Chapter 9 – Kalista
Chapter Nine
Kalista
I stepped out onto the pavement beside him and braced myself for the notorious paparazzi that usually staked out places like this. Surprisingly, there was not a paparazzi in sight. In fact, other than the attendant, there was no one else loitering about, and no one coming or going. When we stepped into the restaurant, it was clear that we were the only patrons there.
The ambience of the restaurant was infinitely luxurious and sophisticated with soft music playing in the background and an elegant, Mediterranean décor with warm recess lighting and candles. I expected the décor to be opulent, but I didn’t expect the whimsical and romantic atmosphere. It immediately soothed me and made me hopeful at the same time. Not that I was even sure what I was hoping for from tonight.
Once the ma?tre-d’ seated us and gave us menus, I had to ask, “Did you rent out this restaurant for us?” I looked around at the empty tables, unable to comprehend the extravagance of that.
Tristan held my gaze. His espresso eyes were sparkling with indulgent amusement. He was doing nothing to hide his interest in me. He reached across the table and linked his fingers with mine, holding my hand gently but giving every indication that he had no plans to let me go any time soon.
I stared at the contrast between our skin tones. His was dark honey and mine a tawny brown, the shades of brown so different but yet perfectly matched. God, why did everything about him appeal to every part of me?
“I wanted some alone time with you,” he said softly. “And I didn’t think you were ready to go home with me.”
“Is this what you usually do for your first date?” I asked. “You buy out an entire restaurant for the night, give her expensive clothes and jewelry, and lavish her with your undivided attention?”
He laughed softly.
I smiled in response. I’m not gonna lie. I was beginning to get addicted to hearing the husky sound of his laugh.
“I’ve never done this before,” he said finally.
“Really?”
“Really.” He squeezed my fingers gently and smiled. “Let’s just say you inspire me.”
“I’m not sure I believe that.” I would like to think that I wasn’t so susceptible to such sleek lines.
“Believe it,” he said soberly.
The waiter brought a bottle of red and a bottle of white wine to the table. And then, although the ma?tre-d’ had given us menus, three waiters arrived laden with varying dishes of hors d’oeuvres.
I selected a sample of each.
I watched as Tristan did the same.
“Would you like white or red, madam?” the waiter asked.
A quick scenting of the air told me all I needed to know about the red wine. I selected the red, and so did Tristan.
He didn’t say a word about it, only gave me an assessing stare and sipped his wine carefully.
I, too, took a sip, holding his stare the entire time, and almost swooned at the metallic, fresh taste.
“Direct from the source?” I asked, in awe of his daring.
“Is there any other kind?” He smirked.
I shook my head at the shocking decadence and couldn’t believe that I would openly indulge in front of him and the wait staff.
“You know what I am,” he said smoothly, “but what are you?”
“To be fair, I guessed what you were. What do you think I am?” I asked. I was really curious of what he thought about any supernatural powers he might have seen. And then I took a bite of one of the delicately wrapped hors d’oeuvres. “Oh my God, that’s amazing,” I purred as the savory, delicious taste exploded on my tongue.
“I’m glad.” Tristan’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Well, I know that you’re not an immortal.”
I laughed. “That part was an easy guess.”
“Not so easy. You exhibit all the characteristics of an immortal, but then your scent is all human and you walk every day in direct sunlight.”
I took another bite, thoroughly enjoying this conversation. “I could still have been a witch, wolf, a druid, or demon, who can all do that.”
“Walk in sunlight, yes,” he agreed. “But you’re forgetting your scent, and your powers, which present as vampire or dhampir. You’re not either, are you?”
I notice that he was pushing around the food on his plate but not really eating. Instead he was sipping his “red wine.” I smiled, liking the idea that I was a mystery to him. So, I ignored his question.
“With your eyes like that, I can almost forget what you are.” I was in awe of his ability to blend so easily among mortals.
“They are specially made contacts, which are an exact replica of my human eyes,” he dismissed, giving me an assessing look.
“Of course they are.” Even after Alexi, I wasn’t used to this kind of wealth. I knew that Alexi had money, but he never displayed it so casually like this.
“Why do I get the impression that you have no intention of answering my question?”
It was my turn to grin teasingly at him. “What question was that?”
Tristan chuckled.
I liked that he just rolled with it and didn’t get angry. I was falling for him so damn hard, but I knew I had no business loving a vampire. That was a disaster waiting to happen. Alexi has always warned me away from his kind. He was convinced that a vampire would do me more harm than good. Mainly, they wouldn’t be able to resist sucking me dry if they ever tasted my blood. And he made me promise to never let a vampire taste me.
We continued with our decadent meal with me eating and drinking blood right there in the middle of a public restaurant with my vampire date smiling indulgently across the table at me. I happily sampled a small variety of soups and warm breads as Tristan sipped his glass of blood.
While I limited myself to one glass of blood wine, Tristan was on the second bottle by the end of the soup and salad course.
We laughed and talk the entire time. I couldn’t help but marvel at the artful mess he was making of the food on his plate. It was so skillfully done that it appeared as if he had eaten it.
“Since you’re not eating, we really don’t need all this food.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “I flew the chef in from Paris. He is temperamental and would get pissed if he’s not allowed to display his talent. So, we will let him.”
“But I can’t eat all of this,” I protested when the appetizers came next.
“Don’t worry,” he said soothingly. “The staff will take any leftovers home.”
I know I asked this before, but who does this?!
“Don’t take offense,” I whispered as the waiters were leaving after bringing out a variety of salads.
He lazed back in his chair looking thoroughly entertained and brimming with anticipation at whatever I would say next.
“How old are you?” I asked, my eyes dancing with amusement at being able to seemingly ask him anything. It was clear that we both had things we weren’t ready to talk about but were comfortable enough with each other to know that we would answer the questions we could. “I mean, are you like several decades, centuries, or a whole millennium?” I asked irreverently.
“You wound me.” With a palm over his left breast, Tristan laughed so hard he was shaking with it.
“Since becoming an adult, no one has ever dared to ask me that question,” he finally sobered but was still grinning. “Kali, you are indeed priceless.”
“I’m glad you think so, but you still haven’t answered the question.” I grinned to take the sting out of my persistence. I just had to know what I was dealing with here. Was he a vampire several centuries old and therefore so jaded by the passage of time, by the slow-changing world and his endless wealth? Or has he been made cynical by people’s unending selfishness, their infinite capacity for cruelty and their incessant greed? Alexi had been several centuries old, and he rose above all the negativity. Tristan didn’t strike me as the type of vampire, like Alexi, who remained compassionate, god-fearing, honest, and optimistic until the day he died.
“I am tempted to ask how old you think I am, but I’m reluctant to get my feelings hurt,” he teased.
By the time that main course arrived, I still hadn’t gotten the answer to my question. However, he had instead charmed some of my life story from me. I don’t know how he did it, but I found myself telling him about my mother and my siblings, telling him about the shitty one-room apartment we grew up in, and I even told him about Damien, my first crush.
I don’t know why I was so open about all that but didn’t say one word about Alexi and the wolves. After all, they had been a significant part of my life, but although Alexi was dead and therefore had no need to maintain his secrecy, I couldn’t talk about him and, therefore, couldn’t talk about the wolves.
And yet, we were on dessert, or should I say, I was on dessert, and still he was asking questions about me. I knew that part of it was because he didn’t want to talk about himself, and strangely, I understood that. Alexi had never wanted to talk about himself either. It took him dying for me to find out about his philanthropy.
That omission hurt. I would have wanted to learn more about that, given that Alexi had left me a shit-ton of money and I had no real idea how to manage it.
“So, in addition to your ability to blast fire from your palms, what other things can you emit from your palms?” I asked teasingly.
“Fire doesn’t come from my palm. It comes from my fingers.” He reached for my left hand and interlaced his fingers with mine.
God, his touch sent an instant current of desire sizzling through me.
“One night soon, I will show you what else my fire can do,” he said softly, seductively. He held my gaze, and suddenly I was back to the quivering needy mess I had been in back in his car.