by Reese Rivers
We leave directly from the library through a pair of French doors that lead out to a pretty little courtyard surrounded by flowerbeds and tall hedges. I’m so in love with the little private area that I can easily picture a table and chairs set to sit and enjoy a good book and afternoon coffee break. Luca guides me out of the courtyard and onto the pathways that wind through the gardens and around fountains. I can stop taking deep breaths of the fresh air without a hint of pollution. It’s almost like the air has more oxygen in it. As we stroll, I catch sight of many statues hidden away in corners and bends on the path. Each one is more stunning than the last but all of them feature faces filled with agony and loss. I stop looking at them too closely as I find myself recognizing the pain and it stirs my own.
Luca seems content to walk with me in silence but after a while I can’t help but start asking him questions.
“So, vampire, huh? Was that a personal choice or just something you stumbled into?” I ask jokingly.
He looks down at me with a hint of a smile on his pouty lips and I try to ignore the flush of heat that travels through me. The man, er, Vampire is so good looking with the sun picking out reddish highlights in his dark curls. It’s the kind of hair that you want to dig your fingers into to pull his mouth closer. Swallowing the thought, I look away quickly as he answers.
“It was a choice, in a way. I chose not to die, I suppose. A choice I’ve questioned every moment of the past few hundred years.”
I feel a pang in my chest at his words. How many times in the last few years have I had similar questions? There have been many times I’ve felt it would have been easier if I had just died with my family or later with my partner, Sam.
“Sometimes, the pain is not worth the price of the next breath,” I say in a low voice.
We share a look of understanding and I feel something shift inside of me. An empty space that doesn’t feel quite so empty now. A cloud slides in front of the sun darkening his face and I see a brief glimpse of the depths of his pain and sadness before he quickly turns his head away. Wanting to lighten the vibe, I ask my next question.
“The sun, it doesn’t cause you harm? In the stories told in my time, a vampire’s greatest weakness is the sun. Legend has it they burn to ash in it.”
As the cloud moves away and the sun beams down once again he turns his hand this way and that in the brightness.
“There is a kernel of truth to that. The weakest of my kind, ones whose blood has been diluted from the originals suffer and weaken from sunlight but it would take prolonged exposure to actually kill them. The one who sired me was sired himself by an original so I suffer no infliction from the sun.”
I sneak a peek up at his face but he doesn’t seem to be bothered with my question so I forge ahead.
“Do you mind if I ask how old you are?”
I feel the sadness come off him in a wave and regret asking right away but he answers me anyway. “I was born in the year 1434 and was reborn to this curse in 1461. I am two hundred and thirty-three years old.” He steers me around the corner in the path and back towards the house without ever touching me. “Come, you will require time to bathe and dress for the evening meal. The servants will have delivered everything you should require to be more comfortable to your room by now. I was able to procure four gowns that will only need minor adjustments. The others will be delivered by the end of the week. I hope you will be pleased with the choices I have selected for you.”
I reach out to pull him to a stop but when he flinches from my touch I snatch my hand back and look up at him with hesitation. “Thank you so much for your thoughtfulness but I have no money or means to earn any to pay you back for the cost of so many gowns. One would have been more than enough.”
He waves my words and concern away and I see amusement dancing in his eyes. “There is no need. We are wealthy beyond what we could spend in many lifetimes. As our guest, it is my honor to see you without want. I look forward to seeing you dressed in the finest silks and satins the court’s merchants had available.”
I can only smile my gratitude and follow him into the huge house where thankfully, he leads me back to my room. I’m going to have to see about drawing a map of this place or I’m going to end up lost every time I go anywhere without a guide. He leaves me at the door with another small bow and I just lean against the frame and watch him walk away. My eyes drop to his tight breeches and I let out a dreamy sigh at the way the fabric clings to a superior ass. When he turns a corner I shake my head at my thirsty girl antics. It’s been well over two years since I’ve been with a man and temptation is thick with the four hot as sin men I’m now sharing my time with.
Eden
Turning from the empty hall I push open the door to my room and freeze at the changes since I was last in it. The bed and dresser are piled high with boxes and cloth bags of all sizes that account for way more than the four gowns Luca said he purchased for me. A dressing table with an attached mirror and small stool now sits in one corner and the top is covered with an assortment of glass bottles of all different sizes, shapes, and colors. There are also slim flat boxes stacked on one corner of the table. I don’t know what to say or where to start until I spot the large tub filled with steaming water on the other side of the bed. It’s not the shower I’ve been longing for but after almost two days without a proper wash and in the same clothing, I’m thrilled to finally be able to get fully clean. I’ve just tossed off my bathrobe and am about to whip off the rest of my clothes when the door to my room opens causing me to spin around with a squeak.
My heart slows down when an older woman with steel-grey hair pulled back into a loose bun and Bridgette come into the room carrying jugs of more steaming water. The older lady gives me a kind smile as she dips her head but Bridgette sails past me with a look on her face like she smells something bad and they set the jugs beside the tub. I roll my eyes at the seventeenth-century mean girl and focus on the woman to introduce myself.
“Bonjour, Je m’appelle Eden and that’s all I got in French,” I say with a laugh.
Bridgette sniffs disdainfully and launches into rapid-fire French but the woman throws a hand up to stop her and points to the door with a stern finger sending the maid out with a pout and a nasty side-eye towards me. The woman steps to me and takes one of my hands in both of her own.
“Bonjour, Mademoiselle Eden. I am Claudette and I’m here to help you bathe and dress. His Grace has informed us that you do not speak French. While not without an accent, I am fairly fluent so please do not hesitate to ask for anything you might need. Oui?” She tells me in charmingly accented English. A real smile widens across my face.
“Thank you and thank you for preparing the bath for me! It is very welcome.” I turn and look at the steaming tub but don’t see any soap or towels so I ask her and she takes me through what is in all the bottles on the dressing table and shows me the stack of what I would consider sheets to dry off with. When she tries to help me undress, I shake my head.
“Thank you but I will manage alone. But would you help me after with the gown? I’m not sure I can manage it on my own.”
“Mais oui, bien sur. I will set the privacy screen for you and begin unpacking the gowns and accouterments if that is acceptable?”
I glance around at all the things Luca has bought for me and nod eagerly before insisting on helping her open up and move a wooden folding panel to screen the tub. As soon as it’s in place I strip naked and take the opportunity to wash out my bra, underwear, tank top, and leggings draping them over the screen to dry. Sliding down into the tub of hot water is a dream and I sit and relax for a few moments enjoying the heat of the water as I listen to Claudette hum a tune as she works in the other half of the room. I don’t give myself too long as I know the water will cool quickly. The soap is in a crumbly cake that smells lovely but doesn’t lather at all. It’s more like a scrub than soap.
With no shampoo in sight, I’m forced to make do with the same soap to wash my hair. I us
e the jug of warm water to rinse my hair as best I can before standing and pouring the second jug over my body to rinse away the bathwater. Ringing out my long hair I know it’s going to be a mess of frizzy curls when it dries without conditioner or hair products to tame it. The best I can do is rub some of the fragrant oil over my hands and use it like a hair serum. I dry off as best I can with one of the sheets provided and squeeze out as much dampness from my hair before wrapping a new, dry sheet toga style around my body. I’m contemplating just cutting a good foot and a half from my hair length to make it more manageable in this time frame when I come around the screen and see what Claudette has accomplished.
My mouth falls open in awe as I see the bed filled with the new gowns, all laid out and piles of other fabric garments that I have no idea how to wear. My fingers can’t help but reach out to touch the gorgeous gowns. There’s a deep emerald-colored one that has black embroidered ivy and small flowers along the neckline. The pattern trails down to wrap around under the chest like a wide belt and then continues down both sides of the full skirt until it travels across the hem in another thick band. If I didn’t know it was already mine I would steal it from whoever owns it. There are three other dresses of different colors but I can’t keep my eyes off of the emerald one.
“C’est beau, n’est-ce pas?” Claudette says beside me with a sigh of admiration.
“It’s freaking incredibly beau! But where would I even wear such a dress?”
Claudette chuckles. “You will don it for supper this evening, but of course.”
I turn big eyes her way and ask nervous, “Is there a party? Are we having a ball?” I’m not sure I’m ready to see other people yet. She smiles and shakes her head.
“Non, it is only le famille. There are no other guests joining you.”
“Hun, don’t you think this gown is a little fancy for just having supper in?”
Claudette laughs like I’ve just told the funniest joke so I let her steer me as she’s the native in the room and she gets down to it like a drill sergeant. She whips the sheet from my body without a blink of an eye and starts by holding out what I would call bloomers to take the place of underwear. Next up is a torturous contraption that’s part satin, part boning, and a whole lot of ribbon. As she goes to wrap it around my waist her eyes land on the four tattoos I have. They make a half-circle under my left breast and heart. Four moons in different phases. Three of them mark the phase of the moon when each of my parents and sister were born and the last is the phase of the moon the night they died.
The tips of her fingers brush over them and she whispers, “La lune” before she snatches her hand back and wraps the corset around me. After that it’s pain and punishment as she presses her knee into my back to heave on the ribbons to tighten the damn thing. I’m about to cry uncle and tell her to take it off when she finally ties it off and guides me over to the dressing table stool and pushes me down to sit on it. Holy fucking posture. There’s no choice but to sit perfectly straight in this sucker or suffer a popped rib. I’m thinking this is a lot of effort just to go to dinner but I have to admire the way the thing has cinched in my waist and thrusted my boobs up higher than God ever intended.
I thought getting into the corset was bad but the sweet, kind French woman turns into a master dominatrix as she literally attacks my hair. By the time she’s done, I’m a full sub and I’m wishing I knew the safe word. Knowing my luck it would be some weird French word I can’t even pronounce. I won’t need to cut any of my hair off because I’m pretty sure she’s pulled at least half of it out. It might not have been so bad if I could have at least seen how she styled it but every time I try and turn my head to look in the mirror she yanks it back with a stern, “Non!”
By the time she’s done my hair and goes to work on my face with what looks like tiny paintbrushes, I’m sore and tired and ready to say screw supper and just go to bed. The only thing that keeps me in place is that I’m a little bit terrified of the woman. After she’s done with the brushes on my eyes and lips she picks up what looks like a piece of coal, flicks a few drops of water on it, swishes her finger around on the top, and holds it up to my eyes instructing me to blink against it. A grin tugs at my lips when I figure out that it’s medieval mascara. After a few more dabs and smudges to my face she stands back and looks me over with a critical eye and then nods brusquely.
“Now for the jew-els and the gown.”
I nod meekly, afraid of what I’m going to see in the mirror. I can already imagine the clown’s face she’s painted on me but I’m in it now so I let her fasten a necklace around my neck and position jeweled combs into my hair without a word. Beckoning me to stand, again with my back to the mirror, she holds open the dress for me to step into. It slides onto me silky soft but once on my shoulders I’m surprised at the weight of it. I have to give mad props to Renaissance ladies. The sheer amount of work that goes into dressing for and then wearing these costumes just to have supper brings new meaning to the term high maintenance but then again, I’m pretty sure these chicks have never experienced the joy of a Brazilian wax job so I’m holding that in the win column for twenty-first-century girls.
Once Claudette has finished buttoning up a thousand tiny buttons on my back she comes around in front of me and scans me from head to toe before holding up a stern finger for me to wait. At this point I’m basically her bitch so I stay still even though I’m dying to turn and look at myself in the mirror. She kneels in front of me and slips matching slippers with tiny square heels on my feet before standing and doing the twirl motion with her finger. I swallow back the nerves that tell me I’m going to look like a fool and slowly turn to face the full-length mirror behind me.
I gasp at the woman that is revealed. I barely recognize myself staring back. My hair is half piled up on top of my head with glossy black ivy dotted with tiny green gem combs anchored to look like a crown. The rest tumbles down my back in fat glossy ringlets. My worry about the makeup was a waste of time because it’s just as flawless as if a MAC counter artist had done it. My eyes move down to the necklace that matches the combs in my hair. It’s so delicate the way the black metal looks like ivy circling my neck with the dark green gems looking like leaves. My fingers trail over it and down across the swell of my breasts that have been replaced with a Victoria’s Secret model’s rack. All that’s missing is the angel wings and I could walk that catwalk. The gown fits tightly across my chest and waist before flaring out in what looks like miles of skirt.
As I stare at my reflection I feel tears burn in my eyes. The last time I was this done up was for my ill-fated wedding day but even that pales in comparison. I have barely worn makeup or done anything to my hair in the last few years and what I’m looking at right now is the woman I could have, should have been if so much tragedy hadn’t hit me. I’m starting to get more and more emotional but when Claudette cranes her head over my shoulder and sees the sheen of tears in my eyes, she yanks me around.
“Non! You will ru-in the eyes!” She glowers at me for a moment before her face softens and she gently cups my cheek. “Not soft, strong. A great beauty. N’est-ce pas?”
I swallow the tears back and throw my arms around the woman who was a stranger to me a few short hours ago, missing my mother so bad it’s like a dagger in my heart. She hugs me back with a tinkling laugh and then gently escorts me to the door and waves me out.
I walk down the hallway with the fancy shoes only pinching my toes a little and the gown making a satisfying whoosh with every step. When I reach the top of the grand staircase I can’t help but pause as I see all four of the men waiting at the bottom in the entryway. I haven’t seen them dressed so formally yet and it’s a feast for my eyes.
I think it should be a law that all men have to wear those tight muscle-clinging breeches that show a woman exactly what they are packing. Beautiful waistcoats and tailored jackets complete the picture of elegant drool worthiness. As one, they all turn and look up at me. Four sets of admiring eyes blaze
a trail over every inch of me bringing a flush to my cheeks. They watch as I step down each stair but Sebastian turns away when I’m halfway down, his expression turning to one of boredom. I can’t help but stare at his wide shoulders covered in of course, black and wonder if he’s ever going to cut me some slack. And then I wonder why I care.
Eden
Cade, Finn, and Luca greet me at the bottom of the stairs with Cade elbowing Finn out of the way to offer me his arm.
“You look a right picture, my lady. Such beauty should be at Court. You would outshine all the simpering ladies there.”
“Yeah, no thanks! This is about as formal as I can handle.” I laugh and turn to Luca. “I can’t thank you enough for the dress and everything else you filled my room with. It was very kind of you.”
He gives me another of his little bows with a small, soft smile. “It was my pleasure. More so now that I see how your beauty shines in it. The color is a perfect complement for your lovely hair color.” He turns and gestures to the right. “Shall we?”
Finn steps in front of him and offers his arm on my other side causing me to…giggle? Ok, enough, I don’t giggle but I go with it anyways, feeling like a princess, so both the blonds escort me past a glaring Sebastian to a new room that must be the formal dining room. There’s a long, like twenty feet long, elegantly set table waiting for us with attendants hovering at the ready. It’s a beautiful table setting but when I see Sebastian go to one end, Luca the other and the blonds escort me to a chair right in the middle with two other chairs across from me I pause before sitting, glancing to either end. Sebastian notices my hesitation and shoots me an annoyed look.
“Is there a problem, witch?”