Chapter 20
Will | London, present day
I watch Hester curtsy, revelling in the applause.
It’s been a long time coming for her. I’m glad I could give her a sweet taste of victory before it all comes crashing down around her ears.
She’s still going to pay for what she did to me.
For what she took from me. Nothing’s changed on that account.
Thank God she didn’t actually touch me, though, as it could have triggered my little problem.
We take our places in the back row of the audience as the next cast members ready themselves for their pivotal scene run-through. I can’t help glancing at Hester: Wonder if they’ll be as good as us. I doubt it.
Hester doesn’t reply, but she doesn’t block me either.
Her back is ramrod straight, and she’s staring straight ahead.
From the way she’s clenching her thighs, she must still be aroused by the injection of vampiric desire I gave her.
It was mean of me to do that in front of everyone, but hey, I’m a mean guy.
You cool? I think to her. I can’t seem to stop communicating telepathically, but I haven’t done this for a long time, and I kind of miss it. Darius and I used to—
Hester interrupts my train of thought, thankfully, as I’m about to saunter off down eighteenth-century memory lane; and that’s not good for my mental health.
I don’t mean to be rude. I appreciated your help onstage. But ...
Me: Fuck off, Will?
Hester: Something like that.
Me: Don’t you want to know anything about me?
Hester: I asked you how old you were, and you gave a vague reply. I’m guessing I’m not going to get a straight answer from you. So what’s the point?
She lifts an eyebrow.
Me: Fine. I’ll give you a hint. I had a minor part in the original production of Twelfth Night at Whitehall on the sixth of January 1601.
Hester slowly turns to me, her mouth forming an O and eyes bugging out. No way!
I grin, enjoying her shock from my revelation. But then her expression shifts to sadness.
Hester: A pity I wasn’t residing at court then. I would have liked to have seen the play. But hang on, didn’t you say our paths had crossed? Was it more recently?
I shake my head and stroke my chin, indicating that I had a goatee. Surely, she must guess now! I wait for her to put two and two together, but she still looks blank.
Annoyance spreads through me. Is her ‘best meal of the century’ really that forgettable?
She sees my scowl and sighs. Look, Will, if you’re not going to tell me straight out who you are, there’s no point in me trying to guess. I’ve been around a long time, so it’s not surprising that my memory is a little hazy ...
Hazy? Is she seriously kidding me?
If I keep looking at her blank expression, over four centuries of repressed anger is going to explode out of me like a nuclear bomb. So I do what male vampires in a huff do—erect my shield, fold my arms, and look straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge her.
***
We don’t speak, physically or mentally, for the rest of the rehearsal, though she headbutts my psychic wall periodically to see if my shield is still up. Nope, not letting you in.
I know I’m acting like a child, but underneath my anger is a sea of hurt. The night she turned me is crystal clear in my mind, so how can it not be in hers? Exactly how many other knights did she bite back then?
As soon as the rehearsal is over, Hester grabs her stuff and takes off out the door without saying goodbye to anyone.
I follow hot on her heels. Now that the cat’s out of the bag that I’m a vampire, I can’t seem to leave her alone.
But I’m not sure what I want from her ..
. Acknowledgement of my existence? How pathetic.
‘Do you mind?’ she says as we wait for a crossing signal since I’m practically breathing down her neck, if I needed to breathe.
I move away slightly, holding up my hands.
‘Not at all, my lady.’ Now that we’re outside, she studies my features intently as if she’s racking her brains to remember who the hell I am.
OK, I did look different back then. The shaved head and the absence of the goatee must really be throwing her off.
I lift my sunglasses for a moment, wincing at the sunlight, and stare back steadily, giving her my best ‘I want to kill you’ look.
She jolts as if struck by lightning. Recognition floods her face.
She takes a step back. Then another. I can’t resist dropping my shield and thinking to her: Got it now?
Hester looks like she’s seen a ghost.
The little green man flicks on, and she takes off at a gallop across the road. By the time I’ve trotted over, she’s speeding down the street, whipping in and out of pedestrians. Fuck, she’s fast when she’s spooked. Or when she thinks she’s going to get her neck snapped.
Trying to send her soothing energy is useless; she’s too far away.
I increase my speed and catch up with her at the apartment building, attempting to input the long code, which is a mix of letters and numbers.
But she’s forgotten it, so I rush up beside her and whisper in her ear.
‘Shall I do the honours?’ Hester lets out a small scream of fright.
‘T-t-that’s fine. I’ve g-g-got it.’ She scrambles in her tote for her phone. While she’s doing that, I cheekily drape an arm over her shoulder and input the code.
I hold the door open, and she shuffles in with her head down, not meeting my eyes.
‘Chivalry isn’t dead,’ I remark, unable to help myself. ‘But a “thank you” would be nice.’
But there’s not even a glimmer of a smile from Hester, though it’s ironically funny under the circumstances since I am an undead knight.
She walks purposely towards the stairs.
‘Hester ... wait.’
She walks faster, then starts running up them. Shit.
I take off after her and bound up the stairs, taking two at a time like a giant hare.
My legs are slightly longer than hers, and I seize her on the first floor landing and press her against the wall.
She lets out a loud squeak, and I clap my hand tightly over her mouth.
The last thing I want is her coven interfering.
She could alert them mentally, but her shield is up.
She’d have to let it down to do that, and she doesn’t want me getting in.
‘Calm down, will you? I only want to talk!’ I hiss, holding her in place with my forearm across her chest. It’s partly frustration, but I also want to show her who’s boss. That I’m a strong vampire. That I’m capable of crushing her—
Sharp pain explodes through my groin as Hester knees me. Hard. So hard that my vision turns black. Vampires have a high pain threshold, but being kneed in the goolies still hurts like a motherfucker.
I clutch at my tender balls with a startled gasp, and Hester scoots up the stairs. Somehow, I manage to stagger after her, grab her before she can knock on the apartment door, and block her thoughts from the coven. No mean feat when your entire crotch is on fire.
Clamping a hand over Hester’s mouth, I drag her kicking and squirming up to the third floor. Yeah, I didn’t want to have to resort to physical violence, but she’s forcing me into it.
‘I just want to talk like rational vampires,’ I mutter in her ear. ‘Chill. Nothing’s going to happen to you.’
‘Mmmfff. Mmfff. Mmmmfffffffff!’ Hester emits from behind my hand.
I’m not sure what she’s trying to say. But my reassurance seems to work, and she stops struggling, long enough for me to unlock my door.
Placing her in front of me, with my arm wrapped around her waist, I shuffle us into the apartment, still keeping my hand firmly over her mouth for three reasons: One, to keep her quiet.
Two, to prevent her from biting me. Three, to stop her from saying the shapeshifting spell.
I don’t particularly want a hissing black ball of fur running around my apartment, trying to jump on my head and claw my eyes out.
‘If I take my hand away, do you promise not to yell, bite me, or turn into a cat?’ I say in a low voice.
Her body stiffens, and I chuckle. ‘Oh yes, I know all about your little party trick.’
Hester nods slowly, and I remove my hand tentatively, expecting to lose a finger. But she keeps her promise.
‘Good girl,’ I say and spin her around in my arms.
Our lips are so close I could lean forward and kiss her right now and she couldn’t do a thing about it. My groin is still smarting, so it would be a mixture of pleasure and pain.
And by the way she’s wetting her lips with her tongue, she’s having a physical reaction to wrestling with me, to us being alone in my apartment ... even though she’s afraid ...
It’s a big turn-on.
But no, I can’t let anything happen.
Things would quickly get out of control.
I take a step back, but she fists my T-shirt and pulls me close so I’m at risk of drowning in her beautiful eyes.
‘I thought you wanted to talk,’ she says huskily.
‘Depends if you’re ready to listen.’ I gently lift her top lip and see fangs protruding. ‘Hmmm, I don’t want these puppies in my neck ... again.’
There’s a weighted silence.
‘I know who you are,’ she says quietly.
‘Was it the murderous look in my eyes that did it?’
She nods, then speaks quickly, averting her gaze from said murderous eyes.
‘I ... I thought… Darius told me he’d ... taken care of you. I can’t believe this is happening. That you’re alive!’
‘I’m not alive!’ I growl. ‘Because of you, I’m very much undead. And I’ve been wanting to do this for a very long time.’
Before I can think twice about it, I tilt her chin and press my lips to hers.
A kiss by any other name has never tasted so sweet.