The Vanishing by Karla Nikole

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 was waiting, 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 read Lore 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 of me died. 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.

“This severe imbalance within me…” Domenico sighs, his eyes softening. “Has manifested itself through my actions with you and your brother. I have known for a long time. But I… I did not know how I should resolve it. How to right my wrongs. I have been… very harsh toward you. Strict in demanding and requiring much of you—to the point where you are so fearful to tell me that you are in love with Andrea’s daughter, and that you wished to form a bond with her.”

Domenico takes another deep breath, but this time, a hint of a smile forms on his mouth. He rubs his thick fingers against the top of his son’s head. “You have chosen well, and I am not angry with you. I am sorry that I have brought our relationship to such a state as this. You have sacrificed much to sustain our realm… and me. I am grateful. Congratulations on your union. May it be blessed.”

Cellina’s heart is in her throat when Domenico lifts his gaze to focus on her. “When I should expect grandchildren, please tell me in advance? Do not hide this from me.”

Nodding, Cellina steps up to the bed. She looks down at Giovanni and there are tears streaming down his face. He clenches his eyes shut as Cellina meets him on the floor, sinking to her knees. She wraps her arms around Giovanni’s shoulders to bring his head into her chest. He leans into her, shuddering from scattered breaths and quiet sobs as she rests her chin against the top of his soft hair.

She meets Domenico’s eyes. “You’ll be the first to know, we promise.” She turns her face into her mate’s hair and kisses him, holding him tighter.

“My youngest and his mate came to me very late last night,” Domenico says. “They wish to try giving me their blood. I have agreed, but the process will need to be slow. Gradual. Can you accept this?”

“Of course.” Cellina smiles. “I know my father would love to visit with you, too. He misses your friendship—especially, quote, ‘beating you in chess.’”

“Ha.” Domenico throws his head back, a bright smile on his face. “I lie on my death bed and your father spreads insipid lies. That old hound wishes he could beat me.”

“You should put him in his place.” Cellina flashes her most innocent face, batting her eyes. Domenico stares at her, shaking his head in a slow motion.

“My son, you have bonded with a cunning and beautiful female. I should expect nothing less from Andrea and Saida’s offspring. God help you.”