Page 32 of Vampires of Eden: Oliver
“I’m not ‘very young.’ I’m twenty-two—I’m of bonding age.” Internally, I cringe because defending myself only makes me sound more immature.
Aries chuckles through his nose while tugging and adjusting the fabric. “You seem to forget that I’m first-generation—and that I’m almost five times your age.”
“I haven’t forgotten, but… I already told you that rank doesn’t matter to me. And you’re not even a hundred.” I wait, but Aries doesn’t say anything as he examines the jacket, as if the conversation is finished. “You’ve learned to suppress your eyes alighting?” I ask, because I don’t want this exchange to end.
“I have,” he confirms. “Because I’m old.”
“You are not.” He isn’t old. By vampire standards, we don’t even register as properly mature until we’re one hundred. “Old” vampires have been alive for at least two and a half centuries. His countenance and demeanor are nothing like that, so I assume his point is that he’s old in juxtaposition to me.
I disagree.
“We’re both young,” I protest. “Just… you’re farther ahead of me on the young scale. You’ve been young longer.”
“Oh my,” he laughs. “I’ve never heard an interpretation quite like that before.”
“Plus, you’re well-traveled and I’ve never left Eden. You have an unfair advantage.” Undeniably, Aries carries himself with the confidence of someone who knows how to navigate the world. It’s obvious that he’s proficient in engaging with people from all walks of life—kings and queens of entire nations. Artists, servants and skilled tradespeople alike.
I imagine that he’s like a charming chameleon. Always changing his colors and fitting in perfectly regardless of his surroundings.
Aries pauses and stands straight. His dark brows are crinkled. “What are you making a case for, exactly? What’s your intention with this argument?”
That makes me flounder, because my intention is quite obvious as I stand here—debating that the difference in our age is irrelevant to me while I simultaneously stare at him with my irises burning. “I-I don’t… I’m not sure.” Such a train-wreck.
“Right.” Aries tilts his head. “You do seem easily sparked? What have I done to warrant this lovely response? I’m just standing here.”
“You’re rubbing your hands all over me.”
“I was smoothing out the fabric.”
“Semantics.”
We both laugh in a hushed, breathy sound in the quiet room. This conversation is making me feel a little brazen. My feelings are undeniably exposed in my glowing eyes, so I… I decide to ask the question.
“Aries, do you… Am I appealing to you, at all?” The question slips out, almost like a whisper. Once I’ve said it, I fold my lips together in regret—as if I didn’t mean to let the words escape and I should try to take them back.
“Does it matter?” he asks quietly. “Given the circumstance.”
“It does,” I decide. “It matters a great deal to me… I would like to know how you feel.” He’s even more handsome up close like this. I let my gaze fall to the fullness of his lips, perfectly framed by his neat beard. I catch myself when his mouth quirks up into another beautiful smile.
“Yes,” he admits freely. “Your scent is exceptionally fragrant to my senses. And you’re dangerously endearing.”
“That… that’s not terrible, right? A little oxymoronic but…” I take another breath to quell the heat behind my eyes. It doesn’t work. Everything inside of me feels as if it wants to pop like a firecracker.
I suck in my bottom lip and look away, but then he reaches, slipping his palms into mine so that our hands are clasped between us. He squeezes and I grip him back. His hands are warm. Firm but also soft, somehow.
“What do you want from me, Oliver?”
I shake my head. “I don’t want anything—”
“Your behavior toward me keeps suggesting otherwise.”
“Then just ignore my behavior. I don’t have experience with anything because I rarely leave the estate, so I’m not good at controlling my nature… I’m alright, I promise.” I don’t want him to feel obligated, or like I’m pushing him.
There’s a pause where the light of the room shifts behind the glowing ivy draping the window. It darkens, likely from a passing cloud.
“What if… I don’t ignore you, and you’re honest with me about what you want?”
He pulls, just the gentlest tug, and it makes our foreheads touch. Skin to skin. The fragrant heat of him consumes me, and my whole body feels as if it’s on fire. God. I don’t even know how to tell him or what to say, but…
