7. Seven - An Interview
Seven - An Interview
Ana
Bibble’s would face less peril if he took a contract from an adventuring party to guide them through the swamp to the southeast of the village.
And I would not have been called upon— again —to save him from my best friend.
After I had convinced Leaf to spare Bibble’s favorite piece of anatomy—bone piercings and all—and sent the ungrateful man home, my day had unfolded without any other fanfare.
My mother, of course, had insisted on lunch at the tavern where she bilked an unsuspecting traveler out of half of his coins. I would have felt bad for him if he hadn’t asked her to play with the intention of doing the same to her.
Mirella had come in for a salve to cure the burns caused by an artifact she refused to disclose.
And I purposely put off three tasks that might have required scrubbing my own hands raw before I considered touching anyone’s skin.
As I hurry down the forest path, I’m grateful the date coincides with the tavern’s weekly card tournament. My mother would never miss it—even though most of the other participants refuse to play against her.
The less she knows about tonight, the better.
It’s time to see if the proverbial shoe fits. Though in this instance, the shoe is a beautiful elf’s cock.
At least that’s what Leaf’s rumors say. But rumors are so often wrong.
I simply have to hope.
Thankfully no one saw me rush through the square. They would have watched me go, agog.
What could I possibly be doing, wearing finery I’ve never truly needed before, hurrying through the wood toward the guardian’s strange and wonderful estate?
Seeing inside it might be worth the shrieking my mother will do if she finds out what I’ve done.
But there’s no turning back now. I’ve come too far and I would regret it more if I gave up this opportunity than if I stayed home to avoid her wrath.
The boundary of the Estate is marked by the gentle thrum of elven magic so old, I’ve been told it’s been lost to everyone but the Queen herself.
Because this is her forest, and the guardian guards it at her request and until she deems them unworthy.
The manor house is smaller than I expect, somehow. Maybe because the trees crowd close, hugging the building tight.
No lights shine from the myriad windows. It almost looks abandoned.
If I had not been invited, I might have run home at the first suspicion.
The lamps burn low on either side of the estate’s portico and I reach for the chain beside the door, but before I can tug, the wood grunts and groans.
I jump back, staring wide-eyed at the knots and burls that shift and shudder until they look at me with black, burn-mark eyes from a deformed attempt at a face.
“A flower!” it says, squinting at me. “No, a woman masquerading as a flower.”
It looks more like a man as it stretches out of the wood toward me. “Who are you, and what do you want?”
“I’m Ana,” I say, swallowing back a tremor of ill-ease at the trapped dryad’s scrutiny. “I’m here to speak with Lord Ceylon.”
The door chuckles and starts to mold back into normal planks of wood. “Do yourself a favor, flower. Don’t call him that if you want to keep him. He hates the ‘lording’ nonsense.”
The door reforms as if I imagined the dryad.
I don’t actually know what awaits me on the other side of it. According to Leaf, every woman who has come before me has varying accounts of what Edric is looking for in these “interviews”.
Some walk away claiming glorious exhaustion, others are frustrated that they didn’t even get to dessert before they were politely dismissed. But all of them were sent away, never to receive a second summons.
I don’t need a second invitation. I need to be fucked.
Between Jawn, Bibble, and a passing trapper who’s name I didn’t learn... I have been left wanting for far too long.
The house is silent and this time, I do pull the chain, no longer convinced the dryad in the door has relayed my arrival.
My patience is spider-silk thin.
It’s not that I want to get this over with, it’s that I’m anxious to get started.
And I need to be home before dawn. Before my mother realizes I’m gone.
Flinching when the door opens, I look up. Edric isn’t half-giant size, but he is bigger than I remember. I had assumed the breadth of his shoulders was an illusion of his greatcoat.
I blink at him, surprised that he answered his door himself.
His hair is down.
The long tresses are tipped in pink and orange, though they start several shades darker than his green skin.
He opened the door.
“Don’t you have a staff?”
I ask it before I can think better of myself and then clamp my mouth shut. Someday I will learn to think before I speak... and it will not be soon enough.
“I’m so sorry.” I dip my head. “I don’t always say the things that pop into my head unprompted.” At least, I try not to.
“I don’t mind.” He steps aside, ushering me into his home.
Three steps later, I stop dead in my tracks. “Oh Goddess…” I tip my head back and back and back. “It’s beautiful.”
The ceiling is a glass story book made of shifting light.
Edric’s hand on my spine is the only thing that keeps me from falling backward onto the rug and making a complete fool of myself. Mina would laugh so hard if I came home with that story.
Though... given the option, I might lay down and study it for a while.
“Light weaving?” I ask.
The expense of such a thing would be unfathomable. And I don’t believe he’s old enough to have learned that skill himself.
I have to remind myself this house belongs to the Queen.
His voice is soft and filled with amusement when he says, “It’s a much simpler magic, I assure you.”
I could watch it for days, but that’s not why I’m here.
I right myself and clear my throat. “It’s beautiful,” I say, before realizing I’m repeating myself.
“We do like beautiful things.”
When I turn back, he isn’t looking at the ceiling.
“May I take your cloak?” he asks, all politeness.
His hand is warm, still on my back, and I nod, slipping the ties free.
I take a little pride when his dark eyes trail over my decolletage and he murmurs approvingly—of the dress.
“You have questions for me?” I ask, enjoying the way he smiles as his gaze rises to meet mine.
“I do. But there is no point in asking while we stand in the foyer.” He drapes my cloak over a chair near the door and leads the way deeper into his home, to a small dining room with an intricately patterned table. Two cloches sit opposite each other.
“You asked after my staff,” he says, holding a chair for me. It looks as though it’s made of black branches and upholstered in enormous rose petals. He scoots me in and I glance at my reflection in the highly polished cloche.
Dinner was a part of the invitation, but I hadn’t truly expected him to feed me.
“I like to conduct these interviews in private. The other people in this house are not staff in the normal sense and they don’t need to get their hopes up.”
“What hopes would those be?” I ask as he lowers himself into a chair that matches mine on the opposite side of the table. I glance briefly at the third chair, but his next words steal my attention.
“That I should find them a mistress upon whom they can dote.”
“That is kind of you,” I say, meeting his gaze. “I should hate to disappoint them.”
Chuckling, he studies me like I am the one that half the village fancies themselves in love with in so short a time.
His eyes glimmer like moonlight on water, and I study him, too.
He looks... comfortable.
His waistcoat is made of an immaculately woven brocade, but he isn’t wearing a dinner jacket. His breeches had similarly looked like they were embroidered with golden threads. And the long string of pearls that reach nearly to his waistband are almost as tantalizing as his hair.
I want to know what’s underneath... but I can pretend at patience for a while longer.
“You’ve answered my questions, but have yet to ask your own.” I lift the cloche and take a deep breath of the spiced food. “What is it you want to know?”
His lips twitch with a smile... “You’ve lived in the village all your life?”
“Yes, my mother did not wish to leave it and when my father returned from the war, he had seen enough of the world.” He indulged her every whim.
Nodding, Edric toys with his food. “He has passed into the Goddess’ care?”
“He has.” I am sure anyone who has spoken to him about my family would have told him that.
“And you have four sisters.”
“Yes. Two are married and have farms to the south. One has taken an apprenticeship at the weavers, and Mina... you met Mina the other day, though she was not on her best form.”
“I found the encounter amusing. I hope she is not too embarrassed.”
“She had grand hopes that you might fall in love with her and whisk her off to some fairytale love.”
“Children often hope for such a thing.” He smiles, almost ruefully. “And what of you. What are your hopes?”
He has barely picked at his food, and I have no desire to finish mine.
I set my fork and knife down, placing my hands in my lap so he can’t see me fidgeting.
“May I be completely honest with you?”
His lips part, and a moment’s surprise washes over his face. “I would love nothing better.”
I take a deep breath. Frankness has always served me before.
“I did not actually come to be interviewed.”
“No?” His brows raise.
“I don’t believe I am the one you are looking for.”
A moment passes and he smiles. “You could be.”
I ignore the fanciful flutter of hope in my chest. “I came to come.”
He blinks at me, long lashes fluttering. “And now that you’re here, do you plan to go?”
“Oh, you misunderstand me. I came,” I say, carefully, “to come. ”
Amusement plays across his full green lips. “Is that so?”
“I am a potion maker past that ridiculous marker of spinsterhood. I cannot imagine that I have what you are looking for when none of the others who came before me were able to satisfy your criteria.”
Eyes narrowed, he leans forward. His scrutiny makes me want to squirm.
“I have two questions for you. They are two questions that cannot be rushed past. If you answer them, I may be able to give you what you came for.”
I take a deep breath, encouraged by the way his gaze returns to my breasts. “Ask.”
“Do you have a particular aversion to vampires?”
I blink at him, because the question seems so absurd and completely random. “Do I... No, of course not, assuming they’re well mannered.”
He relaxes. I hadn’t realized how tense he was.
“Good. Then the only other question I need to ask right now is, would you like to be fucked by only one, or both, of us?”
The other man seems to melt out of the shadows.
It’s him.
Even though he’s dressed so similarly to Edric, the man from the clearing is so different as to be startling in the brightly lit room.
Gray skin that has never seen the light of day, shaggy dark hair that covers eyes so red they seem to glow... He is a vampire born, not one turned.
He smiles at me, sharp white teeth gleaming. “Don’t worry, sweetling. If you’re afraid, I’ll be happy to just watch.”
The Goddess has surely blessed me
One look at these men and I would let them do terrible things to me.
The vampire’s hand slides over Edric’s shoulder and I see the ring on his finger. It’s identical to the one that Edric wears, except in color.
Rings, golden cuffs, that pearl necklace... it’s almost like they’re trying to impress.
Diamonds dangle from the vampire’s pointed ears.
Between them, they’re wearing more jewelry than I’ve owned in my life.
“This is Viggo,” Edric says, reaching up to take the other man’s hand from his shoulder... and bite it. “For obvious reasons, he doesn’t get out much.”
Because some people are very averse to vampires and knowing one lives just outside the village…
“I would certainly sell more protection potions if you made yourself known.” I sort through my memories. “I am surprised no one has mentioned you. Rumors run rampant, but none of the women who came before me said a word.” Leaf would have weaseled it out of one of them.
“They don’t remember me.” The smile he flashes me is pointy and a little sad. “Some leave before they even learn I exist.”
“Some give themselves away without prompting,” Edric says, quickly.
“Others let me erase the memory of myself, in order to sleep with him alone.” Viggo twists Edric’s hair between his fingers and looks down at him. “Not that I blame any of them for wanting you.”
“What about the ones who take you both?” I ask, not sure I like the implications.
“You would be the first,” Viggo says with a deprecating laugh.
“Would you be surprised to know that most of these summons end in a woman walking home without so much as a kiss?”
“Yes.” I blink at them and try to understand. “Why would anyone give up the opportunity to enjoy you both?”