Chapter Twelve #3
“No, it’s mine,” he says, and I realize he likes it. He actually thinks it’s cute!
Oh my god, how is this man real?
He’s holding it like it’s something precious. “It looks just like him after he gets blow-dried.”
I grin as I think about this ancient vampire buying a blow-dryer for his dog while I grab a larger sheet of paper. “Well… that sounds pretty cute. You know, most men I go out with teasingly want me to draw them naked when I meet them. And you… you just want your dog.”
“Why the hell would I want a painting of myself? What would I do with it?”
“Make Christmas cards out of it and send it to my father.”
Casimir’s eyes snap up to mine.
“No!” I say.
He yanks his shirt open, allowing my eyes to travel down his chest that I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to see more of. “I’m ready.”
“NO! Oh my god… maybe. But your dog first.”
“I’m good with that,” he says as I do a super-light sketch just to get a good feel for how I want him since I highly doubt the dog’s going to hang around for long.
“What determines when you have a meeting with the vampires and werewolves?” I ask.
“Someone usually insists on it,” Casimir says as he watches me swipe up some paint and begin. “That someone is not me because the idea of being locked in a room with all of them makes me think bad thoughts.”
“You’re actually evil deep inside, aren’t you?”
“Thank you.”
“So am I.”
“You’re literally the nicest person I’ve met.”
“Back in high school, I did win the classroom vote for nicest person. Others got things like ‘Most likely to be president.’ And there I was with ‘Nice as fuck.’ They had no idea I’m a vicious werewolf.”
“Explain to me how long you’ve been a werewolf.”
I hesitate. “Wait, you’re getting me off track. I think you should call a meeting between the two sides. We’ll invite your little vampire council as well, and we’ll ask them to help us identify the man from the apartment.”
“How well do you think that’ll go?” he asks.
“Not well in the slightest.”
“Then why would we do it?”
“Because people like it when you rely on them. It makes them trust you; it makes them realize that you’re willing to listen to them and that you care about what they have to say.”
“Sounds horrific. And I really don’t care what they have to say.”
“Yeah… but…?” I ask as I grab more water to help pull the paint down to the edge.
“I guess it might work. When we’re done here, we’ll go rain on the vampires’ day,” Casimir decides.
“Oh? I’m invited too?”
“Well yeah, if they get mad, I want someone to blame,” he says.
“Makes sense,” I respond as I add some dark brown for some shading.
I have to be careful that the colors don’t bleed into each other since the reds aren’t dry yet.
“I know you refuse to tell me about your hobbies, but I’m determined to figure out what you enjoy all on my own.
I already know what you love more than anything is a fluffy poodle named Gustov. ”
“Hmm.”
“That in front of others you’re stoic and a bit cold, but when you’re around the cool people like me, you’re really funny and nice.”
“I think it might be too close to the full moon, you might be hallucinating.”
“Nah, we still have four days,” I assure him.
“Being what you are, can you control your shift?”
I hesitate and glance up at him. “What I am?”
“Your father told me you weren’t bitten.”
That surprises me. My dad tends to keep that info to himself.
“Oh. Huh. I guess he told you to explain why your blood might work on me,” I say.
“No, I still can’t control my shift during a full moon.
I’m probably not as feral as others get, and we’ve also questioned if I could even turn a human if I bit them on a full moon, but ever since I was young, my mom would lock me in a crate.
When I was really little, she’d sit outside it to make sure I didn’t hurt myself.
I vaguely remember her singing to me, but I don’t remember much from my forced shifts.
So you think that’s why your blood works on me?
Because I wasn’t turned like the others? ”
“Likely. I’ve just never heard of such a thing.”
“Right? No one has. When you licked me yesterday… could you still taste silver in my blood?”
“I could.”
“I just… feel like that shouldn’t be the case… right?”
“Unless my blood stopped some of your human qualities… Like when a human is turned into a vampire, their body is frozen in time.”
“So maybe your blood saved me but also condemned me because it locked the silver from ever leaving? Like a vampire is frozen in time, so there are parts of myself that could also be frozen?”
“Possibly.”
“I didn’t think about that. Fuck, that would suck if I can’t get rid of the silver…”
“We don’t actually know that the silver poisoning won’t go away or that you’ll be affected by it when my blood wears off,” he reminds me.
“True, but I’m going to keep sucking on you until I’m positive it doesn’t,” I mutter.
“Is that also a part of fake dating?” he asks, voice teasing.
My eyes flicker over to his. “I mean… I’m definitely not going to say no.”
Casimir smirks at me, and I try to tell myself that I’m busy painting a dog… not jumping into bed with the handsome ancient vampire lord I’m fake dating.
“I just hope your skills in bed are as beautiful as your skills at holding hands,” I joke.
“Would you believe me if I said they were even better?” he asks.
“Be still my thundering heart… could that even be possible?”
“It is. It is.”
I laugh as I wash my brush out to grab a different color.
I find it ridiculously fun talking to Casimir as I finish up the painting.
It’s refreshing talking to someone who knows what I am, but isn’t judging me for not being with a pack.
Gustov eventually decides to take a nap, allowing me to have better access to his features—even if he’s lying down and in the painting he’s standing up.
With some blues blooming behind the dog, created by the paint hitting drops of water I’d already laid down, I finish up.
“It’ll look a little different once it’s dried, but is it everything you hoped and dreamed of?”
Casimir hurries over to examine it and I find myself feeling weirdly anxious about it. Like super weirdly. I’m never anxious about my art, and why would I really even care about what he thinks of a painting I did of his dog?
“This is the best thing I’ve ever gotten,” he decides. “It’s perfect. I want another one. One of him lying down. Oh! He also lies on his back. I want one of those. And sometimes he carries stuff in his mouth, so there should be one of those.”
And now I’m weirdly pleased by the compliment. “Uh… I thought we had plans to go harass some vampires?”
“Yes, but this has taken top priority.”
“You think this is more important than vampires invading your territory?”
“I’m thinking that I’d like at least two paintings per room. There are six bedrooms, two living rooms, and then we have the kitchen, dining?—”
“Casimir.”
He glances over at me. “What?”
“I love that you like it, but let’s go get this other nonsense over with.”
The look on his face tells me that he’s not feeling that idea.
“It looks just like him too. Look at this, Gustov! I can finally get rid of this hideous thing,” he says as he pulls a landscape painting off the wall and chucks it while I sit at the table and watch him with a grin.
Gustov is just as thrilled by it as he is—or more accurately, just excited that Casimir is so pleased.
“Come on, you goof. Let’s go,” I say.
Casimir growls, displeased, but grudgingly puts the painting down and follows me.