Page 25 of Vampires of Eden
Shaking my head, I take a breath, then settle even deeper intomy seat to squash the unwelcome and random imagery. “Whatever,” I tell her, yawning and letting the weight of exhaustion rest upon my shoulders. “Whoisn’tsad and hiding it? Welcome to the club.”
CHAPTER7
Alexander
Servants glide around the intimate dinner setting like a cast of well-rehearsed performers. Actors in a modernized but classic play where each vampire knows their role by heart. At the same moment that a gleaming plate full of leafy greens and colorful vegetables is set before me, another hand reaches out, effortlessly filling my wine glass to half-full. I don’t want wine, but it’s “un-princely” when I refuse to drink socially.
“Where were you yesterday?” my mother asks between sips of her wine. With her free hand, she pushes the length of her honey-colored hair back past her shoulders. The gesture is casual. Her tone is anything but. “I was told that you cancelled brunch with the Griffins, and you were notably absent during the cocktail party at the Wyndham Clan’s Estate. Several vampires asked me where you were, and all Raphael gave me as an explanation was ‘He had other, unexpected arrangements.’ What exactly doesthatmean?”
Swiftly, I glance at Raphael, who’s standing behind my mother in the corner and near the dining room doors opposite me.
He rolls his eyes and looks away. No help from him, then.
I lift my fork and tease my salad because I’m not actuallyhungry. “I was feeling stressed yesterday, so I went for a long drive. That’s all.”
I wish I had something more tangible as an excuse. But for my mother, the truth—that I went to a rundown house in the woods to get told off by a callous first-gen vampire before coming home, crying and binge-watching the first two seasons ofBuffy the Vampire Slayerall afternoon and obscenely late into the evening—would be much worse.
Her nose crinkles and her brows furrow as if I’ve said something truly baffling. “You and all yourfeelingslately. You don’t ‘feel’well—you were ‘feeling’ stressed. These touchy-human-sounding things mean nothing to vampires in our aristocracy. It only makes you sound weak, Alejandro. Can you please have thicker skin? Everyone is waiting to see what happens with you after this fiasco with the Blakeley boy. They’re predicting your demise, but I expect you to shine and reclaim your status as the most desirable purebred in this realm. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Mother.” I want to tell her that I am weak. That I don’t… I don’t know. Something in me is broken. A confidence, or maybe contentment that I’ve always felt in my nature is gone.
I’m not sure if I’m capable of reclaiming anything.
Did I ever even have it? I’m starting to think that it was all a façade. Smoke and mirrors.
“Honey, maybe we should give Alexander a little time to himself for a while?” Hesitating, my bulldog of a father pipes up from across my mother. His airy northern accent adds another layer of genteel to his reasoning. “The circumstance with the Blakeley Clan was challenging. We could let things… temper a bit? Since we’re leaving for the cabin next week, he should recuperate while we’re away.”
My father’s clan is indigenous to Eden. They hail from the northern mountains, where most of the vamps there are burly and pale with deep-set features—I imagine it’s because of all the ice, snow and lack of sunshine at that altitude. Their bodies are built to adapt to and reflect theirenvironment.
“He needs to move forward. Don’t coddle him. Youalwaysdo this—letting him be soft, like you.” Mother exhales a frustrated sigh, then takes a long sip of her wine. The silence that follows is bloated and uncomfortable. When she finishes, she focuses on me once more. “When are you going to make your public apology to Lord Blakeley?”
Staring at my plate, I use my fork to gently stab at bright red cherry tomatoes. “Soon.” This was also part of the arrangement for setting Oliver free. All of my dowry money, plus a public apology. Just, you know, to add insult to injury.
There’s no official timeline on the apology, though, so I’ve been intentionally avoiding it. Oliver is gone. He’s free and there’s no taking that back at this point. I have no actual plans to say sorry to that asshole. Make me.
“Good,” Mother chirps, tossing her hair back again and picking up her fork. “The sooner the better. Lord Cherrington has requested to spend more time with you. I’d like you to focus on building a comfortable rapport with him while we’re away. Raphael?”
“Yes, my lady?” Raphael lifts his head with rapt attention.
“I expect you to make the proper arrangements within Alejandro’s schedule? Please reach out to Lord Cherrington’s primary manservant. Perhaps a fixed weekly-appointment for the next couple months?”
“Yes, your highness.”
“Lord Cherrington?” Father balks, his eyebrow raises in disbelief. “Isn’t he a little… Honey, he’s older thanme. Surely we can find someone closer to Alexander’s age, like he prefers?”
“Coddling.” Mother waves her free hand while munching on her salad. She covers her mouth. “Soft. Lord Cherrington’s offer for Alexander’s hand is three-times as much as anyone else’s.”
With this, my father’s eyes widen. “Three times?”
“Yes,” Mother confirms.
Father’s golden-hazel eyes meet mine in a silent exchange. “Even still,” he goes on, “we should check the bylaws for theRoyal Order. It could be a conflict of interest to have two members of the board romantically involved?—”
“I’ve checked,” she asserts. “As long as the other board members approve in a formal note of consent, it shouldn’t be an issue. It’ll be fine. I’ll have lunch with Lady Bhaduri and Governor Ellis to secure their votes as we draw closer to the official announcement.”
“Hm…” Father offers a pitying look, as if to say “Oh well, I tried,” then picks up his fork. He stabs his salad and shoves the vegetables into his mouth.
I’m tempted to blurt out that Lord Cherrington licked me. I don’t, though. Because I’m scared that their response to my declaration might be even more disappointing than the physical offense itself.
