Page 33 of An Acquired Taste

It’s as close to a critique of Sebastian as I’ve heard from anyone in the household. I sip my coffee again, trying to think of how to respond. Before I can, she asks, “Did something happen between you two?”

My mind flashes to my ass on his lap, his teeth on my wrist, his fingers against my clit. I nearly choke on my drink. “No,” I say. “Well, yes, but…” I stumble over my words in my haste. Part of me is tempted to talk to her just so I have someone to vent to, but it doesn’t feel appropriate to tell one of his employees. “I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

“Right. Well…” She takes a breath, pushing her hair behind her ear. “If anyone can draw him out of this solitude, it’s you.”

I almost laugh. It’s a ridiculous thought, that I could have any influence on the man. Just getting him to spend time with me is like pulling teeth. I had to ask him for the simple act of joining us at dinner, and again to give me a tour of the grounds, and once more to take my blood himself. I’m not going to embarrass myself by groveling to himagain,begging for his attention. He’s made it clear he doesn’t want to give it to me. I believe him now when he says he enjoys the taste of my blood—it’s hard to deny after our encounter in the library—but that only makes his refusal of me today feel like even more of a snub.

“Look, I appreciate that you and the rest of the staff treat me like I’m some sort of… lady of the house or whatever,” I say, “but I’m not. This is just a job to me. And Sebastian is just my employer, the same as he is to you. I’m not going to try to convince him to socialize. He can stay holed up in the library all he wants.”

Ellen looks taken aback. She blinks at me and then nods, her expression shuttering. “I understand,” she says. “I won’t bring it up again.”

Guilt hits me as soon as she speaks in that formal tone. I must have sounded pretty harsh, and she doesn’t deserve it. It’s not her that I’m mad at. “Wait, Ellen, I didn’t mean…”

“No, please. I overstepped. I apologize,” she says, and is out the door before I can stop her.

I spend the next hour marinating in my guilt and loneliness and annoyance at Sebastian. I post some passive-aggressive song lyrics I’m not proud about on my social media, and take a bath. When I emerge, a message from Alexander waits on my phone.

Everything alright?

I bite my lip, staring at the screen. I shouldn’t respond. But my room feels lonelier than ever right now. I’ve even managed to drive Ellen away.

I need someone to talk to… but I won’t stoop to talking badly about Sebastian.Just bored, I type.

Shall I entertain you?

I tap my finger against my phone. He’s toeing the line of flirtation again… but I’m probably overthinking it. He’s a hot vampire with a busy social life, not some desperate incel who’s going to send me a dick pic the second I show interest. He knows Sebastian is my patron, anyway. His interest in me is obvious, but he struck me as too much of a gentleman to truly overstep. Still, I try to play it safe:How would you do that?

A few minutes pass, and I fear he’s lost interest already. But then, to my surprise, a video pops up in response. When I open it, my heart beats double at the sight of his face. Then he brings a violin into the camera’s view and begins to play.

My jaw drops. Even through my tinny phone speaker, and to my untrained ears, the sound is gorgeous. Slow and sweet and sad. And the look on his face as he plays, his eyes closed and his mouth moving as he focuses, is almost more beautiful.

I text the second it’s done:WOW. Not what I expected. That was amazing!! Thank you for the show!Insert several clapping emojis.

My pleasure. I hope I’ve made your night less dull.

He has. But soon, I find myself turning to my laptop instead. Nothing is quite as satisfying as pouring all of my loneliness and anger and shame out onto the page.

I can’t talk to anyone about the way that I’m feeling. Alexander is off-limits. Sebastian is avoiding me again. The staff is kind, but I can’t badmouth their beloved employer in front of them. My sister still doesn’t know that I’m a valentine; I haven’t even managed to admit that Declan and I broke up. I keep telling myself I’ll tell her everything in person when she moves out to California in a few months, but every time I lie to her, I dig my hole deeper.

I have always found solace in words, and right now, the empty page is the only person I can tell about everything I’m experiencing. So I pour it all out, regurgitating my feelings in a way that feels almost violent.

It gives me an outlet for all of the things I can’t say. But pouring these words onto the page isn’t the same as feelingheard, and it doesn’t help with my loneliness.

It makes me think about the valentine gossip columns and TV shows, the “tell-all” memoirs that never seem to have moments where anyone feels like I do right now. For so long, I read those stories as an escape from my day-to-day life. Now it’sbecomemy day-to-day life, and it isn’t anything like what I thought it would be. But there have to be other valentines out there who feel like this.

I’m hit with a sudden, reckless need to tell somebody, anybody, the truth. I know I could potentially save this material and publish it later, probably snag a book deal that kicks off the writing career I’ve always dreamed of… but I’m not sure that’s what I want to be known for. And it won’t give me the acknowledgment I’m yearning for right now.

So on a whim, I quickly read through what I’ve written, scrub out any identifying details about me or Sebastian, and search out a popular blogging site. I designate myself asConfessions of an Anonymous Valentineand upload a few posts detailing my experiences. I spend some time lurking on similar blogs and social media pages and post links to my own work in an effort to make some connections. I hadn’t thought about making friends with fellow valentines online, but it does have a certain appeal. Theremustbe others like me, who aren’t living the high life that all of the famous valentines seem to be enjoying.

Once it starts to get hard to keep my eyes open, and the sun is rising, I shut my laptop, crawl into bed, and quickly forget all about the confessional blog I threw onto the internet.

Chapter Seventeen

The next evening, I wake feeling refreshed. Ellen shows up without a syringe or an explanation for why Sebastian no longer wants my blood.

I have to get out of my room before I go insane. I get ready for the day and slip down to the parlor, hoping to catch someone around for tea.

But I’m too early. Tea isn’t set out yet. The only one here is Barnabas.

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