Page 11 of Vampires of Eden: Oliver
“Your grace?” He shifts his head to the side.
“I-I don’t have a phone.” Lord Heartless took it from me as punishment. And what would I need a wallet for? I’m not allowed to leave the estate on my own.
God, I feel like I’m standing on a tightrope. Or as if I’m a literal rubber band stretched to its limit and seconds away from snapping. Aries finally turns and walks forward with a tape measure draped around the back of his neck. A pencil and small notebook are in his hands.
He’s dressed casually but impeccably—light-colored trousers and a white cable-knit sweater layered over a sapphire patterned shirt that emphasizes his eyes, which I now realize are deep blue. Haunting. The color of midnight when a full moon illuminates the expanse.
“You don’t have a phone?” He raises a dark eyebrow as he approaches, but he’s looking down at his watch, not at me.
“I’m not allowed to have one at the moment.” I don’t know why I’m telling him this. He doesn’t need to know.
Aries nods, letting the odd statement hang between us as he gestures and looks past me. “Your grace, would you please step up on the platform behind you?” I turn, and there is indeed a new and elaborate vanity assembled along the back wall. A tall three-paneled mirror frames the mahogany stage. This wasn’t here before, nor the worktable with all of his tailor-y things on it. They must have outfitted the room to his specifications.
My heart pounds in my ears as I step up onto the stage like he’s asked. I turn around to face him, simultaneously wanting to watch him and hoping to finally catch his gaze.
“You forgot your belt,” he says, staring down at my buckle.
“Ah—I-I’m so sorry.”
Smoothly, he takes the bunched-up sweater from my grip, then waits as I fumble over my belt with shaky hands. I’m such an idiot. I require an escort from room to room, I don’t have a phone and now, I can barely undress myself.
When I slide the material from around my waist, he takes it and walks over to a bench. He neatly folds my sweater and lays the belt beside it.
Aries flips his notebook open as he walks back, writing something down, focused. But before he has a chance to ask another question, I realize I haven’t even properly greeted him. I’m just stammering and awkward and half listening to what he’s saying because I’m so consumed by him and this feeling.
When he’s in front of me again, we’re the same height because of the lifted stage. I quickly run my fingers through the top of my hair and take a deep breath. “Hi…”
Finally, he looks up. His rich, cobalt-blue eyes meet mine, and the moment is just… static. Heavenly.
He grins. “Hello.”
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“And you as well. Are we alright, your grace?”
I nod, staring helplessly. “Yes… I think so.”
He lowers his gaze, focusing on his notebook again, but he’s still smiling. “Good. Will you lift your arms for me?”
“What?”
“Your arms. Straight out. I’ll measure your chest first.”
“Oh, right, sure.” I lift my arms and he swiftly pulls the tape measure from his neck, reaches behind me in a pseudo hug and wraps the thin strip around so that it rests just underneath my armpits. As he moves, his scent fans out and over me. My breath is short and my heart is so loud in my ears that I’m worried he can hear it as well.
“Relax your shoulders, please?”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re alright, just take a deep breath and let everything drop. You’re a little too tense.”
I inhale deep, which only intensifies his wonderful scent in my nostrils, but I do what he says, suppressing my nature and its extreme reaction to him in the process. Is this… Is what I’m feeling completely one-sided? Does he not feel this at all?
The moment I relax, Aries moves with lightning speed, smoothly taking measurements of my chest and stomach—setting the tape lightly against the material of my clothes, then writing down his findings. When he reaches back and around my butt to measure my hips, I stiffen again and he pauses, flickering his eyes up. “If I’m making you uncomfortable, I can instruct a servant to do this—”
“N-no. That won’t be necessary, I’m sorry. I just—” I freeze.
What do I say? That I haven’t ever been attracted to someone like this? That I don’t even know him, but somehow feel as if I do, and that his very presence and scent comfort me? I cannot say any of that, obviously, so I rub my palm down my face, shaking my head.
