Page 11 of Lore and Lust
“There are worse things.” Nino smiles, mischievousness sprinkling his expression. “So… if I’m thirty-two, I guess that means you look twenty-nine?”
Haruka’s jaw drops in naked shock. “Ido notpresent as some weak, twenty-something infantilehuman.” When Haruka was still under a century, that had been frustrating enough. Vampires over a century have the irritating habit of treating younger vampires as if they’re children—as if they understand nothing about life and the complexities therein.
“It’s just hypothetical, for fun.” Nino grins. “So how old do you think you look?”
Flickering his eyes to the side, Haruka briefly considers. “One hundred and one.”
Nino holds his palms up, apprehension set in his amber eyes. “Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any offense—”
“You have cast great insult unto the House of Hirano.”
Nino freezes, blinking. Serious. “I’m so sorry, I—”
Haruka smirks as he reaches to pour himself another glass of wine. Registering the jest, Nino sits back and runs his fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes in a broad smile. “Jesus.”
“You will be flogged forthwith and sent to the dungeons.”
The golden purebred laughs openly, the warmth of it filling the dimly lit kitchen.
Six
The following morning, sunlight pours in through the guest bedroom window like soft lamplight—yellow and with a distinctly hazy quality. Nino lies perfectly still in bed, blinking with his back against the fluffy down bedding. He calmly assesses his surroundings in the tidy room.
He is in another purebred vampire’s house.
For the next three days, he’ll be researching the process of bonding.
Then, he’ll travel to East Sussex to oversee an archaic ritual at Hertsmonceux Castle.
“What the living hell am I doing? Whose life is this?”
Nino takes a deep breath, inhaling the rosy, subtle scent of his new purebred acquaintance. Haruka’s essence saturates every space of his home, which is comfortably nestled between a thick forest at the front of the estate and a wide, open moor at the back. The exterior is comprised of gray stone and white trimmings. It looks like something from a wholesome Christmas fable. Except the halls aren’t decked and there’s no mistletoe.
He doesn’t know how all of this will work out, but he’s here. No turning back. His brother was right. Nino left home with the intention to grow and become more independent, and a perfect (albeit weird) opportunity is staring him in the face. He needs to make the most of it. He will.
Nino gets out of bed, dresses casually in jeans and a warm sweater then heads downstairs. He needs coffee. After being blessed by Asao with a cup, he carries it back upstairs to find Haruka already in the library.
Asao had given Nino a brief tour when he’d arrived the previous night, but seeing the impressive space in the daylight is vastly different. The rest of Haruka’s house is cozy and fairly modest, but the library is much more extravagant.
It’s filled with natural light and the walls are lined with dark-oak bookshelves crammed with literature. One area features a cushioned bay window that overlooks the open expanse of the moor. The ceiling is high with warm, modern light fixtures and there’s a black, spiraled iron staircase leading up to a second floor full of books.
Once upstairs, a path lined with the same decorative iron railing wraps around the perimeter of the hollow room. For a touch of character, white candlesticks are mounted in antique-looking sconces strategically placed along the bookshelves.
Haruka is sitting at a handsome cherrywood desk. A wall of colorful, weathered book spines is perfectly arranged behind him. His cable-knit sweater is deep burgundy. When he looks up at Nino, the color reveals subtle flecks of red in his rich brown irises.
“Good morning,” Haruka says.
“Hi.” Nino moves toward him, feeling tense. Their conversation during dinner the previous night was surprisingly easy. They talked about everything from current events in the news to their favorite musicians. Haruka had gone on at some length about classic jazz, particularly John Coltrane and Red Garland.
The reality of being in a stranger’s house still creates a jumbled mess of nerves in Nino’s stomach—like he’s stumbling along blindly in unknown territory or a dark room. At any moment he could easily fall flat on his face.
“Did you sleep well?” Haruka asks.
“I did, thank you. The bed was soft and the room is nice. Everything in your home is so clean and organized.”
“That I cannot take credit for.” Haruka smiles, a certain warmth in his expression. “Asao is the instigator of any tidiness you observe. Left to my own devices, perhaps things would be more… spontaneous.”
Nino laughs, scratching the back of his head. “Is ‘spontaneous’ a euphemism for being messy?”
