Chapter 10 #2
“You duel like a demon,” he said, putting an arm behind his head as he stared up into the blue sky with one pretty puffy cloud in the distance, me tucked against his side, perfectly safe and comfortable.
I sighed happily. “Like a vampire. I went through a period before I quit drinking blood when I wanted my dad to like me, so I tried to be the perfect vampire. The Vampire King’s dueling parties are famous.
I didn’t realize what being wanted by the Vampire King meant, but luckily I failed before he could ruin my life.
I kept my hair spelled black for a long time after that, just so I wouldn’t look like him.
But just because we have the same hair doesn’t mean we’re the same, and blonde works better for pastel princess. ”
“That is lucky he didn’t like you. So you went for vampirism, got depressed, went vegan, got pale and sickly, and then settled on pastel princess. It suits you. I wonder if I could hire you to shop for me. I save all my shopping stamina for pans.”
I tsked. “Poor, poor angel. I’m afraid I only know how to shop for a magical fantasy world. I’d dress you in ruffles.”
“Like on the collar and sleeves? I could pull off ruffles.”
“And florals?”
“Obviously florals.”
I giggled and snuggled into him, shivering. “You’re so warm.”
“And you were warm until you used up all that bagged blood channeling your vampire speed and strength. I shouldn’t have gotten you wet. I’m sorry.”
I poked his stomach. “I’m the one who dropped you in the pond. I should be sorry. But I’m not. That was hilarious!”
He sniffed. “That’s what we call a sick sense of humor, particularly if it makes you catch a cold. I’d better keep you warm.” He shifted his wings, wrapping them around me so only my face poked out of the silky soft fluff.
It was so cozy! Had I ever been so cozy? I couldn’t remember. Instead of thinking how wonderful it felt in his feathers, I needed to focus on helping him find his purpose and his duty.
“Lion?”
“Kitty?”
“Meow.”
“Rawr.”
I rolled my eyes, but smiled as I wrapped my arms around him under his feathers. “What are your parents like?” That would help me gauge the kind of relationship he wanted, right?
“Well, my dad’s the Commander of the HOST’s, so that’s all you need to know about him. And my mother is the leader of the HARP’s. They’re the HOST’s Arm of Righteous Punishment. They have the highest death count of any other section. What about you? What are your parents like?”
Seriously? He could just say that and then move on?
Annoying! “Well, my father’s the Vampire King, so that’s all you need to know about him.
And my mother was a mostly human member of the finest insane asylum in Europe.
Are you ticklish?” Because tickling him would be way better than remembering how insane all my relatives were, and how insane I was on a bad day.
“I am ticklish. Are you?”
I sighed. “No. And your parents aren’t their job descriptions. What are they really like?”
He was quiet for a beat and then he tightened his arms around me like he didn’t want me to fall out of the boat.
“Busy. Determined. Motivated. Purpose-driven. They’re divorced.
They married for duty, the perfect genetic match to produce the ideal angelic offspring.
After my mother had me, she went back to work, leaving me in the care of my father.
I don’t know if he was surprised or if they wrote it in a contract.
It doesn’t matter. He hired a nanny for me, and then he fell in love with my nanny over a period of five years.
At least, she worked for him for five years before he married her. He probably loved her sooner.”
“So he had love and duty? That’s lucky.”
He snorted. “Lucky? She was half ogre, half elf. And of course she didn’t tell my father she was part ogre, because he never would have hired her, and she was desperate for work.”
“Aahh. That explains Mirabelle and her ogre prince.”
“Nothing explains Miracle. She’s a phenomenon. At any rate, my father found out his true love was an ogre and was devastated. Not just because she was an ogre, and ogres are evil and so forth, but because she’d lied to him.”
“Ah. Lies are death.”
“Of the soul. Yes. And he couldn’t get over it.
Nanny talked to me about it, so desperate to prove her love in spite of her lies.
So she got pregnant. She barely made it to delivery, because angel blood is so toxic.
She died, gave him his miracle and proved her love.
Is that really love, though? Because while my dad adores Mirabel, he never would have chosen her over her mother. ”
“But lies are death. So why did you lie to me so long about being SunRae?”
“I make a point to lie regularly. Because I’m a romantic. I watched the entire miserable process of duty and purpose destroying happiness. I want someone who can love me even if I’m not perfect, even if I lie, even if I fall.”
I looked up at him, but I could only see his jaw.
I touched it with my finger, feeling the tension clenched there.
“I’d rather have someone who loved goodness more than me.
I’m going to turn into a vampire someday.
If I end up a soulless beast like my father, I’d prefer to be with someone who would stop me instead of joining me.
There’s enough darkness in the world, and with my genetics, it’s likely that I’ll become completely insane and evil. I’ll probably be worse than my father.”
He turned his head so he could look down at me, his eyes golden and alight as he stared at me. “I would stop you.”
“I know. And I don’t care if you aren’t perfect.” I beamed at him. “That’s why we’re such good friends. So, when are you going to get married for your duty? Maybe you can find love at the same time. There must be some baking-obsessed angel who doesn’t mind fudging the truth.”
“But is fudge something you bake?” he asked, brows furrowing like it was a very serious question.
I snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re trying to set me up with angels when you don’t know any. It won’t work.”
“But you’d be happier if you were doing your purpose. Everyone knows that.”
“And you’re so invested in my happiness?”
“Obviously. You taught me how to make kitten cakes. You deserve all the happiness.”
“Well, who can argue with that?”
“No one in their right mind.”
“Not that we’d know, because we’re both a bit insane.”
I hesitated. Was that a jab about my parents?
“Insane about pans and dresses,” he added then pressed a kiss to my forehead. “You aren’t crazy. You know the difference between fantasy and reality, even if you like the fantasy wardrobe so much better.”
“I’ve had therapy for as long as I can remember. I have highs and lows that can be pretty extreme.” I didn’t want to tell him this. Why was I telling him this? I wanted him to be my happy friend who would make me laugh while we made crazy pet cakes.
His voice was a low rumble. “Same. Only my highs are killing things and my lows are boredom when I’m not killing things. I have so much angelic blood, and it eats at me. I do things to get reactions out of people, to distract me from the boredom. I was born to fight. But I can’t always, so…”
“You’re super annoying. Always kind of picking a fight. But we can duel when you’re bored, right?”
“Yes. I’m not bored when I’m dueling with you.”
I smiled happily and sank into his feathers, letting them wrap around me while his heat warmed me to my toes.
“I’m getting sleepy,” I said, the rocking boat and the warm sun on my face mixing with the delightful feathers and arms wrapped around me.
“Same. I was up all night flying to the coast to retrieve a pan. What’s your excuse?”
“I think my heart’s still healing from the time I got shot.”
He inhaled sharply. “Does it bother you?”
“That Mini shot me? Of course it does.”
“I mean the healing. Did I not do a good job? What kind of healing do you need?”
“For the next time I’m shot? I need rest. And blood. And more rest. So I’m going to take a nap wrapped in your chicken feathers. Sh. And you can nap to recover from your flight.”
“But if we’re both napping, who is watching for assassins?”
“Mitt and Hallie.” Hallelujah! “I like her.”
“You like everyone. Even that fairy. I should tell you, for the sake of full disclosure, that he’s not actually Italian.”
I snorted. “Of course he’s not Italian. He uses the wrong accent. But it’s his brand.”
“You know all about accents?”
“Obviously. I was raised by the Scholar. I speak 15 non dead languages, and I can translate…”
“Sh,” he whispered against my ear, his breath warm and tickly. “Don’t speak of translating or we’ll have to pluck out your eyeballs. I should hire you as my ambassador. You could buy ballgowns for all the events, and speak to all the diplomats.”
“Oh, yes. I’m notoriously good at being charming and gracious.” I closed my eyes, smiling, and let the boat rock while his heart beat steadily, sending me to sleep.