Page 39 of Vampires of Eden: Oliver
I swallow hard, steeling myself. “It’s shit and it’s exhausting. Allof it, and I wish you and Lord Blakeley—everyone—would just leave me alone and let me breathe,” I vent, feeling all the frustration and asphyxiated tension of the past week stuffed inside of my chest like swollen cotton.
Alexander stares with his mouth agape. His brow is creased in confusion. “I’m… I am not belittling you—”
“You are.”
“No, I’m only teasing you! Ollie, I just want you to let your guard down. I want you to relax.”
“Well, you’re not funny and I’m far from relaxed.”
My chest heaves as the music stops. The crowd awakens, disillusioned from their musical reverie, and slowly, they turn to watch us. Alexander smoothly bows, a polite show of respect given our sudden audience. “We’ll talk about this later.” He stands straight, then stalks off the dance floor without a word or second glance.
With us separated, the crowd carries on mixing, socializing and dancing of their own accord. Someone offers their hand for a dance, but I graciously turn them down as I leave the floor. I’m not sure if Alexander will tell Lord Blakeley about this—if my outburst will come back to bite me in the worst possible way.
Right now, I don’t care. I’ve had enough of both of them, and my mind is singularly focused on the subtle vibration of Aries’s energy. I exit the ballroom and enter the hallway.
The corridor is lined with elaborate sconces flickering and casting the space in yellow firelight. I receive a few polite bows as I move—vampires halting their conversations to offer a formal greeting. Desperately, my sincerest wish is that everyone would leave me alone.
“Your grace, what are you doing?”
Just as I turn down a narrow, darkened hallway, my father’s primary manservant, Hudson, appears before me in his formal coattails and bow tie. “Why are you over here and alone?” he asks.
I start, taking a step back and remembering our encounter two weeks ago. The room raid. “Hi, Hudson. I just wanted to take a walk… if that’s alright?”
My resolve to find Aries weakens now that I’m faced with Hudson’s stature and air of authority. In the past, he’s always been kind to me. I’ve even visited his home with the viscount. When Hudson’s son was born prematurely, I took his mate, Ji-Ahn, a bouquet of wildflowers.
But somehow, the start of this mating ritual and Lord Blakeley’s tightening of the reins has strained our interaction. I don’t know how to read him anymore.
“Of course, your grace. Please let me know if there’s anything you need.”
“S-sure. But I’m fine, thank you.”
Hudson bows, then strides past me, not looking back as he heads toward the main ballroom.
When he’s out of sight, I carry on toward the western library, an obsolete room full of outdated books that only a proper vampire Historian would likely appreciate. Why is Aries over here?
My footfalls are absorbed by the thick burgundy ornamental rug lining the hallway. The color is deep and time-worn, like fallen apples rotting underneath a tree. Ahead, the study has two large doors with intricate moldings carved in swirling trefoil patterns.
When I’m close, Aries’s honey-dripped voice carries into the hall because one of the doors is ajar.
“My plan is to come straight there after this project is completed.”
Outside, I lean closer to the crack, trying to listen. The door swings open and I jump, startled and blinking. Aries is there with his phone pressed to his ear.
“Yes, I think that’s a fantastic idea. I have connections with a distributor in Budapest who might be able to help us. I’ll give her a call tomorrow?” He steps aside, gesturing for me to enter. Sheepish, I slink over the threshold.
He closes the door, then wanders over to the heavy oak desk at the center of the room, carrying on with his conversation. “Of course. I’ll let you know the result. Thank you again for the kind invitation. I do appreciate it.” He sits on the edge, casually crossing one ankle over the other.
I wander, because I haven’t been inside this room since I was ten. I’m taller now, but everything in here still feels massive. The heavy antique furniture, the bookcases lining the wall with their sturdy ten-foot ladders. This is one of the rooms that have been largely neglected because of our meager financial situation. Sasha calls us “castle poor.”
The window behind Aries is huge—stained glass with our family crest designed in a weirdly evangelical style. Each panel of glass is its own distinct color, but in the night and with the moon full and high, they all glow, spilling rich, multicolored lights over Aries’s wavy head and square shoulders. He looks like a fallen angel.
“Are you stalking me, young master?” Aries pulls at the satin lapel of his navy-blue jacket, which emphasizes the rich hue of his eyes. The inside fabric is silky, shiny and swirling with color—deep purple, green and gold, like the feathers of a male peacock.
As he slips his phone into a discreet pocket, I have a revelation. The outside of the jacket feels like the polite façade he exudes for us boring vampires in our antiquated aristocracy. But the inside is the real Aries. The drama, flare and confidence.
“Yes,” I admit, stepping forward. “Please, just say my name?” God, I want him. My nature pulses and burns inside, both fiercely desiring and envious. Vexed but also ravenous. I want him, but I can’t indulge and satiate my being.
Why does he deny me?it asks in a fervent, increasingly familiar whisper.He is my choice.
