Chapter 9

Unexpected

I don't get to dream for long, because Gregorio and I have to catch a red-eye flight. Vampires on a red-eye. That's funny. I giggle to myself. I must still be feeling some giddy after effects of the weeds, because it's actually not that funny. Gregorio and I pull ourselves up and walk to Plainsong's hut to change our clothes. I turn a stern glare on him when he tries to follow me in.

"We're still on the island," I warn him and shut the feeble, stick door behind me.

As I throw on my classic, black sheath and smooth my hair back, I feel a bit melancholy about leaving. Even though this was a brief visit, there was something special about it. I'm not sure why, but I want to stay. Maybe it's because I don't look forward to the long, boring series of meetings that await me in Romania. Or maybe it's because I don't want to get on the plane with Gregorio. Once we're airborne, he'll say we're off the island, and he'll be back to his old tricks. Our temporary peace agreement will end. I'd like a little more peace before I go back to doing battle with him. A little more time to decompress. A little more time to forget the kiss. The damn kiss.

My hand brushes against his jacket as I zip my water-tight backpack. Hmm…our airline tickets are in there…maybe I could slip them out and take off for the airport without him while he's changing…nah, lack of a mere ticket is not going to impede a vampire as persuasive as Gregorio. He'd probably convince the flight attendant to give up her seat to him and sit on his lap the whole way. I'm sure he's done it before. I slide my hand in the pocket anyhow…a passport…now that might slow him up…maybe long enough for the plane to take off without him. I'm holding his passport, staring at it…no, I couldn't…could I?

"Time's up!" he announces and opens the door.

I whip my arm with the passport behind my back and shove it into my purse. Well, now I've done it. I hope he doesn't think to check his pockets before we leave the beach.

He doesn't.

He emerges from the hut as smooth and polished as ever. We speed in his boat around the island to the east coast and catch a cab to Antananarivo. We glide confidently through the airport like we own the place, turning heads the whole way. We don't fit in. To the humans, we must look like movie stars or supermodels or something. I'm sure they think we're famous, although they have no idea who we are. Or maybe they think we're secret service; we've both kept our sunglasses on to shield our unusual-looking eyes, which have taken on a bit of a honey color after our brief stay in paradise.

I notice that Gregorio's head occasionally flicks toward random humans as we pass them, and he tenses. He's craving their blood. Even for me, it's difficult to be among such a concentrated group of mortals. Their sumptuous scent is everywhere. It would be easy for me flip a switch in my mind and go off the wagon in a place like this. It's extra tough on Gregorio, though. This is his regular diet, and we forced him to abstain yesterday. But he's one of the most disciplined vampires I know; he'll be fine. There's no way he'd blow cover by feeding in a crowded, public place.

Gregorio hands me my ticket and we pass through security. While we're waiting in line at the baggage scan, a woman in front of us tosses her long hair to the side as she bends to grab her bag. The entire side of her neck is exposed just below Gregorio, and I can see through the tint of his glasses that his eyes are riveted on her. A vein in her neck protrudes and throbs as she lifts the bag. I hear his teeth gnash together and see his hand ball into a tight fist, crumpling his ticket. I lay a warning hand on his forearm. He rips his eyes from the woman and looks into mine. Through the screen of our sunglasses, we stare into each other's eyes. His are intense, struggling, seeking help. Mine are calm, steady, reassuring.

The woman scans her bag and disappears down the airport terminal. Gregorio relaxes. "Thank you," he tells me in a controlled voice. "No problem," I tell him, and we move on.

As we approach customs we have a new distraction, and delectable humans are all but forgotten. Gregorio begins fishing around his pocket. He searches his other pocket. He searches his pants. He looks at me with concern and maybe a bit of nausea.

"I can't find my passport," he says as he rifles through his pockets again.

"It has to be there," I say calmly.

"I know it has to be here, but I'm telling you that it's not," he snaps irritably. I don't think he likes me being the one in control of myself while he falls apart. It makes him uncomfortable.

"Gregorio," I say impatiently. "Turn out your pockets."

To my surprise, he doesn't hesitate and immediately begins pulling out the whites of his pockets in the middle of the airport. He's completely disheveling himself in the middle of the airport. He must really be desperate.

I feel a little guilty, but I look at the wild flash of aggravation on Gregorio's face and know that I've taken it too far. His nerves are stretched to the point of breaking. I can't turn back. If I fess up now, he'll skin me right here in front of everybody.

"Maybe it fell out when you were stripping down on the beach," I suggest unhelpfully.

"I would've noticed," he says, putting himself back together. "Unless…" he continues, turning an accusing glare on me.

Uh oh.

"Unless one of your beloved monkeys absconded with it when we weren't looking," he spits.

Relief washes over me.

"Oh sure," I say, trying to keep my tone casual. "When all else fails, blame the monkey," I joke.

He's not amused.

"I'm gong to straighten this out," he says stiffly, making his way toward the airport offices.

I watch him walk away and call out, "Meet you on the plane."

I get through customs with no problem, and soon I'm sitting on the plane, awaiting take off. No sign of Gregorio. The plane takes off. No Gregorio. No Gregorio! I can't believe it was that easy! I feel another twinge of guilt, because he sprang for first-class tickets for both of us. That must've taken a chunk out of his budget. Ah well, at least now I can spread out amongst two, cushy, first-class seats. Better enjoy it now. He might catch up with me at the layover in Paris.

He doesn't. I'm all alone in my two-seat suite as we take off from the city of love. I did it! I think this calls for a celebratory drink. I order a Bloody Mary, get a buzz, and retch it up later in the miniscule bathroom. It was worth it.

I don't see Gregorio again until the next day when he walks into our meeting at the last minute. He's not usually the last to enter a room, and he's still wearing he same navy blue suit, so it looks like he only just arrived back in town. Poor guy.

I arrived early at the meeting and took the liberty of rearranging our name cards. I'm right next to Viktor, and Gregorio is way down at the other end of the table. There's a surprise waiting on the seat of his chair. He looks down and freezes for a moment when he sees his passport innocently lying there. Then he shoots a glare at me. I'm grinning from ear to ear. It's shocking that I haven't spontaneously combusted with my joy and excitement at having bested the formidable Gregorio. I'm positively giddy.

He's not amused.

That's okay. I'm going to make it up to him. I've decided that it's time. He's waited long enough. He's going to get more than one kiss. I'm not doing it just for him, though. I haven't been able to stop thinking about Madagascar. I want to taste him again. I want to feel that warm vibration.

I watch his mouth as he purses it and speaks at the meeting. I think about the bump of his scar moving slowly over me. He catches me looking at him a couple of times. I think he must be able to read my line of thought, because he doesn't look angry anymore. He looks intrigued and…hungry. He's driven me to distraction. I have no idea what this meeting is about. Good thing I'm not expected to present anything.

My distraction is the biggest reason that I'm going to see things through with Gregorio. I need to get him out of my mind. When the series of meetings ends, I'm going to gather all my notes and head to the peaceful serenity of Father Pawel to work on my book. I'll need to focus. So, the sooner I get Gregorio out of my brain, the sooner I can get to work.

The meeting finally ends, and I purposely take the long way out of the room, so I can walk past Gregorio. He's clarifying a few points for a moony-eyed intern.

As I pass him, I surreptitiously murmur, "Conference Room D."

I leave the room. No moony-eyed interns have any questions for me. I head directly to Conference Room D. I've verified that no one else will be using this room for the rest of the day. I close the blinds, covering the glass walls that look out into the hallway. I turn to the whiteboard on the opposite wall and get an idea. I go to the board and write, 'Welcome Back, Gregorio' in huge letters.

As I'm writing, I hear Gregorio's deep chuckle from the doorway.

Aha – he's finally amused.

I turn and smile at him. "Welcome home, darling," I tease.

He closes the door behind him.

"You might want to lock it," I tell him.

He tilts his head and cocks an eyebrow. He reaches his hand behind him, and I hear the click of the lock. I walk slowly, seductively toward him. He watches me with one corner of his mouth drawn up. I see that hungry look in his eye.

"I am so very glad you're here," I tell him in a purr. "It will make it, oh, so much easier for me to fulfill my obligations. And I do intend to fulfill them, Gregorio. Every last one of them."

I'm standing in front of him, and I reach my arms over his shoulders and cross my wrists behind his neck. I rise up on my toes and press my mouth to his. He leans into me, and I feel his hands at my waist. I pull him tighter. One of my elbows slips all the way up to the back of his neck so that I practically have him in a stranglehold.

His lips stay firmly pressed together even after I've tried coaxing them open with mine. His hands move to my shoulders and push me off of him. My fingers grasp onto his neck, and I look at him with half-closed, disoriented eyes.

"I can't do this," he says.

"Oh, give yourself some credit. Sure you can," I say lightly and reach my mouth back up to kiss him again. He presses down on my shoulders and keeps me where I am.

"I can't," he repeats harshly.

I open my eyes all the way and take a good look at him. He doesn't seem angry, but something's not right about him. He looks…I don't know…tortured. He gives my shoulders a jerk, and my hands fall off of him. He steps away from me.

I'm putting the pieces together – he's tortured by kissing me. He wants to get away from me. With a sinking feeling, I understand that I've read Gregorio all wrong. Apparently, one kiss was all he'd wanted. Now he's done with me. I am mortified. I have just wholeheartedly thrown myself at a man who doesn't want me. There has to be some way for me to smart ass my way out of this, but I don't see how. I can't even think clearly right now. Gregorio must be able to read the humiliation splattered across my face. He saves me and speaks in a deadly serious voice.

"It's not that I wouldn't enjoy those long legs wrapped around me and that sharp tongue down my throat – indeed, it's what dreams are made of – but I want more than that, Elisabeta. The stakes are higher. I'm holding out for so much more."

I'm gratified that he doesn't find me repulsive, but I'm a bit frightened about what he might mean by 'so much more.'

"I'm afraid that's all that's on the table – or surface of your choice – Gregorio. There's nothing else," I tell him.

He gives me a small smile and says, "I'm a patient man, Elisabeta. I can wait for what I really want."

He stands perfectly still and gazes at me. It's not an expectant look; it's just a gaze, a gaze without a time limit, like he could stand there forever, gazing at me. It's weird, and it's making me very uncomfortable.

"Care to explain to me exactly what it is you want, Gregorio?" I ask.

He seems to pull up straighter, almost steeling himself for something. Then his deep, clear voice tells me, "I want you, Elisabeta. I want you. And not just your long legs and forced kisses. I want all of you – body, mind, and soul."

He takes a step closer to me and continues speaking, moving closer with every word. "I want you to think about me night and day, the way I think about you. I want you to anticipate my presence around every corner. When I walk into a room, I want the floor to fall out from underneath you. And when I leave, I want all light to go out for you. I want your world to go dark, deprived of all its joy and purpose. In other words, Elisabeta, I want you to ache for me the way that I ache for you."

He's now directly in front of me, but somehow he keeps moving in, impossibly molding himself to me without touching me. His voice grows huskier as he speaks. "When this happens, as I must believe it will, take care, because I will know it in a look, and I will not be able to stop myself. I will take you up, and we will disappear, and we will not resurface until we know every inch of each other. I will only think of Elisabeta. I will only see, taste, smell Elisabeta." His mouth is at my ear whispering, deep and sultry, "On my lips, the only word will be Elisabeta, Elisabeta, Elisabeta."

I'm frozen by his words. This is all rather…unexpected, to put it mildly. I gain some semblance of control and pull slightly away. I turn to look at him, expecting his cocky smirk. There's no smirk. As a matter of fact, he seems slightly stunned by his own words. He's wearing a blank expression and is staring forward. It reminds me of how he looked after the werewolf. It appears Gregorio has outdone even himself this time.

I have to say something. And I do, but my response is astoundingly anticlimactic after all of Gregorio's pretty words.

"You're so full of crap, Gregorio," I say, taking two full steps away from him.

He can't mean it. He can't possibly mean it. I'd been a little to easy to win over physically, so now he's upped the ante, made the challenge a little tougher for himself, kept the game interesting. Gugh! I am such and idiot. Would it have killed me to play hard-to-get a little longer?

Gregorio's delicious mouth twists into a small, tight smile. Or is it a grimace? Who the hell knows anymore?

"You don't know how much I wish that were true, my dear," he says a bit sadly. "No, Elisabeta, I am sincerely sorry to say that I am, indeed, your slave. Yours to torture as you see fit."

I scoff. It's impossible to imagine the stalwart Gregorio as beholden to anyone, least of all me. It's part of his game. I'm not playing. His eyes sharpen, and he examines me.

"Is it really so difficult for you to believe that you could incite such feelings in someone? Don't you know what a remarkable woman you are?" he asks.

He's really quite good at this, isn't he? That's okay; I'm better.

"Save it for the interns, Gregorio. Until I get a lobotomy, your schemes are not going to work on me. And on the remote chance that you're being sincere – I'd need two lobotomies before I'd ever succumb."

I see something of the old Gregorio slip back into his chiseled features via a sly look. "Ah, but then you would destroy the Elisabeta that has captured me. As I told you, it is the whole package that I am after. No, we're going to have to find a way to bring this mind around," he says.

His earlier sadness, torture, whatever seems to have been replaced by determination, a mood much more suited to him. He starts moving toward the door with his confident swagger.

"I think…I think I shall go write you a sonnet and see what good that might do," he tells me on his way out the door.

I bust out a laugh. Gregorio writing poetry is more ridiculous than him as a slave.

He stops and flashes me a smile. "It all starts with a laugh," he says. "It all starts with a laugh." He turns and is gone.

Knowing that Gregorio is full of shit doesn't stop me from thinking about what he said. Whatever else I've become over the centuries, I'm still a woman. That's what he's banking on. He thinks that my lesser instincts will kick in and my vanity will lead me to give his flattering words more credence than they deserve. They certainly were flattering words, weren't they? Especially coming from a man like Gregorio……oh, stop it! He's full of shit, and we all know it. He's not going to win this one.

I successfully avoid him during the next couple of days. But after my last meeting, an intra-unit briefing, I see him in the hallway. I have to walk right past him to get to the elevator. No problem. He's talking to Martina, right in the middle of the hall, about twenty feet from the elevator. No problem. As I walk past, neither of them so much as tilts their head in my direction. Martina giggles. Gregorio gives her a sensual chuckle. I feel the low boil of jealousy in my stomach. Aha! That's what he wants. It's no coincidence that he's standing right outside the door of the room in which I have a meeting, talking to Martina, the closest thing that I have to a rival. Oh, he's good at this. He's very, very good.

I keep walking to the elevator and don't flinch. I'll just ignore them. That'll show him. Or maybe…maybe when I step on the elevator I can turn and give him a look. Give him a look that says, 'I know what you're up to, and I simply don't care.' Ooh, yes! That is good. That'll be much better. I know he'll look at me, so it's just a matter of timing.

The elevator door opens. I step in and press my floor. I set my mouth in an appropriately nonchalant smirk and look toward Gregorio. C'mon Gregorio, you know you want to look at me. Wait, maybe just one corner of my mouth drawn up in the smirk. Yes. Oh, and I'll cock that eyebrow. Yeah, this is perfect! C'mon Gregorio. The doors start sliding shut, and he looks over Martina's head, straight at me.

He's twenty feet away, but I can see that his eyes are smoldering. They're like two, warm coals in the fire, and I can feel them on me. I know they're going got hurt me, but I want to touch them. I want to knock that bitch Martina out of the way and touch them. The doors slide shut, and I can see my fuzzy reflection in the buffed silver on the inside of the doors. There's nothing left of my carefully constructed smirk. My eyes are big and round, and my mouth is slack and gaping open.

Damnit, he's good at this! Whereas I, on the other hand, totally suck.