by A. L. Singer
I fell to the pillow below me, closed my eyes, and heard Sorin say my name in an annoyed tone. “Fine!” I yelled and shot out of bed, forgetting that he had removed my jeans earlier. I looked to the door, but he wasn’t there. I didn’t feel overly self-conscious about being half naked in my own bedroom. I blew out all the candles on the walls. Leaving my door open, I went to my closet.
I moved each article of clothing from one side of the closet to the other, trying to find what I had picked to wear. I had never realized it before, but all my clothes were dark. Sorin had pointed it out days before, but now that I looked at them myself, there was even less color than I had thought. I stepped back and looked at my closet’s contents. Lots of black and grays hung before me. The clothes that were colors were all dark shades--deep plum, rich dark green, deep peacock, and burgundy. I shrugged, finally finding the wine-colored dress, taking it out, and laying it out on the bed. I reached onto a high shelf for the shoes I wanted. The box that had accompanied my gift from overseas was still sitting next to them. I brought the shoes from the shelf and set them on the floor next to the bed. I stood at the foot of the bed and peered into my closet, staring at the package just sitting there. A part of me was dying to open it to satisfy my curiosity. But I fought the urge, turned away, and dressed.
I took my time getting ready. I pulled my hair back into a loose bun, letting a few curls hang free. I applied a smoky shadow and pale lip color. I looked into the mirror when I was finished and sighed, unhappy. My cheeks had absolutely no color, which had never been an issue before, so I didn’t own blush. I considered rubbing a little lipstick into them but abandoned that idea, reaching up and giving them a few good pinches instead. Sorin called my name from downstairs. I slapped the bathroom light switch and wiggled my heels onto my feet.
He stood in the foyer waiting for me, one hand behind his back. He wore a charcoal lightweight sweater and black slacks. My heart skipped a few beats as Sorin watched me descend the steps. His eyes started at my feet and slowly moved up. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks and was glad I had only pinched them. I stopped a few feet in front of him and spun slowly, enjoying his eyes on me. As I faced him again, he was holding a single short rose for me. I smiled and took it from him. Looking at it more closely, I saw the thorns had been removed. I raised an eyebrow at him. He smiled and removed the rose from my hand. “No thorns for you,” he said, tucking the flower behind my ear. His fingers left the rose, traced my face, and then slid from my chin. The simple act of affection made my thoughts scramble.
I laughed nervously. “Are you trying to court me, Sorin?” I’d used that terminology because it was something I would expect from him.
He closed the small space between us and placed my open palm against his chest. He leaned in close, and a shiver climbed my spine as his lips brushed my earlobe. “Mia … we are past the need of courting.” My heart started to race at the insinuation I was already his. He lightly kissed my cheek as I moved away. He kept my hand in his, opened the front door for me, and we stepped outside.
Once at his SUV, I paused and took a step back. I hadn’t noticed his windows earlier today as I passed it in the driveway. They were more than tinted; they were black. “These cannot be even close to legal,” I said is as I touched them. He stepped to my side and opened the door for me, every inch the gentleman. I slid inside and settled myself in the seat.
“I could influence any law enforcement of yours to let me go with a simple warning,” he remarked.
We drove for better than a half hour to the city. Talking about the curtains, he said they would block the necessary sunlight for him. He complimented my dress, and I mentioned noticing the color scheme of my clothes. I was surprised to hear that some of my tastes or interests were very similar to his. My preference for dark colors, my love of art, my never feeling overly social. All were probably not coincidences. He explained that some of my personality traits could be because of him. Sorin’s voice grew bleak, and he apologized for not completely knowing the complications he might have caused my mother and me all those years ago. He finally pulled to the side of the street and parked.
I knew if I did not exit quickly, Sorin would get the door for me again. So I opened the door myself, swinging my legs out. He was at my side, looking disappointed. He held his hand out for me, and I took it, exiting the rest of the way. “Sorin, it is sweet of you, really … but you do not need to open every door for me or always lead.” I tried to say it without bruising his ego.
He gave me a half smile and nodded. “I will try to remember that in the future, Mia.” He shut the door, and I could instantly smell food in the air. A huge brick building took up most of the block. It looked like an old factory or a large school building; it only had a few windows.
My stomach growled before I knew it and my hand flew to it out of habit. Sorin chuckled, and I bit my lip. “Sorry … I guess my appetite is returning,” I half apologized.
He started down the sidewalk and paused when I didn’t follow. “What is it, Mia?” His forehead showed a few wrinkles of puzzlement.
“We’re going to dinner,” I blurted out. “I mean, we’re going to a restaurant with food.” He didn’t understand what I was trying to spit out, understandably. I stepped to him and whispered, “What I am asking is, will I be the only one eating?” I assumed he didn’t eat real food. He had said the mere smell of it was abrasive at times. “You said the smell of food. …”
He offered his arm to me, and I slipped my fingers into the inside of his elbow. We walked leisurely as Sorin explained. “Yes, the smell of food can be unpleasant at times, but if it means your eating a whole meal tonight … I will gladly watch and endure. But I can eat food.” He waited as surprise and confusion filled my face. He smiled. “Only it would sit in my stomach for a very long time.” I squeezed his arm as hard as I could. He chuckled, showing no signs of discomfort. “Our digestive systems are extremely slow. We can eat, but it is very uncomfortable having food just lie in your stomach. Plus we can taste every little thing. We get so much more nutritional value from blood.”
The aroma of tomato, cheese, and bread caught my attention. My stomach announced its impatience. “It smells so good, Sorin. … I’m starving all the sudden.” I let go of his arm and walked a little faster. The sidewalk was empty, and I hurried along the brick building to my right. The streetlight on the corner ahead showed some movement. I assumed the entrance was just around the side. I was only a few steps ahead of Sorin, and I turned back to him, about to announce that I could hear music.
But the words never left my mouth. Instead, a blur caught my eye, and I froze.
Chapter 17
It all happened so fast. Sorin turned toward what had caught my attention in the streetlight just as it was upon him. He slammed against the brick wall with a horrible thud, and I jumped.
She was absolutely stunning and had her arms wrapped around him. She was petite, two to three inches shorter than I, and rail thin. Blonde wavy hair with a touch of honey color to it ended at the bottom of her back. My eyes drifted over her. She wore a mixture of fabrics in shades of gray on her upper body, and snug dark jeans hugged her thighs. Black boots laddered with silver buckles ended at her knees in a thin trim of gray fur. Like Sorin, she was overdressed for the night’s temperature. The two of them were in between overhead streetlights, so I couldn’t make out all the details of this new stranger.
Sorin’s expression, however, was beyond surprise; he was in a state of shock. I stood frozen, not knowing what to do or say. Finally, after what seemed like forever to me, he reached up and unlocked the blonde’s fingers from behind his neck. “Anya?” Sorin said in disbelief.
The girl squealed and then proceeded to gush in French, much to my dismay. Can’t anyone speak English? I fumed to myself. Anya tried to wrap her arms around him again, but he held her at bay. She said his name, and I heard her say, “Amour.”
I continued to stand motionless, and neither one of them acknowledged
me. They were in their own world, oblivious to my presence only a little more than a yard away. They went back and forth in conversation. Anya gushed about something in French, but, like Sorin, she had an accent from somewhere other than France.
Sorin’s expression slowly turned to pure frustration, and he pushed her away from him. He kept repeating a single question, which she ignored: “Comment est-ce que vous trouver me?” Finally, he pushed her away.
Anya abruptly stopped fawning over Sorin, and she lifted her chin a little higher at him. Her head twitched in an odd way. She smelled the air, or maybe him; I wasn’t sure which. But whichever it was caused her to turn in my direction, and a strange hiss left her mouth. I stumbled back a few steps. She spoke to Sorin as her dark-brown eyes locked on mine. Now that she faced me, I saw her features more clearly. She appeared no older than eighteen. But I knew it was just an impression. Her face showed she was absolutely repulsed by something. Her voice slowed and filled with malice. I wanted to look at Sorin for some reassurance—to know everything was all right, that I was overreacting to the sudden scene. But her eyes held mine, and I couldn’t look away.
Sorin’s voice boomed a short sentence in response to what she was saying. “Quitter son seul, Anya!” He filled the space between Anya and me in an instant.
She blinked a few times and raised her eyes to Sorin’s. He half shielded me from her sight now. Her face took on a completely innocent look, and her body swayed gently. Her head tilted to her left, trying to see me better. “And if she wasn’t here?” Anya said in a beautiful soft voice. Her sudden change in mood made me even more uncomfortable, as it was clearly fake. Her eyes slid down my body critically, as if she were sizing up the competition.
Sorin put an arm around me, pulling me toward him and further shielding me from her view. They exchanged a few more words in French. The tension grew, and my heart started to race. Sorin turned to me and cupped my face. “Do not fret, Mia … Anya is only trying to scare you. She is harmless; I swear.” His voice was low and gentle. He was trying to calm me, but to no avail. I felt my heart pounding in my chest.
A slow movement caught my attention, and I looked away from Sorin. Anya had slowly circled and now was near the edge of the sidewalk. Sorin no longer stood between her and me. She took another step, still circling. Trying to find a way past Sorin. He was still talking to her, but his words fell on deaf ears. Another slow step, and Anya had moved into the edge of the overhead light. Her eyes simultaneously took on a deep-red metallic hue. She slowly smiled, and I could see a set of pearly fangs glisten. I gasped and backed up until I bumped into the brick building behind me. My blood ran cold, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
“Mia?” Sorin said, concerned.
My eyes flew to his, which were currently studying the air around me. Then I looked at Anya, afraid to take my eyes off of her. She studied the air around me also, a look of pride growing. Whatever color fear was, I knew I was presently drowning in it.
Sorin turned toward Anya, and the French began again. His hands were clenched at his sides, and he stepped toward her.
But Anya had completely lost her twisted expression by the time Sorin faced her. She clasped her hands lightly in front of herself and swayed childishly. Shrugging her shoulders and batting her eyes innocently at him, she purred a response to his demanding voice. “Il n’est pas trop tard pour choisir me, Sorin.”
There was a moment of utter silence, and then Sorin closed the distance between them. He delicately lifted her face to his as he stood, towering over her. She smiled brightly, free of the intimidating fangs she had possessed a minute before when she glared at me. She looked at him with absolute adoration, clearly enjoying his touch.
My heart fell as my confusion grew. I didn’t know who she was to Sorin. He had told me Monique wasn’t a love interest, but what about Anya? He had never mentioned her at all. The tone of their conversation and their body language made it seem one-sided—on Anya’s part. But I still feared I had misunderstood it all. He kept touching her and then he lowered his face to hers, as if he were going to kiss her. I was horrified by the sight before me. My hand rested on my chest, and I felt my eyes water.
“Anya,” Sorin said, his voice overly sweet.
“Oui.” She sighed contently.
“Je ne sera jamais choisir vous.” His voice turned hard and determined.
She stepped back, and hatred filled her face. Her eyes shot to me and then back to Sorin. She whispered a threat through gritted teeth.
Sorin’s hand caught her arm as she advanced my direction. “Vous ne sera pas toucher son!” I knew from his tone this was not going to end well.
Anya’s face relaxed into an eerie expression, and she smiled softly at him. She spoke loudly in English, clearly so I would understand. “Very well, Sorin. …” Now I could tell that her accent was Russian. She looked at me, adding, “I will not touch her.” With that, she lashed out at Sorin. The moment her hand made contact with his cheek, my left cheek felt like it was on fire. I yelped as my hand flew to the side of my face in response. His face turned toward me from the force of her blow, and I saw blood streak his cheek. Anya quickly flittered across the street, and Sorin started after her.
I felt a tear fall and started shaking. “Bitch,” I said under my breath, hoping she would hear it. I saw a flash of red in the distance—her eyes—and knew she had heard me. I felt pleased about that.
Sorin turned and rushed back to my side. Once he stood next to me, I could see his face up close. She had scratched him, not slapped him. Multiple red lines covered his cheek. I lowered my left hand, expecting to find blood on it, but there was nothing on my palm. I raised my hand to my cheek, again hoping the contact would soothe it.
Sorin moved my hand away, and his cool touch eased the burning sensation in my cheek. “I am so sorry, Mia. Really … I had no reason to think Anya would seek me out.” He looked so worried.
“You’re bleeding,” was all I could say.
He slipped his sleeve over his fist, swiping it across his cheek. The bleeding had already stopped, and the lines on his cheek were closing before my eyes. He wrapped his free arm around me and pulled me toward the building next to us. Sorin leaned against the wall, silent.
I lay against him, trying not to cry. “Who is she?” I eventually managed. “What did you do to her … to make her so. …” There was no question they had a past.
“Anya is young. She is used to getting her way.”
I shook my head. “But what did you do to her Sorin?” I was gradually collecting myself and had fought off crying.
“It is not what I did … it is what I did not do.”
I took a step back and looked at him, puzzled.
He crossed his arms and sighed. “As I said, Anya is young … new to this life. She is used to men falling at her feet. She plays with men of your kind as if they are there simply for her amusement. Two years ago I was in Paris visiting Monique, and she had just taken Anya in. Her sister had turned her … and then shortly afterward abandoned Anya to travel with a male acquaintance of Monique’s. Anya felt her sister had left her behind, and she was very lonely. The pain of separation was fresh with her.” I felt no compassion for her, but I continued to listen in silence. “Anya showed … an interest in me. But I had no desire to … commit, as you may word it. Monique tried to convince me Anya and I would be a good match. When Monique continued to inject herself, I left. I have not spoken to her since … that is, until a few days ago. Monique and Anya had no knowledge I already belonged to someone.”
I started to fidget, not wanting to stay on the empty sidewalk anymore. I turned and started back to where Sorin had parked.
He caught my hand. “Mia, what about dinner?”
I turned back, flabbergasted he would even suggest it. “Dinner?” It came out high-pitched and strained. “Anya came out of nowhere, threw herself all over you, and … for a moment I thought you were about to ki—” I stopped my own rambling and
changed tacks. “She wanted me dead, Sorin. Not just dead—she was ready to rip out my jugular and leave me to bleed out right on the sidewalk. She wanted to kill me.” I raised my voice, and my words came out in a rush. “I saw her fangs, Sorin. … And when she struck you I felt it.”
His face filled with anguish, and he reached for my hand.
I backed away and shook my head. “I have lost any desire to eat … take me home.” A part of me felt bad, but I just wanted to get as far away from there as possible.
He looked at me and then toward the corner. Sorin held the SUV keys out for me to take.
“What?” I asked, not sure what he wanted me to do.
“Take the keys, go wait in the car, and I’ll be right back.” He took my hand and placed the keys in my palm, pressing my fingers around them.
“Where are you going?” I asked, panicked. I looked in the direction Anya had headed earlier.
Sorin looked at me as the overhead light caught his eyes. I loved it when they looked like that, silvery-blue pools. “Mia,” he said, saddened. “Anya is gone … I promise. Just let me go get you something to eat, please. We will take it home for you to enjoy if you wish.”
I could see he wanted to salvage some part of our night out. “Fine … but I’m going with you,” I stated, handing his keys back to him.
He wrapped an arm protectively around me as we walked to the corner. The music grew as we turned along the sidewalk, descending the steps leading into the restaurant. He let go of me just inside the entrance and walked to the hostess stand.
A plump Italian-mother type with rosy cheeks smiled at him. “Quante per cena stasera?” She started to reach for menus.
Sorin’s back was to me, so I couldn’t see his face. His hand reached over the podium and gently laid the menus down. I moved slightly, catching his face in profile. I saw his mouth move slowly, but I couldn’t hear the words from where I stood.