Vampires of Eden (Alexander #2)

37. Daniel

CHAPTER 37

Daniel

I t’s dusk when I arrive at the vineyard cottage. The lights are on, which tells me that Leoni is home. Someone from the village picked her up yesterday morning, so I haven’t seen her in over twenty-four hours.

After stepping inside, I slip off my shoes and drop my duffle bag onto the floor before calling out. “Leoni?”

“Kitchen,” she responds.

I stalk across the living room and through the open arch of the kitchen. “Hey—I’m so sorry for keeping the van overnight,” I say by way of an intro.

Leoni sits at the table with her laptop and a mug. She stares at me and I tense. The low sunlight outside radiates softly as it fills the room.

Without warning, her expression shifts and brightens with some fantastic revelation.

She beams. “You smell like Puercoespííín.”

My palm flies up to my face as I whine. “I know .”

“?Dios mío! How many times has he fed from you for it to be this strong? It’s only been a day since I saw you last.”

Dropping my hand, I stagger over to the table and plop down in the chair beside her. “Twice—because I keep egging him on.” Dazed, I touch my fingertips to my neck where he’s fed. Where the echo of his deeply affectionate bite and actions tingle warmly against my skin and through my veins.

He told me that he was “novice” before we slept together—but my God does this man learn fast.

“It feels so liberating when he does it,” I confess. “Like he turns me into a pile of melted, glittery goo.”

“Goo is good. Embrace the goo!”

“I’ve never felt anything like this.”

Leoni sighs, bringing her palms up to cup her face as she leans on her elbows. “Aww Puercoespín is pouring all of his pure and wholesome love into you. It’s wonderful, Danny. Look at how far you’ve come?”

“Hmm,” I sigh, closing my eyes. When we both submit to it, this harmony between us is beautiful. Enchanting and real. Concrete in a way that’s comforting to my nature like never before.

At the edges, I feel the distinct pull of his aura, body and blood.

The yearning.

The addiction.

I haven’t fed from him, but the need to have him is hot and prickly at the base of my spine. A craving that only Alexander can quench and soothe. I know that he won’t refuse or abandon me. I know that what we have is genuine and mutual. Even still, this constant itch within my body is unsettling.

This is the cost of being with a purebred vampire. The sublimely good with the potentially bad. Potentially horrific. It’s only bad if the inherent needs aren’t met. If the blood and vampiric energy is given freely, but then cruelly extracted.

“Everyone at his estate was… not just tolerant, Leoni, but kind to me,” I add, staring into space with my fingers still tenderly pressed to my neck. As if I can summon him from the visceral and sensual memory of his fangs sinking into my flesh. “Being in his house was the opposite of being in your family’s estate. The staff, and eventually, Josefina herself, treated me like a disease, you know? As if I was vile. This morning, Alexander’s father was genuinely nice.”

“Tío Ansv?d is so chill—he was the only one of the adults to actually play and interact with us growing up. He’d read to us sometimes and take us to shows at the Royal Opera. Puercoespín is lucky to have both him and Raphael. Without them, he probably would have turned out differently, I think. Given his station in society.”

“Agreed.” I can definitely see how those two have helped to mold him into the sensitive vampire that he is now. “Lord Kendrick asked me to come to the opera house because he has a piece of music that he wants me to review… and potentially play. In a concerto.” Even saying the words feels strange, as if I’m speaking a foreign language. Or at least one I haven’t used in a very long time.

Leoni’s eyes widen. “Danny.” She says my name so that it’s weighted with meaning.

I sigh. “I know. How have I gotten myself into this situation?”

“It’s fate,” she chirps. “You being with Alexander and also having an opportunity to play at the Royal Eden Opera House—as a first-gen vampire? You’re smashing these antiquated societal barriers that you hate. How many conversations have we had about this? The desperate need for change. For something to finally give so that these walls come tumbling down and we can rebuild better communities.”

I lift a hand to rub the back of my neck because I feel a headache approaching. “Yes, I know, but… I never said that it should be me doing the smashing and rebuilding. Ideally, it would be someone like you and all your covert networking in the villages. I’d happily cheer you on from the sidelines. Making you sandwiches and keeping you fed. That kind of thing.”

Having a public relationship with Alexander and headlining a concerto at the Eden Royal Opera is… a lot of attention being centered on me .

Once upon a time, I was young, arrogant and would have welcomed this kind of flashy opportunity.

Now?

I don’t know if I’m tough enough to withstand the inevitable onslaught of both cheers and jeers. High highs and crippling lows. I’m so accustomed to my neutral, uneventful life hidden within the safety of the vineyard.

Can I handle all of this?

“It all works together for the greater good,” Leoni reasons, folding her arms. “Me, being purebred and building these relationships and trust within the ranked-vampire community. Alexander supporting the markets, the safe house and vineyard, and openly choosing you as a partner. You, being bold and stepping into a realm of society that has traditionally rejected ‘outsiders.’ It’s the perfect storm and you’re an important piece of the puzzle, cari?o. Can’t you see it?”

The headache is more pronounced so I close my eyes and massage my neck harder. “I see it. I hear you, but at some point, society is going to lash out against me and I’m worried about how hard of a hit it’s going to be, and for how long.”

She waves a hand. “Don’t think about it like that. Whatever it is, you have a support system with me, Puercoespín, Roland and Kat. We’ll handle it together. Are you going to accept Tío Ansv?d’s offer? At least go take a look at the music?”

Dropping my hand, I exhale and open my eyes. I’m not keen on wandering around Central Eden while emitting the marked scent of the most beloved purebred prince in the realm. Maybe if I go straight to the Opera House and come back here, it won’t be so bad?

“Yeah,” I say, feeling as if I’m digging my own grave. “I’ll call his assistant tomorrow and set something up.”

The next day, and after some cowardly hesitation and procrastination on my part, I contact Ansv?d Kendrick’s assistant to schedule an appointment to visit the opera house at the end of the week.

Five minutes after I end the call with her, I’m standing in the kitchen and about to start pulling pots and pans from the cabinets when my phone rings.

It’s Alexander.

The moment I answer, his voice is bright and excited through the speaker.

“You’re doing it! My father just told me?—”

“I am not ‘doing it,’” I clarify. “I’m going to look at the music. That’s all. I don’t know yet. I haven’t played in forever and it might be too difficult for me.” Plus a million other reasons.

“It’s not that difficult,” Alexander confides. “Father let me look it over once and while it is a challenging piece, I know it’s something you can handle.”

This sparks a question in my mind. “Why hasn’t he asked you to play it?”

“My mother would burn this estate to the ground before she let Father monopolize my time with rehearsals, concerts or pretty much anything to do with the opera. She already resents him for being so wrapped up in it and downplaying his role in the aristocracy. There’s no way I could ever take that on.”

“Hm. Interesting.” Alexander’s mother sounds like one of those inevitable hurdles I’m going to have to eventually face. She will definitely fall into the “jeers” crowd.

“So, you’ll be here Friday afternoon, right? In Central?”

“Yeah,” I say absently, setting a large pot on the counter. I don’t know what Alexander’s mother looks like, but in my head, the image I’ve conjured has her palms cupped around her mouth and is booing me. Loudly.

“If you have time afterward, will you… Would you please have dinner with me?” Alexander asks .

I blink, shaking the ridiculous illusion from my brain. “At the estate? Sure?—”

“No, not at the estate. Out. In the city. There’s a place that I really love and I’d like to take you there. On a proper date.”

Tensing, I pause. Having dinner in the city means spending time with him publicly. I’m obviously carrying his scent, which means vampires will know that he’s feeding from me.

My imagination conjures Alexander’s mother once more, but this time, several unknown and faceless vampires join her. A big group of them. All vehemently booing and hating me.

“I’ll make sure we have a private booth or room,” Alexander nervously cuts into my stuffy silence, almost pleading. “And I… I won’t touch you at all. I won’t reach for your hand or try to kiss?—”

“Don’t do that,” I say, bringing my fingers to the bridge of my nose. “That makes me feel like the villain.”

“You’re not. I understand why you feel the way you do and I respect it. But I want us to go places together. Can we try? I promise to keep you safe—it’ll be fun!”

I wish he would stop making promises that he can’t keep. This has disaster written all over it.

And yet, my sweet golden rabbit prince wants to take me on a date. He wants other vampires to know that I’m his choice. How can I refuse him?

I take a deep breath and accept his invitation.

I’ve come this far. No turning back now.

Friday rolls around absurdly fast, and along with it, a heightened sense of anxiety. All week, I’ve been telling myself that I can handle this—Leoni has been reassuring me, too. That all of this is happening because it’s meant to, for whatever reasons.

It gives me little comfort, but I’m doing my best.

The first hurdle was what to wear to the opera house. For the past two years I’ve almost exclusively existed in clothes that are more appropriate for gardening, yoga, vineyard work and rolling around on the couch. Suddenly I have an appointment at the Royal Eden Opera House and a dinner date in Central with Eden’s beloved Golden Purebred Prince.

Like… what the hell?

Mind boggling.

I sweep my hair back and into an especially neat, twisted knot—even using oil, which, I rarely do, to keep the fly aways in place so that it looks clean and intentional.

Alexander said the place is casual, but I still drove into Seze to buy myself a pair of dark chinos, a collarless white button-down with a discreet pattern and a charcoal trench coat because I didn’t have anything suitable in my closet.

I think I look good? Not trendy necessarily, the way Alexander always does. But adequate.

The entire drive to Central, I’m nervous. By the time I pull into the parking lot of the opera, my hands are lightly trembling. I take a deep breath and empty my head. Making myself present because I’m safe.

Everything is fine. I’m just here to look at a musical score. Nothing more.

When I’m calm and no longer shaky, I head inside. The interior is exactly what I would expect of a renowned musical theater set in the center of an old vampire aristocracy. Creamy ornate pillars and moldings lining the painted ceiling. Elegant crystal chandeliers and mahogany doors fixed with golden handles. Velvety and rich reds covering the floor and furniture. It is stunning and sumptuous. Lovingly cared for.

The house manager, Lydia James, is a purebred woman with brown skin and radiant eyes. She greets me in the lobby and I immediately notice that she’s holding a simple black folder in her left hand. She shakes mine with her right.

After we exchange polite niceties, she asks, “Would you rather use the grand piano in the main concert hall for acoustics, or in a rehearsal room where it’s more private? We have two within the theater. Your choice.”

This question surprises me, because in my mind, I’m only reading music today. Not necessarily playing anything. “The rehearsal room, please?”

She nods without protest, then quietly guides me through the lobby, down a hallway and into a silent corridor. Soon, we approach a set of double doors. She pushes one side open, enters and flicks on a series of florescent white lights overhead.

The space is basic. A square, soundproofed room with a few rows of chairs and black metal music stands arranged in a messy semi-circle around a conductor’s podium. Some larger instruments are neatly stored along the back walls. Two double basses and a timpani.

On the opposite side of the conductor’s podium sits a grand piano.

“Lord Kendrick said that you are welcome to take this folder home with you,” she says, handing it over. “If you have any questions, I’ll be in the office just inside the front doors to the lobby.” She turns, heading toward the exit.

“Sounds good. Thank you.” I stare at the piano, frozen with disbelief. How am I here right now?

“It isn’t my place to say this, but the prospect of a local first-gen vampire leading a piano concerto at the Royal Opera is wonderful.”

I turn to meet her gaze and she smiles warmly. “I do hope it works out,” she goes on. “I am very much in favor of the diversification of artists that we feature. Having you in this position would be momentous. Historic.”

“No pressure, though, right?” My smile is tight and I feel like my stomach is trying to crawl into my rib cage.

“None whatsoever,” she chides. “Let me know if you need anything?” As I nod, she leaves, softly shutting the door behind her.

“Where have all the mean purebreds gone?” I wonder aloud. Were they all simply residing in the álvarez Estate? These days, I’m encountering more purebreds who show genuine kindness toward me than hostility. Oliver and Alexander. Now Lord Ansv?d and this Lydia vampire.

It’s making me second guess all the hostility and rage I’ve held onto for the past several years. I know that what I experienced in that house was real. But was I living in a vacuum?

It doesn’t matter. Here and now.

I roll my shoulders and slowly approach the piano bench as if it might come to life and bite me. The instrument is beautiful and gleaming underneath the bright lights, like a dark lake reflecting a galaxy of stars.

Gingerly, I sit down on the bench. I stare at the fallboard and I don’t open the folder. In fact, I set it beside me on the bench and just… breathe. Taking this moment in. The muffled silence and the beat of my heart. My fingers nervous and fidgety, itching to touch.

I slide the fallboard into place. With the keys exposed, I inhale deeply, marveling at the smooth, cool ivory. The familiar black-and-white configuration and all the wonderful possibilities therein.

Out of nowhere, a rush of nostalgia pulses through my entire being. Not from my young adulthood and the time I spent playing for Josefina. The sensation is rooted deeper than that. A long-forgotten feeling.

Something warm and almost… giddy?

Without contemplation, my hands lift toward the keys like a vessel being guided by a higher, unknown power. My fingers spread, then press down hard.

The f sharps resonate dramatically within the insulated room, like a boom of thunder before a raging storm. Like the beginning of something truly cataclysmic—but somehow sensational. Thrilling.

I lift my hands, then shift to the lowest octave. Playfully, mischievously, my fingers dance atop the notes and I smile.

In the Hall of the Mountain King . Grieg. In B minor .

As a child, I loved this song. My mother introduced this modified version of the orchestral piece to me and I clung to it. The fantastical story it told and the vivid imagery it conjured within my mind—of a boy fighting against impossible odds. The rebellion and danger. Peer’s will and bravery.

All of it sang to my na?ve, adolescent spirit, and once I learned and memorized the basic notes and melody, I let loose and made it my own. The sheer drama within the composition thrilled me—the escalating tempo and staccato, the crescendo and the impressive use of the entire goddamned range of keys. The music discreetly crawls from one octave to another until the low, slow groans of the earlier notes transition into shrieking calamity and terror.

That same feeling bursts from me as my hands and fingers sweep over the keys with exhilaration and delight. Unfiltered amusement. The piano yields to my whims and sings the frantic melody as if it never forgot me. She remembers me and I remember her. Despite everything, miraculously, we still know how to have a good fucking time.

I hit the final notes hard and with flare, like an exclamation point at the end of a long and playful manuscript. An exciting story with many obstacles, but it’s finished now and I’m done.

My chest heaves as the energy from the music and my effort reverberates against my skin and racing heart. I set my palms against my lap and inhale, letting my shoulders rise and fall.

Fuck. That felt good .

I laugh out loud. “Well… that was unexpected.”

When excited applause registers from behind my back, I nearly jump off the bench. I turn and Lord Ansv?d Kendrick hovers just inside the double doors, watching me with an expression of awe and delight in his eyes.

“Bravo. Bravissimo . I have never heard that piece played that way—with such rapture, emotion and adventure. With such… th rilling madness! Your hands were like lightning striking the keys.”

Still catching my breath, I rub my palms against my thighs. Yeah, well, he wasn’t supposed to hear it, though, was he? “Thank you, your grace.”

He steps forward, slipping his palms behind his back. “You said it’s been three years since you’ve played?”

“Or more?” I shrug. I can’t remember the last time, honestly. Those years of me starving and half-mad with bloodlust are a blur. I don’t care to recall or think about that time too deeply.

At my side, Lord Ansv?d regards me with patience. “Truly, you are a wonder, Daniel Lim. May I say, that I have spent much time outside of Eden, and what’s remarkable to me is that talent, success, prosperity and love are not dependent upon a vampire’s social ranking. These things are available to any and all who wish to partake in them. I feel that we should follow in this trend. Here, in Eden. Do you agree?”

I nod. Why does it feel like anyone and everyone is lecturing me lately? Because the universe knows I’m hard headed? “I agree.”

Ansv?d grins, then turns on his heels. “Well, we must be bold, mustn’t we? Unafraid to lead the charge. It has to begin with someone. Somewhere.”

It’s suddenly strange to me that I’m talking to the figurative “King of Eden,” yet he’s acting as if it’s my responsibility to spearhead the radical changes that Eden is in desperate need of. Me, a first-gen nobody. “Forgive me for possibly speaking out of turn, but wouldn’t it be easier for the king himself to lead the charge?”

Thoughtfully, Ansv?d meets my gaze. “It would, ideally. In my younger years, I made many attempts to redirect our society. Unfortunately, not one of my peers agreed with me. None were ready to embrace my ideals, nor the more casual practices of global vampire aristocracies. There comes a time, I believe, where the challenge must be passed to the next generation. Our society is much different now, and I feel certain that Alexander can succeed where I have failed. Does this answer your question? ”

I nod, understanding. “It does.”

He stalks toward the doors. “Enough from me, I will leave you. Take the music home to study it, if you wish. I have copies. I look forward to your answer this weekend. Enjoy dinner tonight.”

Incredible. “Thank you, Lord Kendrick.” Smiling, I pick up the folder and peel it open, glancing at the sheet music tucked inside.

As if on cue, my phone buzzes in my coat pocket. Lord Kendrick leaves just as I pull the device out with one hand to read the screen. A message from Alexander.

[Raven King, are we still on for dinner?]

With the folder and sheet music settled against my lap, I send a quick response.

[Yes, sweet prince, we are. See you soon. xx]