Page 4 of Vampires of Eden

“You’ve just aptly described about three-quarters of the vampires in Eden.”

I reach for the door handle, but Raphael grabs my wrist, making me pause. “Formalities,” he says. “This is a staunchly traditional house.”

“Right.” I step back and give him access to the door.

Raphael reaches but stops. He glances at me with a quick lift of his chin. “Breathe.”

Rolling my shoulders, I inhale deeply with my eyes closed, then blow it out.

Lately, I’m cracking.

Putting on a polite, smiling façade is extremely difficult when my mind and emotions are in chaos.

I need answers. For someone to explain why everything has gone wrong in my life. Why—even though I did everything they told me to—has the situation fallen apart?

How do I let go of this… what is it? Grief? I don’t know how to deal with this at all.

With his knuckles, Raphael gently knocks against one of the thick wooden doors. When we’re beckoned inside, he straightens his posture and steps across the threshold with a handsome dignity I’ve watched him exude a million times—like an elegant costume he seamlessly slips in and out of. His diction softens. His vowels lengthen and his tone becomes more ceremonial.

“Please excuse the interruption,” he says quietly to the primary butler in his most velvety and posh accent. “Prince Alexander would like a word with Lady Kendrick.”

“Yes, of course. This way, your highness.” The tall, portly butler bows, then gestures for me to follow. Raphael and me exchange a glance, but the transition is smooth as I step forward and he returns to the hallway before closing the door behind him. He’ll wait in the corridor.

Formalities. This is a traditional house where every vampire has their place.

The hazy smoke of expensive cigars is more permeated here. It hangs in the air like a veil amidst the opulence. More velvet tufted armchairs in rich and moody colors—deep plum and maroon. Impeccably polished surfaces recast the subtle lighting like strategically placed mirrors, lending a sparkly glamor to the atmosphere. Crystal glasses clink and artificial laughter bubbles from every darkened corner.

I hear my mother’s distinct giggle as we approach a set of sofas facing each other near the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the outside terrace. The view showcases the nighttime lights of Central Eden twinkling below us and amongst the rolling hills. The estate we’re visiting is high up along the mountain ridge, like we’re floating above the clouds.

“My lady, Prince Alexander is here to speak with you,” the butler announces, bowing. My mother’s head lolls to the side as she casually lies back against the plum couch. Her hair spills like a glossy river of honey. Not quite blonde, not quite brown, but impeccably rich in its indecisive color against her olive skin tone.

“Hello, my darling.” Her well-practiced accent is perfectly light and bouncy as she lifts her head and adjusts her position. As she moves, the fabric of her pale, aqua-colored dress shimmers with a polychromatic spectrum. She looks like an affluent mermaid. “Are you enjoying yourself with your friends in the game room?”

Am I twelve? “With your permission, may I be excused for theevening? Since Father came after us and on his own, I could take the car with Raphael and return to the estate.”

The slightest pause rests between us. As far as moments go, it is brief. Minutia.

However, I know my mother and the intensity of this slight pause speaks volumes.

Effortlessly, she smiles, gesturing toward the couch across from her. “But sweetheart, everyone is so thrilled to have you in attendance tonight. Lord Cherrington was just expressing that he sincerely wishes to speak with you following the game. Isn’t that right, your grace?”

“Good evening, Prince Alexander.” Lord Cherrington offers a sly smile, then bows politely from his seated position, careful not to spill the amber liquid in his glass.

Lord Cherrington is tall, broad and has a thick, wavy mane of silver hair. He is aging well, but he is also ten years older than my goddamned father.

I nod in his direction. “Hello, Lord Cherrington.”

“It is a pleasure to set my eyes upon you, young master. I would greatly appreciate some of your time tonight? I doubt we’ll have the opportunity to speak at the board meeting tomorrow. You always leave quickly once we’ve adjourned.” He swirls his drink with a casual twist of his wrist. The large sphere of ice clinks against the glass like a chime.

“I apologize, my lord, but I’m not feeling well tonight. Perhaps another time.” Intentionally, I avoid posing this as a question because I don’t want to spend time with Lord Cherrington. What he wants from me is perfectly clear—like a wolf pouncing on a freshly wounded animal.

“Shall we arrange something following the meeting tomorrow?” he persists. “If the prince’s schedule allows on such short notice, of course. With the dissolution of your engagement, I imagine you’re suddenly faced with much free time. I was just telling your mother that I’d love to finally settle down soon. And, well, since we both find ourselvesavailable…”

With one of his eyebrows raised, he takes a sip from his glass. His heated gaze never leaves my face.

The insinuation is heavy. Even worse, the intense vivid irises of my mother and every other vampire within earshot has zeroed in on me, awaiting my response.

I swallow hard and straighten my spine, knowing what Ishouldsay, but unable to bring myself to utter the words. “Unfortunately, my schedule is full tomorrow. I don’t think I’ll be available?—”