Page 18 of Vampires of Eden: Oliver
Still lying on his back, he drops his head to the side to look at me. “I think I just enjoy getting a rise out of you. Making you all flustered and cute like this.”
“Well, great. That’s healthy.”
Alexander turns his head to gaze up at the ceiling. “This is the only authentic part of yourself that you show me. Otherwise, you’re always set to purebred robot mode, aren’t you? Pretending like you’re hollowed out to appease your parents. But it’s a façade. There’s still a fire burning inside of you, Ollie. You try to hide, but I can feel it… I wish you’d be honest with me.”
My chest tightens for some reason. Be honest with him? About what? About how I hate my life? How bonding with him is the absolute last thing that I want—that I’d rather be stranded on a deserted island, slowly starving to death, because at least then I’d truly be free for a little while before I died? Give me a break.
A phone rings. Since I don’t have one, I assume that it’s Alexander’s. I’m right, because he lifts his hips from the bed, reaches into the pocket of his chinos and pulls out a sleek silver smartphone. He looks at the screen, groans, then swipes it before bringing it to his ear and smiling.
“Good morning, Mother, I’m just out for a walk… Yes, of course I can. I’m on my way.” After he hangs up, he sighs and drops his arms in a dramatic fashion, then closes his eyes. For once, it doesn’t seem like he’s playing up to the invisible audience and cameras.
“Let me guess,” he says. “You’re not joining us on the hunt this week, are you?”
“Nope.” I don’t have many successes in life, but this is one. I detest the hunts, and after many years of making everyone miserable with unsolicited strong opinions, facts and statistics, I have been henceforth and forevermore excused from them.
“That’s lonely.” Alexander hops up from the bed and I fold my arms in case he decides to get in my face again. He walks backward to the door. “If you’re not coming on the trip, I don’t think we’ll be alone again until later this week. Sad.”
“I think you’ll be totally fine.”
“Do you?” He turns and opens the door. “Have a lovely day, my sweet Prince Ollie.”
“I’m not a prince.”
“But you will be.Myprince.”
“Weren’t you leaving?”
Alexander chuckles as the door softly closes. Is this funny to him? Am I a joke for his amusement?
With Alexander gone, I relax my shoulders, then stretch my arms up, trying to shake off the residual tension and stress that his presence creates in my body. Standing still for a moment, the sunshine streams in from the windows, warming my face. Breathing in, I can sense Aries’s wonderful oak and jasmine essence.
I told him that I wouldn’t be a creep anymore—and I won’t. But I can feel that he’s not in his room. He’s out somewhere on the grounds, a little far from here.
Our conversation last night started off rough, which I accept full responsibility for. But by the end, it felt nice. Easy. Like when Sash and I talk, but even more candid than that.
With my sister, I know there’s a certain extent to which I can be honest. Depending on the day, the figurative line is farther out, or very tight. The last time we talked, it was tight. She shut me down and I was lectured pretty quickly.
I probably shouldn’t even be thinking about this, but I wonder where that line is with Aries?
There are also layers to consider. More complicated ones that don’t necessarily exist between Sash and me. He asked if I was comfortable talking with him as a first-generation, which was strange. He also called himself the “hired help” and me his “superior.” The former is technically, factually true, but the latter is only a matter of accepted social constructs.
Aries is older than me and undoubtedly more experienced in life. However, within the Eden aristocracy, there have been many formal pairings where two vampires have not been the same age. Lord Ashford is twenty years older than my brother, Thomas, and even Lord Blakeley is the viscount’s senior by forty years. I would go so far as to say that couplings like mine and Alexander’s—where two vampires are the same age—are rare.
Purebreds are always arranged with other purebreds. That much can’t be denied. A purebred being mated with a first-gen is normalized in the modern era. I’ve seen countless examples online and across international communities.
Within Eden, though? It’s unheard of. Forbidden.
Even still, Aries is indisputably talented and well traveled. Forthright, charming and probably street smart. If I disregard these paradigms surrounding the differences between our rank and age, are they still valid? Do Ihaveto acknowledge them?
And, more importantly, could helet go of them? Is my being able to let go a result of my privilege? Purebreds make the rules, so to speak. As such, we can also break or change them according to our preferences.
This thought pattern definitely does not matter, given my circumstance. But I like to think about these things. I’m curious about the underlying contexts—what’s happening in the roots that’s impacting the trees, and what’s more, the soil surrounding the roots. Things are never neatly black and white like everyone wants. There’s so much gray to consider. I like to examine the gray.
This kind of thinking is what gets me in trouble.
My day officially starts with breakfast. This event is more private compared with last night’s ostentatious affair. Only Alexander, his mother and father, me, Sasha, the viscount and Lord Blakeley are in attendance.
Lord Blakeley is excited about the hunt and unashamedly boasts about all the preparations that have been made (things we definitely cannot afford financially). Alexander’s mother, Lady Victoria Kendrick, chimes in enthusiastically while Lord Kendrick nods politely. Alexander stays uncharacteristically quiet, pushing food around on his plate and occasionally picking at the fruit platter in the center of the table. The viscount, Sasha and me exchange glances, and I smile. The three of us hate the hunts.
