Page 62 of Vampires of Eden
Shaking my head, I scoff at the memory before I go on. “She used to call me ‘the little misfit’ when none of the adults were around. And I’m an only child, so it was definitely like, ‘one of these things is not like the other’ when I was with my cousins.”
I’m expecting him to laugh, but his face is serious. “That’s needlessly cruel, but not surprising of her character.”
I shrug. “Exactly. I came home crying enough times that Raphfinally pulled it out of me—and until this day, he digs around in my business to make sure I’m not hiding anything from him. I get where he’s coming from and why he does it, but boundaries, for Christ’s sake. Anyway.” I wave a hand because that’s an entirely different issue. “He told my mother and she wentape shiton Josefina. I’m talking eyes alighted, fangs bared and using words in Spanish I had never heard before. Josefina never mentioned it or called me that again.”
“How long did you believe the lie?”
“Hm, I don’t know. Maybe a year?”
“A year?Holy shit, man. That’s terrible.”
“Yeah, it was pretty bad—I think I was six or seven at the time?” Pausing, I fold my hands in the gap of my thighs. Wanting to redirect the conversation. “How long were you feeding from her?”
Daniel rests his head to the side and exhales. “Almost six years.”
“Six yearsdrinking an evil-fucking purebred’s blood. Traumatic.”
“Yes, it was. But, in the beginning, I was truly captivated by her. Josefina is very beautiful and she…” He pauses, straightening his spine. “I’m not defending her. I just… For a long time, I was under the impression that we had something special. Something that defied the archaic systems and inflexible roles of Eden. That’s how she spun it to me.
“Plus, I grew up with the example of my mothers, you know? One being purebred and the other, first-gen. Ranking never mattered in our household. I thought Josefina genuinely loved me, but really… she loved having an obedient vampire that was wholly and deeply devoted to her. Her own personal vampire who depended on her blood—whoneededher blood.” Daniel eyes me as an ironic smirk spreads across his lips. “The perfect pet.”
I shake my head, unfazed. “Nah. As someone who owns a proper pet, I wouldnevertreat Buffy the way you’re describing. Not ever. I love her and I have no reason to hurt or manipulateher for my own gain—she’s just… there. Fluffy and wonderful. I don’t need anything else from her.”
Without question, I understand why he hates purebreds now. God…
If I had to spend even twenty-four hours in Josefina’s presence, I’d hate her, myself and all the rest of us. He was literally entangled with the worst of the worst of purebreds—not unlike Lord Cherrington. An arrogant, classist, pushy and manipulative traditionalist.
“Buffy is lucky to have you,” Daniel says, watching me with a lazy expression. “And you do look like them, by the way.”
“Them?” I ask, confused. “Them, who?”
“Leoni and her family. Your hair and skin-tone are different, but the eyes are the same, the straight line of your nose—and certain aspects of your character remind me of Leoni all the time. Josefina was wrong to say that to you.”
Frowning, I shrug. “Fine, but, I’m over that?—”
“But you do, Alexander. Really.”
“Well, thanks,” I say, feeling awkward. “I mean, anyway, my father’s clanisfrom the northern mountain region and clearly, his genes are fucking strong. So it wasn’t that far-fetched of an anecdote.”
Daniel chuckles. I’m trying to move on, but I’m still reeling inside.
Josefina.
Yikes, times one thousand. It explains so much. It’s like if I had been in love with Oliver, but Oliver was evil and held real biological and social, manipulative power over me. Yet, I didn’t realize these things about him. Christ… Daniel has lived through hell.
I’ve heard of this in passing via scandalous rumors. Murmurs at private parties or whispers in heavily cloaked cigar rooms. Purebred vampires who assume a ranked vampire as a kind of concubine. Someone they might regularly sleep with and keep hidden away in their bedroom or private quarters. Both willingly and not.
Either way, there’s never any true intention to bond with them. It’s more like having a consort at your beck and call.
I know that these things are happening in our aristocracy, but I rarely ever come fact-to-face with them. I’ve always had my head stuck in my lofty Oliver cloud, so those things don’t necessarily concern me. The strange details coloring the underbelly of our culture.
“You’re quiet,” Daniel says, calling to my attention.
“I was processing,” I say honestly.
“Right… I probably look quite different to you after this confession—now that you know I’m basically some purebred vampire’s rejected, blood-obsessed sex toy.”
My shoulders tighten as I meet his gaze. “Is that what you feel you were? Is that how you see yourself?”
