Chapter 11
Chapter One
On the flight home, I start making the Cullen edits on my laptop. I get back to my rooms at headquarters and work through the night to finish up. In the morning, I print out a fresh copy. As you can imagine, tight controls are placed on the publication of written works about vampires. We can't risk letting this information fall into the hands of humans. Although, the few times that it has happened, the mortals have merely interpreted the documents as works of fiction. We all laughed as we watched the novels rise to the top of the humans' best sellers lists. No harm done, really, but if this type of thing happened too often, the mortals might become suspicious.
To maintain control, B.I.T.E. has its own editing office and printing press in the basement. I'll be taking my manuscript down there, but first I have another stop to make. I'm going to pop in unexpectedly on Gregorio. I want to keep the element of surprise on my side this time. I'm trying to improve my odds by wearing a short-skirted, black, two-piece suit and a crisp, white, button-down blouse with a generous dose of closures left undone. My hair is up in an intentionally messy twist, and I'm wearing a pair of thick-rimmed, cat's-eye glasses that I picked up in an airport drugstore. My eyes adjust easily to the mild prescription, and I am the naughty librarian extraordinaire.
I walk into his office without knocking. He does a double take. It's been many months since we've seen each other. He looks good. Damnit.
His face lights up in a smile, and he says, "Nice glasses."
"Thank you," I say, shutting the door behind me and setting my briefcase on a small table next to the door. "I've finished writing my book," I tell him.
"So I've heard," he says. Of course he has.
I pull some pages out from my case and hold them tantalizingly in front of me. "This is the first chapter. Care to take a peek?"
I know he wants to read it. He's so nosy and controlling. I stay where I am so that he'll have to come to me. It works. He gets up from his chair and comes over. When he's close, I hand him the chapter and smoothly slide in next to him, folding my arm casually around his waist. The only natural place for him to put his free hand is on my back.
He reads, and I turn the pages for him, so he won't have to remove his hand from me. He doesn't seem to mind. We stand in silence, side by side, arms around each other, while he reads what I've written. I turn another page and then lean to the side and nuzzle into him. He lets me. He smells musky and vaguely spicy.
I flip another page. I turn my head slightly and press a soft kiss into the base of his throat. He tastes as good as he smells. I pull back to turn another page. He doesn't say anything. I'm encouraged.
I turn back to his neck and kiss him again. He doesn't complain.
I keep kissing up the side of his throat until I am at the square of his jaw, where I start to gently bite and lick. His head leans into me, and I can feel the low rumble of a purr building in his throat. The hand on my back stiffens and pulls me closer. Looks like I've won. I'll be sucking on his tongue any moment now.
He must have set down the chapter, because about a minute into my seduction, his fingers grip my jaw, and he pulls slightly away from my mouth. He holds me close and turns his face toward mine. Keeping his grasp on my jaw, he pulls my glasses down the bridge of my nose with his index finger, so that he can peer directly into my eyes. His look is curious and intent. The soft black of his irises penetrate me; he's trying to read me. I make no effort to disguise my raw desire.
"Hm," he says crisply. He's made his assessment. "Not quite there yet, are we? But I see we've made progress." He releases me and steps away.
Huh?
"Don't worry; we'll get there" he tells me as he walks over to my bag and pulls out the rest of the manuscript. "In the meantime, I'll have this to occupy me," he says with a wink, indicating the papers.
He takes my manuscript and opens the door.
"Gregorio!" I say sternly, finding my voice. "I need that."
"Oh, you'll get it back," he says calmly. "With my invaluable notations and insights," he adds arrogantly. Then he disappears out the door.
Foiled again.
I do get the manuscript back a few days later – with red marks all over it. His suggestions are good. I'll probably use them. They'll probably make the book better. Damnit.
He's also attached a note:
'This is excellent work. I see you haven't spent all of your time having bonfires with the monkeys. I'll be gone for two weeks. I'm taking a first hand look at the discoveries in Siberia. I look forward to making more progress with you when I return.'
Poor Gregorio. Still holding out. He doesn't realize that I've already made as much progress as I ever will with him. Even if I were disposed to wanting to love him, I couldn't. My ability to care for anyone romantically died with Kristoph. And whatever else remains of my figurative heart belongs to Father Pawel. There's nothing left for anyone else.
I suddenly realize that I've made a mental switch regarding Gregorio. I'm no longer denying the possibility that he might actually have feelings for me. But it'll do him no good; I simply can't love him that way. I sigh. I don't like having this new sympathetic attitute toward Gregorio. I want to go back to heartlessly teasing him and plotting his demise. Why did adult sentiments have to enter into this and ruin everything?
I incorporate Gregorio's notes into yet another draft of my book and take it down to publishing. The editors polish it up, and then it's time for production. I'm only allowed a few copies - two for the archives, one for me, and a couple extras that I specially requested to give to my research subjects. I work directly with the lad in charge of printing. Emil's a nice kid, only about seventy years old. He was recruited because of his skills with the press. I admire his nimbleness with the machinery, and he admires my knowledge of the world and my long legs. We get along just fine. I spend a lot of time with him in the basement, watching him work and telling him about the big world, and I walk away with about twenty extra copies of the book that Emil assures me won't show up on any records.
Gregorio's return from Siberia is delayed. There's a lot for him to do there. Siberia is the sight of a major archeological discovery of vampiric history. A couple of nomads were digging through the tundra, building themselves tunnels so they could avoid the whipping winds, when they came across what appears to have been an ancient frozen village. B.I.T.E. researchers are fairly certain that the inhabitants of the village must have been vampires, because who else could have lived there? Also, several hieroglyphic-type carvings were discovered in the ice with definite vampiric indications.
There is much to be uncovered in Siberia and many questions to be answered - such as, what happened to this civilization? Are they still out there somewhere, or did they somehow meet their demise? Gregorio is assessing the scope of the work to be done and will be in charge of assembling and managing the team that will conduct the work. The project will extend far into the future.
During Gregorio's extended absence, I ship out a stack of books to Washington, Alaska and Madagascar. The Americans are expecting them, but I haven't had a chance to explain to Africa yet, so I enclose a cryptic note for them. I ask them to read the book and keep their copies somewhere safe until I can get down there to explain. I also call Alaska to confirm our meeting in a couple of weeks. Next, I start working with one of our museum scientists, Octavian, who has been analyzing the relative nutritional value of various blood types. I've encouraged him to include animal blood types in his research.
Octavian and I are creating an exhibit for the museum. We're in the large, central room of the museum, scoping out our space and brainstorming ideas for presentation, when Gregorio enters the large room. He's talking animatedly to Anton, the museum curator. We glance up at each other and then quickly away and continue in our separate conversations. I'm happy to see him. I want to run over to welcome him back and see how his trip was, but I stop myself. I don't want to give him the wrong impression or false hope.
When I get a chance, I glance over at him again. Anton is speaking now and his arms sweep in wide gestures. He's probably talking about adding a whole new wing to the museum to house the Siberian discoveries. Gregorio appears to be only half listening to him, because he's looking intently in my direction. As soon as my eyes catch on his, he locks onto me. His penetrating gaze is searching me again. Searching for something that isn't there. My eyes immediately soften, and my face pinches in an unintentional look of pity. Gregorio looks quickly away.
He doesn't look back at me the rest of the time we're there. I rush my conversation with Octavian, so I can go to Gregorio and smooth things over. But before I can wrap things up, he's already gone. I go to his office. He isn't there. I walk down the corridor, peeking into conference rooms. He isn't in any of them. I knock softly on the door to his rooms. No answer. He isn't anywhere.
I start to feel annoyed with him. Is this part of his game? He thinks he'll disappear and suddenly I'll come around? I'm not playing any more. I'll have to make that clear to him. Or does he already know, and now he's mad at me? That would be so unfair. He can't expect me to fall for him just because he's been stupid enough to fall for me. I'll make sure he knows that too. Why is he doing this? Why can't we just go back to the way things were before? Before Madagascar.
That evening, there is a knock at my door. It's Gregorio. I open the door to let him in. I'm ready to spar, but his drawn features look so sad. So, so sad. Even his slow, reluctant step is sad. He doesn't look at me as he walks in the room. Now I know things have changed between us, because I no longer have the slightest urge to tease or torture him. I only want to make him smile, but I don't know how. I don't know how to make Gregorio smile any more.
He finally looks at me, and says gravely, "I told you I was a patient man, Elisabeta, and that is true. But I'm not an idiot, and I'm not a masochist. I can see that your feelings have not progressed and are not likely to progress in the future." His voice falls off and he just stands there.
I break the silence. "So, I win?" I ask tentatively, hoping we can reduce ourselves to the old, familiar teasing. Hoping he might smile, just a little.
His mouth tightens and turns up at the corners, but I wouldn't call it a smile. Smiles aren't usually accompanied by such palpable misery.
"You win," he says flatly.
I start to raise my arms in a big V for victory, but I don't feel like celebrating, so I pull them back. Maybe we can get back to normal in a few days. I try to hint at this verbally, but Gregorio cuts me off with a determined shake of his head.
"No," he says firmly. "There's no going back. I know what I want. I've seen it too clearly. You'll always be more to me than I am to you." He sighs and says, "I'm not a strong enough man to deal with that day after day."
Something in the gravity of his voice tells me that there's a deeper meaning to what he's just said.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"I mean that there is much work to be done in Siberia. I was going to hand supervision off to one of my subordinates, but I've decided to take that responsibility on myself."
"What?" I gasp. "Siberia! That project is going to take decades. You're going to move to Siberia?" I know I sound desperate. I don't want him to go.
He finally flashes with an emotion other than sadness. He's angry.
"I can't stay here, Elisabeta! I can't see you every day. It's like torture to me! And do I really need to point out that you forfeited any say you might have in where I go and where I live when you decided to reject me?"
He's right. He's one hundred percent right. I don't have the right to say anything. I clamp my mouth shut and try to control my emotions. I just can't imagine Gregorio being gone. I can't imagine never seeing him again. With me traveling all the time, it's not as if we were ever constant companions, but I never knew where he'd turn up, and I'd come to……anticipate him……around……every corner.
"Goodbye, Elisabeta," he says softly and walks to the door.
I can't say anything. I don't want him to go. I can't say anything. Every ounce of my undead being aches fro him to stay.
He puts his hand on the door handle and pauses. He turns his head to the side and says, "The damnable thing is, I know you have it in you, Elisabeta. It's right there. You just won't let it through."
He turns the handle and opens the door. He takes a step out the door, and the room goes dim. My light is leaving with him.
"Gregorio," I call out in a dry, cracked voice. Something has broken. Some partition that I didn't know was there has come crashing down, and I am flooded with a desperation, a longing, a need for Gregorio.
He stops and turns toward me. He said he would know it in a look, and I hope he's right, because I'm not going to be able to say it out loud.
In three bounds he's across the room, and I'm swept up in his arms. I press my astonished face tightly into his strong shoulder.
His mouth is in my hair, whispering, "Really, Elisabeta? Really?"
"Really, Gregorio," I whisper back. "I love you."
He freezes and releases me. He holds both of his hands to the sides of my face and tilts my head, so I'm looking at him.
"Say it again," he says with his black eyes intent on mine.
"I love you," I tell him. I'm not whispering this time. I'm not holding back.
His red mouth spreads into a wide smile, the smile I've been looking for, and he begins kissing me all over my face. Baby kisses all over my face. At the corner of my mouth, on my cheek, on my forehead, on my nose. In between kisses, he says, "I love you…I love you…I love you…"
Our utter happiness is so ridiculous that I laugh. I laugh as he kisses me all over my face. I laugh until his mouth locks on mine, and then I wrap my arms tightly around his neck and pull myself up to him.
This kiss holds all the passion of our first kiss in Madagascar, but there's something more. This time I know that this is the only mouth I will ever kiss again. I love Gregorio. He's my perfect match. I love him. Letting myself fall into this isn't nearly as painful as I would have thought. Our happiness sweeps away all my reservations of the past months. Gregorio loves me, and I love him, love him, love him.