Page 8 of Pity the Living, Not the Dead

I preened at his compliment, having hit the desired outcome I selfishly dressed myself for. Was it possible to fall for someone this quickly, or was it merely my need to be noticed, to be loved and cherished by someone that led me to believe this was more than it really was? Elijah paid attention to me, something few did. That, compounded with the emotions I was trying but failing miserably to keep in check, made my head spin. When he kissed me, I felt it with every inch of my being. His lips, pressed to mine, ignited sparks. Fingers of flame wicked up my spine, embedding themselves so deeply I feared I’d walk around with a permanent erection.

Elijah shot me a knowing smirk.

My face heated as I nonchalantly adjusted the wood I’d sported. I cleared my throat and asked, “So, where are we going?” as I tried to regain control.

I was taking a big chance tonight, one I hoped would not turn into a huge mistake. “I thought we could have dinner at my house.”

It was a bold move, never having brought another human to my home, outside of those I employed. I preferred a certain level of anonymity, the safety in not having to worry that those who feared the unknown may show up with pitchforks and torches in hand. However, the impulse I had to mate with Liam— one I had not encountered in the two hundred years since my rebirth— was strong. The territorial urge to mark him as mine weighed heavily in the finality of my decision tonight. I needed to assess how he felt not only about me, but about my residence, and ultimately, my life, since one day I hoped to share it with him. Sure, I could relocate if this went south, but that was not what I wanted. I had houses in several countries, although this one was by far my favorite. Nestled in the pines, secluded from the rest of the world, it had a state-of-the-art security system, which was necessary while I slumbered. If Liam was feeling even an inkling of what I sensed, the undeniable draw between us, then I needed to act fast and acclimate him to my world. Hopefully, the true nature of what I was wouldn’t scare him away.

“Um, okay,” he nervously replied, fidgeting in the passenger seat.

“Liam, if you are not comfortable with this, I can easily choose another place, one more populated, to have our date.”

“No,” Liam said, clearing his throat. “This, this is fine.”

That was less than reassuring. Clearly, he was notfinewith this.

“Alright.” I said no more on the subject. I had given him the opportunity to change our plans and he chose not to. The silence between us for the remainder of the ride was unpleasant, unlike last night when a sense of peace had settled while we quietly cuddled on the bench along the waterfront. This silence, right now, was one of uncertainty and lacked any sort of comfort.

We pulled up in front of my house, triggering the security lights. “Wow!” Liam exclaimed as it came into view. “This place is massive.”

“It is. Far too much for one person. I tend to go big or go home,” I joked, although I did prefer more room than less. I paid a pretty penny decades ago for this lot and the surrounding acreage to ensure no one could live nearby or have any reason to come within miles of the area. I didn’t need everything I included in the initial build, nor in the remodels that followed. If I ever wished to sell it, the lavish interior design and marble finishes would be key selling points to anyone interested, though.

“You don’t live anywhere near town,” Liam said, recalling our conversation from the other night.

“I was already out when you mentioned meeting,” I lied, an act that set like acid on my tongue. Taking his hand, I guided him from the car once the garage closed behind us.

“Wow,” Liam said again. “Sorry I seem to be out of verbs tonight.” He laughed. “I’m envious of your car collection.”

At his words, my eyes scanned the impressive muscle I acquired over the years. A sense of pride warmed me. “Yes, I’m a fan of fast cars.” My favorite, a 1968 Ford Mustang GT Fastback was directly in my line of sight. “This is my baby,” I told him as we neared her. “Metallic powder blue with white racing stripes.” A shudder of excitement raced through me. I was the only owner she had ever had. Bought her right off the assembly line that year. It had been far too long since I took my baby girl out for a spin. I wonder if Liam would enjoy hitting the open road in her.

“She’s a beauty. Does she have a name?”

“Madelaine.” Her name was very personal to me.

“I love that,” Liam admitted.

“Thank you, it was my mother’s name. Shall I show you the inside now?” I asked, not caring to dredge up memories from the past and tarnish the evening from my mood subsequently souring. Those were conversations to be saved for another time.

Liam stopped. “Sometimes the way you speak throws me off.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, knowing full well what he was getting at. I had let my American voice falter one too many times in his presence.

“Your choice of words come from an old soul, and certain ones are said with a British accent,” Liam replied, eyeing me curiously.

“I’ve been told I have an old soul many times,” I said, “and I was born in England.”

“Oh, that makes sense. Did you move here when you were younger?” he asked.

“Yes, in my twenties,” I said, trying to remember what age I actually was when I came to America. “I have good genes to thank for looking this great,” I added with a wink.

“England is on my bucket list. One day, I hope to travel the world. You can’t get buried with your money, but you do get to keep your memories,” Liam replied, running his fingers along Madelaine’s hood.

“Speaking of old souls.” I smiled. “Liam, you, too, seem to be in possession of one.” He grinned and nodded.

From the garage, we entered the kitchen, which was rarely used. Not because I couldn’t cook—I was a highly trained master chef—but food had no draw for me. If I ate anything, it would sit in my gut like concrete, so I preferred to avoid human food. Having studied at the culinary institute in Paris many moons ago, I realized cooking for others was a false façade worth perfecting when doing your best to appear human and subsequently enrolled in the highly accredited program. I knew I had prepared tonight’s meal for Liam exquisitely without the need to sample it. A beautiful rack of lamb, glazed carrots, and garlic roasted rosemary potatoes awaited him.

“This kitchen is to die for,” he said, eyes wide as he took in the expansive open-concept first floor of my house. “I love how you can see all the way across.” Liam gestured with his arms open, looking like a ginger version of Vanna White, ready to turn the next letter.

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