An Acquired Taste (The Valentine Society)

Chapter Thirty-Three

H eart in my throat, I raise to my knees on the grass.

Sebastian looks far from his usual polished, reserved self. There is a look of pure murder in his eyes as he watches Alexander pull himself to his feet. With his eyes dark and his fangs out, he looks almost like a stranger. He lets out a low hiss that I’ve never heard him make before, a feral noise.

Alexander bares his fangs. “You have no claim to her, Sebastian .”

The vitriol in the way he spits the name makes me realize, with a dawning horror, that I am in the middle of something I do not understand. I have been this entire time.

Sebastian is still, his eyes locked on the vampire challenging him. “That is where you are wrong, Alexander,” he says, his voice frighteningly quiet. “She is under contract with me until midnight.”

Alexander grabs my phone from the grass and shows Sebastian the time: 12:05 . “As I said,” he spits. “You have. No. Claim.”

Sebastian shrugs off his coat and leans down to tuck it around my shoulders. He straightens up and rolls up his sleeves. “Again, you are incorrect,” he says. “She sets her clock ten minutes fast.”

I gape at him. He… remembered that? Then I turn to Alexander, who is staring in disbelief. He takes out his phone to verify it, and for a moment, something like fear flickers across his face.

“Fine,” Alexander says. “I can wait.”

“But I cannot,” says Sebastian, his voice very cold. “You’ve harmed my valentine. I demand redress.”

Alexander lifts his shoulders in a theatrical shrug. “Have your court take it up with mine, then.”

“You mistake me.” Sebastian cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders back. “I am old-fashioned. I’ll take my right of trial by combat. Now.”

Alexander stares at him for a moment. And then he laughs, taking off his own coat and tossing it carelessly aside. “Fine,” he says. “It’s your funeral.”

He launches himself at Sebastian without another word. He’s a blur of movement, and I cry out and press a hand to my mouth, but before I can comprehend what’s happened, Sebastian is holding Alexander by the wrist. He twists Alexander’s arm behind his back, but then Alexander snarls and breaks free.

The following exchange of blows is dizzyingly fast and eerily silent. I catch only snippets: Sebastian with his hand around Alexander’s throat; Alexander with his fangs in Sebastian’s shoulder; both of them struggling in a tangle of limbs on the ground. It is fast and dirty and feral. The opposite of everything vampires pretend to be at these balls.

My head spins as I try to keep up. All I can do is climb to my feet, stumble out of their way, and hope that Sebastian has the upper hand. I should probably run, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I can’t leave before I know if Sebastian is okay.

All at once, it stops.

Alexander is face down on the grass. Sebastian has a knee on his spine and a hand on the back of his neck, holding him prone.

“Yield,” Sebastian says. Dark, viscous blood drips from the wound on his shoulder where Alexander’s teeth found skin. His hair is askew, his clothes rumpled and torn. I’ve never seen him so thoroughly uncomposed—but he won.

Alexander struggles, spits words that are muffled by a mouthful of grass.

Sebastian presses his knee harder. “ Yield ,” he says.

Alexander’s spine pops, and he shrieks. “I yield,” he says, barely audible.

Sebastian releases him, stands, and brushes himself off. I’m tense, wondering if this bout will bring out the frightening side of him I saw when he almost bit me that night at the estate. Yet the violence disappears from him the moment he turns to me.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, his eyes falling to where Alexander gripped me by the neck earlier. I can feel the bruises forming, but I shake my head.

“I’m fine,” I say hoarsely. “But your shoulder—”

“It’s nothing.” He can’t seem to look away from my face. He tucks my hair behind my ear with a care that is more shocking after the power and violence I just witnessed. “Amelia…”

A blur of motion out of the corner of my eye is the only warning I get. Cold fingers clamp around my ankle hard enough to make me cry out and buckle. I look down to see Alexander crawling with a mad glint in his eyes, fangs sliding out as his mouth comes for my leg—

And then Sebastian reaches down, grabs him by the neck, and rips Alexander’s head clean off his body. I stare, mouth open, as it rolls to a stop near one of the hedges.

Sebastian clears his throat.

“Apologies,” he says. “I was hoping to spare you that sight.”

“That’s, um…” I can’t seem to look away from the severed head. “Quite… alright…”

Sebastian places a finger on my chin and tilts my face until I’m looking at him. I keep waiting for fear to hit me after the sheer power I just witnessed his hands being capable of. He just killed someone. He admitted he killed his previous valentine too. But I find nothing but gentleness in his eyes when he looks at me. I feel nothing but safety in his touch. He just ripped off another vampire’s head… for me .

Is it fucked up to find that romantic? Probably. But I find myself tearing up anyway.

“Oh, God,” I say, sniffling. “This is going to cause a whole mess for you, isn’t it? The Solomon Court… and Celeste… and the war…”

Amazingly, Sebastian cracks a smile. “ That’s what you’re worried about?” He pulls me toward him. I bury my face in his neck and wrap my arms around him, and he holds me like I’m a precious thing while I cry. “It’s alright, darling,” he murmurs against my hair, and I nearly melt at the endearment from his lips. “This is a clear-cut case of vampire law. It won’t be any trouble.”

Despite his assurances, now that the floodgates have opened, I can’t seem to close them again. There’s so much that I’ve been bottling up. He strokes my hair while I blubber half-coherent confessions and apologies about my first meeting with Alexander, and my night out with him, and his visit to the house.

He pulls back to look at me. Shock flickers across his face, and then anger. “He was at the estate ? How?”

“I… I don’t know? I swear I never told him where I was. I thought that maybe it was public knowledge…?” But Sebastian is shaking his head.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Sebastian murmurs. “Hardly anyone knows where I make my home. Certainly not Alexander de Solomon. If you didn’t tell him, then…” He pauses, realization breaking across his face. “You said you had a drink with him at the Valentine’s Day Ball.”

“Yes?”

A muscle twitches in Sebastian’s jaw as he clenches it. He looks even angrier than before. “He must have dosed you with his blood and used it to track you there.”

I press a hand to my mouth. “Oh, God.” If he followed me after the Valentine’s Day Ball… Now I’m remembering the times I thought I was being watched over the last several months. Barnabas snarling at something in the fog. The dark figure I saw in the tree line, which I assumed was Sebastian…

And if he dosed me during that first meeting, he must have done so again when I went to his apartment.

Seeing my panic, Sebastian pulls me against him and kisses my forehead. “It’s alright,” he says. “You’re safe now. And I’m sorry I failed to protect you before.”

My eyes start welling up again. “You don’t hate me?”

He wipes away my tears. “Alexander manipulated you from the start,” he says. “I know how he operates. And… I only made it easier for him by keeping you at arm’s length.” I shake my head, ready to argue, but he continues before I can. “I know that you have a lot of questions, Amelia, and I think it’s time for me to give you the answers you deserve.”

But then he tenses and pushes me behind him as he turns to face the entrance to the hedge maze. I had almost forgotten that there’s an entire party and several dozen vampires not far from here. When I see Dominic and Dante, Alexander’s fledglings, approaching us, my stomach sinks.

The two Solomon vampires both stop abruptly as they see Alexander’s body—and, several feet away, his head.

“He’s dead,” Dominic murmurs. “I felt it, but… I couldn’t believe…” He stares at his sire’s head, dazed. At his side, Dante stares at us instead, his shoulders squared and his expression guarded.

“You killed him,” Dante says to Sebastian.

Sebastian lifts his head high and nods. “He laid his hands upon my valentine,” he says. “I challenged him to combat. He accepted, he lost, and he refused to yield.”

Dante looks at him, and then at me. I’m sure he remembers that night out at the vampire nightclub, and I’m braced for him to accuse me of being at fault somehow—but he only nods. His face is unreadable, but I remember the way he urged me to get away from Alexander at Rouge. I wonder how much loyalty he really felt for his sire. After a moment, he turns and puts an arm around Dominic’s shoulders.

“Let’s leave them to it,” Sebastian whispers to me, once it’s clear neither of them intends to confront us. He leads me out of the hedge maze and to a bench in a quiet corner of the gardens, barely touched upon by the light and music of the ball.

“This is not precisely how I intended for this night to go,” Sebastian says.

I croak out a laugh from my still-sore throat. “No? What did you intend?”

He takes both of my hands in his. “Well, I was going to start by telling you about Etta.”

The grave. The flowers. The suspicions I voiced on my blog, the accusation my sister threw at him…

And the admission he made. He said he killed her.

I hesitate. “I know it was a long time ago…” I say, torn. I know I’m not entitled to all of his secrets, but if there’s any hope for us continuing this, I do think I need to know.

He shakes his head and gently squeezes my hands. “I would like to tell you,” he says. “I would like you to understand.”

I nod, any further words dying in my throat. Truth be told, I’m afraid that hearing what he has to say will break my heart. But neither of us can hide from the truth.

“As you’ve likely guessed, Etta was my former valentine,” he says. “It has been almost seventy-five years since I became her patron.” He pauses, but I wait in silence, knowing he’s only trying to organize his thoughts. “She was my first valentine. I had always sworn I would never take one on. Companionship does not come easily to me. But her blood was… singularly appealing.” He glances sideways at me, and I look away, my face heating when I realize what he’s hinting at. Her blood was like mine .

That makes me think of what Alexander said to me about me tasting “ just like her .” And his words about Etta.

“My tastes are… particular, and unusual. I had never found blood that sated me like hers. I could not resist it, and so I took her on as my valentine, even though I knew…” Sebastian grimaces, shakes his head. “I knew the danger of growing close to a mortal. The terrible price of loving one. Yet still I fell, helplessly, foolishly. I could not help myself. She tore down the walls I had constructed around myself like they were no more than paper maché. She stuck in my heart like a thorn.” He smiles, and it has a bitter tinge. “And then she… asked me to change her. To make her a vampire so that we could be together forever.”

I blink, so startled that for a moment I forget my own emotional ties to this story, my horrible jealous heart pounding in my chest. I remember the clause in our contract that made it crystal clear I didn’t intend to ask him the same thing. “And what did you say?”

“I said no.” His voice has never been so quiet before. “I had made myself a promise, long ago, that I would never create more of my kind. I feared she had not thought through the cost of it. That she didn’t understand she was giving up every sunrise, every taste of food untainted by blood. That she would have to watch her family and loved ones grow old and die while she stayed the same. But she… She thought…” His words die off, and I can see him struggling for words. Shame creeps into his normally unreadable expression, and I realize what he’s finding it difficult to voice.

“She thought you said no because you only wanted her blood,” I say.

“So she left,” he says. “She went to other vampires, seeking someone who would grant the request I denied. But it is… a difficult process, and it is not so simple to find someone willing to turn a mortal, particularly one who is new to them. I tried to reach out to her, to make amends, but she avoided me. And as she grew more desperate for what she sought, she turned to more dangerous avenues.” He goes quiet, and I hold my breath, half afraid to hear what comes next. “When I heard from her again, years later, she asked to come see me. Of course I agreed. And when she arrived, I soon realized that she was very unwell. She was addicted to vampire blood, and it was killing her.”

My stomach lurches. “Alexander,” I whisper.

Sebastian nods, agony in his eyes. “Etta knew that she did not have much time, and she was afraid. She asked me again to turn her, and this time I said yes.”

The quiet stretches out. I think of that gravestone, the sadness in his voice when he speaks of her, and already know how this ends. The process of turning a vampire is shrouded in secrecy, a mystery held tightly by the vampire courts, but there are many rumors about the difficulty and potential dangers of the process. I know that not even a strong, youthful candidate will always survive the transformation, let alone a woman who was already dying. Still, I wait for Sebastian to finish telling his tragic tale.

“Of course she did not survive it,” he says. “It was foolish of me to try. Even if I had succeeded, I had not asked for proper permission from my court, and it would have been a legal nightmare. But as it was…” He shakes his head. “She didn’t have a chance. I buried her on the grounds and swore that I would never let myself feel such a thing again. Both for her memory and for my sake.”

I shut my eyes, processing that. The truth hurts, as I expected it to, as something finally slots into place for me. The puzzle piece I’ve been missing that gives the reason for Sebastian’s volatile behavior. I am here because I remind him of her . My blood is enough to conjure the ghost of his love for this long-dead valentine, and that must be the reason for these moments of physical affection, where it almost seems like he sees me as more than a blood donor. And that, too, must be the reason he always flees shortly afterward—when he comes back down to earth and realizes that I am not her, and never will be.

I am just a replacement for his former love. Once, I would’ve accepted that. But now… now I think I deserve better. Leaving him after all that we’ve been through will break my heart, but sometimes it’s necessary to break something before it can be rebuilt.

I force a smile that I’m sure comes across as small and sad, and reach over to squeeze his arm. I want him to know that it’s alright, that I understand, and I don’t hold it against him. As much as it hurts, I’m glad that he is being honest with me, and I’m sure it wasn’t easy to share. I don’t think Sebastian is a bad person, or that he meant to use me. We have an agreement, after all; I am the one who started to think we could have something more than our contracted relationship. “Thank you for telling me that,” I say. “And for saving me from Alexander, and for being so kind.”

Sebastian searches my face, a small furrow in his brow.

“Of course,” he says. “And I…” His throat bobs. “I understand this is strange timing,” he says. “But… in my initial plan for this night… I had also planned on asking you for a dance.”

The request is so unexpected, especially in the context of everything that’s happened tonight, it stops me for a moment. A dance . “You hate dancing,” I say.

“I do.” I would think the request was a joke if I didn’t know him better, but of course he is all solemnity. “But I have never tried it with you.”

It almost feels like he’s trying to woo me with that line. My heart is a tangled mess of emotions.

But if this is our last night together, I won’t refuse him. Perhaps it will grant closure to both of us. So I take his hand and let him pull me toward the party. I pause only to take his coat off my shoulders and offer it to him, to cover his torn and bloodstained shirt.

Then his cold, slender fingers twine with mine, and he leads me indoors and to the dance floor.

As if on cue, the formerly lively music takes a turn for the slow and almost sorrowful. Sebastian gently pulls me close and places a hand on my hip, ever the gentleman. His other hand still grips mine, holding it aloft as he pulls me into the steps. I drop my eyes to his shoes, worried about stepping on them.

A waltz. It’s been a while, but my body still remembers the steps that Benjamin taught me during our training long ago. It is easier than ever with Sebastian leading me; he is stiff but perfect in form, and my body is all too eager to follow his. I know every move he is going to make just before he makes it.

In this, at least, we are suited to one another. The realization hurts, but I push it deep down, take a deep breath, and look up at his face. His eyes are already on mine; he has been studying me since the beginning, I realize, and there is a look in his dark eyes I’ve never seen before.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be here tonight,” I say.

“Nor I you.”

I swallow. I wish I could focus on the dance to distract myself from the surge of unwanted feelings, but the steps come as easily as breathing when I’m with him. “Why are you?” I ask. If he intended for this night to be a way to say goodbye, he could have done it elsewhere.

His brow furrows. “Why do you think?”

I bite the inside of my lip as frustration wells up in me. I wanted this last conversation to leave on a good note, a kind note, but God , this man knows how to drive me crazy sometimes. “I don’t know, Sebastian,” I say. “I never have any idea what you’re thinking or feeling, particularly—” My voice thickens, but I blink away the threat of tears. “Particularly when it comes to me.”

His feet slow to a stop, and mine follow seemingly of their own accord. We are left standing still in the middle of the dance floor, the eye of a storm of twirling partners. Glances are drifting toward us, but Sebastian does not seem to care. He stares at me, eyes narrowed in disbelief, before he grabs my arm and pulls me from the dance floor.

I’m surprised at how well he seems to know the layout of this place, since he seems to avoid parties as much as possible, but then he turns on a light and I realize where we are: the library. Of course. It’s not as impressive as his own or that of the Celeste mansion we visited, but it stands to reason that this is a room he would be able to locate.

But we’re not the only ones seeking solace here. There’s a clatter of noise from behind one of the shelves, and Sebastian goes instantly still, his fangs sliding out. “Get out ,” he snaps at the darkness.

For a moment, there’s nothing. Then Viktoria de Camelia strides out of the shadows, her lipstick smeared and one strap of her dress falling down her slim shoulder, yet looking entirely unselfconscious about the state she’s in. One hand tugs her valentine Jonah along while he struggles half-heartedly to hold together the torn buttons of his shirt.

Viktoria eyes us. Sebastian lets out one of those low, dangerous hisses, but she only smiles in response. “Have fun,” she purrs, and leaves, tugging her valentine along with her. He casts one last look back at us before they both disappear.

Sebastian slams the door shut behind them and then stands with one hand pressed to his temple, struggling to get his expression under control. He doesn’t speak until his fangs have retracted and he looks a little less like he wants to tear someone’s throat out.

“Amelia,” he says. He runs his fingers through his hair. “It feels as though I’ve mis-stepped again. I have been trying to tell you—”

“Wait,” I say. “I want to say something first.” Before I end this once and for all. I fold my arms over my chest, hugging myself. “I’m sorry about the blog. It was wrong of me to post private things about you. It was meant to be a way for me to vent. I never thought it would blow up like that or get back to you. But I did scrub the identifying details from it before posting it, just so you know. You don’t have to worry about blowback.”

Sebastian’s expression tightens. He looks down at his shoes. “When your sister mentioned it, I assumed the worst,” he says. I wait, giving him time to speak; I’ve already said my piece. “I had always wondered why… someone like you would be attracted to someone like me.” I open my mouth, but he hurries on before I can interrupt. “I assumed life at my estate would bore you, that my efforts to bring you out into society were too little, too late. So when I heard that you had been posting online, I thought my worst fears had come true. That you were only in this for a story to tell, and that you were divulging everything for money or fame.”

“That was never…” I say, not even sure how to refute the ridiculous things he’s saying, but he holds up a palm to halt me and I bite my tongue.

“Then I read the blog,” he continues. “And I saw the truth. At first, I was embarrassed that any of that was available to public eyes. But when I started reading… I was so much more ashamed to see who I was from your perspective.” He raises his gaze to mine. “It made me realize how terrible I had been to you.”

My lower lip wobbles. I bite down on it, trying to wrestle my emotions under control. God, how very stupid both of us have been. We understand each other so little. I thought that hashing out our issues would make me feel better, but it only makes me more aware of this enormous gap between us. I was fully ready to own up to my mistake in the blog, but I know, deep down, that was far from the worst of our issues. And I’m struck with a sudden despair that we are just too different for this to ever work. We can barely even talk to each other honestly.

“Every time I get close, you push me away,” I say. “I know you like my blood, and that I remind you of Etta, but I…” I have to pause as my voice trembles. It’s humiliating, but this might be my last chance to let him know how he made me feel, so I have to press onward. “I need more than that, Sebastian. I need more than being used and thrown away again and again. And you deserve more than clinging to some shred of resemblance to your past love. This relationship hasn’t been healthy for either of us.”

For a moment, he only stares at me. Then he lowers his head, staring at the floor.

“It’s past midnight,” I whisper. “Our contract is done. If you have something to say to me, you’re running out of time.”

He raises his head to look at me. “I have behaved boorishly.”

I huff out a small laugh. “That was almost an apology.”

“I am sorry, Amelia.” He meets my eyes, and I try not to look as surprised as I feel—and try even harder not to soften so easily. “I am sorry for everything that I have done, and everything I have not done. I am sorry, too, that I do not always know the right thing to say. You have been… an unexpected change in my life, and I have not handled it as well as I should have. I have been unreasonable and selfish.”

“And cold,” I say. “And volatile. And fickle.”

“I will accept all of those charges but fickle . My feelings for you have not wavered since the moment I laid eyes upon you. If it ever seemed so, it was only that I struggled with how to handle those feelings. They frightened me. You frightened me.”

My heart stutters, but I viciously shove the feeling away. “Because I remind you of Etta.”

To my surprise, he laughs. “ No ,” he says. “You are nothing like Etta. She was…” He pauses. “Etta was fair-haired and soft-spoken and gentle. She was everything I wanted at that point in my life, when I was still healing from the war. But you…” He looks at me. “You are bold and funny and charming, and everything I need right now. I would not change you for the world.”

My poor battered heart is beating double-time in my chest. “Because of my blood,” I say, the words almost a question.

“It is not just your blood that I want, Amelia,” he says slowly, as if shocked that he has to explain it. “Is it not clear that I adore you?”