Chapter 17 I Don’t Want to Be a Vampire Anymore…
SEVENTEEN
i don’t want to be a vampire anymore…
Stella steps inside our room with me on her heels.
The room at Cyrus’s home is beautiful, but this is beyond explanation.
The ceiling is painted with images of flowers, fairies, and open fields, perfectly framed by gold-leaf crown molding.
The wallpaper is a mixture of blues and greens that accent the colors in the ceiling.
“Holy shit,” Stella whispers as we close the door behind us. I don’t know when the switch happened, but it’s been several hours since she last rolled her eyes at me. I try not to focus on her energy and, instead, enjoy the room.
“I agree.” I move toward one of the matching double beds and rub my hand against the pale-blue velvet covering.
The fabric is high quality and softer than anything I had growing up.
Heavy wooden chests sit close to each bed.
Each boasts hand-carved replicas of lions and elephants.
The artistry reminds me of items I’ve seen in a museum.
“Open your wardrobe,” Stella says, standing in front of the one next to her bed. She pulls out a beautiful teal-green dress and holds it in front of her. “I’ve never seen a dress this beautiful.” She looks at the tags carefully. “It’s the perfect size. How is that possible?”
“Magic,” I answer, pretending that magic is something normal to me.
Copying her movements, I find similar items in the wardrobe opposite hers.
The dresses inside aren’t quite as flashy as Stella’s and are a mixture of soft pastels and current couture.
They look straight off the runway in Europe.
I run my fingers over the supple fabric, stopping on the label.
I read it twice, making sure my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me.
“Oh, my goodness. These are from France.”
“Seriously? Maybe we can keep them…or at least one.” Her voice sounds giddy.
“I doubt it. They’ll probably disintegrate or something,” I scoff.
“I don’t know about you, but I need to clean up a bit.
I feel like a mixture of sand, dirt, and onions.
” Stella laughs as I open a door to what I hope is the bathroom.
Thankfully, I’m right. I’m met with a room nearly as elaborate as the bedroom.
A fully stocked claw-foot tub and shower sit in the back corner of the room.
Black and white marble tiles line the floors and bottom of the walls, topped with ornate black and white wallpaper boasting oversized birds and trees.
In a normal house, it would be bold and overpowering. In here, it’s absolute perfection.
The hot water feels amazing on my oversensitive skin. I use every product provided until I begin to feel almost human…almost.
“Your turn,” I announce, exiting the bathroom with nothing more than a towel wrapped around me. I spend the next thirty minutes using the provided makeup and hair tools until the woman staring back at me looks older, wiser, and more stylish than I remember.
“You look beautiful,” Stella says, moving to my side. The bright blue dress she’s wearing is the perfect accent to her tanned skin.
“So do you. That color is perfect for you.” I take an unnecessary breath and realize, I’ve missed this.
I’ve missed mundane conversations about clothing and hair.
I miss dressing up and pretending to be something I’m not.
I’ve spent so much time trying to be a vampire, I’ve forgotten how to be a woman.
“How do we know when it’s time to go downstairs?” she asks, interrupting my thought.
“Something tells me we’ll know.” On cue, a loud siren rings from below, sounding more like an air-raid warning than a dinner announcement, but in the few minutes I’ve known Lucien, I have no doubt what it means. “That was it,” I announce, moving toward the door.
The door across the hall opens at the same time, revealing my buyer. We stare longer than necessary. “You look beautiful, Violet,” he says, breaking the awkward silence.
The smile that covers my face is broader than it should be for the man who plans on selling me.
“Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself.” The three-piece suit he’s wearing fits like it was tailor-made for him.
The narrow lapelled two-button jacket hugs his thin waist. Bright blue eyes glisten against the dark fabric of his clothes.
For the first time, I see Cyrus as something more than my buyer.
What am I seeing him as? I clear any thoughts from my mind, focusing on the reason we’re here.
“Thank you,” he answers with a wide smile. “Might I be your escort to the air-raid shelter?” He holds his arm toward me. My laugh echoes off the wooden walls.
“Why, thank you, sir. I’d like that very much.” I use my best Southern drawl and wrap my arm through his, allowing him to lead me down the stairs.
Stella and Simon copy our movements and are a few steps behind when Lucien appears at the bottom of the steps.
He’s wearing a tailed tuxedo, complete with a top hat and cane.
He smiles, opening his arms wide, and reminding me of a ringmaster…
that’s actually the perfect description of our host. “Welcome, my guests of honor. You all look quite lovely and ready for a meal.” He motions toward the dining room grandly. “Dinner…is served.”
We follow our host through the living room into a room nearly as large. The walls are adorned with a mixture of deep mahogany wood and dark green wallpaper featuring large magnolia blooms. I count twenty chairs as we approach the oversized table.
Standing behind one of the chairs is the immortal child from earlier.
He’s dressed much the same as Lucien, and his body language reminds me more of a soldier than a child.
“Welcome,” he says as we enter. “I’ve taken the liberty of assigning your seats.
Please check the name card underneath the cloche. ”
Cyrus moves to the first chair, lifting the silver lid. He pulls the card to his face with a soft laugh. “Simon, I’m guessing this is you. However, the card reads Hot Lycanthrope.”
“It felt more…appropriate,” Lucien says, sitting at the head of the table.
Simon’s cheeks turn bright red as he pulls the chair out for his sister before sitting next to her.
“Thank you for the clothes,” he says toward our host. I stare at Simon, seeing him as the handsome young man for the first time.
His suit is a similar style to Cyrus’s but is a deep navy blue.
He and Stella match, and I realize how much they resemble each other. It’s obvious they’re siblings.
“You are very welcome,” Lucien answers quickly.
“Terrin, I believe we’re ready for dinner.
” At his words, the small vampire exits through a swinging door into the back part of the house.
Lucien looks toward us. “For a vampire, Terrin is a remarkably wonderful chef.” He lowers his voice.
“I think you’ll find the meat he’s prepared perfectly roasted for lycan. ”
“Thank you?” Simon answers awkwardly, making me smile.
The door opens wide as Terrin enters, carrying a large silver tray.
He moves quickly to the lycan, exchanging their plates for new ones.
Steam rolls off, and even for my oversensitive nose, they smell delicious.
He sets a plate in front of Lucien before setting a soup bowl in front of Cyrus and me.
Each bowl is full of bright red liquid, and the smell of copper makes my stomach growl.
He sets a final bowl at an empty seat before joining us at the table.
“Please, enjoy your meal,” Terrin says, picking up his spoon.
“Thank you, Terrin,” Lucien says, uncovering his plate. “This smells divine.”
I glance at Cyrus before copying the boy’s movements and picking up my spoon.
He does the same and takes the first drink from the bowl.
He nods with barely any movement, telling me it’s okay to eat.
The moment the liquid hits my tongue, I forget all civility.
Picking the bowl up, I lift it to my lips and drink from the edge. My bowl is empty seconds later.
I set the bowl down, realizing all eyes are on me. Red stains remain on the crisp white napkin as I lay it back across my lap. “I apologize,” I say after several awkward moments. “I was hungrier than I thought.”
“Would you care for more?” Terrin asks.
Yes! My brain screams. Instead, I choose the polite answer. “Maybe in a few minutes.” I smile as I speak, hoping to cover the desire that looms inside. I watch as the rest of the dinner party eats painstakingly slow. No one speaks, and the energy that fills the room is strange to say the least.
I pick up my plate. “I’ll get more, Terrin.
” Before he can object, I’m through the swinging door and in the kitchen.
My bowl crashes to the ground as I lay eyes on the source of our meal.
In the corner of the kitchen is a woman.
Her hands and feet are bound, and dark circles under her eyes are larger than they should be.
“Hello,” she whispers with a faint smile. “I hope you enjoyed your meal.”
I rush to her side, fighting the urge to eat that her blood brings. “Are you okay?”
She smiles once more. “I will be.”
Lifting her bound hands away from her gaunt body, “Why are you tied up?”
She shrugs. “Sometimes I wander around when I get this low.”
“I’m sorry,” I answer, breaking the bindings on her wrists and ankles. “I didn’t realize…”
“It’s okay, dear. I chose this.” She struggles to sit up. “Terrin doesn’t normally take as much as he did tonight.” I pull her forward, leaning her against the wall.
“You feed Terrin?”
“I do. I’ve been with him for many years.”
“She’s not hurt,” a young voice says behind me. Terrin moves to her side, gently lifting her higher. “Are you okay, Doris?”
She rubs his tiny head. “I’m fine, my love.”
Remembering Harrison’s word for this, I ask the question I don’t want to know the answer to. “Are you his donneuse?”