Page 132 of Trapped By the Blood Ruby

“Oh, it’s divine. But I love hazelnut. It’s my favorite.”

“Well, good. Because pistachio is my favorite.”

We both chuckled like kids. Something about the experience called for it. As if eating gelato brought out the inner child in a person.

“Shall we see how they taste mixed?” Laurent’s grin was wicked.

“Mixed?”

He showed me what he meant, leaning in to kiss me. I huffed against his lips. His tongue stroked against mine and I let out a breathless sound. The cold of our mouths and the sweet flavor of the gelato made for the perfect kiss.

We traded cups and ate more slowly. Laurent asked me casual questions about my time at BU and a few more private questions about my past, carefully navigating my reactions. In turn, I also asked him things, mostly about Italy and his time here. Just because I had a growing collection of his memories didn’t mean they made a lot of sense. Especially since most came without context.

The experience felt normal, exactly how a date ought to feel.

I learned that Laurent was made here, in this exact city, where his father found him. He left the details out, but I knew enough from his memories to put the pieces together, that he’d come from the slums. His father had needed an heir and hadn’t wanted to pick from any of his children—something about sibling rivalry and creating rifts in the family. He chose to find someone he could specifically groom. “I was shaped for one purpose,” Laurent explained.

“How long have you been the head of your household?”

How long since you killed your sire.

He fell quiet. “Nearly three hundred years.” I made a humming noise.

“And you come back here every year?”

“Usually. I don’t always bring my entire family. Sometimes I’ll send Marco in my place.”

“He’s your heir.”

“Correct.”

I considered that. “How did you choose him?”

Laurent finished his gelato. I’d already finished mine, so he collected our cups and deposited them in a trash bin, then took my hand and led me along the canal. A casual stroll between lovers. We certainly weren’t the only ones with this idea in mind.

“It wasn’t an easy decision,” he said at last. “There were many things to consider. Zola seemed the most suitable in some ways, but she was one of my youngest. I had a few older children. I didn’t want to do as my father had—pick some human and groom them from the time of their making. I wanted someone I knew well, someone I could trust.”

“And Marco fit the bill.”

“Precisely. There was…another. I think he was quite angry about it. That hurt me. But it’s in the past.”

“Who?”

“You do not know him,” he said. “He died.”

“Oh. I’m…sorry. What was his name?”

“Lio.”

The name tugged at something in my memory—Laurent’s memories bleeding through. I caught sight of blond hair and blue-green eyes, and felt an echo of Laurent’s affection for this man, deep and genuine. “He’s the one who owned the piano you gave me.”

“Yes. The very same. He purchased the manor in Braxton and I settled there to be closer to him. He died, not long after.”

I wanted to ask how. How did one kill a vampire? I’d seen Laurent rip Henrietta’s heart out, but there were other ways. Who and what had killed Lio? And how much had Laurent suffered for it? The careful way Laurent spoke his name told me the wound was still tender, even after all these years. We reached the townhouse. In the foyer, Laurent pulled me close, burying his nose in my hair and inhaling. He’d been doing this more often lately. As if he needed to assure himself that I was right here⁠—

“Sire?”

Laurent sighed but didn’t pull away. “What is it, Marco?”