My Midnight Moonlight Valentine

by J. J. McAvoy

  “Druella?”

  “What?” I snapped when I was on my feet, and he still just sat there, grinning up at me as I glared down at him. “What?”

  “I’m enjoying eternity with you already,” he said.

  I said nothing and tried to find my escape from the crazy rush of emotions that flooded me from every direction. I moved over to the sea of shopping bags I still hadn’t unpacked and looked in them for the right one before glancing around for the restroom. However, Theseus wasn’t letting me escape. In an instant, he was beside me, his lips by my ear, pointing forward.

  “The shower is behind there.”

  “Thank you,” I muttered and ran, closing the door behind me quickly. Closing my eyes, I rested on the door.

  Lucy had said I was playing with him, but I felt like he was playing with me. And I was falling into his hands easily.

  Chapter 15

  There weren’t many occasions I could think of that required me to wear a floor-length gown. In fact, my high school prom was the last I could remember. So, I didn’t have much experience in formalwear. However, I was positive the one I had on was probably the best I had ever worn in my life. It was made of champagne-colored silk, in a style similar to that of a Greek goddess, V-cut in the front, not too deep, just enough that you could see the mounds of my breast without exposing too much, with an X cut in the back, exposing my smooth brown skin. It fit me like it was made for me and flowed to the grown, covering my feet. The shop had displayed golden, high-heel-like gladiator sandals that stopped at my ankle with wings on the front as well as bangles and even hair decorations. It was for all of these reasons that Lucy had insisted I buy the entire set. I told her I had no idea where I would wear it, but she said if there were anything vampires loved, it was a ball. And I’d most likely need one. She was right, just much sooner than I thought.

  I fluffed my curls a bit more. I was so used to keeping them up that I wasn’t really sure what to do with them, or how to put the decorations in. So, I just left it down and held back a few strands by my ears with the pins.

  Despite all the randomness and the little effort I put in, it looked beautiful. That was one of the strangest things about being a vampire; I always knew I looked beautiful to others. However, feeling beautiful was a completely different thing. If I were human, I would be worried about my breath or if I was shaved or waxed. But when I was still human—or unknowingly a witch—I made a habit of waxing and shaving every inch of my body. I just didn’t like being hairy; there was enough hair on the top of my head. Because of that, when I was reborn, my skin was hairless. The way we died was the way we came back. If I were to cut off all my hair now, the next day, it would grow back to the same exact length I had it at when I had died. However we changed, it only lasted a day before reverting back. So, I was grateful for my old habit; I could not imagine having to shave everywhere every twenty-four hours.

  “It really is nice,” I whispered, shivering at how nice the silk felt against my skin. I hadn’t realized how comfortable I had gotten with the rough feel of cotton. This felt like I was wearing nothing at all.

  Was that why he wanted me to wear it.

  “May I see?” he asked, obviously hearing me despite how low I had whispered. “Or shall you never come out to face me again.”

  “You think very highly of yourself, Mr. Thorbørn. I wasn’t avoiding you. I was in love with the shower. It stays hot, so I could stay in longer,” I replied and rolled my eyes as I opened the door.

  He stood near the edge of the bed on the opposite side of the waterfall across the room, the city lights behind him. My view of was him was distorted by the water. But I could tell he was wearing 1920s-era formal dress. The jacket was high with tails in the back. It had white collars and a vest, along with the white bow tie. His wavy black hair was tussled, which upended the look a bit. He’d even shaved off his five o’clock shadow. He looked dashing like a prince or some great lord.

  “I regret not taking my chance when it was offered,” he spoke, drawing my attention to his face, his eyes staring only at my body.

  A sense of pride filled me, knowing he meant it. I didn’t understand my emotions for and toward him, but I wasn’t going to figure it out now.

  “Is that code for you like it?” I asked, glancing down at my dress.

  “That word like is not strong enough,” he said, offering his hand, and I took it. Instead of kissing it, he brought me closer and put his hand on my waist. “Aphrodite would weep in jealousy of your beauty.”

  “How many women have you seduced with talk like that?” I grinned, reaching up to adjust his bow tie.

  “I do not know. For I can’t think of any other woman but you. Did women exist before you?”

  I bit my lip to stop from smiling. He knew sweet talk for sure. And I was sucker just basking in it.

  “Thank you,” I said, slowly looking over his attire. “Now, on to you. This outfit…”

  “Is not of the correct times?” he asked, and I nodded. “Yes, I figured, but it was what I wore when I first came here. Apparently, I have not had time to update my international wardrobe.”

  “You stayed in this room?” I asked, surprised. “Wait, this building was here in 1920?”

  “Apparently, though I doubt this place looked exactly the same. However, what is more important is that I left things behind, which is not normal for me. I do not leave things with those not of my family. So, either I trusted Taelon more than I can understand or something happened. But what could it have been?” He moved, shifting so I could see the things on the bed. There was a black, engraved pen, a golden pocket watch on a chain that was still ticking, as well as a leather-bound notebook with a worn cover, which he lifted and gave to me.

  When I opened the notebook, there were a few short notes, but they were written in Greek. Flipping the pages, I saw what he saw, Montréal through his eyes. He had sketched people and places, streets, even a cat sitting on a bench outside of a shop.

  “Lucy and I went to that bakery.” I grinned, shocked and proud that it still existed. I kept flipping, turning the book every which way to see the work better. “This is why I love art. No matter the language barrier between people, no matter how many years have gone by, it doesn’t expire or lose its wonder. It connects us and makes us feel as if we were right there, too. I always feel like we never thank artists enough. They preserved a world by hand before cameras did. They show us so much of the world and their thoughts on it. Like this.” I pointed, looking back up at him to find him smiling as he watched me. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

  “No, I beg of you, go on. What of this?” he asked, looking down at the page I pointed to. “It is of two wealthy women about to step out of their car.”

  “Yes, but look where you drew the woman’s gaze.” I followed it across the page. “She is gazing at the driver, her hand just about touching him. We can’t see the driver’s face because his head is down, but we can see the corner of his mouth. He’s smiling. It makes me think they might be lovers.”

  “Or friends,” he shot back.

  “Or friends,” I repeated, dissatisfied. “Though I prefer lovers, and seeing as how you can’t remember it’s up to the viewer to decide.”

  “Another reason you enjoy art?” he mused. “You can create love stories from it?”

  “You’re teasing me, but you’re the one who drew the picture. And this.” I pointed to the next sketch of a family. A man and his wife, her carrying the child in her arms, and her husband grinning widely at the child.

  “We are going to be late,” he said, trying to take the book from me, but I put it behind my back quickly and got in his face.

  “You’re a sucker for romance, too, Mr. Sweet Talker.”

  His jaw cracked to the side. “Do you know how many I have killed, young one?”

  “Oh, is this the part of the story where you try
to convince me you are a bad, dangerous man?” I giggled, thinking of how many times I had read those types of scenes. “Are you forgetting the first time I saw you? You were naked in the forest, feeding from bodies. If I didn’t get that you were big and bad then—”

  “Thank you for calling me big. I have always been unsatisfied with the depictions of the Greek form, especially in sculpture.”

  Oh my God.

  He chuckled, kissing my cheek, and I was so frozen in shock by his long-winded compliment to himself that I didn’t notice he took the sketchbook until it was too late.

  “Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm.

  “You are…” I didn’t have words, nor did it matter because I heard the elevator. Ignoring his arm, I walked myself over to it.

  It only took a moment to arrive. When the engraved doors opened, Lucy was there dressed in layers upon layers of royal blue, yellow, and black silks, with flower petals on the shoulders and the hem of the gown. Her black hair, half up and down, had different jewels of flowers in the top. She looked like an ancient Korean princess.

  “See, what did I tell you?” She spoke to Taelon, who was dressed in matching silk robes, his black hair brought forward to give him side bangs, but his hair was much longer now, almost as long as hers. “Druella was too stubborn to give in just yet.”

  Wait; what? The spell on me was broken.

  “Hello, to you, too, Lucy. Nice outfit,” I said, looking her over again.

  There were so many places to look. She even had a jade butterfly pendant dangling from her waist, but half of the butterfly was missing—well not missing, the other one half was on Taelon.

  “Yes, it is the best I could do on short notice. No one told me it was a costume ball.” She brushed her hand over her clothes. If this was the best she could do with short notice, what would she do if she had enough notice? Make a crown and ten-foot train?

  “I see you went for a Greek goddess, Druella, how beautiful and appropriate seeing as who your mate is.” Taelon smiled and glanced over to Theseus, who stood somewhat bored.

  He was much more stoic and uptight with company around. The playfulness in him was completely gone. “English evening tails? I would not have guessed that would be your choice.”

  “Our host failed to inform us about this evening’s events. We all made do with what we could,” Theseus replied, leading me inside the elevator.

  “Yes, Mikhail isn’t my favorite brother. The fact that I’m here at all is something, let alone with guests,” Taelon grumbled, making space for me and my dress, and the doors closed in front of us.

  “If it is his 500th birthday, how old are you?” I knew he had given me the time period he was from, but I had very little knowledge of Japan outside of anime. Oh God, don’t say that aloud, Druella; they will laugh in your face.

  “I will be 459 in a month.” Taelon shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it.

  I glanced over at Lucy, who was still messing with her clothes, adjusting and pulling, not at all paying attention. She was nervous.

  I leaned over, grinning as I asked, “Don’t you think he is a little old for you?”

  That caught her attention quickly. “Says the woman whose mate is around the same age as Taelon’s father.”

  “I am not mated yet.” I shrugged my shoulders and could feel Theseus take in air beside me, restraining himself from speaking.

  “Yes, is that why you two are sharing a room?” she posed back to me.

  “It was the only one offered.”

  “You did not even bother asking.” She said as if she’d won. “Taelon would have given you one.”

  “Fine, since you’re my guest, we should be together.” I grinned.

  “You are welcome to come stay with us,” Taelon cut in, causing Theseus to growl, and both Lucy and I turned back to stare at him.

  “Is she, now?” Lucy asked with a dark tone.

  Taelon’s eyes widened in realization. “I only meant—”

  “…to create harem?” I asked him, doing my best to keep a serious face.

  “That is what it sounded like, isn’t it?” Lucy’s head twisted to the side, watching him. Nervous laughter escaped him as he looked at Theseus, who, wisely kept his face forward as if no one else were beside him.

  Taelon just smiled at her. “Love.”

  “Hmmh,” she grumbled.

  I turned around, quickly pressing my lips closed and trying not to laugh. Theseus’s grey eyes shifted toward me suspiciously. But this time, I wisely kept facing forward, waiting as we reached the level that said B. But it wasn’t the basement; we were going up not down. When the doors opened, it was extravagant and luxurious. The ballroom looked like it had been stolen, plucked from a palace in Europe. It had wood flooring, and the walls were painted with imagines of all sorts of people, no—vampires, dressed in traditional, flowing robes. I saw the work perfectly under the cascading light of the crystal chandeliers above them. But it was the ceiling, the glass that all the stars reflect in it, twinkling. They shot through the sky, telling everyone that saw it, that it was not just by coincidence but by design. I could stare at the décor for hours; however, the moment Theseus took my arm, leading me forward, I realized the walls and the mirrors of stars were not the most interesting thing inside the room.

  I felt their stares.

  Over a hundred vampires all watched as we stepped from the elevators to the grand staircase. We were on the upper level, allowing us to notice everything before them. And though I knew I wasn’t going to trip, I held Theseus’s arms tighter. The voices surrounded me, and they didn’t care that I could hear them.

  “So, that is the Princes of Night’s mate?”

  “Who is she? Do we know her family?”

  “I heard she was only reborn a year ago.’

  “So young.”

  “So beautiful.”

  “We’re all beautiful.”

  “Not all of us.” That comment got a few snickers to the right of me, but I didn’t look because Theseus led me toward one corner of the room. A servant dressed in red came forward with glasses of wine instead of blood.

  “Thank you,” I said to him when Theseus took the glass.

  But the man did not speak or nod; he just moved to the next guest.

  “The president is not here yet,” Theseus said, focusing on the cup in my hands. “Have you ever had blood wine before?”

  “Blood wine?” I sniffed the wine, but I couldn’t smell anything but the vineyard, the sweetness of the grapes.

  “It is exactly as it sounds. By putting in a drop of fresh human blood, only a drop changes the components of the wine, making it drinkable to us, but also different types of blood give wines different flavors.”

  Flavors? I lifted the glass again to look before taking a sip. “It tastes just like red wine, sweet and a little savory. But it tastes like it did when I was mortal.”

  He nodded. “It is an old trick to help vampires cope between feedings. Now people experiment to recreate human flavors.”

  “I find this insulting!” A square-jawed, bushy-eyebrowed man with a buzz cut, dressed in elaborate clergymen’s attire, barked out in a heavy Russian accent as he came forward. “As the Prince of Night, where are your manors? Did you not see me? You just take your mate and sneak into the corner.”

  Theseus turned to the man speaking, and I had feeling he was trying his best to figure out who the hell was talking to him. I had forgotten he didn’t remember these vampires. That was why he had led us away, so as not to expose himself.

  Quickly I turned to the annoyed man. “It is because I am a bit shy…Mr.…”

  “Mikhail Swan, fourth son of the president, the one this party is for.” He snapped his green eyes to me. “Shy or not, one would think the Prince of Night purposefully wanted to insult me.”

  “Oh
relax, just because it is your birthday does not mean you are king.” Daiyu rolled her eyes, walking over in an emerald green, Tudor-style corset dress. The B necklace hung around her neck with pearls clearly stated she was Anne Boleyn tonight. She looked at Theseus and bowed her head. “Though it does sting that you have not introduced her, Lord Thorbørn.”

  “Forgive me, Mikhail, Daiyu.” He nodded to them both. “I was simply waiting for your father. It seemed wrong to introduce her to anyone but him first.”

  “There can be an exception.” Daiyu flashed her sharp smile. “Mikhail might be the celebrant, but she is the guest of honor. We are all honored that you chose this as the first celebration to show her to the whole world.”

  “Very well.” Theseus’s voice was the only one heard as everyone quickly hushed. He lifted his hand for me to take, and I did. “My fellow immortals, this is Druella Zirie Monroe, my intended.”

  “Intended? What the hell does that mean? I hate when you are not clear with your words,” Mikhail retorted, carefully watching my every move. His eyebrows were so hairy they touched when they furrowed. “Ms. Monroe, are you the Prince of Night’s woman or not? Wait, don’t tell me you rejected him? Do you know who he is?”

  There were soft intakes of air, the sounds of people either amused or in shock. And whatever mask Theseus wore had to be made of stone and dipped in iron because he looked completely unfazed by the obvious and loud goading Mikhail was engaging in for no reason.

  “Well, Ms. Monroe? Will you keep us intended for an answer? We are curious. The Prince of Night has had many women. They all begged him to mate, but he treated them like cadavers when he was done with them. Now he wants a mate, and she is rejecting him,” he pushed.

  Maybe it was because of all the years I had endured Simone’s backhanded comments that I wasn’t shocked to see he was being so blatantly disrespectful.

  “I apologize.” No, I didn’t. “As I’m sure you know, I haven’t been a vampire for long, so I don’t know our customs and practices very well yet; hardly at all, actually. Everything is still a bit overwhelming. And I have been told I still act like a mortal. Theseus has asked me to mate him, but what does being mated mean? If that is like the mortal term for marriage or soulmates, I believe it should be equal. Right now, it is not. I’m using him more like a book than a mate. When I can be fair to him and meet him with the same sincerity and patience he gives me, I will give him my answer because he deserves that.”