Page 27 of Love Immortal

Twenty-Six

June 1891

Transylvania

T he count paced around his quarters restlessly. Time was slipping away, and still, he was no closer to making a decision. He was departing in three short days, yet his human was still in the castle, and his previous plans to harm him now seemed unconscionable. But what was he going to do? Was there something he could offer that didn’t mean separation for the two of them? Did he have the courage to? He didn’t know, but maybe, maybe…

He knew where to find his human at this hour—and most hours, really. The library was his favorite place in the castle, as it was the count’s. It was in that room that the count had learned the strange musical language named after angels and where, decades later, his favorite human taught him the intricacies of proper pronunciation. There was only so much the count could pick up from books; he needed someone to practice with. And practice they did.

“If I get it right, you shall kiss me,” the count had said, dark fire molten in his eyes. That had been the first time they’d played what would soon become his favorite English-learning game. “And if I am wrong, I shall remove an article of your clothing.”

His human had laughed and flushed a ravishingly deep shade of red. “So I’m the one being disciplined whether you’re a good student or not?”

In response, the count had only grinned, all teeth and a little bit of danger. “Exactly right. Welcome to Transylvania, my friend.” Then he’d pushed the human up against the shelves and shown him just how wicked the local Transylvanian customs were for misbehaving teachers.

The count’s pronunciation had improved by leaps and bounds in just a few weeks. But it was nearly time to stop his lessons and put his knowledge to the test in the country he had dreamed of seeing for so long.

His human smiled when the count entered the library. “Are you here to play our game?” he asked, leaning suggestively against the writing desk and jutting out his hip in a manner most flirtatious.

For a moment, the count was tempted. But…

“Not today, I’m afraid,” he said, folding his hands behind his back. He was uncharacteristically nervous. It had been a long time—decades, maybe—since he’d felt anything akin to this, and that in itself was disconcerting. “There is something I wish to discuss with you.”

The human’s eyes widened. Perhaps the seriousness of the count’s tone had alerted him to where the discussion was headed. Or maybe he had simply guessed what the count was thinking, as he so often did.

“You asked me,” the count continued, “how long you were required to remain here. As you know, I’m planning to travel to England soon?—”

His human’s face lit up. “Are you saying I can finally go home?” he asked with a little too much excitement, and the way he said the word home created an odd prickle in the count’s chest.

This wasn’t what the count meant, but he still didn’t know how to get the proper words out. He was severely out of practice when it came to being vulnerable, to asking for things instead of taking them.

His human continued, smiling unawares, “Mina will be so happy to see me. And there must be so much work piling up at Exeter for me. Not to boast, but Mr. Hawkins says I’m indispensable these days.”

The rest of his human’s words faded into a meaningless string of vowels and consonants as he babbled on about his delightful life back in England. Only one stood out.

“Mina?” the count echoed, stunned.

“Why, yes. We are supposed to be married when I return. She must be heartsick by now.” His human let out an anxious laugh.

A strange coldness seized the count. This conversation was going disastrously wrong. “You still intend to marry her?” he asked.

His human nodded. “I am a man of honor. I cannot break Mina’s heart. She loves me. You should meet her sometime. Maybe after you’re settled?”

The count staggered a step back. “But what about…us?” he fumbled, still unable to name it, this fragile, aching craving between them that had taken over his soul, proving in a single sweep that he still had one, despite what the humans at the bottom of the mountain believed.

His human looked down, avoiding his gaze.

“What about us?” he asked quietly, his tone reflecting for the first time the desolate desperation that had been building in the air between them. “You know we can’t go on like this. I have a life in England. A career. I can’t be…” He licked his lips, stalling. “I’m not you , Dacian. There are rules for people like me. I can’t disregard the whole of society. But you”—he stepped closer and put his hand softly on the count’s cheek—“this month with you—I will never forget it. It was a wonderful dream,” he added, solemn now. “But eventually, every dream must end. It is time for me to wake.”

The count’s lips twisted. The chill that had been spreading through his limbs suddenly turned to frost, plunging the temperature around them. He was being left behind after everything he’d done. Again. Used like a tool, not treated as a person. Not treasured. Not loved. Nobody cared about his heart being broken. It was meant to be used up and then forgotten for the rest of eternity.

Even though it was just past midday outside, the library darkened as though cloaked in dense shadow. Without realizing he was doing so, the count rose into the air.

“You’re wrong, Jonathan. This is no dream. I am your nightmare!” His growl resonated off the library walls like a cathedral bell. As though struck, the human dropped to his knees, eyes wide with terror.

With shadows swirling around him, the count roared, “How dare you, human? Do you know what I am? I am the plague of Transylvania, the dark voivode who commanded legions. I sent the bravest to their knees to beg for my mercy. And you! You dare deny me?”

“Dacian, please!” Jonathan stuttered, his face white with horror.

In response, the count’s eyes only blazed brighter, like hell’s inferno. Towering above the human, he said with all the cruelty he’d cultivated for centuries, “Make no mistake: she does not love you. You have no one. No fiancée. No friends who care about you. I will prove it to you.”

The human shook. “What do you mean?”

The count flashed his teeth victoriously. “You’ll see. And don’t you dare think about leaving here,” he warned, snarling like a pack of ravenous wolves. “You will stay in my castle as long as I will it.”

With that, the shadows slithered back into his body, and he retreated from the library, sealing the door shut behind him.

“Let me out of here!” the human screamed, throwing himself at the door. “Let me out!”

But the count continued down the dark hallway, never looking back. He’d order the sisters to guard his prisoner; he was too busy for that now.

The count was going to England, just as he’d planned, and by the time he returned, the human would surely change his mind.