29. Alexander
CHAPTER 2 9
Alexander
M y phone buzzes and flashes on the dresser. Buttoning my shirt, I lean, peaking at the screen and reading the series of new messages.
Helplessly, a broad grin stretches across my face.
[I didn’t have a chance to meet Buffy when I was there before.]
[You should bring her to the cottage sometime.]
[Anyway, have fun tonight.]
[Don’t drink too much. Wait until I’m with you for that.]
[I’ll take excellent care of you. xx]
I feel as if I’ve unlocked a new verse in Daniel’s song. A hidden B-side to the elegant and rhythmic soul of him.
I kissed him and he just… liquefied. He said “yes” to my nature and softened completely like a rich, velvety butter in my hands and I was not expecting that at all.
He can be prickly as hell. I like his sharp edges and his unapologetic witticisms that catch me off guard and make me laugh. His thoughtful insights that encourage me to think and question the status quo .
This unexpected, decadent and frothy side of him is astounding. This part of him that shamelessly indulges in his sensuality.
I thought being physically intimate with him would be awkward. But this morning was strangely effortless—I’ve never done anything like that with anyone before. He rolled on top of me and everything fell into place. As if something elemental within me understood something inside of him and the two entities clicked and took charge.
And feeding from him…
My shaft hardens from the carnal and luscious memory of being cradled between his naked thighs and sinking my teeth into his flesh.
“Breathe, man. Jesus, calm down.” I pause for a second to quell my nature and body sparking from the recollection.
His blood was like an intoxicating elixir to my tongue as it flowed into and warmed me from the top of my head to the tip of my toes. Black currant, woodsmoke and cherries. Cardamom with a heady swirl of autumn flowers. Alluring and hypnotic. Like nothing I’ve ever tasted.
Because of what I’ve been taught about intimate relationships and mating, I want some stable framing around our circumstance—like a hardcover spine that firmly holds the contents and pages of a book together. It would offer me more security in moving forward with him.
Without it, I don’t know what to call this. We agreed to go slowly, but this morning was… not slow.
A soft knock draws my attention toward the bedroom door. “Yes?” I call, slipping my arms into a blazer and shrugging it onto my shoulders. My suit for this evening is a crisp hunter green. Warm but rich. The color of a thriving forest at the precipice of nightfall. I love it. I had it tailored last summer and haven’t had a chance to wear it until now.
The banquet is formal attire. After playing in the dirt for a week at the vineyard and doing home improvement projects out in Nantshire, it feels good to be clean, properly groomed and well- tailored. Like striking some sort of balance in this new life I seem to be cultivating.
I wonder what Daniel would look like in formal-wear? Style wise, he’d be sensational in something dark. Black on black, maybe? A rich, elegant color that offsets his pale and haunting eyes.
Raphael steps inside dressed in his handsome official uniform. A royal purple blazer over tuxedo slacks. He blinks, looking me over. I wait for him to say something but his expression is unreadable. Slightly concerned.
“What is it?” I ask, turning away from the full-length mirror to face him. “What’s wrong with you?” Buffy meows at my feet as if she’s worried, too. She hasn’t left my side since I’ve returned home. Following me everywhere , like a furry shadow.
“You have an unexpected guest,” he says cautiously. “You haven’t sensed him yet?”
I frown, then casually throw my innate senses outward to see what the hell he’s talking about. Immediately, something snags like a nail caught on the gossamer overlay of my vampiric essence.
“Oliver?” My face twists in confusion. My stomach drops as if the floor has disappeared from beneath me.
Raphael nods. “He just showed up a few minutes ago. You really didn’t notice? Not even as he approached?”
Perplexed, I bite the inside of my cheek. What the hell is he doing here? “No,” I confess. Purebreds have a keen, inborn ability to sense the approach and presence of other vampires. Everyone knows this, but… my head is filled with so much right now. Oliver is the last vampire I’d expect to show up on my doorstep.
“Well, I call that wonderful progress,” Raphael says, rocking back on the heels of his shiny wingtips and grabbing the doorknob. He pulls the door open wide, gesturing for me to exit. “Shall we see what he wants?”
My feet are rooted to the floor. Why… why would he come here? Why didn’t he call first? Something in my chest tightens an d spreads like dark ink being spilled and solidifying. An old but familiar humiliation flares in my heart.
I don’t want to see him.
“Alexander.”
The weight of Raphael’s voice snaps me back into focus. I meet his eyes and his expression is stern. “Let’s end this.”
I balk. “What are you talking about? It already ended—it ended months ago!”
He shakes his head. “I thought so too. But your reaction is showing me otherwise. Whatever you’re still carrying around for this vampire, let’s go set it down. Right now.”
Sighing, I close my eyes and rest a palm on my forehead. I can’t believe he’s here. “It’s not that simple.”
“It can be.”
My hand falls from my face and to my side like dead weight. We stare at each other. A moment ago, I felt lofty and hopeful. Now, everything churns darkly. Reminders of a past I’d rather bury and forget flood my mind.
I force my feet to step toward the open door. Buffy trots along beside me.
“You alright?” Raphael asks as I stalk past.
“No.” I walk into the hall, down the main stairs and in the direction of the sitting room where we welcome and greet guests. Raph trails behind.
“You know that Phil Collins song where he talks about how if he saw that guy drowning, he wouldn’t lend a hand? I always think of Oliver during that verse.”
I stop at the double doors and take another breath. “I know we need to leave soon,” I say, then swallow hard. “I won’t be long.”
Raphael nods once. “Okay... but do you know that song? I think it’s In the Air ?—”
“I know it, Raph.” For fucks sake.
He bends down, then lifts and cradles Buffy under his arm so that she doesn’t follow me inside. She meows in protest.
My hand trembles as I hold the handle. Oliver’s sweet and flowery scent is clear to me now, even through the door. Reminding me of restrained meetings and stolen glances.
Years and years of hope, wasted. Countless dinners, banquets and outings with expectant eyes watching us. Promises made and shattered. His hand in mine, lifeless, limp and disinclined. Disgusted. His gaze looking everywhere else but at me. The painful burn and longing of wanting him to see me , just once. To try.
“Lexie.”
“Go,” I say quietly. “I’ll meet you at the car.” I press the handle, stuff the emotions down and step inside the room. I close the door behind me.
The sky is blanketed with rain clouds. It casts the room in a silver muted light that beams through the windows. A world washed in gray. Oliver had been sitting on the tufted sofa, but upon my entering, he pops up from his seat.
His eyes are the same bright ethereal blue like a rare gemstone. His hair is the same flop of cinnamon-brown, always a little unkempt, as if he’s run his fingers through it from stress one-too many times. I used to think this trait was cute. A little sexy.
Now, I wonder if he has a genuine aversion to brushes and combs.
Something in his stature reads differently. Taller. Oliver isn’t short. He’s shorter than me by a few inches, but when he was inside the castle and under his father’s thumb, he was always hunching. Curving his shoulders and bowing his head, as if to make himself smaller. Less noticeable.
He’s not doing that now. He stands straighter, naturally, and with his chin lifted just slightly. “Hi, Alexander.”
I stop several feet away, wrestling with the magnitude and strangeness of his presence. Stifling the heavy feelings and confusion. “Hey…” I say tentatively. “What are you doing here?”
He smiles, rueful. “It’s nice to see you, too?”
I’m not sure if it’s nice to see him. It doesn’t feel particularly “ nice,” so I’m not going to stand here and lie. “Well, Oliver, we went through a lot to get you out of Eden, so you being back here suddenly and only after a few months feels counterproductive.”
“I know,” he says. “You’re right. But I didn’t realize exactly how much you sacrificed to get me out. Not until after I left and Sasha told me about all the rumors.” He takes a tentative step forward, examining me. “You gave your entire dowry to Lord Blakeley in exchange for my paperwork? Why didn’t you tell me?”
I sigh, trying to expel the heavy tension in my shoulders.
Useless.
“Why does it matter?—”
“Because it matters , Alexander. A lot.” His voice rises and the force behind it catches me off-guard. He registers my surprise and takes a deep breath. “You forfeited something important. Something that jeopardized your autonomy and freedom in exchange for mine. I appreciate that you were willing to do that for me, but… let me be part of that decision. Talk to me about it so I can own up to it! I’m not a ‘damsel in distress’ that you needed to secretly rescue. Let me have some agency in this situation.”
The room falls still around us. I listen, feeling hollowed out. Tired.
Lazily, I lift my palms. “So… you’ve come back to tell me that I’ve fucked up, even more so?” I ask. “To point out more ways in which I’ve ruined things between us?”
“ No ,” Oliver breathes the word, visibly exasperated. He runs his fingers through the back of his hair. “Can we sit down? I know you’re getting ready to go somewhere, just—ten minutes. Please?”
Nodding, I step toward an arm chair as he retakes his place on the couch. I notice a smart-looking messenger bag on the cushion beside him. “Why didn’t you call first?” I ask patiently.
He raises an eyebrow. “You barely return my texts as it is, and Raphael doesn’t answer my calls at all. What else could I do?”
Raphael doesn’t care for Oliver. He never has and I can’t control his actions. As for me… “It’s not easy to be ‘chummy’ with you via text, you know? ”
“I know,” he admits, slipping his hand through his hair again. Sitting and taking him in, it becomes clear that he’s very nervous. Fidgety. “I know that things are complicated between us, but you…”
Oliver drops his hand, breathes and sets his shoulders back. When he meets my eyes again, his expression is apologetic. “This is hard,” he says candidly. “I’ve rehearsed what I wanted to say to you in my mind a million times, but it’s still a mess.”
“We don’t have to do this,” I say plainly. Why walk down this path again? It’s painful for me and obviously uncomfortable for him. Why bother? Who benefits? “All that stuff is in the past,” I go on. “Let’s just leave it there.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think I can. Not if I want to move forward in a healthy way. Can we talk about this? Are you willing to listen?”
There’s no fight inside of me to decline his request. What’s more, dread sits in the pit of my stomach like a slimy and fat toad. Whatever this is, whatever else he needs from me, I just want it done.
“Say what you want to say,” I tell him quietly, then take a deep breath. “I’m listening.”