Page 29 of An Acquired Taste

It’s beautiful here. I knew as much from staring out my window, but that was nothing compared to wandering through it. It’s like stepping into a painting that I’ve long admired. All towering redwoods and moss and mist, so wild and green andalivecompared to the gray concrete of LA.

It is also, however, quite cold. April in LA would be warm, but here, in the mountains at night, the air has more of a bite than I expected. Any thoughts that I may have overdressed for the chill are long gone after about ten minutes of walking. The tip of my nose stings, and I wish I could burrow down into the warmth of my jacket. Instead, I try to tug my collar up around my cheeks, but after a few tries, Sebastian turns and frowns at me, noticing that I’ve lagged behind and gone silent. He seems unbothered himself—but of course he must be used to the chilly mountain air, and vampires don’t feel the cold, anyway.

“I’m fine,” I blurt before he can even ask the question. Then I blush, realizing how obvious the lie must be. Surely, he will take this as an excuse to turn around and cut our tour short.

“ItoldEllen to make sure you were dressed warmly,” Sebastian grumbles. That catches me by surprise—I thought that was her being maternal, not instructions from him—but even more startling is when he steps closer to me. He undoes his scarf and leans down to wrap it around my own neck. The action shocks me into stillness—especially since he does it so casually, as though it barely occurs to him that this is unusual. As if he hasn’t avoided any physical contact with me until this moment. He is very close, and very, very tall.

I can’t bring myself to speak until he pulls away and studies his handiwork. “Better?” he asks.

I nuzzle my face into the scarf and breathe in the scent of him, woodsy and masculine. “Yes,” I murmur, chest warming at the unexpected kindness. “Thanks.”

Maybe heisjust reserved. As beautiful as he is, there’s an awkwardness about him, which I’ve observed not just in my presence but that of the staff. It must be hard to always stand apart. I’ve had the tiniest taste of what that isolation can feel like in my time here, and for Sebastian it has been a very, very long while.

So as we start to walk again, I start to feel daring. Rather than letting myself lag behind, I step up to his side and loop an arm through one of his. He stiffens, peering down at me, and I smile up at him.

He doesn’t smile back. But neither does he pull away, and as we begin to walk again, he slows his pace so that it is easy for us to stay side by side. We don’t talk much, but with his scarf warming my neck and his arm twined with mine, I don’t mind.

* * *

By the time we return to the estate, I’m tired and mud-spattered from Barnabas’s enthusiastic romping, but satisfied. Perhaps even happy. Barny is happier still, his paws covered in mud so thick, it’s like he’s wearing socks. Sebastian is as unreadable as ever, and somehow the only one of us that didn’t get a speck of dirt on him, but I like to imagine he’s secretly as pleased as Barny and I are.

Ellen, however, is less than thrilled to see us. She’s standing at the top of the stairs when we enter the foyer, and lets out a shriek so startling that all three of us take a step back. Even Sebastian, who doesnotseem prone to startling.

“Noton my freshly cleaned floors!” she shouts, pointing an accusing finger at Barnabas. He barks, thrilled by the attention. “Straight into the bath with him!” A couple moments later sheseems to realize she’s shouting at the lord of the manor, but though color blooms on her face, she does not apologize or drop the finger.

“Yes, ma’am,” Sebastian says. He bends to remove his shoes, then crouches beside the dog. In one smooth motion, he grabs Barnabas around the legs and scoops him up, as easily as though he were a toy rather than sixty pounds of wriggling dog.

I let out a startled laugh. Sebastian gives me a dour look, as if appalled at me finding amusement in the situation, but it only makes me stifle more laughter.

“Oh, but Lord Sebastian, your clothes,” Ellen squeaks out from the top of the stairs, looking mortified. “I didn’t mean— I can fetch Trent—”

“No need,” Sebastian says. He strides down the hall with a delighted Barnabas in his arms, surely getting mud and dog hair all over his lovely, black outfit.

“No way in hell I’m missingthis,” I say, shrugging off my jacket and kicking off my shoes. I inhale the smell of Sebastian’s scarf one more time before putting it aside and following him into the closest bathroom.

When I arrive, he is struggling to wrangle Barnabas into the porcelain tub. Cheerful as he was a few moments ago, Barny has clearly decided to be uncooperative now that he’s aware of his fate. Unable to keep down a laugh, I step forward to help hold him in the tub. Once both of us are keeping him in place, he gives up the fight, and stands sullenly with his head down as Sebastian lathers him with suds and water.

I hold on to his collar to ensure he doesn’t try to escape the second there’s an opportunity. Then I glance sideways at Sebastian and snort out a laugh. His once-striking black outfit is now covered in mud and white dog hair. Sebastian follows my gaze down to his sweater and lets out a weary sigh.

“I don’t know how I thought I could get away with wearing this,” he murmurs.

“Your hubris is your downfall,” I tell him, and he cracks a smile.

It’s the first time I’ve seen him smile, and with his fangs withdrawn, I’m shocked at howhumanthe expression makes him look. This whole interaction is so…normal, it’s easy to forget that he’s a stern and mysterious vampire lord who has been ignoring me for the past couple of months.

Afterward, the three of us—all damp and exhausted—retire to the drawing room and sit in front of the fire. Sebastian and I each occupy separate armchairs near the comforting warmth of the flames. Barnabas curls up at Sebastian’s feet, his snout resting on one of the vampire’s shoes, his tail thumping lazily against the floor. Sebastian reaches down and strokes the top of the dog’s head.

“I never would’ve expected you to be a dog person,” I say, unable to help the smile creeping across my face.

Sebastian glances at me. He doesn’t quite give me another one of those life-changing smiles, but his expression is softer than usual. “He’s not my dog. He’s Trent’s.”

“Oh?” The way he and Barnabas look at one another says otherwise, but I hold my tongue.

“He’s staying here while Trent is living in an apartment too small to handle him.” Even as he says it, one of his hands drifts down to scratch behind Barny’s ear. “His previous owner couldn’t handle his energy. Trent wanted to help but couldn’t keep him. He brought him here. I had never wanted a dog, but…” He pauses. “I had a dalmatian as a boy. Mags. A sweet girl who would run alongside our carriage.” The wordcarriagejolts me. It’s easy, sometimes, to forget that he is two hundred years old, and that his boyhood was during an entirely different era. His eyes go distant, and I bite my tongue to keep quiet, entrancedby the sense he’s finally showing me a hint of something deeper within himself. Something personal and true.

“Everything around me has changed so much over the decades, but dalmatians have stayed largely the same. Barnabas looks so much like Mags… he feels like a glimpse of the world I was born into. I had to let him stay.” He blinks and seems to slide back into the present. As he looks down at his dog again, something troubled passes over his expression. Still gentle, but sad. “Though it is… difficult. Setting yourself up for heartbreak in such a way.”

I nod. The mood change takes me by surprise… but I understand what he’s saying. Dogs feel tragically short-lived even in comparison to my human lifespan. I can’t imagine what it would be like for a vampire who can live forever.

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