Vampires of Eden (Alexander #2)

11. Alexander

CHAPTER 11

Alexander

P ale yellow sunlight floods the room as my eyes flicker open.

Groaning, I pull the comforter over my head and flip so that my back is toward the window. Buffy was at my spine, but now that I’ve changed positions, she shifts as well. Protesting and snuggling into the concave of my body and flipping onto her back. After a moment she purrs deeply, like there’s a little motor inside of her.

I drift off, but my mind and body are heavy. Burdened. Images of the night before and my second evening with Lord Cherrington haunt my psyche. Restless, I open my eyes.

Why should I get out of this bed ever again? I have no desire or motivation to do so. There’s nothing good beyond it. Buffy is here. It’s warm. I’m alone, safe and nobody is leering at me or being uncomfortably handsy without my consent. Expecting me to smile and reciprocate some shallow and gross affection.

Every time I’m forced to spend time with Lord Cherrington, a singular, haunting thought floats across my mind.

Is this how Oliver felt about me?

The moment it does, I want to crumble and die. It shatters my heart into a thousand pieces and I can’t take it .

Who was I before the engagement ended? That cavalier, thoughtless purebred swaggering around as if the whole world rested in the palm of his hand.

I don’t even know that vampire anymore.

My existence feels split into two halves—before Oliver left and after.

“Aack.” Buffy makes the cutest yawning, chittering sound ever as she stretches her body in a long arc. The ending result is that her front paws are placed on my nose and chin.

I snicker and speak in a soft voice. “Do you want breakfast, Buff Buff?”

With her eyes still closed, she offers a dry and soft meow in response.

“Alright.” Gently, I grab her leg and kiss the velvety pad of her paw. She’s definitely worth getting out of bed for. Always.

I pull the comforter back and the sunlight is an assault on my being. The glare almost makes me hiss, as if I might burst into flames like they do in Buffy . Slowly, I get up, scratching the wild mess of my hair as I head over to the locked wardrobe opposite the bed. I keep Buffy’s cat food inside of here. My food, too.

Buffy hops out of bed and meets me at the wardrobe, affectionately prowling around my ankles and stretching as I choose her breakfast. Her bowl and automatic watering fountain are on top of a weaved mat near the large glass doors that lead out to my private balcony. I fill her dish, ditch the packaging, then return to the wardrobe.

Inside, I keep a small refrigerator with an electric security keypad. I enter the combination and the door pops open. Under a soft blue light sits five packets of deep red blood. I’ve been stretching these out for weeks, so I’m not too concerned. Usually, I only allow myself half of a bag per week. I already had my half over the weekend, but… I need this right now. Badly.

Grabbing a fresh one, I close the refrigerator and wardrobe, then go sit on the floor in the pouring sunlight near the patio doors where Buffy is eating. With my legs folded, I unscrew the small cap atop the bag and bring it to my lips.

I drink, slowly. Breathing deeply and indulging.

The unfailing comfort of this blood washes over and through me. The essence is flowery and bright against my tongue, like a nostalgic and breezy spring afternoon. Oliver’s blood takes me back to when my life was uncomplicated and fulfilling. When I’d wake up feeling excited—anticipating what the day might bring. What the future might hold.

I looked forward to the promise of being with the vampire that I loved. I couldn’t wait to finally be mated with him and I’d spend my nights fantasizing about all the things we would do. Everything that we would share and discover, together.

My throat catches and I stop drinking because I almost choke. Heat wells in my cheeks and behind my eyes. Unthinking, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. When I look, there’s a smear of blood there.

Why am I so fucking pathetic?

“Can I come in?” The muffled question is accompanied by a knock at my bedroom door. Startled, I scramble to my feet.

“W-wait just a second,” I call out, stalking over to the refrigerator as I secure the cap on the blood bag. I stash it back inside, close the wardrobe, then take a quick look at myself in the mirror. There’s a smear of red on my lip, so I use my fingertip to clear the stain. My eyes are glassy and bloodshot and I look like a sad sack, but I quickly run my hands through my hair to quell the chaos of it. “Come in.”

Raphael cracks the door open, then peeks inside. “Good morning.”

“Morning.”

“I was wondering if you were planning on getting up today? It’s late. I knocked earlier but you didn’t answer.”

“Sorry, I didn’t hear. I must have been sleeping still.”

He steps inside and shuts the door behind him. As he moves toward the large chest at the end of my bed, I return to the wall near Buffy. She’s finished eating and conducting her morning bath.

The sunlight in the room is bright and overly warm. It feels like the promise of spring.

“Are you alright?” he asks, taking a seat and looking alarmed.

I shrug one shoulder. “Eh.”

“Last night was no good,” Raphael says solemnly. He folds his arms and stares down at the carpet.

“Nope.”

“He’s an arrogant turd and I don’t like how belligerent he’s getting with you. I think you should tell your parents that it’s not happening with Lord Cherrington.”

Leaning my head back against the wall, I close my eyes. “Would they listen?”

“Your father absolutely would. If you tell him sincerely, he’ll try to convince your mother. Lord Ansv?d already acknowledged that Cherrington is too old for you. I’m not setting up another meeting with him. We’re done with it.”

Unexpectedly, Daniel pops into my head. I think about how he suggested that my relationship with Raph might be inauthentic because of our roles. That Raph only cares about me because I pay him. If that were true, he wouldn’t give a shit about how Lord Cherrington treated me last night.

Raphael has no reason to defend me like this. In fact, it’s in his best interest not to.

“Thank you,” I say, exhaling.

“For?”

“Caring. About me.”

“Of course I care about you. I raised you.”

This makes me chuckle. “It sounds weird when you say that. You’re not that much older than me.”

“So? Who has spent the most time with you since you were five years old? Who dressed and looked out for you? Who taught you how to tie your shoes, brush your hair and code switch? Me!”

I laugh and my heart feels a little bit lighter .

“Don’t go to the history museum fundraiser today,” Raphael continues. “Stay home, I’ll cancel your invitation—Or, better yet, why don’t you go out to Nantshire?”

“They’re not expecting me today,” I reason, watching as Buffy pads over to Raphael. He bends down, welcoming her with a loving pet on her head. “I told them Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“You told me that they always need the help,” Raphael counters. “So, if you text Kathryn and ask, I’m sure she’ll say yes. You and Daniel are fine now, right?”

“I think so...” Daniel is weird and I don’t understand him. He’s always making derogatory comments, so it’s obvious that he doesn’t care for me at all, but… talking to him during the car ride home was fun. It surprised me.

I don’t have anyone to talk to about the movies and TV shows that I like. Raphael knows I enjoy these things, but he can’t be bothered. He concedes and watches some things with me, but he’s more of an outdoorsy vampire—hiking, foraging and such. He could probably list the name of every bird native to Eden within the span of sixty seconds.

Daniel seemed a bit calmer in the car, but even still… I’m too fragile today. As if I might break at the slightest poke. “I think I should stay here?—”

“And be depressed?” Raphael asks. “I won’t allow it. Go get some fresh countryside air. It’ll help take your mind off things.”

Annoyed, I frown. “Why are you being so pushy?”

“Because I raised you and I know that going to Nantshire is good for you. You need the escape, so go.”

Raphael is correct about one thing, at least. The drive out to Nantshire alone makes me feel better. When I arrive, the white van from Leoni’s vineyard is parked at the side of the house, which means Daniel is here. I texted Kathryn and asked if I could come today. She said yes, but she didn’t mention anything else. A warning would have been nice .

As I step out of the car and walk toward the house, the tension in my body amplifies. The last time I saw Daniel, we seemed to be on a more friendly trajectory, but I can’t be certain. Something about him reads like Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I’m not sure which one I’ll get today and I’m not in a fit emotional state to handle an attack.

I ring the doorbell. Within moments, that weird, electric spidery feeling rushes up my arms and shoulders. I bristle just as the door swings open. Daniel is there. His frosty purple eyes are apathetic as he takes me in, like I’m an unwanted solicitor that’s about to ask him if Jesus Christ is his Lord and Savior.

“Hey,” I say, stepping back. Why the hell does he give me this odd staticky feeling across my body? I’m not a kid anymore and he’s mean—this feeling should be gone. “I told Kathryn I was coming… she said it was okay.” His dark hair is swept and tied back. He’s wearing jeans, a gray zip-up hoodie and a maroon t-shirt underneath with a picture of a hammer on it. Underneath the hammer are the words “This is not a drill.” I snort.

He raises a dark eyebrow. “Hi, yes, she told me. What’s funny?”

“Nothing,” I say. “I… I like your shirt.

Daniel glances down, then back up at me. “Thanks. Come inside. I’m starting the upstairs bathroom today.” He turns and his hair is braided in a sleek plait that reaches down between his shoulder blades. I follow him inside and immediately notice that we’re alone.

“Where are Kathryn and Roland?” I ask, trying to mask my nervousness as we walk up the stairs.

“Out looking at flooring options for the downstairs hall and bathrooms.”

“Oh, really? I thought they were going to wait until next month to place an order.” In truth, I was surprised at all the furniture that they ordered. The initial investment I gave them couldn’t have stretched that far. Before I left last week, I had a look at some of the furniture. It was stellar quality. Not built with cheaply made materials at all.

“They have other resources,” Daniel says, stepping into the large bathroom. “I’m filling holes and cracks because this bathroom has a lot of them. Then we’ll sand. How does that sound?”

“Fine. I like filling the holes and cracks.”

“Do you?” he asks, handing me a scraper. “The mud is over there.”

“Yeah… it makes me feel like I’m an archeologist on a dig—like Picard in TNG .”

Daniel chuckles as he walks toward the opposite wall. “That’s quite the reference. Can we agree that The Next Generation is, without question, the best series of the Star Trek franchise?”

“We can,” I say, surprised. “Outside of the original series, of course. Kirk, Spock and McCoy. Uhura and Sulu—they started it all. We can’t not acknowledge that.”

“Agreed. Deep Space Nine was also excellent.”

“I never watched that series.”

Daniel turns back to face me, blinking his light-lilac eyes in shock. “Really? Why?”

Stepping up to the wall, I look it over, deciding where I want to start. “Well, I watched the one with Captain Janeway—what the hell was it called?”

“ Voyager .”

“Right. That one. And it was just… God. It lacked all the enjoyment of the original and TNG . It was depressing as hell that they were lost in space, and I hated almost all of the characters. Everyone was so flawed and annoying. It’s like, for how lovable and fun the first two series and its characters were, the creators decided, ‘Let’s make a series that’s the total opposite.’”

“Hm, yes. Voyager has much darker themes compared with the other two series. It’s visually darker, too—I believe they shot it with a different camera lens. But Deep Space Nine is great. I would highly recommend you give it a try.”

Dipping my scraper in the mud, I nod. “Yeah? Maybe I will then.” I’m grinning as I turn and head back to my wall to start working. The bleak heaviness from earlier this morning has all but dissipated. “So… who’s your favorite TNG character?”

“Data, of course.”

“Of course.”

“And yours?”

“Captain Jean-Luc Picard.”

“That’s very on-brand for you, I think.”

Laughing, I lift my arm to fill a crack that’s higher up the wall. “What does that mean?” I ask. “Is he not an awesome, admirable and well-developed character?”

Our conversation goes deeper into the weeds and I’m honestly loving it. I never get to express these opinions or talk about these obscure things that I like. Most vampires in Eden don’t even engage with human entertainment and media at all. They wouldn’t know Buffy from Dracula or True Blood . It’s just my weird thing.

My father is heavily into classic arts and media—theater and the opera, orchestras and ballets. He was thrilled when I told him that I wanted to learn the piano. I enjoy that stuff, too. But I don’t know. Sci-fi and fantasy television just hit differently. Pure fun.

By the time I hear Kathryn and Roland downstairs, Daniel and me have gotten quieter and are more intensely focused on our tasks. This bathroom is in rougher shape than the others, without question.

“Hey guys, is everything alright?” Roland walks into the bathroom, a scraper in hand, ready to go.

“Hey,” I greet. “So far so good.”

“All is well,” Daniel says, vigorously sanding a particularly thick spot on the wall in front of him.

A moment later, Kathryn appears in the door frame, holding what looks like a small stack of letters in her hands. “Hi guys, are we getting along okay?”

I stifle a laugh. I wonder if they rushed back to the house to make sure me and Daniel weren’t at each other’s throats. “Everything is fine,” I assure her.

“Good, good,” she says absently as she sifts through the envelopes. “Oh.” She smiles as she pulls out a flat, brightly colored card and reads it over. “It’s a postcard from Oliver.”

My throat tightens. I continue my work, but I don’t say anything.

“Looks like he’s doing well,” Kathryn goes on. “He’s enjoying Thailand, and their next project is in Hong Kong! How amazing. He says to tell everyone ‘Hi.’ He’s a sweet vamp, that one. It’s such a shame that he left. We need more purebreds like him in Eden. Alexander, do you keep in touch with him? Are you two still close even though the engagement is off?”

Were we ever close?

Did we get anywhere near as close as I wanted us to be?

The dark sea churns within my heart but I try to push it back. “Um, he calls sometimes, but… not really.”

“Aw, that’s too bad. You two made such a lovely couple.”

I’m so stupid and weak, because the emotional wave swells up my throat. I can’t breathe in here. The familiar, humiliating heat flashes behind my eyes. I lift my forearm to my face because my hands are covered in mud and dust, then close my eyes. I can’t stifle it this time.

“Would you please excuse me for just a minute?” Without waiting for a response, I set my tools down and leave the bathroom as calmly as possible, then rush down the stairs. When I’m outside, the cool air and afternoon sunlight help, but I curse myself when I realize my car keys and phone are sitting just outside the bathroom door.

Not knowing what else to do, I walk around the perimeter of the house in a fog.

You two made such a lovely couple.

I know Kathryn means well, but the phrase is like a knife blade to my chest. Especially after last night and the terrible evening with Lord Lecherous constantly putting his hands on me .

Wouldn’t Oliver and me have made a decent couple?

Couldn’t we have? Eventually, after some time? If he’d given us a chance?

If he’d given me a real chance?

The back wooden deck of the house has been damp and snowy for weeks. Today, the steps are bone dry from the warmth of the sun. I sit down hard and it’s quiet aside from the birds in the naked trees. I stare into the seemingly infinite woods, taking in the barrenness. The rough edges and twisted dark branches. The mud and dead debris lining the ground.

The depressing state of the scene looks like my life. Like my future.

As I sit in the silence, the tears come.

I let them.

I’m breathing with my shoulders slumped when an electric spark passes over my flesh. I start, then glance backward. Daniel is in the doorway leading into the house.

Fuck. He’s the last vampire that I would want to see me like this.

I face the woods, then wipe my face with the back of my hand, hoping he’ll have the decency to walk away and leave me in peace. But the door creaks open and he steps outside.

“I’ll be back in a couple minutes.” My voice comes out dry and I sniff, discreetly wiping my face with my sleeve.

Silently, he comes and sits beside me on the step. Every red flag in my body is waving at full mast. “I said give me a minute! If you came out here to tell me off for working too slow?—”

“I didn’t,” he says, bending his knees and staring out into the woods. “I wouldn’t do that right now.”

“Like hell you wouldn’t,” I say. God. My face is probably red and puffy. What is he doing? I look to the woods, waiting for some rude comment to fly out of his mouth and ricochet upside my head.

He doesn’t say anything. The weird, electric tingling across my skin is warm. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s just… strange as I re lax my shoulders. Exhaling, I lean and wrap my arms around my bent knees and rest my chin there. I close my eyes.

“Kathryn and Roland don’t know that Oliver fell in love with someone else, I take it?” Daniel asks after a long stretch of silence.

With my eyes still closed and my head turned against my knees and away from him, I sigh. “Apparently. They’re the only vampires left in Eden who don’t.”

Daniel falls quiet again. I breathe and try to soothe my sinking heart.

“Coming here, to Nantshire…” he begins quietly. “It helps to take your mind off of things? The broken engagement?”

“Yes, but…” I clench my eyes shut tighter, feeling my throat close again. “I shouldn’t have come here today.”

“Why?”

“Because I… Not that you care, but I had a shitty night yesterday. I’m not in a good headspace and I should have stayed home, but Raphael pushed me to come here.” Bastard.

“I understand what you’re saying, but that’s the whole purpose of this house, Alexander. Vampires won’t come here when they’re doing perfectly fine and are in a ‘good headspace.’ The point is to be around other vampires and get support with whatever you need.”

“But you said it yourself,” I tell him, lifting my head. “Who am I to come here for support? Maybe I don’t deserve it. Oliver ran away from me because I’m everything that you say I am, right? Because I was arrogant and stupid. I didn’t pay attention to what he needed and I was a shit partner. The circumstance I’m in now is what I deserve. I need to get over myself.”

Another wayward tear cascades down my face and I hurriedly wipe it away. I can’t keep wallowing and feeling sorry for myself like this. It’s pathetic.

“Forget what I said that day,” Daniel says. “I was wrong. I apologized. You’re only twenty-two, Alexander. You’re allowed to make mistakes in your life and learn from them. You’re allowed to grow. ”

“It’s too late for that.”

“How so?”

“It just is . I… I know I can change. I have changed! But what difference does it make if I can’t be with the vampire that I love? If the one who helped to change me can’t even witness the result? I wanted us to grow together. I wanted him to see me.”

Did Oliver ever see me? I’m not even sure that he tried. With our every encounter, I felt like I was constantly waving my arms wildly in the air, trying something— anything to get him to notice me.

Then Aries came along and captured his full attention without even trying.

“You shouldn’t feel like you have to prove yourself to someone,” Daniel says, staring out into the woods. The bright light from the sun makes his pale skin and eyes glow. “The right vampire will see and love you as you are—not because of where you could be. Or because you have ‘potential.’ That’s not how it works…” He exhales a heavy sigh. “You can still grow, but with someone new.”

The playful twittering of two birds makes me look up. I see them. A couple of red-breasted robins on a branch, hopping back and forth and singing to each other.

“No,” I say. “There isn’t anyone.”

“There could be.”

Impossible. I could tell him as much, but that means I’d have to talk about Lord Cherrington and the almost surefire arrangement between us. I can’t stomach talking about that gross vampire right now.

Daniel casts his gaze sideways. “So… what happened yesterday night that upset you?”

The memory of Lord Cherrington and the hazy, suffocating air of the cigar-smoke filled bar flashes in my mind. Him, casually touching me over and over again like I’m already his property—his palm on my lower back to urge me away from a passing waiter, his fingertips brushing my arms, neck and shoulders as he talked. His thigh bumping and resting against mine when we sat down.

All seemingly innocuous points of contact, except I’ve expressly told him multiple times to not touch me. Every single instance felt intentional—a subtle show of dominance over my established boundaries.

I shake my head. “I-I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s fine. You don’t have to.”

“I apologize for dumping this on you,” I say instead, wiping my face with my sweatshirt sleeve again. “You hate me as it is. Now I’m whining about my stupid purebred problems.”

“I’ve never said that I hated you. Did I not come out here of my own volition? You don’t need to apologize.”

“It feels like I should, though.” I glance over at his sharp profile, which is like the face of a half-moon and similar in color. His pale, almond-shaped eyes. He obviously has his own things to worry about. Shame on me for burdening him with my bullshit. “Anyway, thank you for not making fun of me.”

He surprises me when he turns and meets my gaze head on. Serious. “I wouldn’t.” Slowly, his lips quirk up in a sly smile. “Not about this, anyway.”