Page 198 of Vampires of Eden

“Anything else, my love?”

Helplessly, I smile even harder. “Nope, not from me.”

“Alright, let’s do it.”

The sun disappears behind the mountain range as Raphael drives us to our secret destination. The sky is a moody indigo and the stars seem to sparkle much brighter than usual. Alexander holds my hand the entire way and I sense his nervousness. I grip his palm back in assurance. “We’re okay,” I whisper, not wanting to catch Raphael’s attention from the front seat. “Everything will be good.” I can feel it.

We end up in Hollywick just as dusk melts into night. The car slowly traverses the narrow village roads and the surrounding cottages glow warmly with their signature stained-glass windows—a beautiful kaleidoscope of color and light pitched against the darkness.

Raphael parks the car just outside of an arched entrance made of stone. The structure is covered in crawling leaves and vines, and a mysterious, ethereal white light emanates from within the space beyond. I can’t see the source of the light because the road curves just before the walkway. It’s as if we’ve stopped beside a portal to another world.

“You’ll have to walk from here, gentlemen,” Raphael announces.

Something in Alexander’s nature brightens and warms. Where there had been anxiety just moments ago, now, there’s delight. He looks out the window past me with his golden-brown eyes wide. “Are we—Is the party being held in the grove?” he asks. Suddenly, he reminds me of a child filled with wonder.

“Not the grove,” Raphael says. “The conservatory.”

Alexander marvels. His eyes flicker between me and Raphael and his lips are slightly parted. “R-really?”

“You dummy,” Raphael teases. “We know what you like. Have a little faith in us! Not everyone feels like your mom or that creepCherrington, you know. In fact, I’d say they’re the minority. Get out and start walking, everyone’s waiting!”

Alexander flinches, then reaches for the handle. “Wait a second,” he says to me, letting go of my hand as he slips out of the car. He closes his door, then walks around to the opposite side to open mine. He offers his hand and I like this very much. I slip my palm into his and he helps to pull me from my seat. When I’m out of the vehicle, I fluff out my cape and he assists, making sure the hem is clear of the door before we close it.

“I have to go park the car. I’ll see you both inside.” Raphael waves as he drives off, leaving us alone in front of the whimsical archway.

“This is the same conservatory that we walked to before, yes?” I ask, once it’s quiet. “The one with the fountain.”

“It is,” he confirms. “When we were here at the market, we came in through one of the side entrances. This is the front.”

Crickets, owls and frogs fill the air with their nighttime song as we walk toward the arch. The village is otherwise silent. No one else is around and the atmosphere hums with something mysterious. We turn the corner into the archway and I stop because my heart skips a beat.

The path is lined on either side with hornbeam trees. When we were here before, they were all naked because it was late winter. Now, they’re lush, glorious and studded with white faery lights. The tiny bulbs practically float amongst the leaves like magic—like brilliant sparkles littered within a sea of midnight green.

“You described this to me, didn’t you?” I ask, awestruck.

“I did,” he says, his voice breaking. Worried, I turn to him and his irises are glassy and wet in the otherworldly light glowing from the trees. He puts his hand over his mouth and shakes his head. The onyx band shimmers on his finger, reflecting the enchanting lights like stars in a solar system.

I shift in front of him as a tear slides down his cheek. “Rabbit?”

“I-I just need a second,” he says, muffled. “Just onesecond.” He keeps hold of my hand, but steps away from me as if to hide his overwhelmed emotional state.

I step into his body to embrace him firmly around his shoulders. Alexander snakes his arms around my waist beneath my cloak, pulling me closer.

We stand together, entwined beneath the glittery hornbeam trees on this enchanted evening. In a moment that, a few short months ago, neither of us thought was possible. Him with his broken heart, insecurities and impending forced arrangement. Me with my bitterness, detachment and denial.

Somehow, despite everything, we’ve made it here. Trusting each other. Assured of our love.

With his face buried in my neck, I can feel the wet heat of his silent tears. I keep my voice low as I stroke his upper back. “Shall we carry on?”

He lifts, sniffing. “Yeah, sorry—shit, I’m being such a baby.”

“You are not,” I say, wiping the tear stains from his cheeks with my thumbs. “I love that you’re not afraid to feel. It’s beautiful and I’m always learning a lot from you. Come on.” I offer my bent elbow and he slips his arm through.

We walk down the pathway and eventually encounter the open and circular space with the mossy fountain. It glows with spotlights that morph from blue to purple, then red to orange. Yellow to green. It reminds me of the stained-glass mosaics featured on the cottage windows within the village. The fountain is on and spouting water high against the dark sky, and here, too, we’re surrounded by tiny lights tucked within the trees.

“We had an important conversation by this fountain,” I say as we casually stroll past, absorbed in this dreamlike ambiance. “Do you remember?”

He laughs. “I believe I asked you what love is? We had a lot of important conversations that day—like full-on impromptu psychoanalysis.”