Page 22 of Vampires of Eden
Leoni is home, because the windows are alive with yellow lamp light as I walk up the steps. A gentle breeze shakes the dried brush in their many pots on the porch. The rocking chair creaks, as if an invisible guest resides within its seat.
Every time I approach this cottage—at nightfall, particularly—it feels like a warm hug. I don’t own it, but I’m grateful to be here.
“Hey.” I announce myself while stepping through the front door and into the heated ambiance of the living room. The fire burns and flickers in the hearth and it is immediately evident that Leoni has cooked dinner. Smells like corn chowder.
“Hola, cariño. How was the day?” She faces the door, curledup in her favorite armchair and with a book settled on her thigh. She closes it to watch me as I hang up my parka.
“It was alright,” I admit. “And yours—how was the market? Sell any wine?”
She grins. “Fifteen bottles baby.”
“That’s fantastic. Bravo.”
“Thanks. I also talked to five vamps who are interested in helping us with pruning and barrel testing when the weather finally breaks. Three of them already have experience.”
After stepping out of my shoes, I stand behind the arm chair opposite her and closest to the door. If I sit down in these clothes, I’ll dirty up the furniture with sanding dust and grime.
“Did they work here in the past?”
“Two of them did,” she confirms. “But the third worked at the Smithson Clan’s vineyard. Since ours is being managed by me now and I’m not an insane hard ass, they said they’d come and help. God knows we need it.”
“Indeed, we do.”
“Maybe they’ll come regularly? Fingers crossed.”
Nodding, I walk toward the steps. “Fingers, toes, eyes, all of it. I’m in desperate need of a shower. Have you already eaten?”
She picks her book back up and casually opens it to where she left off. “I haven’t. I figured we could have dinner together and talk?”
“Sure,” I say, beginning the ascent to my room.
“Especially since Kathryn texted me. I figured you might want to, I dunno… get some things off your chest?”
I stop mid-step. “Ah, this is A Talk. With capital letters.”
“Yup.”
“Alright. Shower first.”
“By all means.”
Usually, after a productive day of work, a long, scenic bus ride and a hot shower, my mind and conscious are clear by the evening. Myspirit is settled, I’m calm and I feel at peace with life and the world around me.
Not fucking today, though.
As the hot water pelts the skin of my face and trickles down my body, I’m stressed. My back and shoulders are tight, my skin is prickly and my nature is deeply unsettled.
This is the consequence of mouthing off and expressing strong opinions—of fighting fire with fire. I burn myself, and the healing and recovery process is painful. Slow and brutal.
Ever since Oliver and Alexander came recklessly barreling into our cottage, I’ve been thrown off balance. What I went through with Josefina… After her, my life was absolute hell. It was horrific, humiliating and it took months to claw my way back to some semblance of normalcy—let alone balance, functionality andpeace.
Those two high-society purebred idiots showed up and I haven’t had any peace ever since. Not like before, when the only purebred in my space was Leoni. The singular purebred that I trust.
Still feeling drained and not refreshed at all, I step out of the shower and onto the bathmat. Steam billows all around, creating condensation on the shower curtain, counter and vanity mirror over the sink. With my hand, I wipe a messy arc against the slippery surface and stare at the vampire in the reflection.
A sharp angular face, too pale and framed by dark limp hair. The length of it pools and sticks to my shoulders like hungry leeches. Pale, cold eyes that radiate emptiness and sorrow.
Misery.
