Page 36 of Perfectly Perfect Pixie

Amusement was an emotion I rarely felt, but that’s exactly what I experienced. “Hmm . . . Well, you certainly did enjoy yourself, as did I.”

Peaches shook his head. “I can’t believe you had a good time taking care of my drunken ass. I—”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I truly did have an exquisite time last evening.” Scooting forward, I wanted to make certain Peaches heard and understood my next question. “I have to ask, do you regret the things you said and did? Did you not mean them?”

“I—” Peaches opened his mouth, slamming it shut with equal force. His cheeks heated, burning bright red. “And if I did?”

“Mean them?” I clarified.

Peaches nodded.

“Then that would make me very pleased.” I grinned, careful not to flash fang.

Shoulders easing, relief eased Peaches’s posture. As he licked his lips, a faint smile tilted them. “I’m glad. I thought you were interested too, but you . . . I guess you were being a gentleman last night.”

“I didn’t want to take advantage of a situation that might not be certain. I didn’t want to cause you any regret.”

Peaches’s laughter lit up the house far more than the warmth in the fireplace. “Oh, I have regrets, but not the kind you’re thinking.”

“Understandable.” I leaned back, enjoying the myriad of emotions floating through Peaches’s face.

He was so expressive. Vampires didn’t have the same luxury. Once turned, you quickly learned that control was the only way to survive. Control of your vampiric nature, every twitch of your lips, every lift of an eyebrow, every single facet that might give away what you were truly thinking or feeling.

Quieting, Peaches appeared thoughtful. “I thought, for a minute last night, that you were going to drink from me. I . . . I know you didn’t want to do anything without my permission, but I would have been okay with it. I think.” Peaches’s head tilted to the side. “To be truthful, I’m not sure. It’s hard to say, having never experienced it before. Does it hurt?”

Centuries of practiced control were the only way I hid my surprise. “It has been some time since I’ve drunk from awillingdonor. Vampires can make the experience enjoyable, should we wish it.” Most of the time, we didn’t.

“Oh. Okay.” Peaches nodded as if that explained everything and answered all his fears. “And you can stop. Right? When you need to so that I don’t . . .” Peaches leaned back and waved a hand around his body. “You know, so that you don’t kill me.”

I wanted to tell Peaches that of course I could stop. With anyone else, I would be truthful in that answer. I wasn’t so certain with Peaches and said as much. “I will not lie, Peaches. Your blood calls to me.” Inhaling, I pulled its sweet scent deep into my lungs. “It has been a long time since I’ve scented blood as tempting as yours. Perhaps never.”

Peaches’s lips parted in an O formation. “Wh-why is that?” he stuttered.

“I’m uncertain,” I answered honestly.

“Okay.” This time, Peaches didn’t sound nearly as certain. Confusion laced his voice and twisted his lips. “Last night, you said something. I’m not sure. Maybe I misunderstood, or maybe . . . I don’t really know. But you said you didn’t understand how something that smelled so good could be toxic. I think you were talking about my blood.”

I remembered saying the words. They’d been a slip of the tongue, but that didn’t indicate they were untrue.

The drive to Peaches’s orchard had been a mental minefield. I’d questioned again and again just how much I should tell him. What happened with Horatio wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t something vampires tended to share and wasn’t well known. If what happened to Horatio truly came from drinking pixie blood, it would be a good way to poison a vampire. We would weaken and die, just like Horatio.

Staring into Peaches’s golden eyes, so full of a trust I hardly deserved, I decided to be honest. “There is a tale, a cautionary vampire bedtime story, if you will.”

“Vampires have bedtime stories?” Peaches cocked his head to the side. “I didn’t think there were vampiric children.”

“There are not, at least not in the way typical species consider children. Our children are adults when they are turned. But to us, they are little more than toddlers, first learning to walk, to feed, to understand their new capabilities. In that way, they are little more than fledglings. They must be taught, similar to other young. Sometimes, that teaching takes the form of cautionary tales.”

“I think I understand. But what does that have to do with pixies?”

I sighed, remembering when I was much younger and heard the tale for the first time. “Centuries ago, Horatio was one of the oldest known vampires. Some thought he even descended from the first. Regardless, Horatio craved a certain pixie. He coveted the pixie and drank from them. Horatio was mercilessly berated for his choice. It is believed that vampire strength is augmented not only by time but also by our diet.” I gave Peaches an apologetic look. “Forgive me, Peaches, but pixies are not known for their offensive strength.”

Beyond an irritated huff, Peaches remained silent.

“There is more to the tale, but the essential aspect is that Horatio weakened. Those in his nest determined it was the pixie blood he drank. Horatio banished the pixie from his nest, but he continued deteriorating until his second and final death claimed him. How that death happened is unclear, or perhaps, lost to the ages.”

Peaches paled. Wings slumped and hanging behind him, he stared, eyes wide. “They thought drinking pixie blood killed him?” His tone was barely a whisper, as if saying the words out loud, where someone else could hear, would make them true.

“It was the assumption. I’m afraid the fear Horatio’s tale has instilled in vampires has prevented others from trying it. On the positive side, that fear has also protected pixies from our hunger.”

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