by Marie Medina
****
Edmund paced in his sitting room, waiting for Lane to come upstairs. He could hear Lane chattering away happily, and he couldn’t help smiling despite his anxiety. He knew how lonely Lane was, but the young man refused to leave. Edmund couldn’t bring himself to order Lane away, as it would hurt Lane’s feelings. All he wanted was for Lane to find the kind of happiness he would never have himself, but Lane was stubbornly and sweetly loyal. Edmund hadn’t been able to tell exactly what was going on, but the man Lane had brought back seemed to be hurt in some way.
Feeling an insistent paw at his back, Edmund turned to see a tiny black kitten perched on the arm of the chair behind him. The little furball with big green eyes balanced precariously and reached a paw out once more. It gave a squeak and began purring as it begged for attention. He picked the little kitten up and cuddled it to his chest, not caring about how it snagged his shirt as it kneaded the material.
“I think you belong downstairs with your mother,” he said softly. He’d long ago accepted the way cats were drawn to the lodge. He loved all animals, so he tolerated them, though their presence gave him a bittersweet kind of pleasure. They cheered him, and yet their attraction to him constantly reminded him of his condition.
He took the little kitten to the door and put it out in the hall, pushing it toward the back stairs with his booted foot. The kitten made a little noise that was a bit closer to a meow and then ambled off to the steps. Footsteps came from the other direction, and Edmund turned to greet Lane. He crossed his arms and asked, “What’s going on?”
Lane smiled at him and drew him back into the sitting room, closing the door behind them. “I met someone today. He was on his way to the village, and he’d twisted his ankle. He’d never have made it to shelter on his own.”
“You could’ve helped him to the inn.”
Lane went on as if Edmund hadn’t spoken. “His name is Owen, and he’s very nice.”
“Lane, I know what you’re trying to do.”
“I’m not trying to do anything. We have a guest!”
“You have a guest. You take care of everything around here so well that I’m sure you can manage without any help from me.”
Lane stuck his lip out in a kind of pout. “You can’t be so rude. I’m going to make a wonderful dinner for the two of you.”
“The two of us?”
“Yes, you two can have a nice meal and get to know each other. I’m sure he’s grown tired of me and my chatter.”
“Maybe so, but that’s no reason to subject him to having dinner with me. Remember the last person you brought here?”
“That was a mistake.” Lane held up his finger and poked his chest to emphasize his point. “Completely my fault. I should’ve told him more about your appearance. But I’ve told this man everything.”
“And how does that help me? I’m not going down there just to be stared at.”
“He’s not some gawker. He’s a nice person.” Lane busied himself tidying the room. “Kind and sympathetic.” Hurriedly he fluffed a pillow and said, “Rather handsome.”
“Lane,” Edmund said sharply.
Lane slumped and turned around. “Don’t reprimand me for trying! For loving you so much that I want to see you happy.”
Angry as he was, Edmund went to Lane and spoke gently. “No one but you is ever going to love me. And I’m content with that. You’re the son I never got the chance to have.” Briefly, Edmund thought of his fated mate, who had left him because she was afraid of his touch. “And you forget that I want to see you happy as well, yet you deny all of my efforts.”
“I won’t leave you. If I ever marry, she’ll have to accept and love you as I do. Live here with us.”
“And dozens of cats.” Edmund shook his head. “Lane, you can’t stay shut away here with me. I took you as my ward because of the way you clung to me. You were so scared of everyone else. You said you felt safe with me, and I wanted to protect you.” He tilted his head, frowning. “It gave me purpose, but perhaps I was only being selfish. I was lonely, and you accepted me. But you might’ve been better off elsewhere.”
“I’m very happy here with you. Always have been.”
“Yes, but you must want more. A wife. Children. Love and happiness, the kind you can’t get from me.”
Lane crossed his arms now and strode to the window. Edmund came over to stand beside him, and they watched the suns sink closer to the mountains. “I’ll make a bargain with you.”
“No.”
Lane dropped his arms and twisted to face him. “You haven’t even heard my offer.”
“I don’t need to.”
“Oh well. You’re hearing it.” He put his hands on his hips. “If you come down to dinner and make Owen feel welcome, I will go to the festival next week. Including the dance. I’ll dance with every girl who’ll let me. I might even kiss one.”
Trying to deflect, Edmund said, “It is about time you kissed a girl.”
“You don’t have to tell me.” Lane walked over to a table and straightened some books. “I sort of kissed Queen Julianna’s maid, Rebecca. On the cheek. And Her Majesty let me kiss her hand. Twice.”
“You should’ve been more forward. The king had his eye on you.”
“Men don’t do it for me, though the king is handsome.” Lane rolled his eyes. “You’re trying to get me off topic!”
Edmund smiled. “It always works.”
Lane approached him with a pleading look. “It was meant to be a surprise, but this man’s special.”
“How is he special? Is he blind?”
Lane scowled. “That’s not funny!” He shook his head slowly. “If you’d quit feeling sorry for yourself, you might notice how beautiful your appearance is. Exotic.”
“I’m covered in fur and have a tail!” Edmund turned and let it flick back and forth. “You have to alter all of my pants to accommodate it.”
“But you’re magnificent. You have the most lustrous hair I’ve ever seen.”
“It’s called a mane.” Edmund could admit his hair was impressive, and in secret he was rather vain about the full, thick blond locks, but he wasn’t going to give Lane an inch.
Waving a dismissive hand, Lane said, “Lions have manes, not leopards.”
“I’m still an animal.”
Lane narrowed his eyes. “Then why wear pants at all? Or bathe or comb your hair or use indoor plumbing? Wouldn’t the woods do? Perhaps you could start sleeping in a tree while you’re at it!” His face was red now, his breathing labored.
“Lane, stop it,” Edmund said, reaching out to him.
Lane slapped his hand away. “No! You stop it! Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Everyone has problems. At least yours are only superficial.”
“Maybe so, but we live in a very superficial world.” He took Lane by the shoulders and made him sit down. “I’m sorry. Tell me what’s special about Owen.” He sat down beside Lane and waited patiently.
Lane sniffed, wiping at the moisture in his eyes. “Will you have dinner with him?”
Edmund had noted Lane’s temper becoming shorter lately, in addition to his tendency to become teary-eyed and dejected when upset. The sudden mood shifts worried him so much. Lane had been secluded here alone with him for far too long, and Edmund could see the stress getting to him. “All right. Just tell me about him so we’ll have something to talk about.”
And just like that, Lane smiled, his anger and frustration seemingly forgotten. “He’s a storyteller. I wanted it to be a surprise, but of course you have to be difficult.” Lane grasped Edmund’s hand. “I told him the basics of your story. He’s intrigued.”
“But that can’t be the real reason you brought him here. Unless he told you his trade right away.”
Lane looked a bit guilty, but he tried to hide it with an innocent smile. “He needed help. And he studied me in a way that certainly suggests he might like men.”
“I’d remind you I’m not a man, but that would only upset you a
gain.” Edmund sighed and squeezed Lane’s hand before standing up. “I’ll make him feel very welcome if you will keep your end of the bargain. I want you to go to the village and enjoy yourself. Not just stand by and watch everyone else having fun.”
Lane jumped up. “I promise! You won’t regret this.” Lane went to the door that led to Edmund’s bedroom. “I know just what you should wear!”
Edmund slumped back against the side of a table, knowing he probably would regret this. But if it made Lane happy, he was more than willing to endure anything.
****
Owen couldn’t fight the feeling of awkwardness that came over him when he heard distant footsteps and eventually some whispering out in the hallway. He couldn’t get around very well by himself, even though Lane had bound his ankle up well and even found a very sturdy cane for him to use. He sat at a small table in the room he’d been given as he waited for his host to appear. Lane had only set two places at the table, which implied he wouldn’t be joining them. That worried Owen. He was wonderful at telling stories, but regular conversation wasn’t his strength, especially with a stranger who practically lived as a recluse and might not be that great at making conversation himself. What would they talk about? What if Edmund didn’t want him here and was only indulging Lane?
The door opened, and Lane came striding in. He wheeled a cart in front of him, and Edmund trailed several feet behind him. Owen looked away after only a glance and smiled at Lane. “You didn’t have to go to so much trouble,” he said as Lane set two domed dishes on the charger plates.
“No trouble at all. I love to cook.” Lane pushed the cart out of the way and uncorked the wine as Edmund came into the room slowly.
The vampire was over six feet tall, and he did indeed have a face much like a leopard, except that the nose was much flatter. Vampires had white irises that changed color with their moods, but Edmund’s eyes were blue, as Lane had said. They were very human, not catlike at all. He had enough long, lustrous blond hair for three men his size, and it seemed to be barely constrained by some kind of tie Owen couldn’t see. His ears were human, not feline, but they were very small. He was broad-shouldered and looked incredibly muscular. He wore dark brown leather breeches with a billowing white shirt and a green suede vest. He also had on high brown boots that seemed quite ordinary, so Owen assumed his feet were more like human feet than leopard paws. He had his hands clasped in front of him. They were covered in sparse, fine fur but didn’t seem to be clawed. But then again, who knew? Most cats kept their claws concealed until they needed them. Aside from the fur and his face, he seemed like an ordinary man, a very well-built one at that. His shirt was open just enough that Owen could see a hint of just how muscular he was. The fur did seem very thin there, but based on what Lane had said it must be thicker in other places. Owen smiled, trying to balance not staring with making good eye contact. He found Edmund strangely beautiful, and he felt relieved that he would have no problem spending time with this man. However, part of him almost wished Edmund were a bit scarier or more off-putting as his mind wandered to ideas about what the rest of the man’s body looked like. It seemed rude to indulge in such thoughts about his host.
“Edmund, this is Owen.” Lane stepped back. “And Owen, this is Edmund, my dearest friend.”
Edmund raised one eyebrow. “High praise indeed since I’m your only friend,” Edmund said, a hint of a smile touching his lips as he gave Lane an affectionate look.
Owen could see his fangs now, and he wondered if they were always descended because of the form he was now in. He cleared his throat. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry if I’m intruding.” He held out his hand.
Edmund turned his full attention back to Owen. He glanced at Owen’s hand a moment before shaking it. His grasp was firm, but Owen could tell he was not used to being touched. Edmund looked almost apologetic, as if he felt bad about Owen having to touch him. Owen tried to keep his face neutral even as pity filled his heart.
“Not at all. You’re more than welcome.” Edmund glanced back to Lane. “Poor Lane is stuck here with no one but me to talk to.” His gaze took in the table for a moment. “And yet he’s being rude and not joining us.”
Lane waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, I have so much to do. You two chat and enjoy your meal. I’ll be back later.” He grabbed the cart and wheeled it out so fast he almost ran into the doorframe. He turned and quickly shut the door, grinning at them both one last time.
Owen couldn’t help laughing, though he covered his mouth when Edmund’s head whipped around. “Sorry. He’s just so obvious!”
Edmund smiled and came over to the table, standing by his chair a moment. “Yes, he’s never been subtle.” He gestured to his chair. “May I?”
“Of course,” Owen said quickly. “It’s your home, please. Do whatever you like.” He cleared his throat again. “Thank you for making time for me.”
Edmund studied him, his expression unreadable. “I have plenty of free time. You’re not bothering me at all.” He took up his wine glass and sniffed it, swirling the liquid inside. “We rarely have visitors, for obvious reasons.”
Owen licked his lips and met Edmund’s gaze. “I suppose if I just turned a corner and ran into you unprepared I might be startled, but now that I’ve seen you, I’m a little confused.”
Edmund paused with the glass halfway to his lips. “Confused? About what?”
“Why others are afraid of you.”
“I’m a beast.” He took a long sip of his wine and set the glass down with a loud clink.
Owen shook his head. “You’re far more man than beast.” He looked away. “I’m sorry. You can’t possibly want to talk about this.”
“I’m not offended. Why ignore reality?” Edmund shifted in his chair and took the dome off his plate. “Lane’s an excellent cook. Let’s see what he was for us.”
Owen uncovered his dish as well, feeling grateful that Edmund was putting forth so much effort to make him feel comfortable. The scent of lamb and a variety of autumn vegetables greeted his nose, and Owen sighed. “Smells wonderful. I’ve had nothing but an apple all day.”
They ate in silence a few minutes before Edmund wiped his lips and set his fork and knife down. “Lane says you’re a storyteller. And that it was meant to be a surprise.”
Owen smiled. “He couldn’t keep it in, could he?”
“Well, I wasn’t going to come down.” He sat back and let his gaze fall on the table. “Our last guest ran away screaming. Literally. He screamed and ran for the door.”
Owen couldn’t hide his shock and didn’t want to. “What an idiot.”
“Idiot? I scared him. Lane just said I was different and didn’t explain. It was understandable.”
“But we’re talking about a grown man, right?” Owen set his own utensils down and took a deep swig of wine.
“Yes, but—”
“No buts. For fuck’s sake, you’re stunning! It’s not as if the golden serpent came slithering around the corner at him.”
“The golden serpent?” Edmund blinked at him, looking completely surprised.
Owen bit his lip. He’d just cursed in front of his host, yelled at the dinner table, and told a man he barely knew that he thought him stunning. And all that was piled on top of the fact that he was an unexpected guest. Folding his hands in his lap, he said, “Sorry I got a bit carried away. ‘The Golden Serpent and the Silver Maiden’ is the name of one of the stories I tell. There are lots with the whole beauty redeems the beast theme. I tell one in every village. Sometimes more if I get requests.”
Edmund rubbed his chin, looking sad suddenly. “Yes, women do love that story. But only if there’s a magical happy ending complete with a handsome prince.” He held Owen’s gaze. “I’m cursed, but it’s not an enchantment that can be lifted. My beauty forsook me. And even if she hadn’t, I’ll always be in this form.”
Owen leaned forward. “I’m sorry. I just keep saying things that are … I’m sorry.”
&nbs
p; “Don’t be.” Edmund shifted in his seat a little and reached for the wine, refilling both of their glasses. “If you’re to tell my tale, I’ll have to reveal all before you leave.”
“Only if you wish to. You don’t have to. It’s your business. It was just an idea Lane and I had.”
“It’s a good one.” Edmund waved his hand in an encouraging way as he seemed to regain his composure. “Tell me about the golden serpent. I’ve never heard that one.”
Owen had never been self-conscious while telling a tale before, but he felt he might stumble a bit telling Edmund such a tale. “If that’s what you wish.”
“Yes, I’d like it.” He leaned back in his chair and cradled his wine glass in both hands.
“Once there was a beautiful maiden named Ella. She had flowing silver hair that shone in the sun, casting a glow all about her. But it was her beauty that truly blinded all around her. She had many suitors, but she refused all of them. She said she would know her true love when her heart quickened at the touch of his hand.” Owen smiled. “At this point, if I’m standing close to my audience, I usually reach out my hand to a girl to see if she’ll take it.”
Edmund smiled as well. “Nice touch. Does it work?”
“Yes, it definitely captures the audience’s attention. Draws them in.”
Edmund chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that warmed Owen in a way that surprised him. “No, I meant does it get you laid.”
Owen nearly choked on his wine, laughing once he’d wiped his mouth. “Um, I usually reach out to rather young girls, so that would get me run out of town very quickly.” He sat back and cradled his wine close to his chest as well. “Besides, I’m not particularly interested in women.”
“Oh.”
That single syllable hung there a moment before Owen went on. “Well, our heroine made this statement very often, almost like a boast. One day, she was out in the woods. She stumbled and reached out to a tree to steady herself, and her hand brushed someone else’s. Her heart quickened so much she almost felt dizzy, and she turned and looked into a pair of golden eyes. A hood concealed the man’s face, yet she still drew near to him, trying to grasp his hand again. The hooded man fled from her, and she ran after him, not caring even when she tore her dress and lost both shoes. She followed the man to a castle, where she lost track of him. She stood in the courtyard all alone, suddenly afraid at how still everything around her was.”