Page 50 of Vampires of Eden
“I mean, I guess?—”
“Legitimately, that’s how first-gens are fucking made?—”
“I knoooow, okaaaay. Sheesh. Never mind.”
I shake my head, chuckling. “Idiot.”
Thinking about it is unpleasant, but obviously, Aries’s blood offered something that was much more attractive to Oliver than mine. That’s the reality, and it has nothing to do with rank or potency. Their mutual natures just clicked, I guess.
Exhaling, I sit back, taking in the silence and this moment while Sebastian drinks his tea, surly. Aries had something that I didn’t. Plain and simple.
It hurts to admit this to myself and the sadness is there, but… I’m okay. For some reason, I’m alright today.
Later in the week, and after another visit to Roland and Kathryn’s to finish the upstairs bathroom, I get a text from Leoni asking me to help them at their next market day. I enjoyed the morning we spent in Seze, so I agree to help out again.
This time, we’re headed to Hollywick, which is the town nearest to the vineyard. Leoni asked me to come directly to the cottage to help load up the van, so I have to get up at obscene o’clock in the morning to get there extra early.
The ride is calming, though, and I get to see the sunrise as it warms the sky from behind the eastern mountains. It’s not a bad drive at all.
When I pull up to the cottage, the van doors are already open and Daniel is fiddling with something in the back. Looks like the banners and tablecloths. I park off to the side and quickly hop out of the car. “Hey, morning,” I call out as I stalk across the gravel. He wasn’t there the second time I went to Roland and Kathryn’s house this past week.
It’s for the best. I definitely needed a buffer after he witnessed me having an emotional breakdown. Hopefully, he’s forgotten about it. The work didn’t go as quickly without him there, though. I can admit that much.
“Good morning,” he says, turning around. His raven-black hair is all twisted up in a top knot today. I glance down at his shirt underneath his jacket and it reads, “Surely, not everyone was kung-fu fighting.”
I laugh. “Where do you get these shirts?”
He looks down at the graphic, then back up at me, smiling. “Leoni. She buys them because she knows they make me laugh.”
“They’re brilliant,” I say, moving toward the porch and up the steps. The rogue staticky feeling bristles my arms and chest beneath my clothes. I’m used to it now, so I ignore it. “Is she inside?”
“She is, but she wanted me to take you to the cellar to finish loading. Come with me?”
“Oh. Sure.” I pause, change directions, then follow as he guides me around to the side of the cottage. I’ve never been back here, so immediately, I notice a quaint square garden area several feet away. It looks cool. “Is that where you grow your vegetables?”
“It is. I have spinach, turnips, sugar snap peas and baby kale already planted for an early spring harvest now that the winter weather is breaking.”
“Amazing,” I say, genuinely impressed. “I’d love to garden—to grow something real and tangible with my hands. I’ve only ever helped our gardener with clearing things for winter or planting bulbs for spring.” The doors to the cellar are already gaped open as I follow Daniel down the stone steps. Warm lights fixed in the ceiling illuminate the narrow path and the surrounding walls are a rough-textured stone.
“You’re a wealthy purebred prince,” Daniel says, stopping at a stack of crates near the bottom of the stairs. “I’m sure if you wanted to start a garden, no one would oppose you.”
“You’re wrong. My mother absolutely would—and has. She makes it painfully clear that she doesn’t like me playing in the dirt with the gardener. She also resents the fact that I snuck Buffy into the estate. According to her, these things are my ‘un-princely habits.’ She wouldneverallow me to have a garden. Is this what needs to go up?”
“Yes… I—Well, I can’t help you with this, obviously.”
“Not a problem. I’ll take care of it. I should stack them in the van?”
Daniel nods. “Yes, please.”
I take hold of a crate and turn. Daniel speaks up again.
“I wasn’t trying to be offensive.”
“Right,” I say, lifting the crate. Moving past him and back up the stairs, I smirk. “I’m a wealthy, arrogant purebred prince and you hate me—it’s fine. I get it.”
Eventually, Leoni comes out and helpsme with the stack. When everything is loaded, I decide to leave my car at the cottage. The three of us pack into the front seat of the van, then we’re on our way.
Hollywick is a great town because it’s surrounded by a sprawling grove of hornbeam trees—like a hidden village in a J.R.R. Tolkien novel. On sunny days, the narrow roads glitter in a spectrum of light because of the stained-glass windows fashioned onto the local cottages.
