Page 203 of Vampires of Eden

I like Quinault strawberries because of their deep red color and heart shape, which truly embodies my intention with this whole project.

It’s early morning. The sky is charcoal gray and heavy with rain. It beats against the glass ceiling of my greenhouse and whispers amongst the leaves of the trees in the surrounding forest, like the swishing sound of a drum brush in a luscious jazz melody. Nature serenading me with its opulent soundtrack.

Mygreenhouse.

Because I own it. On paper. And the modest cottage beside it.

The Royal Order approved that part of Alexander’s proposalsurprisingly fast. I’m not sure if he pushed that particular legal addendum because it had special meaning to me, but I’m grateful.

I chose a parcel of real estate that’s about forty minutes outside of Central by car. The nearest local village, Nantshire, is another thirty minutes west. This patch of forest is a kind of no-man’s land and I really like it that way because it feelsprivate. We’re nestled amongst the trees, down a narrow road and overlooking the low-rolling hills synonymous with Eden’s countryside. Roland and Kathryn and the safe house are only fifteen-minutes away.

The door to the greenhouse clicks and swings open behind me. A warm gust of citrusy, earthy wind mixed with rain sweeps across my senses. Alexander is there, dressed handsomely in a button-down, slacks and cute loafers because he has a meeting in Central this morning.

He shakes out the oversized black umbrella dripping with rain water and sets it against the doorframe as it swings shut. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

He stalks toward me and past the elevated beds of vegetables and herbs lining the walkway. “I’m heading out soon. I left the coffee pot on for you. Did you come straight out here this morning?”

“I did.”

“Without tea or coffee?” he muses. “You are very excited about this mysterious project that you refuse to let me in on.”

“I am.” He steps up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder, peeking at the garden compost full of neatly arranged popsicle sticks. I’m measuring and spacing. As of this morning, I have everything that I need to start planting. I got the strawberry plants from a reputable vendor in Bruck first thing. I snuck out of bed before Alexander so I could meet my vendor downstairs and take the plants into the greenhouse to hide them.

Strawberries are Alexander’s favorite fruit. He hasn’t said as much directly, but the context clues are there. I remember how hepractically devoured an entire bowl of them the first time we ate at Kat and Roland’s together. He brought them to the vineyard cottage when I was sick, and now, any time we visit a village weekend market, he buys them if they’re in season.

He likes all fruit, really—except for oranges, which I find painfully ironic. I told him that his essence reminds me of oranges and summer. He said that was weird because he almost never eats oranges. Apparently, he doesn’t mind the taste, but dislikes the sticky mess that they make on his fingers.

I told himImake a sticky mess on his fingers all the time, but he still likes me. He told me that was completely different and to stop making weird comparisons. We laughed.

Anyway, I want to surprise him with the strawberries. So I’m keeping it a secret until I know I can harvest them successfully.

“The union meeting tonight is at six, right?” he asks.

“It is. Leoni and Raphael are coming to get me and we’re all going together. Will you be back in time for us to have dinner?”

He sighs. “I hope so. I’ll text you. You know how it goes when I have to stop by the estate.”

I grin. “Yeah, I know.” Lady Victoria Kendrick is on an awkward crusade to re-build her relationship with her son. Alexander isn’t super into it, but he’s polite, of course. He needs more time to heal and that’s okay. I’ve gone with him a handful of times and his mother actually makes an effort to have conversations with me. I think that counts as progress. Although, Alexander did have to tell her immediately that I do, in fact, understand Spanish fluently. Even if I don’t speak it.

After Alexander and I had our Coming Out party, so to speak, a lot happened.

On a positive note, The Summer Fête was a huge success. Instead of the ostentatious show of purebred wealth and privilege that was last year’s celebration, this year showcased local Eden vendors, only. Similar to our party, the streets of Hollywick were filled with purebreds and ranked vamps alike, all peaceably intermingling and buying up the diverse array of goods.

We sold a ton of wine from the vineyard at the event, and we’re on track to have a full harvest season this year with an ample, well-paid staff. I’m still not officially a business owner, but we’re working on it. One fix at a time.

On a shitty note, once he was removed from the Royal Order, Cherrington fled Eden. The bastard packed up his estate house in the night and left. It sits empty now. According to Eden law, if the house sits vacant for five years, the land and property will revert to the Royal Order. Alexander and I are already pushing for the property to be used as another safe house for ranked vampires. The clock is ticking.

On a neutral note, Leoni and Mayor Hart asked if I’d take on a leadership position for the developing union board. I get why they’d want that. Me, partner to the allegorical King of Eden, working with the union in an official capacity. It sends a distinct message. That we’re not abiding by the old-school rules anymore and this new era of Royal Order leadership will be different.

I get it, but I don’t think it’s necessary. Alexander and his peers send that message by themselves with the laws they’re continuously working very hard to change. Plus, I hate politics. I agreed to sit in the union meetings and give my opinion when asked, but having a leadership position sounds like a pain in the ass. No thanks. I’d rather be planting strawberries.

Or playing the piano. Which I do now, two nights a week at the Royal Opera House to a sold-out crowd (for the past two months, mind you).

Alexander never misses a show. If he has time, he even comes to my rehearsals.

He deserves his own personal supply of strawberries.