Page 21 of Don't Bite the Boy Next Door
“Yes, ugh,‘God, I hope not’like that.”
“No, can’t say I have. Unless I didn’t notice.”
“You’d notice,” I sigh, turning back to my easel. “They smell like nothing else on Earth, and you yearn for them in every way possible.”
“Guess not then,” he quips.
“Well, Serena and Charlotte and Pru met theirs, and it turns out,” I take a deep breath, “that if you form a love match and they turn, willingly, that your power grows exponentially. We think Solomon turned us because he foundusirresistible, and although we were unwilling, we each made him a little stronger, which is why he wanted us around for all those centuries. But when my sisters met theirtruepartners, willingly turned, they found their strength was phenomenal. Between them, they managed to best Solomon because he lost his core strength.”
“Is that so?” Lars murmurs.
I turn back and shake my head at him, smiling. “You don’t sound surprised.”
“Don’t I? I am,” he shrugs. “But you haven’t told me yet why you didn’t attend the wedding.”
“I, ah, I met one too,” I murmur, looking down at my palette and frowning, “and I wasn’t strong enough to do what Serena and Charlotte and Pru did, to get to know him and not kill him. So I, ah, hid.”
I turn back to my painting.
“You did what you do best,” he laughs gently, “and I assume you have since consumed this Irresistible, just as you did your poet, and now pay your penance in this backwater.”
“No,” I shake my head. “He’s still alive. But if I did eat him, I’d kill myself, Lars, I could never bear the pain I felt after Jacques again, never.”
“Indeed?” I hear his tone become serious, and look over my shoulder at him, frowning. But he smiles brightly at me.
“Ah Tess,” he sighs, “what are we going to do with you?”
“Thank you, for not trying to give me some platitude about suicide,” I smile broadly. “Pru sent a babysitter to hold me prisoner for a fortnight and then came herself to ensure I didn’t push myself off this mortal coil. I knew you would understand, though.”
“Of course,” he looks me in the eye. “No one should bear the pain you endured for all these years. I would do the same.”
“Lars, you see, that’s why I love you.”
“And I you,” he murmurs, as he rises and heads inside. “Blood bag?”
“Yes, please. But speaking of love, you haven’t told me, do you have someone special in your life? You always were the lothario, there must be someone.”
“There is,” he says quietly.
“Well, spill, you know I need to live vicariously through you, love is not my speciality. What’s her name?”
“Her name is Anna,” he says, staring out towards the trees. “We met in Moscow, and she is every bit the Russian princess.”
“A real princess?” I widen my eyes.
“She is to me,” he says, looking back and smiling.
“And where is this Anna now?”
“She’s,” he pauses, “occupied. You know,” he says, swiftly changing the subject, “you don’t have any liquor left in the house, and I’m sure you are aware just how much I like my nightly G&T. We should go to town and stock up.”
“OK,” I smile as he zips into the kitchen and returns to hand me the bag, “when?”
“No time like the present,” he smiles, his eyes not leaving mine as he watches me drain my blood bag.
“Oh, well, OK.”
“You know what? I don’t mind going alone, you keep painting. I will duck in and out and be back before you know it.”
“Alright, thank you, Lars. But when you get back, I want to hear all about this Anna.”
“Sure. But hey, just in case I run into anyone I might like to nibble, you didn’t tell me where this Irresistible of yours lives – is it local? Or somewhere far away?”
“My neighbour,” I laugh gently and shake my head. “It’s a cruel trick of nature, don’t you think?”
“Cruel indeed,” he nods, turning for his car.
As he drives away, I head inside for more paint thinner, working on the theory that perhaps my moths’ wings need to be more translucent. Passing the drinks cabinet, I frown.
The gin bottle is still three-quarters full.
