Page 46 of An Acquired Taste

I excuse myself to the bathroom, and when I return, my eyes catch on a group of humans situated around one table. I drift that way instead of heading back to Sebastian and the others.

“—Hasn’t painted a thing since he’s been turned,” one man is saying. “Honestly, what a disappointment for the Vulpe Court.”

I follow the table’s eyes to a vampire who sits alone under one of the paintings. He glances at me, and I have a quick impression of sad blue eyes in a striking face before I look away.

“Ahh, someone new,” one woman says, drawing my attention back to the humans. The others turn to me as well, their conversation halting. “You must be Lord Sebastian’s valentine.”

I swallow self-consciousness as I extend a hand. “I am. Amelia Burton.”

“Farah Badawi.” The brown-skinned woman is older than most valentines I’ve met, though still undoubtedly beautiful, with piercing dark eyes and thick brown waves of hair. “I’d say I’ve heard a lot about you, but I haven’t. Everyone’s been curious about who finally captured Lord Sebastian de Celeste’s cold heart.”

“I wouldn’t say I have his heart,” I say, releasing her hand. And then, remembering I’m trying to channel confidence, I add, “Yet.”

“Are you sure about that? Because he’s staring at you across the room right now like some lovestruck teenager,” she says with a smirk.

I blush and resist the urge to look as I take a seat. I can’t tell whether she’s messing with me.

As the rest of the table starts giving introductions, nerves overwhelm me again. Farah is a museum curator; another woman introduces herself as having a PhD in vampire history, which I didn’t even know was a thing. I recognize another man as a well-known writer of vampire biographies. They are all scholars and otherwise accomplished individuals, as I guess I should’ve expected from the Celeste valentines. By the time the spotlight falls on me, I feel thoroughly inadequate.

“My name is Amelia Burton,” I say, fingers twisting together in my lap. “I’m… a writer.” It tastes like a lie on my tongue, even though it isn’t.

“Oh, what have you published?” the biographer asks.

I flush. “Nothing yet.” And that makes me aware that even with my nearly infinite free time in the estate, I haven’t managed to write anything other than my silly blog.

“Well, I’m certain you have plenty of material now,” he says.

“I… hm? What do you mean?”

“Well, you are living with Lord Sebastian, after all. I have no doubt that his life providesfascinatingsubject matter.” He leans forward. “I must admit I’m jealous. He’s declined me for an interview.Twice.” A fact he sounds positively affronted about.

I hesitate, unsure how to tell them that I know next to nothing about the man I’m living with.

“Well, he’s a private person,” I say.

“I’ll say,” the man huffs. “I’ve barely managed to get more than a couple of words out of him at a time. And that’s when he even deigns to grace us with his presence.”

“Oh, hush,” Farah scolds. “He’s a two-hundred-year-old war hero. Of course he has better things to do than talk to you.”

That prompts a guilty smattering of laughter that I don’t join in. Instead, I bite back an urge to defend Sebastian. It’s true that he can be cold and distant, but I’ve never thought of it as being because of any sense of superiority. Instead it’s… well…

My eyes find him across the room. I watch as he stands in the circle of vampires with his arms folded over his chest, silent even as the conversation flows around him. I study his expression, and think, unbidden, of my shock when Ellen called meconfident. How it felt like she didn’t see me at all, but only made assumptions.

I’ve made plenty of assumptions when it comes to Sebastian as well. I tend to think I understand what goes on beneath his mask… but what if I’m as off-base as Ellen? What if it isn’t an aversion to me that holds him back, or an iciness that makes him reserved. What if he’s just…

Just what, exactly? I think of Ellen’s statement that he barely leaves the estate, corroborated by the conversation among the valentines here, and a new theory finally comes to me. What if Sebastian is… shy?

“As I said,” I tell the other valentines, my eyes still lingering on Sebastian, “he’s a private man.”

The conversation moves on while I reflect on my new theory about Sebastian. It feels like a shift in world view. I’ve thought, this entire time, that he was being cold on purpose. I’ve been so puzzled by his behavior, but if he is just introverted—perhaps even anxious—it explains some of it. It’s hard for me to imagine him as shy beneath that stern expression and flawless face, but I suppose the same was true of how Ellen saw me.

Knowing this doesn’t excuse his behavior toward me. I still deserve better treatment and communication. But it helps me understand him better.

“—Anonymous Confessions of a Valentine,” Farah says, and I’m drawn back to the conversation.

“What?” I ask, a knee-jerk reaction, assuming I didn’t hear correctly.

“Oh, have you read it as well?” she asks, holding up her phone.

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