21. Eden
Eden
Settling for less than you need
only guarantees a slower death.
T hud .
Frowning , I ease my door open gingerly, looking down to see what I bumped.
There , on the floor, is a glorious, embossed copy of Dracula .
I pick it up with a hungry eagerness. It’s been days since Jasper last left me a book—since we had that entrancing and awful encounter in the library.
Whenever I think of it, my stomach flips and churns all at once.
It’s Jasper’s “day,” and I’m so nervous I could heave.
Will he expect sex? Of course he will, won’t he?
Lucky said he would set boundaries with me before we did anything.
.. but he’s a sadist. Can my boundary even be “don’t hurt me”?
Where does that leave us? Will he want me to try, at least?
Take off my clothes and let him chain me to a wall so he can whip me until I scream?
That’s what sadists do, don’t they? They whip?
I haven’t forgotten Jasper’s dismissiveness when I asked him for answers, or the cutting cruelty of his words in the library.
Yet ... he brought me my dearest friends to keep me company when I was confused and alone—the one gift that could have made me feel at home.
He listens so carefully, absorbs me so utterly in his attention, that after so many years of walking unseen and unheard through the forest, I’m turned real, turned flesh, just by the weight of it. Flesh that feels. Flesh that craves.
And he does have such lovely, clever hands.
God , I’m such a mess.
Ever since I left Jayk’s workshop last night, I’ve been plagued with worries. I fully expected today to reduce me to a puddle of nerves, except that I woke to Lucky staring at me with puppy-dog eyes, begging to spend the day with me.
Whether he’d forgotten it was Jasper’s day or simply didn’t care, the distraction suited me just fine.
I let him drag me away to spend half the day giggling and cooking with him in the kitchen.
I had half a mind to let him suffer for the trouble he got me in with Dom , except that he was moving so gingerly, I didn’t have the heart.
Dom apparently thumped him soundly—mostly because Lucky still hasn’t returned the bazooka from his hidey stash. I only hope that Dom doesn’t work out I know where that stash is. Let’s just say Lucky has more than a bazooka in there, and I will sing like a canary if he questions me.
Still , despite Lucky’s protests, I begged off cooking an hour ago and came back to my room to think.
Well , and to shower, since I was covered head to toe in about a dozen different ingredients.
I can’t procrastinate any longer. I need to make a decision.
Do I go and find Jasper to fulfill my end of this bargain? Or risk a refusal?
I turn the book over in my hands, and it naturally parts at chapter five where he’s bookmarked the pages with a simple note.
Chess in my room at 3pm.
Please ?
— Jasper
On the first page of chapter five, he had—heartrendingly—highlighted several lines: “ I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can talk together freely and build our castles in the air.”
Please .
Does that mean I’m getting lovely, bookish Jasper today? One who will talk with me freely about all the things they’re keeping from me?
Or is his scary, sadistic evil twin playing games with me?
I flick through the pages of the book, searching for his notes, the little insights and witticisms I’ve come to crave, but they’re naked of anyone’s thoughts but Stoker’s . I frown, tapping the spine with my finger.
Is the book itself the message? A more sensual choice than some of the others.
.. but also screaming with misogyny. He chose a quote from Mina , a praised and perfect Victorian woman.
Is that how he sees me? Intelligent and beautiful, fine, but a woman whose success, whose value, is assigned by how she props up her male counterparts?
Maybe I’m being too sensitive.
My frustration with the men is growing—their insistence on secrets is infuriating, these unexplained tensions in the house are confusing, and the whole farcical bargain is starting to grate. It pushes me into a position in the house that is becoming more uncomfortable by the day.
If I’m being honest, it’s because I’m enjoying myself so much that it’s beginning to hurt. The last two days have been... surprisingly pleasant. No , more than that. They’ve been delightful.
Yesterday , I worked in Jayk’s barn until night fell and he fixed me a bland but deeply appreciated meal of dried jerky and garden vegetables that he fidgeted over for far too long.
We fell into a quiet rhythm as we puttered, and for the first time since I arrived, I felt useful .
Like I was contributing in a meaningful way.
His gruff corrections didn’t sting like failure and his rare approving nods had me glowing.
When it grew late enough that I decided I should probably get some sleep, I left with the greatest reluctance.
I’d even found the courage to ask if I could help him again soon and received a rough, “ Suit yourself” in response.
From Jayk , I’m pretty sure that counts as an open invitation.
My sneaky satisfaction with him, the sweet heat I feel with Beau , laughing with Lucky , all of it has me wanting... more. Maybe even everything.
A greedy, impossible thought.
But an honest one.
I stifle a sigh. How can I ever even hope for more when there is such an imbalance between us? While they’re making the rules, how can I make my own? And I do want new rules, I think. To finally make some for myself.
I want to be able to speak my mind without fear of consequence.
I want to fill my days with whatever or whomever I want.
I want to be able to form real relationships. To know that if we’re together, it’s because that’s what I want, and what they want, and to know it’s based on more than convenient sex.
Ducking back into my room, I check the grandfather clock. It’s two fifty-five. Decision time.
I look down at the highlighted words. “ I am longing to be with you.”
Longing seems too soft a word for all the things I want.
I place the book on my bedside table and make my way to Jasper’s room.
* * *
“ Come in, Eden .”
My hand pauses where it’s raised ready to knock on Jasper’s door, then drops to press against my stomach.
I glance around the hall for a camera but can’t see one.
Perhaps Jasper’s latest book delivery was a hint, a telling clue that he truly isn’t human, but rather some kind of ancient, beautiful vampire lying in wait for his unsuspecting prey.
Only , I’m more than a little suspicious of Jasper .
And I only feel about sixty percent like prey.
Steeling myself, I open the door.
Large , elegant, and understated. Jasper’s room is decorated thoughtfully, and surprisingly cozily.
There’s a lovely picture of him with an older couple who I assume must be his parents in front of a beautiful palace, and a hand-knitted blanket is draped over one of the armchairs.
The chessboard is set up on an artful table by a toasty-looking heater, and delicate classical music wends through the room.
Soft light turns the rich colors misty. Romantic .
There are no whips, or chains, or bloodied nail marks on the walls.
If he’s a vampire, he’s a very tidy one.
I decide it’s safe to step inside.
Jasper stands beside a small kitchenette, pouring from a teapot that seems to be fused by veins of gold. The lines at the corners of his eyes seem more pronounced today, and there’s an exhausted drag to his movements, like his limbs are falling asleep before his brain has agreed it’s time.
The familiar scent of chamomile soothes me... though the cream sweater he’s wearing riles my insides back into instant, passionate riot. It looks gloriously soft, and I have the absurd urge to bury my face in him.
It .
In it .
“ I think I’ve read about that,” I offer into the lengthening silence, hoping he doesn’t notice how flustered I am.
When he looks up at me from under sinfully sooty lashes, my mouth goes dry, and it takes me a moment to gesture at the teapot he’s holding.
“ It’s broken pottery, isn’t it? Mended with gold and lacquer? ”
“ Kintsugi ,” he says, setting it down. “ It’s a Japanese art form.”
He hands me a cup and saucer. Our fingers don’t brush, but I track the near miss with obsessive focus.
“ To show that sometimes the greatest beauty lies in our flaws. The most strength, in the ways we break.”
They’re pretty words, but they ring hollow, and his expression is so carefully still, I know he’s hiding something.
Again .
“ Talk together freely,” my sweet behind.
I bite the corner of my lip, then bury my face in my cup.
“ What was that?” Jasper muses, and I lift my eyes over the rim to see him taking me in with those sharp, sharp eyes.
The hot liquid burns my tongue as I swallow too fast. “ P -pardon?”
“ If you have a concern, Eden , I would prefer you voiced it.” His lips compress unhappily.
“ I — I’m sorry. I just...”
Why am I always on the wrong foot with him? Will he turn me over his knee if I make him unhappy enough? That was what Lucky said, right? Unlike Lucky , though, I’m not sure my body “wants the pain.”
There’s no way he brought me into his private room on his day just to play a board game. Right ?
My eyes stray to the very large, very inviting-looking bed on the far side of the room.
I clear my throat and snap my eyes back to Jasper . “ You don’t sound like you believe the philosophy.”
“ No ?” He stirs steaming ripples in his cup, and I’m mesmerized by the graceful curve of his wrist. “ No , I suppose I don’t.
At least, not with regard to myself. I have flaws I’m not so proud of, Eden .
I’ve broken in ways that shame me. I haven’t yet found a way to turn them into something I can find beautiful. ”
I stare at him, taken aback by the raw honesty in his tone. Cryptic as ever, yes... but it feels like a confession.
“ I think you’re beautiful,” I whisper, before I can think better of it.
With a startled blink, Jasper looks up at me, face softening, and my cheeks begin to burn. “ Darling girl,” he murmurs.
A shiver skates down my spine, then erupts over my skin.
Those dark eyes move over me like a caress, and he steps in, cupping the back of my neck with his free hand. He’s tall, standing above me, but he doesn’t crowd me, doesn’t loom like some of the others. Subtle pressure eases me forward, and I sigh a breath as he directs me to an armchair.
There’s something erotic about the press of his fingertips on the sides of my neck, in the confident lack of force by which he moves me. By the time I’m at the chair, my knees feel weak, and my teacup trembles on its saucer.
“ Sit , Eden .”
My knees drop out.
I think about taking another sip to ease my parched throat, but then think better of it. I need a bucket of ice, not to raise my temperature any further.
Jasper takes a seat across from me, on the opposite side of the chessboard, and sets his saucer down on the side table. Sitting back in his armchair, he crosses one leg over the other. The tiny teacup seems unbearably delicate in his elegant fingers.
I set my saucer down too and examine the board. Apparently , we really are playing chess. “ How do we play?”
Jasper shakes his head neatly. “ Chess isn’t a game so much as it is a battle of minds.”
Comforting .
“ Okay .” I clasp my hands together on my lap. “ Let’s spar.”