My Book Page 6

  I lifted a brow. “Should I grab another plate, or were you planning to eat alone, Rose?”

  “Only one plate is needed. Thank you.” Again that haughty command issued from her.

  Narrowing my eyes, unsure of what exactly this was, I stuck to just the one fork. Closing the drawer I returned to her and sat. Maybe she was hungry and had no wish to share.

  I’d simply taken for granted that she would. Since that had always been our way. But Rose, I was learning, wasn’t quite the same as her many previous incarnations.

  “Thank you,” she said as she reached for the proffered utensil.

  I grunted an assent and then sat down in the chair beside her.

  I wasn’t that hungry anyway. I could eat food and I’d always enjoyed hers, but I didn’t need it.

  I reached for the decanter of blood wine my staff always kept at the ready for me in every room of the manor. I quickly poured out a finger’s worth into a crystal goblet.

  “I’ll take some too.”

  “It’s blood wine?” I said, cautioning her. Some humans tended to get squeamish about such things, but she simply shrugged.

  “It wouldn’t be my first time having it. I rather enjoy its robust profile, but if you’d rather I drank something else—”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Just wanted to make certain you were aware.” I quickly poured her a small glass. I tended to prefer my wines with some bite to them.

  “Cheers,” she said as she raised her goblet and tipped it toward mine.

  “Noroc,” I said back. She smiled softly.

  I let the goblet linger around my mouth, watching her as she took her first sip. Halfway expecting her to choke or cough, blood wine was a drink that if you weren’t prepared for it kicked back. A lot like wasabi, it hit the brain fast.

  She didn’t even so much as clear her throat. Merely raised a brow and gave me a look that clearly said, “told you.”

  With a smile on my face, I gently tipped my goblet toward her in recognition of her prowess and took a long pull.

  This was a vintage and over a hundred years old. The notes of burnt cherry and oak settled pleasantly on the back of my tongue.

  Using her fork she sliced neatly through the end of the omelet, releasing a vent of steam that wafted upward with the scents of egg and cheese, crisp vegetables and rendered meat.

  My stomach actually growled.

  Which she no doubt noticed because her lips curved upward. I ignored the pains in my stomach, it wasn’t often that I took hunger and if I didn’t eat something the sensation soon passed.

  Instead, I raised my glass. Intent on taking another sip when she surprised me. The bit of food I’d thought had been meant for her came instead toward my mouth.

  “Open,” she commanded.

  She was the only one who could ever command me. I opened without question.

  Instantly the warm bite slid upon my tongue. I tasted the salt and pepper, some garlic (good thing I wasn’t actually allergic to it), the chives, and the different textures of meat and cheese and buttery mushrooms.

  Simple fare though it was, the flavor profile was exquisite and I meant to tell her so. But then I was nearly knocked for a loop by the hidden spell. I’d seen her wave her wand over the food and had almost forgotten about it till just now.

  I tasted her spell. It was subtle yet complex. There was a golden wave of truth and calm that settled over me. But then I was also hit with compassion and empathy, both of which tasted slightly of licorice.

  Once I’d swallowed my bite, I cleared my throat and glanced at her. “You spelled me, female.”

  “Huh, seems you can detect magick. Good to know. There are so many rumors about you, I wasn’t certain which ones were true and which weren’t.”

  There was no malice in her tone and my trust in Evanora hadn’t wavered even an iota. Whatever reasons she’d had for doing as she had would come to the light soon enough.

  “Like the omelet?” she asked lightly, almost teasing me.

  I narrowed my eyes. “You mean the bite of garlic in there? Trying to kill me, little one?”

  Again she laughed and the sound was mellifluous and full of good humor. “No, I knew that one was rumor. We have a few vampires in town, garlic is just an old wives tale concocted by superstitious townsfolk of yore. Besides, I like garlic. Aids in the digestion.”

  I snorted.

  “What? I do.”

  Again she was playing with me and I still couldn’t account for why she’d spelled me, I could still taste the weave of it upon my tongue. The spell would not loose its hold on me until she demanded it to do so.

  “As you say, little one. Now, I’ve been a good host.”

  She sliced off another bite of omelet from the opposite end, the one without the meat in it and I wondered if she were a vegetarian this time around. But this time she ate of it. I actually wouldn’t have taken that second bite now that I knew what was in it. Except I understood she’d done this to let me know spell aside, what she’d done had been harmless.

  An invisible breeze feathered at her face, brushing strands of hair behind her head. She moaned. “Gods, you have the good stuff in that pantry. I was delighted when your butler showed me the way here this morning.”

  She’d claimed she’d wanted to hammer down the menu, but she didn’t seem in much of a rush to do it. I was curious where this was leading and was content to merely sip at my wine and wait her out.

  Evanora’s was a mind that I’d never been adept at figuring out completely. The big things, the things that mattered like her love for me I’d never been in any doubt of. But it was the little things about her that to this day continued to confound me completely. I knew it was partly that mystery of her that continued to draw me in and make me wild for her.

  Millennia of understanding and knowing others in such an intrinsic and personal way without them ever needing to speak a word, simply because humans were so irritatingly predictable, made them tedious to be around.

  But I’d never been able to guess her mind and it was her ability to keep me constantly on my toes and challenge my preconceived ideals that always left me loyal and faithful to her and only her.

  She was my greatest treasure.

  “Now,” she said after lying down her fork and primly smoothing out the wrinkles of her skirt. “You’ve seen that I’ve taken a bite. I know you know there was a spell laced in the omelet, but you hopefully also understand that I mean you no harm in what I’m about to do.”

  I’d heard variations of these words throughout time, and generally they’d been followed by some nefarious scheme or another, meant to destroy the great evil that was me once and for all.

  Usually it involved lacing my wine with invisible chemicals that would render me useless proceeded by a stake through my heart, burial, fire once. All very ghastly methods of tortures I’d eventually always come back from.

  I was the first vampire.

  Which meant I could never be killed.

  Few ever believed that, thought it another one of the tall tales associated with my person. But it was one of my legends that was actually true.

  I’d be a trifle irritated if my beloved Evanora tried such with me, but I’d get over it, I could never bear a grudge against her long. I glanced into my goblet, and scented. If she had drugged me, I couldn’t detect it.

  With a slight shrug I tipped the goblet back and drank the rest. Wouldn’t do to waste a drop. The stuff was bloody expensive.

  She laughed. “You’re acting like I’m about to produce a stake and stab you through the heart with it.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time it’s been done to me, Rose. I assure you.”

  Again she laughed. “Gods, you must keep some bloody awful friends.”

  “You have no idea.”

  Her humor floated airily around us and despite myself, my lips twitched with mirth. Last night she’d looked pale and unwell, but this morning just in the short time we’d been together her ch
eeks were rosy and there was a luminosity to her flesh that almost made her seem like she glowed.

  She was truly the most perfect creature in the existence of ever. No matter which form she returned to me in, she was always perfection for me.

  The smile slowly vanished from her rose red lips and her look turned studious and serious. “I have questions. And… I’m not sure you’d answer them all.”

  “Ah,” I murmured, flexing my tongue against the invisible netting holding it fast. “Ingenious plan, little one. Getting me to lower my guard.”

  She grimaced. “I ate the spell too.”

  I lifted a brow. Hearing the unspoken words. I too would get a crack at asking her whatever I wished to know.

  But what she didn’t know was that I already knew everything there was to know about her soul. She might be a different woman in many ways, but in others she was exactly the same. She was my Evanora.

  “I prefer to unravel the truths of someone slowly. Enjoying each reveal bit by bit, like a gift slowly unwrapped. But, I will not deny you your questions, little one. Ask me whatever you’d like. Now that you know I cannot deceive you.”

  She sighed deeply. “Gods, you make me sound awful. I’m sorry. It’s not what I meant, truly. And it seemed like a ripping good idea at three in the morning. I…I…I…”

  She winced and sealed her lips shut, squinting her eyes tightly closed and my heart squeezed at hearing the sound of her painful affliction.

  She rarely stuttered around me, the fact that she just had revealed to me just how much this bothered her.

  Not wishing to see her so distressed any longer I reached over, took her hand in mine and squeezed gently.

  “You can ask me anything, Rose. I vow to you that I will answer willingly, spelled or no.”

  Again she winced. “Gods, I’m sorry. Sleep deprivation often makes me do and think foolish things. I shouldn’t have spelled you, I just wasn’t sure after last night if you’d answer any of my questions. Of which I have many. I am sorry, Dracula. I’d be furious if someone had done to me what I’d just done to you.”

  I shrugged. Truth was, it showed a lack of faith in me, and yet I couldn’t entirely blame her either. She and I had walked so many different paths together and I’d learned through our countless lives that trust wasn’t something easily earned by her. I had to be willing to be exposed and open to her before she’d be willing to reciprocate in kind.

  It wasn’t like I was Santa. I wasn’t actually a good person. I was the monster the rest of the world accused me of being. Just never with her or those she loved most.

  I still held her hand, and decided that since she didn’t seem to mind my touch, I’d rather like to be even closer. I twined our fingers together and using my thumb stroked the soft flesh between her thumb and finger.

  “Ask your questions, Rose.”

  She sighed deeply, but opened her mouth. “Do we know one another? I mean…” she laughed, sounding as though she were mortified by her question. Her cheeks were stained a dark red color now and she was glancing down at her mostly untouched plate of food. “I know that question must sound exceedingly foolish to you. We’ve obviously only just met. It’s just.” Her brows furrowed and she finally glanced at me, a note of consternation blazed in her glittering eyes. “When I’m with you I feel as though…as though…argh.” She shook her head and glanced furiously down at her lap. “I’m sorry. I’m hearing myself talk and it sounds so ridiculous even to my ears. I’ve not gotten near enough sleep and I think I’m—”

  Taking a deep breath, I silently wondered whether I were making the most colossal mistake of my life right now, but… “We do know one another, Rose. You’re not wrong.”

  Instantly, she stopped talking. Her teeth audibly snapped shut and she stared at me with large, doe eyes. Softly shaking her head, as though in denial of what even she undoubtedly understood somewhere inside of herself had to be truth.

  “Wha…what?” she mumbled and again I sighed.

  I’d never had this conversation with her so soon into our reintroduction phase in the past. Always believing that her mind simply would refuse to accept the obvious. I’d moved slowly, or as slowly as I’d been able. I’d clearly not moved slow enough with Paul.

  Thinking of him instantly brought a wave of doubt and fear that I was doing the right thing now. And because of that I clutched at her fingers a smidge too tight.

  She hissed and glanced down. Contrite, I quickly released her and held up my hands.

  “I am sorry, Rose. I was thinking of my own demons. Gods, I should not be doing this. Not already, and yet… I’ve never been able to deny you, female.”

  She was still shaking her head, her hands now gone from my sight as she’d placed them primly on her lap. “How is this possible? Why do I feel such a connection and bond to you? Why for years have I walked past this manor, always knowing just which room had to be yours? Why for years have I had this terrible feeling of wanderlust, and desperation to spread my wings and fly far far away until the very moment you entered into my world and suddenly I am calm and centered and no longer plagued by these desperate yearnings? What is this between us that feels at once so familiar?”

  I could read the plea in her eyes that I not think her silly, or ridiculous. Saw the burning shame of mortification at her confessions. But what she didn’t know and couldn’t understand was that I got it. I understood these feelings because I felt them too.

  I’d not wanted to have this conversation so soon and yet I knew I’d arrived at the crossroads. It was time, because she demanded it of me.

  “Rose Monroe,” I murmured and stared deep into her eyes, “what if I told you I’ve known you almost all your lives.”

  She blinked.

  “Lives? Lives,” she whispered.

  She didn’t correct me that we’d only just met, or even ask me to clarify why I’d used the plural rather than the singular. And I wondered if maybe deep down somewhere in the deepest depths of her immortal soul something within had finally clicked.

  “You and I have been lovers off and on for millennia. Your name when I first met you was Evanora,” I shivered, squeezing my eyes shut as I allowed myself to become fully sucked into our past. “And you are the greatest love of my life, as I am yours.”

  Chapter 5

  Rose

  I listened to him in a state of near shock as he began to speak of a tale that was at once foreign and familiar to me.

  Describing me through the ages. Shocked as I learned that I wasn’t always female. That sometimes I’d been from other continents entirely.

  Once I’d been a surly sea pirate that’d hailed from Trinidad. Another a great and legendary scholar. A poet. A farmer. A renaissance painter. A soiled dove. On and on and on he spoke of my past lives and every time he did the need to reject the truth would come upon me but then he’d tell me more and I swear but in my mind and heart I began to recall it all.

  And images would even sometimes fill my head. Dracula and I in the woods, the mountains, the prairies, the jungles, aboard a ship, inside a monastery—that romance had been scandalous indeed, I’d been thrown out of the nunnery a disgraced and fallen woman—and then he began to speak of Paul.

  My last incarnation.

  I’d been a balding and semi-unattractive male. Except as he described Paul to me I knew that was not how he’d seen me.

  “He had the voice of an angel. To hear him sing had been a great honor. All came from far and wide, he loved the stage and the stage loved him too. He could transform into different people. Women. Men. Even a teenager once. And threw himself into his roles with vigor and zeal so that I felt I was constantly with someone different and new and fresh. My gods, Rose, I cannot begin to describe to you how awe-inspiring he’d been.”

  I laughed, shocked that I wasn’t jealous of hearing his obvious love for each and every one of his paramours. And yet how could I be jealous? Because they’d each been me. I’d been his great love all along.

/>   The stories of him having a new lover in each port he arrived in. Of him living an indulgent and decadent life. Of him hosting balls and soirees late into the night, they’d all been true. But not in the way I’d imagined. Not in the way most people would imagine, I’d suspect.

  “You loved him a great deal, did you not?”

  He paused in his story, his eyes that’d been distant and faraway as he relieved the past, now turned toward me and went from sparkling and joyous to serious and heated.

  And without warning he reached over and gently, tenderly, dare I think it, even reverently glided a finger down my cheek. I shivered at the heat of his touch.

  “Genevieve. Abigail. Lucias. Gaius. Anna. Paul. Evanora. Rose…and so many more,” he looked at me meaningfully, “I’ve loved them all.”

  I trembled, hearing the great truth ringing through his words. As impossible as all of this was for me to believe, I also knew it was true. And not just because of the spell I’d laced into our food. But because deep, deep down in the farthest trenches of my soul I recognized every aspect of me in what he’d told. Up until tonight I’d not had much of an opinion on reincarnation, but now I was one hundred percent convinced of its verity. Because I saw my lives like a movie reel scrolling perpetually through my mind.

  Saw me as that long-haired pirate with sun-kissed skin, face tipped toward the sky wearing nothing but a smile as droplets of ocean water sprayed my front and my dark lover held me from behind. Saw me as a woman wearing nothing but the king’s jewels, lying atop a bed of furs surrounded by the lush scent of perfumes and oils… my lover never far from my side. On and on and on, I caught glimpses of a past that was as real as my present.

  “Would you like to see yourself?” he asked, interrupting the flow of memories. I turned toward him, a puzzled pinch to my brows as I tried to disengage from the now constant deluge of memories so that I could be present with him.

  “What? You have pictures? Of me?”

  “Some are pictures,” his voice was a dark, smoky drawl that made my blood run hot, “most are paintings.”