Fateful

by Cheri Schmidt

  Danielle examined the new look that had overtaken Ethan’s face. She wasn’t sure what she saw there, but it seemed to be a mix of admiration and wonder. “You never cease to amaze me,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “No one has ever done that for them before.”

  “What? Explain the food?” Danielle pressed her brows together wondering how something so simple could mean so much to them.

  “Yes. Sophia is very fascinated with food. I think it’s one thing she misses the most about her mortal life, but she can’t remember the rich taste that she knew she loved. It has just been too long … and your explanation of it was just—just a real treat for her—for all of us actually.”

  “Really? But how can they know what I mean when I say something is sweet or buttery?”

  “We can taste the food, but it’s not rich and flavorful like it used to be. Blood is our only choice for sustenance. But it’s a thirst, a craving, an urge.” He leaned back into the pillows next to her. “What satisfies thirst for you?”

  “Water, or some other type of drink.”

  “And what satisfies your hunger?”

  “Food.”

  “See, we don’t feel hunger anymore, only thirst. While blood is flavorful for us, it doesn’t vary much. It would be like living on an all meat diet, but even in that you have an advantage. You can season your meat, or soak it in marinade, or cover it in sauce to change the flavor. Do you see how our diet might get a little boring?”

  “Yes.”

  “With food, you get to experience all kinds of flavors and textures. They’re probably in the kitchen right now tasting the ones you described trying to experience it.”

  “Are you serious?” Danielle was amazed.

  Ethan nodded.

  “Well, I’m glad I could actually give something back to her for all the trouble she’s gone to for me.” But while they were on the topic of food, she thought back to the times he’d fed her and selected things she’d like, then asked, “So how did you know what foods I would like better than I did myself?”

  “When I was in culinary school I watched the other students closely. I didn’t have the advantage of taste the other students had, so I schooled myself by being more observant of them. I learned that I could guess what they would and wouldn’t like by paying close attention to their food preferences. Most people like certain things, and their taste for food seem to follow the same line. There is a scientific aspect to food that I could understand better than the flavors.”

  “Wow,” was all she could say. However, it didn’t take long for her mind to wander back to the kiss he’d deprived her of before Sophia returned. “May I have that kiss now?”

  Ethan chuckled. “Of course,” he said, before bending toward her.

  When he pulled away, she suddenly remembered the whole reason she’d come to his place. “And what about my surprise? Do you still have a surprise for me?”

  “Yes, I dropped that in the hall when I realized…” he trailed off when his previous anger returned briefly. “I’ll go get it. Are you okay here alone for a minute?”

  “Is Celeste gone?”

  “Yes.”

  But she thought about the others and wondered aloud, “Are there more? Like her, who might...?” Are there any “repentant killers” who could...?

  “Do you remember our creed?”

  “Yeah.”

  “When many of the Order members are knights and Highlanders, Danielle, you can pretty much bet they’ll stick to their creed.”

  A flicker of doubt touched her heart, but she said, “I’ll be fine.”

  Ethan left and returned promptly carrying a large box. He settled himself back on the bed next to her. “I went to Paris to get this for you.”

  “Paris?” she asked with astonishment.

  “Yes, it was made to fit you perfectly.” Her eyes widened and she reached for the box. But Ethan stopped her. “I need to tell you what it’s for first.”

  She slouched. “Okay, what’s it for?” she asked, trying to sound polite while feeling impatient.

  “Beon deeply misses the grand balls of the nineteen hundreds. So, he’s planned one themed with early twentieth-century dress, music and dances. It’s scheduled to take place here in our ballroom. It will be an incredible sight to behold, like going back in time a hundred years into the past. I want you to go with me.”

  Danielle gasped. “I would love to! So this is a dress?” she asked elated.

  “Yes.”

  “May I see?” She stretched her hand toward the box, but Ethan stopped her again.

  “Hold on a minute. You need to know more about this ball.”

  Danielle frowned because he was taxing the limits of her patience.

  “It will be at night, and all of the guests will be vampires, except for you.”

  Of course she was speechless as she tried to envision this. He was inviting her to an event with vampires, who will be at their strongest, and she just got clobbered by one during the day? “Are you nuts? Celeste—”

  “—is not invited. Look, this was planned before what happened today, and the only threats against you are still her and Lucas. No one else—”

  “But you’re talking about bringing everyone’s favorite drink—”

  “No one would dare show up thirsty to something like this.”

  “Can’t they do it during the day?”

  “The invitations have already gone out.” He placed his hand over hers. “I understand your fear, but it’s simply unfounded. All of the guests will be loyal members of the Order, and if you can trust them to protect you at night as they have been doing, then you can certainly trust them at this ball,” he explained. “In fact, it will actually be easier for them to watch over you with you here rather than at your uncle’s.”

  Thinking about his words and how Mr. Ethan Possessive wouldn’t likely put her in unnecessary danger, she finally said, “If you’re satisfied I’ll be safe, then I’ll go.” Sitting taller now, she asked, “Now can I see the dress?”

  “Sure.” Ethan opened the box to reveal an exquisite silver-blue dress. The bodice was beaded with many crystals and the delicate silk was embroidered with an intricate design. There were matching beaded shoes in a mule style with half-inch heels. The crystals captured the light and playfully tossed it about the room. Danielle forgot to breathe, never before had she seen a dress that touched her girly tendencies more. She reached in to experience the feel of it and smiled as the luscious silk material felt as incredible as it looked, like rubbing a rose petal between her fingers.

  Overwhelmed, Danielle threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. Ethan returned the embrace, however, the pain that caused reminded Danielle of her injuries, and she whimpered against his lips. Ethan loosened his arms immediately. “Are you hurt?”

  “No more than before,” she said breathlessly. She heaved for more air and then fell back into the soft pillows.

  “This does put a damper on things. I had planned to start teaching you the dances this afternoon. Unfortunately, that will have to wait until you’re healed.”

  “Do you happen to have any of that magical fairy juice?” she asked, as she remembered how it had worked to heal her.

  Ethan laughed. “Sorry, we don’t keep that on hand in the refrigerator.”

  “They should market that stuff. They could make a fortune.”

  He laughed again, but harder this time and she realized what a silly comment she’d made. Of course the fairies couldn’t reveal something like that to the whole of society, there would be riots.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll feel much better in a few days.” Looking at the clock, Ethan frowned and then said, “The afternoon has slipped away from us. I need to get you back home.” He nudged the box aside, replaced her shoes and then helped her to standing.

  Chapter 15

  Dark Visits

  Danielle didn’t move much in her sleep, mainly because pain shot through her injuries whenever
she did. By early morning, however, she’d forgotten about her bruised up side and tried to roll onto it out of habit. Grimacing, she moaned and returned to her back.

  “Are you okay, Danielle?”

  She knew that masculine British voice, but hadn’t expected to hear it in her bedroom, especially before sunrise. Her sleepy eyes opened to see Ethan sitting in the chair next to her fireplace. “How long have you been there?” she asked groggily.

  “A few hours,” he sat forward, smiling smugly. “Are you all right?” he repeated.

  “Yeah, sort of … It seems I’m still quite tender. Why are you here?”

  “I had to make certain you were all right, and I had to prove I could be near you for long periods of time safely before this ball.”

  “And how did that go?” she asked, leaning up onto her left side so she could see him better.

  “Perfectly,” he announced, sounding triumphant.

  “What about the others?”

  “We’ve been over this. I’ll make sure nothing happens so you don’t need to worry. Now come closer. While I felt like things went okay at that dance club I met you briefly at, I need to see if I can handle you that close for an entire evening of dancing.” He held his arms out to her and curled his fingers up.

  Danielle was stiff from sleep and bruises but sat up anyway. It seemed she didn’t care the sun was still sleeping; his waiting arms were far too inviting to turn down.

  Quickly she tried to smooth her bed-hair, which she imagined must look terrible, but it also appeared he didn’t mind. Standing, she took a of couple steps, but frowned because the suddenly unstable floor teetered beneath her feet. Ethan caught her before she beat herself up further on the hardwood flooring. His reflexes were still working at supernatural speed and so was his strength, she realized painfully as he bumped her raw bruises in the rescue.

  Ethan took her to the bed and set her on his lap. She knew she’d alarmed him as he started in with the concussion-symptom-questioning. His lilt remained kind and soothing, although he was starting to remind her of a doctor again. “Feeling dizzy?”

  “Yes.” How could she deny it? He was a witness.

  “Headache?”

  “Who wouldn’t after banging their head like I did?”

  “Double vision?” He held up three fingers. “How many do you see?”

  “Just three,” she groaned. “Why do you have to do this again?

  “Feeling groggy?”

  “Yes, but I just barely woke up! That doesn’t count right now.”

  “Nauseated?”

  “No! Ethan, seriously I’m fine.”

  “I need to make sure. Let me see your pupils,” he requested like a physician. And with that—he used up the rest of her tolerance.

  “No. The sun isn’t up and I don’t want to fight your magic right now,” she ground out, feeling stubborn.

  Ethan placed one hand on her face, forcing her to look up. She closed her eyes tightly.

  “Danielle Darcey!” he said, his tone reproachful now. “Do I need to put you over my knee?”

  She opened her eyes immediately at the threat. His impish grin told her that was exactly why he said what he did. The trick worked perfectly for him.

  “You wouldn’t dare!” she said abashed and bemused at the same time.

  “No, of course not … but I see your pupils are fine,” he said through an annoyingly smug smile, then pulled his eyes from hers.

  Danielle was only able to forgive him for being Dr. Deveroux because he’d finally dropped the issue—even after she’d experienced a few more nights of pain where he’d watched her with a look of worry on his shadow hidden face. But the injuries were healing. Slowly.

  The next night when Danielle was in bed, she heard her window sliding open. She rolled to watch Ethan stepping in over the sill lithely like a thief. He’d been consistent about coming to her each night, preparing for the ball, but mostly he’d arrived while she was sleeping and left before she’d awoken.

  “Hi,” she said, surprised to see him while she was still conscious. Some nights she’d only known he’d come because he’d left a gift behind, like a single flower, or a box of chocolates, or even a cupcake.

  “Hi, Danielle,” he said. “Are you ready to spend more time together with our eyes closed?”

  Closed, but awake then? “Yes.”

  He sat down on the bed next to her, but didn’t let her see his eyes. She missed that. In ordinary conversations eye contact was crucial. So it seemed odd to converse with Ethan without something that was generally taken for granted.

  “Good. The date is nearing and I need to make certain we are prepared.”

  “When is the ball? You never told me.”

  “It’s in four days. When your bruises have healed enough I want to start teaching you the dances. We don’t have much time left, but the dances are very simple.”

  “Okay.”

  Ethan glanced at her carefully from under his lashes while he reached out and took her hand into his. “The dances from that era have very minimal physical contact, but we do have to touch hands, while we avoid eye and breath interaction, of course.”

  “Right.”

  He turned her hand over and began tracing patterns into her palm. She adored him when he did things like that, and smiled. Focusing on the designs he drew, she let her eyes slide shut.

  But remembering a conversation she’d had with Uncle Nick when she told him about the ball at Beon’s, her eyes opened. “My uncle wants to invite Beon and Sophia over for tea.”

  His eyebrow lifted. “They want to make sure we behave while we’re together,” he said, now spelling her name on her hand. It wasn’t a question but a statement.

  “Yeah, pretty much.” She shuddered because what he was doing caused a trickle of chills to dance around her spine.

  “And how do your parents feel about us? I’m guessing you’ve told them by now,” he asked seeming uninterested in his own words as he matched her hand with his to compare the size.

  Thinking back to the conversation she’d had just yesterday, she said, “Yeah, my mother knows, and she’ll tell my father. Naturally they don’t like it. They don’t want me involved with a guy from here. They want me to come back when I’m done with school.”

  “I’m sorry, but your parents can’t keep you forever.” A cunning little smirk lifted one side of his mouth as he slowly lifted her hand to his lips. “Maybe I’ll just kidnap you. Would you be terribly opposed to that?” he asked seductively as he pressed his open mouth to her palm and expelled his wickedly tempting but forbidden breath against her skin.

  “Stop that! How much self-control do you think I have?” she exclaimed in a whisper, then dropped back onto the bed and kicked one foot against the mattress like she was in agony. And in a strange way she was because she desperately wanted to lick his breath right off and eat it.

  “Danielle, do you want to go back?” he asked as he revisited the miscellaneous patterns he’d started with.

  She leaned up to look at him again, only seeing the side of his face. “Are you kidding?”

  “I want to hear it.”

  “Of course not! Ethan, I want you to keep me.” She watched the smile return to his mouth at her words.

  He turned to face her, but only opened his eyes to thin slits. “Good,” he said as he began new designs on the back of her hand. She bit her lip and closed her eyes again. He managed to make the simple act of touching her hand much too emotionally powerful.

  To her relief, Ethan stayed in her chair most of the night, but left before the sun was up. She woke up to find him gone.

  He came back the next evening and said he hoped she was up for dancing. Her hip did ache, but she really wanted to go to this ball, so she took some pain medication hoping that helped.

  Ethan brought an iPod player with headphones. He gave Danielle the earpieces.

  “But, how will you hear the music?”

  “Super vampire hearing, remember,”
he answered patiently.

  “Oh, right. Duh.”

  His gleaming teeth flashed in the dark as he chuckled.

  They danced in her moonlit bedroom as he taught her one of the most common figure dances of the era, especially in England, the cotillion. He kept his intense eyes closed for her, and warned her not to be tempted by his scent whenever they stepped close to one another. That was the hardest part, resisting a sniff of his essence. Danielle held her breath for those quick seconds, then drew in air as they parted. She risked making herself lightheaded.

  Night after night, Ethan came back, and they danced quietly in her room. She began to feel more comfortable around him then, even with his powers as strong as they were. It was still very tempting to breathe in his luscious fragrance, though, and she didn’t think she would ever get used to resisting that.

  “You’re doing great, Danielle, how is your hip feeling?” he asked in a hushed benevolent voice.

  “It’s okay, I’ll survive,” she whispered, but it was smarting at the moment.

  “Time for bed, princess.” He didn’t call her bluff verbally, but she knew why he was stopping.

  He folded the covers down for her and tucked her in. Her mother hadn’t done that since she was nine years old. She kind of liked it.

  Secretly wanting one little taste of his yummy scent before he left, she pulled in air through her nose when he kissed her on the forehead. When Ethan let out a soft ghostly laugh as he dashed out the window into the black night, she realized he knew what she’d done.

  Despite the tiny ache in her hip, she slept like a baby, and awoke feeling very refreshed the next morning. She sat up and stretched, then noticed a folded up piece of paper on her quilt. She opened it. It was from Ethan written in an antique-looking calligraphy. He had the elegant handwriting from a time when people used to care what their script looked like, and when a quill and inkpot was used rather than a modern ballpoint.

  Dear Danielle,

  I hope you slept well. You were pretty out of it when I wrote this note for you. I want to pick you up today at eleven-thirty. We need to practice with Max and Nadia. Sophia, of course, has a lunch planned for you.