Epilogue- Abi #2
“Christopher, have you ever thought about joining a drama club?” Shannon asked, her voice growing fainter as they walked away. “You would kill it in a Shakespeare production.”
“In hindsight, I feel terrible for ever thinking Christopher was capable of attacking others,” I reflected as we followed the curve of the road.
“Don’t,” Beckett dryly said. “He would fit right in with the stereotypical vampire elder.”
I chuckled. “Still holding a grudge that he invited the selkie up here?”
“The selkie has already asked if her two cousins could also move to the area, so yes. The grudge festers.”
I considered a reply, but was distracted when we got close enough to the North Water Bakery & Deli to make out the faces of the small crowd standing outside the building: it was the Ahnapee River Pack.
“Daphne, Flint!” I shouted.
“Hello Mr. Kinge, and Abi!” Daphne met me on the edge of the tiny parking lot to give me a hug. (Or, more properly a one-armed hug since Beckett wouldn’t let go of my hand.) “It’s good to see you again.”
“Yeah, thanks again for helping me lug all those bags of dried mealworms out to Beckett’s lake house.” I ruffled Flint’s hair when he joined us. “And for rigging a system to feed the seagull-possum-griffins.”
Since the little griffins were so aggressive with food—and we didn’t want to train them to swarm people—Flint and Daphne had come up with a system where I set up a pile of mealworms covered with an upside down bucket rigged with rope.
Once I was far enough away I pulled the rope to uncover the mealworms. This startled the griffins, who then pretended to die until they realized snacks were being served and dug in with gusto.
They got a source of protein, while I kept my promise of giving them a reward for their help—however unconsciously they’d given it.
“Of course.” Flint patted his hair down and pivoted to bow his head to Beckett. “Good evening, Mr. Kinge.”
Beckett nodded back to the young werewolf. “Flint. It looks like half your Pack is here tonight.”
“Yes, sir.” Flint said.
“Abi might have mentioned you were getting ice cream tonight,” Daphne said. “We wanted to be on hand. Just in case.”
As little as I knew about supernaturals, even I recognized it was a protective gesture—that the werewolves were throwing their support behind Beckett.
I glanced up at him to gauge his reaction.
His expression was neutral as usual, but unlike his typical refusal of help, he nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Daphne and Flint exchanged looks of surprise.
“We should get back to our family and let you two get on with your date,” Daphne said. “Come on, Flint.”
Based on the way the siblings ran back to their family, I’m pretty sure they were bursting to tell them Beckett’s reaction.
I squeezed Beckett’s hand. “Thank you, Beckett.”
Thank you for changing so we can be together.
Thank you for accepting all this responsibility.
Beckett, recognizing what I couldn’t say out loud, leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. “It’s worth it. Now, shall we finally get your ice cream?”
“Yes, please!”
While Beckett fiddled with a blue silk sleeping mask, I gave one last curious look around the… I wasn’t certain what to call it. The eating lounge? Blood snack bar?
We were in a locked room just off the giant sea of storage that was the basement.
I knew from my reading that drinking blood straight from the source was potentially dangerous for a vampire—it was the one time their vigilance and senses were suppressed, making them an easy target.
(If they drank enough, they actually slept, and it put them in quite the food coma—which I found absolutely hilarious.)
As a result, they only partook of fresh blood in controlled environments.
Before today, I hadn’t thought Beckett had one such room, so when he’d brought me here, I’d been rather surprised.
Cobalt blue damask flock wallpaper and black crown molding gave the room a gothic flair, as did the canopy bed with gauzy curtains and the vintage wall sconces with their cut glass lampshades.
Beckett and I were perched on a cobalt blue fainting couch with a fancy coffee table piled with snacks—for me—situated in front of us.
Beckett looked particularly fetching—he’d rolled up the sleeves of his button down shirt to his elbows and had left his unnecessary glasses upstairs.
Perhaps I’m unsettled because I don’t like the thought of Beckett feeding off someone else? Hm. It seems I’m becoming possessive.
Determined to push past my looming feelings I cleared my throat. “I don’t know what I was picturing when the books described a safe space to feed, but this was certainly not it.” I tilted my head back as I listened to the classical music playing through speakers mounted in the corners of the room.
“This isn’t a feeding room,” Beckett said. “It’s a guest bedroom—for when I have vampire visitors who prefer to sleep underground.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling incredibly relieved. “I apologize. Even though I know you have a bed, I suppose I thought any vampire that wanted to sleep underground would also want to sleep in a coffin.”
“They would,” Beckett said. “Not providing one is my passive aggressive attempt to make sure they don’t overstay their welcome. Now close your eyes.”
I obediently shut my eyes as Beckett carefully slipped the silk sleeping mask over my head, tugging it into place over my eyes.
“Is this truly necessary?” I asked.
“We can’t risk you falling unconscious during feeding as I might not be fully alert and able to catch you.”
“But I told you I can stand the sight of some of my own blood. It should be fine. Unless… are you a messy eater?”
“No, but I’m not risking it.” Beckett maneuvered me back into the chaise lounge until I was snuggled into the corner of the antique furniture piece. “This is our first attempt. We can adjust the system if it goes well.”
“I can see the wisdom of that,” I agreed. “But if you make one negative comment about my blood lacking vitamin D or tasting off, I’m ripping this mask off so I can whack you.”
“You needn’t worry.” Beckett’s rough voice was more rumbly than usual, gruff with amusement. “Your vitamin levels have been progressively improving.”
“That’s good. I don’t suppose you can tell me my calcium levels? Since I’m in my thirties, I’d like to be more aware about my bone strength.”
“I’m a vampire, not a creature that feeds on bone marrow.”
I fidgeted as he moved next to me—I could feel the shift in the fainting couch’s cushions. “Well. It was worth asking.”
“Remember, you should drink the juice and eat something once you remove the sleeping mask—”
“—to keep from feeling faint, but you don’t plan to drink much. Yes, I remember.”
“Good. Do I have your permission to take your hand and drink?”
I sucked in a deep breath—not because I was nervous about the actual act.
This was Beckett, and I’d mentally prepared as much as I could by reading.
But I knew this was a big step in our relationship.
(Or it would be, once Beckett stopped worrying that I’d swoon at a droplet of blood.
Though, given how I’d fainted in his office with the selkie so recently, I suppose I couldn’t blame him.)
“Yes,” I said.
Beckett—always thoughtful—touched my shoulder in warning before sliding his fingers under my wrist and lifting my arm.
He kissed the inside of my wrist, the brush of his lips was reassuring and affectionate, and then I felt twin pinpricks of pain. Nothing too bad—it was about on level when my little sister’s ancient cat tried to make biscuits on me but had trouble releasing his claws from my skin.
The stinging sensation was quickly replaced by the bubbly, giggly feeling I knew was coming. (The books had described it as a cocktail of chemical reactions from vampire saliva that served as a predator mechanism to stop humans from fighting when a vampire fed.)
I had just enough time to mentally run through all this information in my head, when I felt Becket pull away from my wrist.
“We’ll start with that.”
I sat up straight. “Really? Was that even thirty seconds?”
“Today is just an experiment, remember? Sit still for a second. I need to get more spit on the wounds to clot the blood.”
I felt his lips on my wrist again, but once he released me I immediately whipped the silk mask off and blinked as my eyes adjusted to mood lighting.
Beckett placed a juice box in my hands. “How do you feel?” He leaned back against the fainting couch, his eyelids dropping to half-mast as he relaxed.
“Fine. That was a lot less… whatever than I thought it would be.” I inspected my wrist—just two small pinpricks were left behind. I had no idea why Beckett was so concerned. Had he even drunk enough to get him into the food-coma-esque state the books warned of?
He raised an eyebrow at me. “You were expecting something dramatic and seductive despite the reading materials, weren’t you?”
“No,” I dutifully jabbed the straw into the juice box and took a sip. “I just thought it would be a bigger deal, and a much bigger production.”
Beckett shrugged. “If it was that hard to pull off, we would have died out. But what do you think? How do you feel?” His eyes darted to my wrist again.
I sipped on my juice box—it was some fancy, organic tropical fruit blend I’d never seen in a regular store, so I had no idea where he’d procured it from. “I’m not woozy or anything. Next time I won’t need to be blind folded.”
Beckett’s eyes drifted all the way shut. “Don’t push yourself. We have time.”
“I know. But I want to get used to this.” I sucked down the rest of my juice box and wondered if I was being too pushy, but it was Beckett, and he’d changed his life for me, so I didn’t think I was reaching too far.
“Besides. If I become a vampire, I don’t want to be the first vampire who has to be blindfolded every time she eats. ”
Beckett opened his eyes and sat up, staring at me. “Is that a joke?”
“No.” I frowned, offended. “It’s a very real fear.”
“No—you’re open to being a vampire?”
“Oh. I’ve been thinking about it.” I set the empty juice box on the coffee table and felt weirdly embarrassed.
“Really?” Beckett asked.
I frowned. “You brought it up, too!”
“When?”
“When you put me on the couch after I fainted in your study from the blood packs the selkie brought.”
“You remember that?”
“Yes. But even before that I was aware it was a possibility.”
Beckett stared at me for a moment, nonplussed. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I expect you made a chart of pros and cons?”
“Hey, there are lots of implications that come with seriously dating a vampire. Falling in love with you wasn’t something I did on an impulse,” I said.
He narrowed his eyes. “You’ve made a binder on the subject, haven’t you?”
I brightened. “That is a brilliant idea! And here I was just thinking of asking if there was a woman version of the Crusty Old Man Club you knew of that I could join.”
A bark of laughter escaped from Beckett as he collapsed against the back of the fainting couch again. “You are incredible.” He held his arms open—an invitation.
Previously, I’d never been much of a physical contact person. I kept to my personal space, except with family.
But I leaned into Beckett without a second thought, tucking my head under his chin, relaxing in the sensation of his arms wrapping around me.
I felt overwhelmingly safe, but also incredibly precious and wanted. Sitting on this antique fainting couch with Beckett—who had turned his life upside down for me—tucked against him, I knew I was treasured.
I’d come up to Algoma and taken this position, hoping the new scenery and fleeing my corporate job would give me the strength to change my life. And it had.
Managing this mansion, meeting Beckett, had changed the course of my life forever, into something unbelievably beautiful.
Beckett yawned and rubbed my back with his thumb, and I listened to the classical music piping in through the speakers.
Tonight, Daphne and her Pack were coming over for a report. I’d get to ruffle Flint’s hair, and maybe ask if any of her family members knew a good mechanic. (I had recently discovered Beckett had a storage garage of cars, and all of them needed an oil change.)
But for now, I’d enjoy this moment of peace and this step forward with Beckett.
I lifted my head off Beckett’s chest so I could kiss his cheek. “I love you.”
Beckett opened his eyes and gave me a rare, heated smirk. “I love you, Abi.”
The End