An Acquired Taste (The Valentine Society)

Chapter Fourteen

S ebastian continuing to show up at dinner feels like a triumph, at first. He still avoids me the rest of the time, but at least I get to see him now… except that it’s always from the other end of the table, which makes it impossible to have a conversation. He always leaves early, too, preventing any opportunity for me to talk to him. The staff seems eager to speak with him as well, so I don’t want to hog his attention. But after three days of barely more than a “ Hello, Amelia,” I decide to move my plate to the seat beside his end of the table.

Then he shows up—late, as usual—and takes my usual place. Again, at the opposite end of the room. I fume through dinner, glaring daggers at him while spearing bites of steak, but he ignores me while carrying on a quiet conversation with Tobias.

After a week of similar treatment, I’m on the verge of texting Benjamin, begging him to get me out of this contract. Or Alexander, who seems far more eager to give me attention than the vampire who actually chose me. But a stubborn part of me is so determined to figure out why Sebastian insists on treating me like this.

“Lord Sebastian has always been aloof,” Ellen says when I complain to her one evening, seated at my vanity table with her standing behind me. “He treats us well, but he keeps his distance. It’s his way. Tobias occasionally draws him out, but Sebastian has known him since Tobias was just a boy.”

She insisted on braiding my hair for me after I fell asleep with it wet and woke up with a bird’s nest atop my head. I couldn’t work up the willpower to say no; even though it’s strange to be doted on like this, it feels so damn relaxing.

“But I’m his valentine.” I sigh, leaning my head back and shutting my eyes. Her fingers running through my hair remind me how long it’s been since anyone last touched me, even non-sexually, and it makes my chest ache with longing. “It’s supposed to be different for me. I don’t understand why he brought me here if he doesn’t want to spend time with me.”

Ellen doesn’t answer for a few seconds. When I open my eyes and peek at her in the mirror, she’s chewing her lip, looking as though she’s debating saying something or not, but after a moment she shakes it off. “Maybe he’s working himself up to it,” she says, and I have the sense it’s not what she first intended to say at all. “It’s been a long while since he was close to anyone. It must be a bit daunting.”

“Daunting for him ?” I ask, brows drawing together in disbelief.

Ellen laughs. She sets the brush aside and bends down beside me, pointing at my image in the mirror. “Who wouldn’t be intimidated by this?”

“Oh, shove it,” I say, blushing.

Ellen’s a hopeless flatterer. But still, it makes me think. If he truly has been alone for such a long time, maybe it’s not coldness that keeps him at a distance. Maybe he doesn’t remember how to act around people.

So I decide to take the initiative. That night at dinner, I’m halfway through my meal when Sebastian finally decides to make an appearance. He nods at me, and then, as always, takes his seat at the opposite end of the table.

But this time, I stand up, grab my plate, and walk over to the empty seat beside him. The conversations go quiet as everyone sees what I’m doing, but I shove down any hint of self-consciousness and slide into the chair to Sebastian’s left. It is a blatantly obvious move, and probably an impolite one, but oh well.

Sebastian sits very still, watching me, and I have a distinct sense that he’s tempted by the thought of leaving the room, all good manners be damned.

“Lord Sebastian,” I say before he has a chance to flee. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

If he dislikes me rather than simply being reserved, now is a good moment for him to show it. He could leave me scorned and publicly humiliated if he wished, and even though I plaster on a smile, my stomach is in knots at the thought of it. I see the way he glances at the curious eyes on us and reaches the same conclusion. There’s a moment where everyone seems to pause, waiting. He reaches for his glass of blood-tinged wine and swirls it idly.

“Yes?” he asks. At the rest of the table, conversations resume, albeit more subdued than before. Everyone seems to have an ear turned to our exchange.

“Are there a lot of depressed vampires?”

He pauses, glass of blood-infused wine halfway to his lips, to stare at me. “…What?”

“Well, if you never see the sun, it must be like having seasonal depression all the time,” I say. “Though I guess it’s not seasonal at that point. It’s just plain ol’ vanilla depression.”

He continues to stare at me, the furrow in his brow deepening.

“Or maybe you get enough Vitamin D from my blood?” I ask, tapping a finger against my chin.

He slowly sips his wine. “I haven’t the faintest idea,” he says finally.

That’s all I get, but I consider five words in a row to be a middling success.

After that night, Sebastian gives up on avoiding me at the dinner table, which I take as a victory. But the man is still damningly difficult to hold a conversation with. He won’t speak a single word to me unprompted. Even prompted, it’s difficult to get more than a couple.

It soon becomes a game.

I arrive at dinner prepared with new and increasingly ridiculous prompts. Can vampires get drunk? (Yes.) Can you taste what I eat in my blood? (Not really.) Do you sleep in a coffin? (That’s absurd, Amelia.)

One night, I’m so thoroughly overjoyed by my chocolate cake that I almost forget to try speaking with him. The moist, rich cake, the silky frosting… I practically moan as I take my first bite. Then I notice Sebastian staring at me and realize I haven’t asked my question of the night yet.

“Why do you hardly ever eat?”

“I don’t need to.”

“I don’t need chocolate cake.” I scoop up another delicious bite of it. “But what would be the point of life without it?” I place it in my mouth to demonstrate, humming in pleasure as I lick the last of the frosting off my fork.

Sebastian clears his throat and looks away, probably appalled by my table manners. “I’ve never been much of a fan.”

I widen my eyes, dramatically pressing a hand to my chest. “Of cake ?” No wonder he’s so miserable.

Sebastian shrugs, glances at me, pauses. “You have, er…” He gestures to his lip.

I lick the frosting off, and he looks away again.

It isn’t until he’s gone that I realized he stayed all the way through dessert, which is practically unheard of. And I got seven words in a row!

Surely, it must be progress.

* * *

Life is certainly different than I’m used to, but it’s surprisingly easy to fall into routine. Ellen collects my blood; I bother Sebastian at dinner; the rose on my nightstand withers and is replaced. Benjamin’s check-ins become less frequent. Alexander’s texts don’t, but I don’t reply quite as eagerly. I’m starting to get used to it here. It may not be everything I wished for, but it could be worse.

One day I realize, with a shock, that I’ve been here for two months already. Just like that, my sense of contentment begins to crumble. Two months . I wonder if I’m the first valentine in history who has made it two months without ever being bitten. Or kissed. Or touched …

I’ve been so pleased with myself for the tiny scraps of progress I’ve made at our dinners over the past couple of weeks. But now, sitting in my bed, I have to fight off the sudden threat of tears. God, I’m lonely. I need more than this.

I hold that thought in mind while I get myself ready for dinner, slashing on eyeliner like war paint. I need more . And it’s time to get it.

I set my plate beside Sebastian’s seat, as usual, and wait for him to arrive. But instead of hitting him with one of my usual ridiculous questions, I flash him a bright smile. He pauses, looking almost alarmed by my expression, as if he senses something has changed.

“Lord Sebastian,” I say, all too sweetly.

“Amelia,” he replies, his tone cautious.

“I’ve realized, it’s been months, and I still have yet to explore the grounds,” I say. “But I’m afraid I’m intimidated at the thought of going out alone.” I sip my wine and set it back down, trying to conceal the fact that my hand is shaking. There’s no reason for Sebastian to know how nervous this makes me. I want to come across as cool, composed, confident. Sexy.

“I’m sure Tobias would be happy to give you a tour,” Sebastian says, his eyes slipping away from mine.

But I will not be deterred so easily. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of adding more work to his duties,” I say, widening my eyes as if the thought has just occurred to me. “He must be so busy already, tending to this place—” I drop my voice. “And at his age, nonetheless!”

Tobias side-eyes me but says nothing. Perhaps he’s fonder of me than he lets on, or perhaps he just pities me.

“Trent, then,” Sebastian says, but it’s half-hearted; he’s clearly realized the trap I’ve sprung.

“But then who will help poor Tobias with his duties?” I ask, frowning. Trent refuses to look our way, pretending to be deeply involved in a conversation with Ellen.

Sebastian regards me silently. It’s so hard to read his icy features. His icy, handsome features. It’s hard to be this close to him and not react to it; sometimes I almost forget how shockingly good-looking he is, with those high cheekbones and long, dark lashes. Those eyes that are nearly black when they meet mine.

“I suppose I could give you a brief tour, then,” he says, finally giving in before it becomes glaringly obvious he’s making excuses.

I smile at him. “Well, how nice of you to offer. That would be lovely.”

* * *

The next evening, I wait in the front entrance, as we planned before parting ways last night. I’m surprised at my nervousness. I was the one who made this happen—insisted on it, in fact—but now I’m doubting myself. I told myself that I was only pushing Sebastian because he was too stiff and withdrawn to do it himself… but what if that isn’t the case? What if this is going to be awkward and I’ll regret ever pushing for more time with him?

But I can’t keep chasing these thoughts around and around my head during all of these long, lonely hours. I’ll use this rare private time with Sebastian to assess the situation, and then do whatever is necessary afterward.

Still, I hope that this encounter will prove the opposite of what my self-consciousness is telling me. I hope he is merely private by nature, and this will get him to open up to me. I want to believe that his kindness is real, not manufactured. And that someone like him could feel something other than pity for someone like me. It will prove that I’m worth more than being used and thrown away like Declan did. And, God , what an upgrade it would be to go from Declan to a handsome, powerful vampire lord… even if it’s a temporary, contracted arrangement.

I peer at my reflection in a nearby wall mirror, biting my lip and patting my hair. It’s a misty day, and my curls are already starting to frizz from the humidity, but there’s little I could do about that other than tucking them under a slouchy knit hat that only makes the ends puff out more.

My whole outfit, which I agonized over endlessly, now feels haphazardly thrown together. I’ve gotten so used to wearing slinky dresses around the house that I feel like an over-stuffed dumpling with this long trench coat, the layers beneath hiding every curve from view. And my only shoes are heels or my old yellow sneakers, so sneakers it is.

Of course the one time I get a private moment with Sebastian, I have to cover practically every inch of skin. But Ellen did tell me to dress warmly.

It’s too late to change now, anyway. Especially since I hear footsteps approaching from the hall. As the door opens, I whirl away from the mirror, unwilling to be caught staring at myself, and try to stand casually with my hands in my pockets.

My heart stutters as Sebastian enters the room. God, I thought I would be more impervious to him after he began gracing dinner with his presence—but this feels like a different ball game.

Especially right now, when he looks dashing in an all-black winter ensemble. A black, wool peacoat emphasizes his broad shoulders, and with a black sweater and black slacks beneath, he looks broody and imposing and ridiculously attractive. He even has a goddamn scarf, which should be hard to pull off but somehow suits him. With his dark hair pushed back and his dark eyes on me, he looks every inch the vampire lord of my fantasies.

Shit. I’m blushing. And my heart is galloping a mile a minute, surely broadcasting my feelings loud and clear. For a moment we just stare at each other, and I notice his eyes wandering over me in the same way mine did. But his face is unreadable, showing neither approval nor disapproval. His eyes stop on my sneakers and hover there.

I resist the urge to squirm.

“I know they don’t exactly match my new wardrobe, but… they’re comfy. And my favorite color. So.”

He blinks, looks up at me. “I see.”

I swallow. Try to think of something else to say. But before I can manage it, Barnabas comes barreling into the parlor, his entire spotted body wiggling with excitement.

It’s a welcome break from the tension. I grin, crouching to take his soft, furry face in my hands, and plant a kiss on his nose. “Oh, hello, Barny! Will you be coming on our tour today?”

“Yes, he will be joining us, if that’s alright,” Sebastian says, watching us. There’s something soft in his eyes that makes my ovaries do an excited flip. Please, calm down, hormones, I chastise myself.

“How could I possibly resist the company of such a handsome gentleman?” I coo, scratching behind the dalmatian’s ears as he pants, tail thumping against a side table.

Sebastian turns and walks toward the front door without another word, Barnabas trotting happily after him. At the door, we pause for Sebastian to clip the dog’s leash onto his collar, and then we head out into the darkness of the grounds.

It feels strange taking a walk at night. I never would’ve felt safe doing this in the city—or anywhere, really, on my own. Such is the peril of being a woman, and that’s why I’ve yet to wander the grounds. But with Sebastian and Barnabas as my bodyguards, I have nothing to fear, and it feels like a whole new world has opened up to me. A misty, moonlit wonderland.

With the moon nearly full, no other lighting proves necessary. We stroll along in the quiet darkness, occupied only by the sounds of our footsteps and my breath, and Barny’s happy snuffles as he moves along with his nose to the ground. Sebastian sets a quick pace that leaves little room for conversation, but I don’t mind. All of my plans for this walk, my carefully constructed conversation topics and memorized flirtations, fall away as I get my first real sense of the estate’s grounds.

It’s beautiful here. I knew as much from staring out my window, but that was nothing compared to wandering through it. It’s like stepping into a painting that I’ve long admired. All towering redwoods and moss and mist, so wild and green and alive compared to the gray concrete of LA.

It is also, however, quite cold. April in LA would be warm, but here, in the mountains at night, the air has more of a bite than I expected. Any thoughts that I may have overdressed for the chill are long gone after about ten minutes of walking. The tip of my nose stings, and I wish I could burrow down into the warmth of my jacket. Instead, I try to tug my collar up around my cheeks, but after a few tries, Sebastian turns and frowns at me, noticing that I’ve lagged behind and gone silent. He seems unbothered himself—but of course he must be used to the chilly mountain air, and vampires don’t feel the cold, anyway.

“I’m fine,” I blurt before he can even ask the question. Then I blush, realizing how obvious the lie must be. Surely, he will take this as an excuse to turn around and cut our tour short.

“I told Ellen to make sure you were dressed warmly,” Sebastian grumbles. That catches me by surprise—I thought that was her being maternal, not instructions from him—but even more startling is when he steps closer to me. He undoes his scarf and leans down to wrap it around my own neck. The action shocks me into stillness—especially since he does it so casually, as though it barely occurs to him that this is unusual. As if he hasn’t avoided any physical contact with me until this moment. He is very close, and very, very tall.

I can’t bring myself to speak until he pulls away and studies his handiwork. “Better?” he asks.

I nuzzle my face into the scarf and breathe in the scent of him, woodsy and masculine. “Yes,” I murmur, chest warming at the unexpected kindness. “Thanks.”

Maybe he is just reserved. As beautiful as he is, there’s an awkwardness about him, which I’ve observed not just in my presence but that of the staff. It must be hard to always stand apart. I’ve had the tiniest taste of what that isolation can feel like in my time here, and for Sebastian it has been a very, very long while.

So as we start to walk again, I start to feel daring. Rather than letting myself lag behind, I step up to his side and loop an arm through one of his. He stiffens, peering down at me, and I smile up at him.

He doesn’t smile back. But neither does he pull away, and as we begin to walk again, he slows his pace so that it is easy for us to stay side by side. We don’t talk much, but with his scarf warming my neck and his arm twined with mine, I don’t mind.

* * *

By the time we return to the estate, I’m tired and mud-spattered from Barnabas’s enthusiastic romping, but satisfied. Perhaps even happy. Barny is happier still, his paws covered in mud so thick, it’s like he’s wearing socks. Sebastian is as unreadable as ever, and somehow the only one of us that didn’t get a speck of dirt on him, but I like to imagine he’s secretly as pleased as Barny and I are.

Ellen, however, is less than thrilled to see us. She’s standing at the top of the stairs when we enter the foyer, and lets out a shriek so startling that all three of us take a step back. Even Sebastian, who does not seem prone to startling.

“ Not on my freshly cleaned floors!” she shouts, pointing an accusing finger at Barnabas. He barks, thrilled by the attention. “Straight into the bath with him!” A couple moments later she seems to realize she’s shouting at the lord of the manor, but though color blooms on her face, she does not apologize or drop the finger.

“Yes, ma’am,” Sebastian says. He bends to remove his shoes, then crouches beside the dog. In one smooth motion, he grabs Barnabas around the legs and scoops him up, as easily as though he were a toy rather than sixty pounds of wriggling dog.

I let out a startled laugh. Sebastian gives me a dour look, as if appalled at me finding amusement in the situation, but it only makes me stifle more laughter.

“Oh, but Lord Sebastian, your clothes,” Ellen squeaks out from the top of the stairs, looking mortified. “I didn’t mean— I can fetch Trent—”

“No need,” Sebastian says. He strides down the hall with a delighted Barnabas in his arms, surely getting mud and dog hair all over his lovely, black outfit.

“No way in hell I’m missing this ,” I say, shrugging off my jacket and kicking off my shoes. I inhale the smell of Sebastian’s scarf one more time before putting it aside and following him into the closest bathroom.

When I arrive, he is struggling to wrangle Barnabas into the porcelain tub. Cheerful as he was a few moments ago, Barny has clearly decided to be uncooperative now that he’s aware of his fate. Unable to keep down a laugh, I step forward to help hold him in the tub. Once both of us are keeping him in place, he gives up the fight, and stands sullenly with his head down as Sebastian lathers him with suds and water.

I hold on to his collar to ensure he doesn’t try to escape the second there’s an opportunity. Then I glance sideways at Sebastian and snort out a laugh. His once-striking black outfit is now covered in mud and white dog hair. Sebastian follows my gaze down to his sweater and lets out a weary sigh.

“I don’t know how I thought I could get away with wearing this,” he murmurs.

“Your hubris is your downfall,” I tell him, and he cracks a smile.

It’s the first time I’ve seen him smile, and with his fangs withdrawn, I’m shocked at how human the expression makes him look. This whole interaction is so… normal , it’s easy to forget that he’s a stern and mysterious vampire lord who has been ignoring me for the past couple of months.

Afterward, the three of us—all damp and exhausted—retire to the drawing room and sit in front of the fire. Sebastian and I each occupy separate armchairs near the comforting warmth of the flames. Barnabas curls up at Sebastian’s feet, his snout resting on one of the vampire’s shoes, his tail thumping lazily against the floor. Sebastian reaches down and strokes the top of the dog’s head.

“I never would’ve expected you to be a dog person,” I say, unable to help the smile creeping across my face.

Sebastian glances at me. He doesn’t quite give me another one of those life-changing smiles, but his expression is softer than usual. “He’s not my dog. He’s Trent’s.”

“Oh?” The way he and Barnabas look at one another says otherwise, but I hold my tongue.

“He’s staying here while Trent is living in an apartment too small to handle him.” Even as he says it, one of his hands drifts down to scratch behind Barny’s ear. “His previous owner couldn’t handle his energy. Trent wanted to help but couldn’t keep him. He brought him here. I had never wanted a dog, but…” He pauses. “I had a dalmatian as a boy. Mags. A sweet girl who would run alongside our carriage.” The word carriage jolts me. It’s easy, sometimes, to forget that he is two hundred years old, and that his boyhood was during an entirely different era. His eyes go distant, and I bite my tongue to keep quiet, entranced by the sense he’s finally showing me a hint of something deeper within himself. Something personal and true.

“Everything around me has changed so much over the decades, but dalmatians have stayed largely the same. Barnabas looks so much like Mags… he feels like a glimpse of the world I was born into. I had to let him stay.” He blinks and seems to slide back into the present. As he looks down at his dog again, something troubled passes over his expression. Still gentle, but sad. “Though it is… difficult. Setting yourself up for heartbreak in such a way.”

I nod. The mood change takes me by surprise… but I understand what he’s saying. Dogs feel tragically short-lived even in comparison to my human lifespan. I can’t imagine what it would be like for a vampire who can live forever.

“Like a flicker in the darkness,” Sebastian continues, his eyes lowering to the floor. I can tell he’s sinking inward, like he’s retreating from something, or someone. Is it me? “A single match in an endless cave…”

“But a light, nonetheless,” I say.

He blinks and looks up at me like he’d forgotten I was here. His expression goes thoughtful, and he nods. “Yes,” he says. “And that is always something to cherish.” His eyes linger on mine, and for a moment, I think I see something like gratitude in them.