Page 20 of Wynter's Bite

Affection... Bethany turned the word over in her mind before lifting the locket from the box. Every vestige of her heart, mind, and soul knew that she would only feel affection for Justus. It was only right that he have it. Recalling another romantic tradition, Bethany quietly slid her drawer open and pulled out a tiny pair of sewing shears. She then lifted her braid, snipped off a lock of hair at the end, and placed it inside the locket before placing the necklace in her pocket.

With that accomplished, Bethany took three deep breaths before carefully working her window open. The branch she used to leap to seemed further away than she remembered. She shook her head. That was silly. If anything, the branch would be closer, as the tree had to have grown over the years. Sure enough, once she stretched her leg out, while maintaining a tight grip on the window frame, her boot easily found the solid surface of the branch. The next step was trickier, as she had to reach out and grasp another branch to fully begin her descent. With her childhood memory guiding her, she easily found the correct branch and reflexively crouched to push the window shut.

Slowly, Bethany worked her way down the tree, not releasing her pent-up breath until her feet were safely on the ground. Checking her little watch, her heart stuttered as she saw that it was already a quarter to midnight. Looking around to make certain no one was up and about, she took off running at a very unladylike pace, only slowing when she neared the orchard.

Even as she walked, she maintained a brisk pace while smoothing tendrils of hair that escaped her plait beneath her ears. Despite her best efforts, it seemed she would look a fright when she met with Justus after all.

But the moment she spotted a vague, masculine outline leaning against a cherry tree, Bethany forgot all about her appearance as her heart threatened to beat itself out from under her ribs. She could scarcely fathom that she was actually doing this, meeting a man alone beneath the cover of darkness.

“I thought you would not come.” His deep voice rumbled in the night, seeming to make the leaves around them tremble.

“You said this was important,” she said, hugging her arms as a sudden chill overcame her.

“Come closer.” His tone was rife with urgency and command that she’d never heard from him before.

A shiver ran up the back of her neck, as she took several shaky steps towards him, even as some primal instinct urged her to flee in the opposite direction. Though that same instinct was also certain he’d catch her anyway. A chill wind made the leaves above them whisper.

Bethany shoved aside her trepidation. Justus was her friend.

As if reaffirming that fact, he reached out and took her hands. “Before I tell you why I asked you to meet me, I want you to trust that I will never hurt you.”

“I know.” Though the fact that he felt he needed to make such a statement filled her with alarm.

“The next thing I wish to say is that I love you, Bethany Mead.” Her name sounded sweet and velvety coming from his lips. “In all my long years of life, I have never met a woman as beautiful, as intelligent, courageous and sweet as you. You’ve warmed my heart that I’d long since thought barren.”

“I love you as well, Justus.” Bethany’s heart soared to finally voice that sentiment aloud. But then something he’d said gave her pause. “What do you mean, ‘in your long years?’ How old are you exactly?”

“Older than I look.” He chuckled drily. Then his features turned tender as he stroked her cheek with his knuckles. Her skin warmed as she realized he wasn’t wearing gloves. He studied her, intent and solemn. “Do you love me truly? Enough to keep a momentous secret if I reveal it?”

She nodded and leaned closer to him. “I do.”

“I wish I could pay proper courtship to you. I want you to be my wife, for us to spend the rest our nights together. But such a thing may be impossible if you find my secret repugnant.” Unbelievably, he shivered and looked at his boots with an aching, morose frown.

Bethany frowned, joy at his saying words she’d longed to hear since their first kiss warring with grief at the agony in his voice. “I don’t think it possible for me to find anything about you repugnant.”

“Do not be so certain.” His brows lowered, his mouth forming a grave line. “Do you believe in mythical creatures?”

The question was so startling, she giggled. “Do you mean like fairies? Are you a fey prince like Oberon?”

Justus shook his head, still solemn. “No. I am a vampire.”

Then he opened his mouth to reveal sharp, white fangs that gleamed in the moonlight.

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