CHAPTER 19
Alexander
I stare blankly through the windows of the breakfast room, my knee nervously bouncing underneath the table. It’s raining and gray outside, but the dreary atmosphere makes the subtle sprigs of green blooming beyond the glass more radiant. Hopeful. The trees and brush thrive off of this downpour. It seems harsh, but it’s good for them.
I’ve asked Raph to join me for breakfast so that we can talk about an unexpected phone call I got from Leoni yesterday evening. All through the night, the conversation has replayed in my mind like an ear worm.
Should I try this? Help Leoni and Daniel run and operate the winery?
Live with them for two weeks?
It’s hard to imagine that Daniel has agreed to this, but Leoni promised me he’s on board.
I thought about texting and asking him directly to make sure. When I opened the chat, I saw my awkward, unanswered apology message sitting there and… Yeah, no. We made amends, but I’m not going to draw attention to that uncomfortable dead thing lying there. I deleted the chat.
What would it be like? Working with them on the vineyard and doing market events on the weekends. Early mornings packing up the van, then spending my days outdoors and talking to interesting vampires in the villages. Shopping for groceries and sharing in cleaning responsibilities. Cooking? I’ve never cooked anything in my life. I’d love to try.
A provincial life. A far cry from the glamor and excess—the elaborate banquets, cocktail parties, luncheons, fundraisers and swanky holiday retreats. No strict rules and carefully orchestrated schedules. No antiquated games.
Oliver wanted out of Eden but I don’t. I enjoy my aristocracy—the stunning range of landscapes and also the wonderful diversity we have of indigenous vampires and foreign transplants. The cultures of the outer villages and even the stylish charm of Central.
This prospective albeit temporary shift in my existence feels promising. Refreshing in a way that I desperately need. It’s nice to know that I’m still capable of feeling enthusiasm.
In some ways, I think that Daniel has given this to me. Our conversations help me process my feelings about Oliver and our failed relationship. It’s as if I’m finally unstuck and breathing comfortably after weeks of being clogged, smothered and distressed. Confused and wounded.
I never would have expected this from him. I’m grateful for it.
“I scooped out Buffy’s cat boxes in the library,” Raphael says, walking into the room with the poise of someone who did not just scoop cat turds out of a litter box. “You can do the one in your room, yeah?”
“I told you I’d do the ones in the library, too,” I protest. “You didn’t have to do it.”
“Yeah, but when?” He sits at the table across from me in a huff. His lightly freckled cheeks are flush from exertion. “You’re always at the safe house lately—or the vineyard cottage on the weekends and you come home and go straight to bed. It was starting to stink.”
“Sorry. ”
“You’re running all around, but guess what? Buffy is still here, pooping in regular intervals. The cat is distinctly your job. We discussed this.”
“I know, I know.”
“Anyway.” Having finished his rant, he folds his arms. “What’s up, buttercup?”
I run a hand through the top of my hair. “Speaking of the vineyard cottage, Leoni called me yesterday and made a very interesting offer.”
“Ah, our girl Leelee,” he says affectionately. “I haven’t spoken to her in forever. Was it an offer that you couldn’t refuse?”
“Well, I could refuse it, but I wanted to ask you about it first.”
“I’m listening.”
Straightening, I take a breath. “I told Daniel about my situation—with Father’s seat on the board and my potential engagement to Lord Cherrington. Daniel was pretty upset about it—like everyone else, basically. Everyone except for my parents and Lord Cherrington.”
“Your Pap?n isn’t thrilled about this, either. But go on.”
I nod. “Right, true. Father has at least expressed some concern. So… Daniel talked to Leoni, and she called me and asked if I’d be interested in spending a couple weeks with them for the purpose of learning how to manage and operate the vineyard. If we all agree, I could join them in running it. This would potentially help to rebuild my dowry and give me a steady source of income.”
“Wow,” Raphael says, blinking his chestnut eyes. “That’s a generous offer.”
“Is it weird that I want to do it? Do you think it’s crazy?”
I’m excited about this prospect. The situation would be a sharp contrast compared with my life up to this point. Even still, I think I can handle it. I want to try.
“It’s sudden, for sure,” Raphael surmises. “Not crazy. In fact… I think this could be an excellent move for you. Sucks for me, though. Since I’ll be cleaning up cat poop for two more weeks. ”
“Sorry.”
“But I think it’s exactly what you need—in more ways than one.”
My smile drops and I narrow my eyes, suddenly suspicious. “What does that mean?”
“Don’t you feel like you’re in a rut?” he asks. “Lord Cherrington aside, don’t you think you’re ready for something new? A change of pace. You’ve been bored of these stuffy, formal events and this rigorous schedule for a long time, Lexie. You were looking forward to escaping some of it once your bonding ceremony was over, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember.” For me, getting through the bonding ceremony with Oliver was like climbing up a steep hill. The final leg of a grueling, years-long marathon.
If we could have persevered and made it to the top, the hard part and all the bullshit would have been finished. We would have finally been left to our own devices and could start to learn each other and manage our own nest. We could have made our lives whatever we wanted, together.
In the end, I was persevering on my own. After all that time and effort, I’ve stumbled back down to the bottom of the hill and I don’t know what to do. I don’t have the endurance, nor the motivation, to climb it again. Because in my eyes, there is no “top.” There is no escape from this anymore. It’s all uphill.
Leoni’s offer is a new pathway altogether. I can turn around, walk away from the hill, and this novel trail is paved in a beautiful stone that I’ve never seen before.
“Leave all this behind for two weeks,” Raphael says. “We’ll figure something out as far as clearing your schedule. There may be one or two things you’ll need to come back for, just so you’re not completely AWOL. But I think we can make this work.”
“You’re surprisingly supportive. I thought we’d have more deliberation. Some weighing of our options.”
Raphael scoffs. “What options? I’m not keen on your mother selling you off to Old Man Lecherous, and you already told me you don’t want to run away from Eden, so this is it, buttercup. The best choice we’ve been presented with thus far.”
“True.” I nod. “Agreed.”
“I’ll support you in this, but,” Raphael goes on, “I have one condition.”
“Which is?”
His expression turns serious, creating a stiff, startling tension in the air. “Stop feeding from Oliver’s leftover bags. Today. I’ll supply a neutral source for you, then you can take the new bags to the cottage with you. Clean slate.”
My spine goes rigid and I inhale as anxiety washes through me.
Giving up Oliver’s blood is… I’m not sure if I’m ready to?—
“When’s the last time you fed?” Raphael asks, cutting into my thoughts.
“Um… last weekend. I’m due today or tomorrow.”
Raphael shakes his head. “No more stretching out your feedings like this. We’re done sipping and savoring him in tiny doses like some discontinued soda flavor. I’ll go out to the blood boutique today and get some bags for you to try tonight. If you’re going to leave here and do this, then start fresh, Lexie. Don’t take Oliver into this new circumstance. It’s time to let him go.”
Stressed, I wring my hands underneath the table and between my thighs. I understand what Raphael is saying. I do. But… what does that mean? Let him go? How can I just let go of someone who’s been the center of my existence for so long? Someone who’s helped to change me and who’s essentially altered the way I view the world I’m living in.
And is it right to let him go, completely? Can’t I hold onto some part of him? Not crying and feeling like I’m drowning at the drop of a hat, but… maybe in a healthier way? Somehow?
“What’s your answer?” Raphael prods. The rain taps loudly against the windows of the breakfast room. I look toward the glass and the view outside is streaked and distorted with heavy tears from the sky .
The downpour and this morose day. It seems ugly on the surface, but it’s good for the plants and vegetation. It helps them grow.
Scared as shit, I nod. “Okay… I’ll do it.”
Raphael smiles warmly. Hopeful, like someone’s just told him that there are freshly baked cookies in the kitchen. “Perfect. It won’t be easy to quit cold turkey like this, but you can handle it. We’ll get through this, alright?”
I hear the words, but they seem far away as I stare out the window. Already, it feels as if something inside of me is unhappy with this decision. It knows something that I don’t.
“Okay.”
When Raphael knocks on my bedroom door much later in the evening, the anxiety I felt at breakfast has doubled. Tripled. Like a heavy boulder set firmly in my chest and gut.
“Come in.”
He opens the door, beaming. A direct contrast with how I’m feeling at the moment. He’s carrying three blood bags like a kid who’s excited to show their mom a scribbly picture they’ve drawn.
“I’ve got the goods,” he says. “The blood boutique doesn’t usually hand out three different samples, but after I told them it was for you, they made an exception, of course.”
“Great,” I say flatly. I’m sitting on the edge of my bed and in my pjs as he approaches. Raphael’s plan is for me to drink the new stuff before I go to bed. This way, I’ll “sleep off” any adverse impact from suddenly switching to a new source after all these years.
I remember what Daniel said—what happened to him once he stopped feeding from Josefina. So, I doubt that it’s as easy as Raphael is predicting. Yes, I’m a purebred switching over to another purebred source, but who’s to say that will make it any better? It could be worse, for all we know.
Most vampires who feed from each other for as long as Oliver and I have end up bonded. There aren’t enough instances of my particular circumstance to predict how this will go.
I’m fucking nervous.
“Let’s try half of this one?” He holds one bag up and sets the others on my nightstand. “I’ll keep the others in the fridge to test out if this one doesn’t agree with you. We’ll see how you feel about it in the morning.” He twists off the small cap atop the bag, then hands it to me triumphantly.
Frowning, I take it in my hands, examining. “Who is this even?”
“They never disclose the identity of the donor,” Raphael explains. “If they did, there would be issues. Biases. Think about it—if you donated blood and say… Ashwin donated, too, how many more vampires would want yours over hers.”
I nod in understanding. “Fair point. Jesus Christ I hope this isn’t Ashwin. Why haven’t I donated? Should I?”
Raphael shrugs. “You could? It’s your choice. Some houses do it, some don’t. I’ve heard that Sebastian has. His handler told me about it.”
Lifting the small nozzle to my nose, I sniff. “This doesn’t smell like Sebastian.”
“It’s not Sebastian. Give it a try?”
The scent is unfamiliar and not remarkable nor pleasing. I suppose that’s the point of a “neutral source,” though. To be fed by someone I’m not emotionally stimulated by or attached to. Those things are inconvenient for an unbonded vampire whose parents are trying to marry them off to an old man.
Hesitating, I lift the bag to my lips and place the small nozzle in my mouth. I suck and the blood is warm and uninteresting to my palate. I don’t know who this purebred is, but I definitely would not be attracted to them. My fangs don’t even pulse in desire as I swallow. They’re not interested in this at all.
I do what Raph says and drink half the bag. When I’m finished, he looks at me expectantly.
“Well?” he asks.
I shrug. “It’s fine. Very neutral.”
“That’s a good thing. It’s not supposed to be enchanting and all consuming—it’s meant to keep you fed and healthy.” He takes the bag and twists the cap back on, then gathers the other bags. “I’ll go find Buff Buff—do you want her tonight?”
“Yeah, please.” I settle back in bed, feeling strangely neutral all over my body. Numb, almost. It’s not a good feeling, but it isn’t terrible, either. Nothing like what Daniel described. He called his experience “rough” and “painful.” For me, it’s a weird, queasy sensation. As if my nature is trying to figure this out.
“Alright, I’ll be back shortly.” Raphael leaves the room, closing the door behind him.
It’s silent as I lie on my side. The lights are still on, dim and yellow.
I feel strange.
The queasy sensation intensifies. Thrumming in my nature and veins along the underside of my skin. It makes me hot, so I push the duvet away.
Doesn’t help. I’m blinking, feeling the internal heat beginning to swelter and my heart rate speeds up, pounding in my ears. A sharp pain slices through my abdomen and I wince and sit upright because being horizontal isn’t making it better.
On the edge of the bed, from head to toe the fire burns hotter inside. Not in the contented, trickling way it did whenever I was around Oliver. Not even in the soft electric way it brushes across my skin when I’m with Daniel. This is… uncomfortable. Completely separate from anything I’ve ever felt.
I try to take deep breaths, but the sharp pain strikes again. Wincing, I place my hand at the top of my navel in a meager attempt to quell it. It’s utterly pointless, because the fire suddenly swells inside, furious and painful as if my entire being—my body, organs, nature and flesh—are rejecting this blood that I’ve swallowed.
My eyes widen as the lukewarm liquid comes back up and spews out of me. Uncontrollably and in violent spasms. By the time it loosens its hold, I’m delirious and sitting with blood on my chin—wet stains splotched on my pajamas, palms and on the carpet in front of me.
Nothing like this has ever happened before. It’s horrifying and disgusting. I’m dizzy but I’m thinking that I… I need to do something. Clean this up or call someone. I need help.
The pain slices through my body again, so hot and fierce that my mind goes black. I feel myself falling backward against the bed. And then, that’s all there is.
Emptiness. Nothing but darkness and pain.