Then she’d handed Greg a car key and wished us safe travels.

  We walked out the front door to find a beast crouched in the driveway.

  Beast—noun: sleek, metallic-grey convertible Lamborghini Huracan.

  ‘Wow,’ Greg breathed.

  ‘Wow, all right,’ I concurred. ‘Let’s try not to bleed on the leather in this car, okay?’

  ‘Christ, I can’t believe we ruined his Roller.’

  ‘I know. But maybe he should consider getting different-coloured upholstery. Red, maybe.’

  Greg grimaced at that, most likely having a flashback to the bleeding-in-the-car episode.

  I opened the passenger door and—hallelujah!—the interior was red and black. Not that I had plans to bleed on anything today. I slid into the passenger seat and got comfy.

  Greg adjusted his seat, pushing it way back. ‘Just need to ask you something before we set off.’

  ‘Ya.’

  ‘Would you like a wafer-thin mint?’ he asked in a French accent, quoting John Cleese’s line from Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life.

  ‘Oh, fuck off. I’m full,’ I shot back with Mr Creosote’s line. Mr Creosote being the morbidly obese guy who vomited copiously, ate copiously, upchucked some more, and then exploded after ingesting his after-dinner mint.

  We laughed.

  And then I groaned. ‘Urgh, don’t make me laugh. I’ll pull a Mr Creosote in the car and we said we weren’t going to ruin Lorenzo’s upholstery.’ I rubbed my tummy. ‘And FYI, I only ate that much so Maria wouldn’t go apeshit and scare you again.’

  ‘I ain’t afraid of no little old lady. Next time she tries to get tough, I’ll bite her.’

  ‘Greg! Don’t even joke about that. Lorenzo would kill you.’

  Then his sidekick, Mr Person
ality, would burn you to ash and chuck you in a bucket. Note to self: never, never, never piss Lorenzo off.

  Greg just grinned. Was that a hint of fang I glimpsed? Nah, I must have imagined it. His fangs usually made an appearance when he was hungry or sexually aroused. They didn’t emerge when he was fake-threatening old biddies. Not that he made a habit of doing that.

  Greg put the car in drive. I let out a quiet burp. And we were off.

  Despite the fact that our travels had taken us on a detour to Vampire Alley, Shitsville, where we were the entertainment and I was dinner, we managed to put that behind us and enjoyed the moment.

  We had a wonderful time driving through the picturesque region. There were fields carpeted in light gold grass, dotted with large rolled bales of hay. We stopped to admire fields of tall bright-yellow sunflowers, and others with rows and rows of purple lavender. In the orchards, the trees were heavy with plums, apricots, peaches and pears. The grey-green rounded trees that grew in straight lines were olives. And massive areas of lush lime green were the vineyards. We visited two of the local wineries, where we stayed for some time, sampling the goods.

  Luckily, Greg couldn’t become intoxicated from consuming alcohol. I paced myself so Greg had no excuse to haul me around in public. I did, however, forget which wines I preferred out of all the ones I’d tasted. I might have been slightly buzzed. Definitely not pissed, though. Greg, who was neither, saved the day and ordered two cases of my favourites (apparently) for Lorenzo and Claudio.

  While gazing at the view, I said, ‘I’d love to live in a place like this. Right on top of the hill, looking out over the vineyards and this landscape. Being up this high and seeing everything for miles makes me feel so…alive.’ I breathed in deeply and exhaled on a contented sigh, enjoying my on-top-of-the-world experience.