Page 27 of Vampires of Eden: Oliver
“Listen, I have no sense of color or fashion. Camille literally picks out all of my clothes for me, every day. You’re always dressed very smartly, so I trust in whatever you decide.”
He folds his arms, smirking. “I can, of course. But since this is your wedding, your father thought you might like to have some say in the details of your ensemble?”
I shouldn’t say what I’m about to say, but the words break free from my mouth like the pop of a soap bubble. “I don’t care about my ‘wedding day’ or any of the details that go along with it. Noneof this is my choice. Lord Blakeley giving me charge over a narrow spectrum of blue fabrics is a cruel joke.”
How dare he tell Aries that it’s my choice—like throwing an abused dog a tiny, half-eaten bone. Utterly insane.
When I’ve calmed myself, I notice the silence in the room and look at Aries.
“You’ve mentioned this before,” he says gently, almost whispering. “Forgive me for prying, but you don’t care for Alexander?”
“I don’t.”
“He seems very fond of you when he speaks of you in the media.”
“Alexander puts on a show and says whatever everyone expects him to say. There’s no truth to it.” I almost add that he antagonizes me, and that his list of insults to demean and belittle my character is always growing. But it feels as if I’ll only be disparaging myself by disclosing it.
Aries bends and pulls out a stool from underneath the table we’re standing at. He gestures, and I see that there’s a second one underneath. “Is he cruel to you?” he asks, sitting atop the round surface.
“Well, he isn’t kind.” I keep it simple as I take the seat beside him. Aries’s feet are placed firmly on the floor because of his ridiculously long legs. I’m insecure about my height, so I bend my knees. I rest my feet on the wooden bar a few inches from the bottom of the stool and straighten my spine.
“I envy you,” I tell him. “Your freedom to pursue what you want—to travel and meet new people. You don’t have anyone forcing and constantly pressuring you to do intrusive, humiliating things for the ‘greater good.’ I often fantasize about true independence and how it must feel.”
“It wasn’t always like this for me. The first thirty years of my life were similar to yours—with my grandfather controlling my every move after my mother and father died. He dictated where I went, what I did, who I slept with and drank from. It was miserable.”
Drawing back, I blink. “Really? How did you escape?”
“He died.” Aries shrugs, matter-of-fact. “He was ancient. I hadn’t bonded with my assigned mate, so we talked it over and decided to go our separate ways. It was very healthy. I was lucky to have her, I think.”
I nod, vaguely considering whether I’m capable of instigating Lord Blakeley’s untimely demise. I’m not, of course. And even if he did die, there’s a long succession of purebreds who would then presume authority over me, starting with the viscount.
Ironically, being married to Alexander is likely the easiest way to gain some semblance of freedom. I’ll be taken off the leash, but still very much inside my kennel and with a new master.
“After my mating arrangement was dissolved,” Aries continues, “I left my hometown and started this career. I’ve never once looked back.”
“You had an arranged bond, too?”
“I did.”
“But you didn’t love her? You walked away?” I have so many questions. What unfortunate creature lost Aries Moralis? This elegant and benevolent vampire in all his jasmine and oak glory. His infinitely long legs and cobalt-blue eyes.
God. The poor sap.
Aries folds his arms. “No, I didn’t love her romantically. And she didn’t love me in that way, either. The two of us had a companionable relationship, but we felt more like comrades in arms than lovers. True friends. I keep in touch with her even now. Both of us were unfortunate subjects under the constant control of emotionally, sometimes physically abusive purebreds. So, we often banded together in support of one another.”
I’m listening, but something in my mind clicks. Aries was abused by his grandfather—a purebred. I swallow hard, suddenly terrified that I’ve been triggering him all this time with my ridiculous, uncontrolled affections. How selfish have I been?
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “For what you’ve been through. I’ve probably added to the pile with my gross behavior.”
“Not gross.” Grinning, he leans with his elbow on the table, cradling his square chin in his palm. “I thought I asked you to stop apologizing?”
I scratch the top of my head. “This time it feels valid, though.”
He huffs in a little laugh that makes me smile. His gaze lands on the swatches of material on the table. “I believe… that you’re teaching me something important, Oliver.”
Whenever he says my name, my stomach turns a flip and warms. “What am I teaching you?”
Aries sighs. “Perhaps that torment comes in many forms. That even a purebred in one of the wealthiest, oldest aristocracies in the world can suffer under the hand of another.”
