Page 10 of Valentine's With A Vampire

We step behind a long table, where other pairs wait, including an elf couple, two local witches, and a pair of giggling pixies. A row of covered dishes sits before us, each sporting a mysterious question mark. The dwarf rings a little bell, and we raise our lids simultaneously.

A wave of chocolate aromas hits me, along with mint, cherry, caramel, and other enhancements. Some look normal, but others sparkle with swirling illusions. Declan picks up one withpink stripes, sniffs suspiciously, then pops it in his mouth. He jolts, eyes widening. “Hot pepper,” he croaks. “Really hot.”

I fight back a laugh. “Might be a chili-cinnamon infusion.”

He coughs, steam literally coming from his ears. Our neighbors giggle while the dwarf notes something on his scoreboard. I choose a dainty truffle that glimmers with gold flecks, nibble it, and savor a smooth hazelnut mousse center. “Mm, hazelnut. A subtle enchantment that tastes like a campfire.”

“Campfire?” Declan mutters between coughs.

“It’s cozy,” I say breezily, scribbling down my guess.

When another bell chimes, we rotate to the next dish. This time, Declan’s more cautious. He picks one shaped like a little heart with pink sugar crystals on top. He sniffs, then tries a bite. For a moment, his eyelids flutter shut. He looks almost peaceful. Then, around his head, half-translucent hearts flutter, drifting away into the air.

He scowls. “Why does everything in this town produce floating hearts?”

I shrug. “It’s the festival.”

We continue sampling flavors, occasionally guessing right. Other times, we end up with illusions that make Declan sprout cartoonish hearts on his jacket or swirl pastel confetti around me. By the end, we’re tied with the elf couple. The dwarf announces them as the winners.

Declan wipes chocolate smudges from his mouth. “I could’ve done without the illusions.”

“But you liked the tastes, right?” I angle my head, catching a hint of a reluctant grin.

He shrugs. “Might’ve been good, except the hot one.”

I grin in triumph. Progress.

We wander through the crowd. A swirl of upbeat music from a live band echoes by the fountain, where couples dance ona temporary stage. Paper lanterns overhead glow in soft pink, a preview of the luminous show tonight. The wind picks up, making the ribbons around the lampposts flutter.

Declan slows, gaze locked on the dancers twirling across the platform. They’re all smiling, a swirl of color and magic drifting around them. He shifts his weight as though he’d rather be anywhere else, but his eyes linger. I tug at his sleeve.

“You’ve handled chocolate like a champ. Ready for something else?”

He hesitates. “Not sure dancing is my style.”

I can’t resist a little tease. “Afraid to show off your moves?”

He snorts, crossing his arms. “I’m ex-military, not a ballet dancer.”

I extend a hand. “Let’s see if that discipline translates.”

He looks from my hand to the stage, then back to me. The lantern at his shoulder bobs encouragingly. With a sigh of resignation, he uncrosses his arms and slips his hand into mine.

The warmth of his palm sends a small tingle up my arm. I feign indifference, leading him onto the dance floor. A swirl of lively strings and percussion surrounds us. We step among the other couples, and I guide him into a simple waltz pattern.

At first, he’s stiff and self-conscious, glancing at my face then away. The music shifts to a slower tune, giving us a chance to settle. His shoulders relax marginally. I press closer, feeling the firm line of his torso. He’s strong, which makes sense, given his background.

He fumbles a step. “Sorry.”

I smirk. “Don’t worry. You’re better than half the partners I’ve danced with.”

A corner of his mouth twitches. For a brief moment, we slip into a rhythm and circle around the stage, sidestepping confetti illusions that burst at the music’s crescendo. The bandtransitions into a more romantic melody, and for a few blissful seconds, I forget about the stares or the bets people have on him.

He looks at me, and we both freeze. Electric tension arcs between us. Then, as if remembering he’s not supposed to be enjoying this, he clears his throat and steps back. The music continues, but he stops dancing.

I move a step away, letting my arms drop. He coughs, raking a hand through his hair. “I, uh... That’s enough dancing, right?”

My chest tightens with an unfamiliar disappointment. “Sure.” I force a bright smile. “Ready to check out something else?”

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