[THAT was a random question.]
[With a hint of philosophical.]
This makes me chuckle even more as I type my response.
[Always the intellect. A weighted question like this deserves serious contemplation. We’ll talk about it when I’m there, yeah? :-) ]
[Do you promise?]
[I promise.]
Grinning like an idiot, I start up the car, shift it into drive, then wave goodbye to Raphael as I pull out of the garage. Carefully, I maneuver through the garden, down the winding driveway and eventually through Central and onto the main road that leads to the vineyard cottage.
It’s early enough in the morning that the air still smells new. Fresh and clean. A soft mist hangs in the atmosphere and the vegetation is covered in glistening dew drops.
I love mornings. Especially when it’s quiet and not many vampires are up and about. It feels like a secret that only I know about, and there’s so much promise as far as what the day might bring.
Adapting to this neutral blood has been rough, but I feel especially strong as I drive. Revitalized and excited about the newness of it all.
For good measure, I had a video call with my parents yesterday and told them what’s been going on. They were surprised because they thought I had stopped feeding from Oliver months ago.
“Good,” my mother declared flippantly. “Now you’ll be better prepared for Lord Cherrington.”
I sighed audibly, sulking, but didn’t contradict her. Father caught my exasperated response and frowned in sympathy. It would be nice if he spoke up for me about this. Unfortunately, he’s about as useless as I am when it comes to standing up to Victoria. I know that I need to fight this out with her. Realistically, I’m going to avoid that confrontation until I’m forced to deal with it. I’m not ready.
Lady Victoria Kendrick does not respond kindly to boundaries. Particularly those constructed by me, and I just don’t want to hear it. Especially since I don’t have any tangible plans or alternatives to counter her inevitable arguments.
She left the call after ten minutes because she was havingdrinks with a friend. When Father and I were alone, he asked if I had seen Daniel again. I told him that I had—that we were friends now and I’d likely be talking to him often. Father was pleased to hear this. He wants Daniel in a piano concerto someday at the Royal Opera House in Central. I told him to give it time.
I’m not sure if Daniel and I are friends, but that was the best way to describe him to my father in the moment.
When I think of Daniel—which I do a lot these days—I feel excited. He’s refreshing somehow, like a cool and moody autumn night after a hellish summer. An interesting, perceptive and sharp vampire, and I’m eager to see what each moment with him will bring. What he’ll say, what insights he’ll reveal or how we’ll laugh together. I think he’s also the most patient man I’ve ever met.
My behavior and nature as of late worry me. These unexpected and vulgar actions that pop out of me like an aggressive case of the hiccups. My eyes alighting—not once, but three times now. And then licking him? Fucking hell. I am, without doubt, a predatory vampire. There’s no use denying it anymore. Too much evidence is stacked against me.
That day he came to visit, I was in a fog. Like a thick, heavy cloud of cotton and my brain, my senses—everything felt blocked. Inside, I wanted to scream, push forward or move. To dosomething. I couldn’t see or think straight.
Then, my senses honed in on Daniel and his distinct staticky buzz. The familiar electric rush of him across my skin helped to clear the heaviness. I was still delirious, but I could see and smell him. It was like drowning in the ocean and being thrown a life raft. I focused on him, holding onto his essence and presence for dear life.
So, I just… wanted more of him. To clear my head of the awful fog. The desperation and my actions made sense in the throes of it.
When I woke up the next morning and realized what I’d done, I was mortified. Before I could thoroughly flog myself, Isensed him somewhere within the estate. Miraculously, he was still there, so maybe I hadn’t offended him too badly? My first inclination was to leave him alone, but he’d told me that I could talk to him when things happened, so I did. And I’m glad.
Why is my nature like this? There was no realistic chance for me with Oliver, and there’s no chance for me here, either. Danny has been weakened and wounded because of a purebred’s abuse. He tolerates me, but I wouldn’t dare… I can’t even say it.
Anyway, I have to do better. I need to learn how to control these gross compulsions.
When I finally pull up to the vineyard, I’m amazed. It’s been almost two weeks since I’ve visited and now, the grapevines are littered with tiny green leaves. The rows stretch outward for miles. In the distance, the craggy mountains are still snowcapped underneath a pale and cloudless blue sky.
What a breathtaking view. The enclosure of our garden and the surrounding trees outside my bedroom windows and balcony isn’t a shabby sight by any means. But this? Magnificent.
After parking the car in front of the cottage, I hop out and head toward the trunk to grab my suitcases. As I wrestle with them, the front door opens. I look and Daniel is there—long and lean as he steps out onto the porch with a mug in his hand. The dark length of his hair is swept back and he looks comfortable in tapered sweats and a navy-blue t-shirt. A cartoon-ish rubber duck is in the center and it’s holding something… a knife? The words “I choose violence” are underneath the graphic.
“Welcome,” he says warmly, barefoot and standing on the top step.
His shirt makes me laugh, so my voice comes out amused. “Hey, thanks. Is this shirt a warning for me?”
His eyebrows lift in surprise as he looks down at his shirt. He grins. “No. This was the only clean shirt I had left. Today is laundry day.”