Page 37 of Vampires of Eden: Oliver
“I asked because I wanted to know,” he says. “Some friends told me about him—how he’s turned down purebred aristocrats in Paris and Rome because he values his ‘free lifestyle.’ Because he doesn’t want all his eggs in one basket, so to speak. I found it surprising because I’m the opposite, I guess? I love the stability in feeding from only you. Who wants to feed from a different fucking vampire all the time? Not knowing where your next sip is coming from. It sounds like a nightmare.”
In all my fantasies about traveling the world and studying photography in exotic places, I have never once considered this.
Who would feed me? How would I logistically stay alive?
Alexander has been my feeding source ever since my skin hardened. And I’ve been his. For years, our feedings have been routine and sterile—conducted under the supervision of some older vampire, strictly via our hands, up until this past week when our formal mating festivities officially began.
He fed from my neck for the first time during our awful bonding attempt. I was so stressed and humiliated. I’ve tried to erase that entire event from my mind. Now, the only thing I remember is that he bit me hard. Like he was too excited. Careless and selfish, as always.
If I were free… if I got my wish and was able to escape this place, who would feed me? How would I manage that? I don’t know, but I’d take the risk.
“You might think it’s a nightmare,” I tell him, “but it isn’t any of your business—and he definitely has his own reasons.” Aries values his lifestyle and doesn’t want to be addicted to a purebred. He has to protect himself.
Alexander stops abruptly and yanks my arm backward. The action surprises me and I’m irritated by his curt manner. “What is it?”
We’re standing still with the gray gloom pouring all around us. In a rare moment, his voice is serious. “How do you know he has reasons? Did you talk to him?”
“I—No, it just makes sense that he would—”
“And why do you care so much about this designer that you’re defending him… Do you like him?”
My breath catches. I swallow hard and swiftly shake off the shock of his shrewd observation. I ignore the heat climbing up my neck. “It’s not about caring—it’s about common respect and decency. You barely know him, yet you burst onto the scene asking about his sex life. It’s vulgar.”
He surprises me again when he steps into my space. I try to step back but he uses our still clasped palms to urge me forward until he catches my face with his free hand. His gaze is hooded and his voice is low as he looks at me. “This is why I chose you, Oliver. Because I knew that you would make me a better vampire.”
“Is that my job? Your life coach and therapist?” I lean my head away, but he slides his palm down and grips my chin with his fingers.
“I really love it when you speak your mind like this. No matter how many times they tell you not to, you always do. You can’t help yourself.” His gaze is sleepy as he shifts closer, as if he’s in a trance. “And your pretty eyes and these lips. Kiss me?” he whispers, aiming for my mouth. “Please?”
I wrench my chin out of his fingers and turn my face to the side so that the kiss lands on my cheek. I know that I’m supposed to be submissive to Alexander’s will. Lord Blakeley and practicallyeveryonehas instructed me to please him and “make him happy,” but I… I just can’t. And what’s more, I find myself feeling increasingly resentful of this expectation.
Alexander pulls up and I look at him from the corners of my eyes. Scowling. He huffs through his nose. “You’re so damn stubborn. What’s the problem, Ollie? Why don’t you like me? Most vampires like me!”
With my nose upturned, I look him over and speak my mind since he apparently loves that. “WhyshouldI like you? What’s fundamentally good about you?” He’s a prince. He’s wealthy and attractive. But so what? What else is there? He’s also rude, patronizing and dismissive of any boundaries. Completely selfish.
There’s an odd moment where he just stares, blinking. I’m waiting for him to call me a nerd, a horse or boring. Maybe some new insult that perfectly fits this particular circumstance.
But he doesn’t. He steps forward, still holding my hand and tugging me along.
“That wasn’t very nice,” he says, trying to sound breezy, but something in his voice betrays him. “They’re expecting us in the study for tea. Let’s go.”
I don’t say anything as I follow, and he doesn’t say anything else to me, either. Not through afternoon tea with both of our families, nor at dinner later that night. Not even during breakfast the next day. Aside from polite greetings, there are no words, no names, no insults. He’s silent the entire time.
This behavior carries over into the next day. Through every scheduled event, he’s quiet and focusing his attention on everyone else around us. Maybe I should be concerned about this?
To be honest, I’m not. It’s a relief.
ChapterThirteen
Aweek later, the grand ballroom is alive with energy, light and elegance. A fanciful cocoon of uppity vampires swathed in their very best attire. This is the first formal ball as part of our traditional mating rituals—another rung in the ladder of Eden’s antiquated practices.
Chandeliers glow and sparkle overhead like moons within their own universe. Their crystal hangs in teardrop shapes that slowly turn, reflecting and throwing spectral light against every surface.
The marble flooring has been polished to within an inch of its life. The surface is creamy with swirling and ornate golden patterns that look like symbols from a forgotten era. Another time when language and expression were represented in elaborate encryptions instead of meager words.
It feels as if every vampire within the South Eden aristocracy is here. The wealthy ones, anyway. Village chancellors and mayors. Some Central Eden vamps are in attendance as well, like Alexander’s group of friends—looking expensive and snobbishly huddled together along the edge of the dance floor.
Aries is here, too. Presently, he’s dancing with some woman in a slinky champagne-colored dress. It is taking everything inside of me to not hate her immensely. My feelings are completely irrational, but I think she’s spending more time with him in this moment than I have in the past week.
