by L. C. Son
“Oh, well thank you Sebastian, but you owe me no apologies. Given the way I left yesterday, I wouldn’t be surprised if you never wanted to see me again—much less replace my pastries.”
Squeezing my hand tighter, his gaze darkens as he keeps his eyes locked with mine. “That brings me to the second thing. I suppose I ate the croissants because I wanted to get to know you better. That is why I am here today. Sure, there is the matter of the wines, but truly if it weren’t for the baskets—or the bakery—or that you left behind your folio, I’d find some way to get to know you better. I want to get to know you better. No, I need to get to know you better. And my lady, I have every intention of knowing you in every way that you will allow.”
With his words, my lips part in a gasp and everything in me wishes he’d fill the void between my mouth with the entirety of him.
Staring at him, I hardly recall my earlier somber state. The horrid images that once filled my mind are now replaced with the gloriousness that is Sebastian St. John. Even the disconsolation from before seems assuaged with his presence alone.
However possible this may be, I know one thing: I want do not wish it to end.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“So which wine is your favorite?” Sebastian asks for the third time. His gaze has turned from curious to pensive as I teeter back and forth, tasting wine from the three small glasses in front of me. “Surely you must fancy one more than the other,” he adds, blowing air from the corner of his mouth, moving his curly brown tendrils away from the side of his eye.
Laughing at his growing irritation, I take a bite of cheese, allowing it to reset my tastebuds. “Okay, I think I’ve narrowed it down to one.”
“Well, for mercy, Chartreuse do not keep me guessing!” He whines, pushing himself closer to my side. Once we started the wine tasting he changed his seating and has been inching closer along the way.
“This one!” I exclaim.
Sighing with a curved smile at the corners of his lips, he takes the glass from me and sips. “Mmm,” he moans with his eyes closed. My eyes linger on him as he licks his plump rose-hued lips, savoring the sweetness of the wine. “Good choice,” he says softly.
“Like Oliver said, I do know my wines,” I reply, forcing my eyes away from the enticing way his now wet mustache curls just so perfectly at the corner of his mouth.
“That’s a first—for Oliver I mean. The old chum is never right about anything,” he laughs. Taking my chin in his hand, he turns my face back to meet his darkened deep gray eyes. “But I am glad he was right about you, my lady. So tell me what you like about it most?”
Staring in his eyes I find myself lost. His gaze entrances me and I gasp lightly when I detect a small fiery glow resting behind his irises.
“Let me start,” he begins, gently grazing his thumb along the curves of my lips. “I like this.”
“What?” I whisper with my eyes still locked with his.
“The way you part your lips in an O. It’s indeed more intoxicating than any proof found in these glasses.” His palm firms against my face and he inches closer, taking in a deep breath near the nape of my neck. “And you smell delightful, like pomegranates nestling near an ocean’s breeze.”
“That’s curious, my lord.”
“How so?” He breathes in my ear.
“I’ve never seen the ocean,” I say with a chuckle, pulling myself from his hold.
“I’m sorry, my lady am I moving too fast?” Sebastian questions, concern filling his brow.
“Well, no—and yes. We hardly know anything about one another. I mean you’ve told me how much you loathe working with the nobles and how you don’t quite see the point of trying to impress the factions with imported cheese and wine, but you’ve told me little about yourself.”
Pushing himself back into his seat, his posture stiffens, and he folds his arms across his chest. “So what do you want to know? I’m an open book,” he replies, stretching his arms wide with an even wider smile to match.
“Okay, well, I heard your father passed recently. I am sorry to learn of it. What happened? How are you doing?”
“Ah, so you’re starting with the big stuff first.” Jumping up from his seat, he circles the table, craning his arms behind his neck and blowing out another heave of air, sending his hair away from his eyes once more. “My father, Kellan, died just a few weeks ago. He was killed in a Skull attack in Biloxi. I am not sure what business he had there, but he was here one day and gone the next. I had just arrived from Paris with a new shipment of port, wine, and cheese. The Guardians were able to put down the herd that attacked he and his company and that is my only comfort. While my father and I didn’t see eye to eye on many issues, he was my father and I loved him. It was just me and him. My mother was killed by Scourge shortly after I was born so it’s just been the two of us for some time.”
My heart nearly breaks at his words. I know too well the hole left in my heart after my own father’s death. His eyes glass, but he sucks the air in his throat down and forces a crooked smile.
“I’m sorry, Sebastian,” I say, rising from my seat and walking to where he stands on the other side of the table. “I didn’t mean to drudge up your pain—especially so soon after—I don’t know what I was thinking!”
“It is quite all right, Chartreuse. To be frank, it’s actually nice to finally have someone to share it with. Most Altrinions like myself don’t do well with conversations surrounding death. I suppose the thought of our own mortality is a grim topic. And like many Altrinions, my father lived a long life. He saw more than four-hundred and eighty-nine years of life.”
“Whoa, well how old are you?” I blurt, regretting my words just as soon as I utter them.
Sebastian laughs, taking my hand in his and walks us down the terrace steps leading to an overgrown flowerbed. “One-hundred and twenty.” His tone is dry as he searches my face. “Does that bother you?”
“Well, no it doesn’t bother me, but it is odd. I mean you don’t look a day over thirty. Twenty-five even!”
“I suppose,” he chuckles, swaying our hands as we walk along the graveled path. “Most Altrinions hit a spell of maturity and then we’re frozen in time.”
Looking out into the flowery meadow, my mind wanders. A man whose seen so much of the world, without much mortal limitation is likely out of my league. I’ve not seen a world much farther from the steps of the saloon until now and even this is in somewhat of a controlled state.
I am certain we have little in common.
“Chartreuse,” Sebastian says, breaking me away from my downward thoughts. Cupping my face in his palm, he smiles, “Where did you go?”
Pulling from his grasp, I turn away and begin making my way back to the table. Using his Altrinion speed, he is in front of me in an instant. “Did I say something? Share too much too soon?” He questions, a puzzling frown marring his perfect face.
“No it’s not that, Sebastian. It’s just—just—nothing!”
“Please, Chartreuse, tell me. What can I do to keep you here with me?”
“Sebastian, please let me go. This just won’t work!”
“Is it my age? Are you worried I’m too old? I assure you I’m—”
“It’s just everything, Sebastian. You are supernatural. And I’m—” I want to say doomed but stop myself short of such an admission.
“You are beautiful. Lovely. Intelligent. Everything I have ever wanted in a woman,” he replies, taking a tight hold at my wrist, preventing me from moving.
Everything. The word is as curious in my hearing as it is to pair it with any mention of myself.
“How can you say that, Sebastian? You hardly know me. As a matter of fact you don’t know anything about me.”
“Don’t I?” He smirks, tilting his head to one side. “Well, let us see, by your wine selection, I now know your pallet enjoys the mixture of blackcurrant and cherries. And while you appreciated the wildflowers, I gave you
earlier, you much prefer the scent of dried and crushed flowers as evident in this Bordeaux. But the fact the flavor of the cedar, smoked in a cigar box we used to ferment the wine was not as repugnant to you as it is to most women, you stand apart from them all and even so, squarely before any man without hesitation. Last, the fact you have purposed yourself in this very chaotic supernatural world, when someone as lovely as you could be anything else she wanted, I know you are a woman who chooses her own path, refusing to be tamed by the misogynistic ruling doctrine of the world. So yes, my ever-lovely Chartreuse, I do know you.”
At his revelation, another gasp is all I have to offer in reply. How can someone I’ve known less than a day seem to discern more about me than those who should know me better.
Trailing his hands along my jawbone, his tender glance searches my face once more. “There goes that perfect parting again. May I kiss you, my lady? I must confess I’ve been longing to do so, since the moment you stepped out of the house.”
“Yes,” I rush my response, pushing myself into his embrace.
And kiss me he does.
Just when I thought Marius’ farewell kiss was the first to make my heart patter, Sebastian’s kiss is the first to send my will to all manner of surrender. Never have I wanted to yield myself in the hold of any man, but at this moment it is all I can think.
Sebastian’s kiss is sweet and even without the tether of our tongues, the perfect placement of his lips between my own send my heart racing with electricity. His hold on me is gentle, yet deliberate. There is no escaping his grasp, nor do I desire to do so.
Pushing our mouths tighter, Sebastian holds me steady at the nape of my neck, running his hands through my hair. Every touch of his fingers is titillating.
I’ve never been held like this before. Ever.
Slowly, he pulls himself from our kiss and strums his hands through my hair, inhaling the scent of me wholly.
“Now I know something else about you,” he begins with a sly smile.
“What?” I ask.
“Your lips taste as delectable as they look,” he says. “But I do have a question for you, my lady. Is there a special someone in your life?”
Letting out a small giggle, I look up at him and shake my head. “Don’t you think you should have asked me that before you kissed me?”
“Well, if he was really someone special you wouldn’t be kissing me, would you?” He teases with another sexy smirk. “Besides, even if there was someone, I’d have to protest.”
“You have no need of protesting, my lord, I can assure you.”
“I just don’t understand how such a treasure like you is on this earth unmated.”
“I suppose the same could be said of you, my lord. In the same manner, I do ask, is there a Mrs. St. John?”
Laughing again, he runs his hands through his hair and smiles his boyish grin. “The only Mrs. St. John I’ve ever known was my mother. I have no wife if that is what you mean.”
“How surprising!”
“Really? How so?”
“Someone as handsome and of class such as yourself should have very little trouble making pair.”
“Oh, well, I suppose if it were up to my father, I would have been paired the moment I broke my leading strings. He’s been trying to marry me off since I became of age. That is why I’ve kept my distance, cementing myself into the family business, hopeful to find other ways to make him proud. But he was an only son of an only son, so there’s that—”
“Ah! So you mean to say you’ve just been out here sowing your royal oats in the interim.”
“Not quite,” he grumbles, feigning a frown. “But in all seriousness, I meant what I said earlier. I want and need to get to know you, Chartreuse. I want to know what you like, who you love and why. I want to understand your desires and your ambitions. But more than anything, for the first time, I can honestly say I want to stand in the sun with someone who isn’t caught up in the musings of this world. Someone who wants to know my pain—and who actually asks how I feel. Not someone who merely sees me as a means to end or some status quota to fulfill. I simply want what everyone in this world wants. To be seen.”
The sincerity of his sentiment cracks the usually hard casing of my heart. Never have I witnessed someone so succinctly reveal their vulnerability. Least of all divulge such privity to me.
Tugging me by the hand, so that our bodies are touching, he runs his hands down my shoulders, locking his eyes with me once more.
“So that it is clear, I want you to know I see you too. I don’t know why you were running when I first saw you earlier. Yes, beloved, I saw your bags. Just know should you choose to run again; I promise to run along your side.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Enjoy yourself. Dalcour’s parting words to me have never held more meaning than they do now. For the first time since I can remember, I am enjoying myself. And not just the mere enjoyment provided through the pampering of a wellness spa, living in a grand estate, and wearing pretty dresses. No, the enjoyment I now feel can all be traced to one singular name.
Sebastian St. John.
I never knew being with someone like this could be such a joy. Every moment with him is so sweet. Every touch of his hand, steely stare, or even the melodic tremor of his voice brings both merriment and delight to the inner-most parts of my soul.
It has been seven days since our first kiss. And I have spent every day since still kissing him. In fact, it has become my favorite pastime. That and holding his hand. I never thought I’d be that girl. To be perfectly honest, I hardly thought I was capable of swooning.
Yet, here I am, swooning. Panting even at the mere sight of him.
I can’t help it. He is mouthwatering.
Sitting between two large wooden barrel crates, I watch in awe as his sweat-dripping, shirtless and sculpted body paces back, carrying large pallets of port through the wine press warehouse. Although I know it’s an effortless feat for him being an Altrinion, my mouth still parts at the sight of his muscular form.
I don’t know if it’s the slender cut of his waist and brawny bronzed chest or if it’s the sight of his strapping taut back that sends a gripping pulse to my preciousness, but it’s taking everything in me to tame myself from enrapturing him wholly.
But he is more than pleasing to the eyes.
He connects with my heart and soul more than anyone ever has.
In the few days we’ve known one another I’ve shared more with him than anyone before. Not only does he know my favorite meal is ham, stewed apples, and biscuits, but he’s discovered my fear of spiders and my zealous love for my sister Chalmette. Even more, I know he speaks three languages beyond English. He’s fluently spoken French and Italian for most of his life and recently learned Muskogean while aiding negotiations during the French Indian War.
So yes, I am indeed enjoying this life Dalcour has laid at my feet and this is indeed the happiest I’ve ever been.
“Enjoying the view?” Sebastian asks over his shoulder while pushing a large crate of wine bottles on a metal rack.
“It’s actually a pretty dull sight from where I sit,” I tease, nestling myself deeper between the wooden barrels at my side.
“Is that so?” He laughs, turning quickly on his heel. Raking his hands through his hair and wiping the sweat along his brow, he smiles wide and races in front of me in a blink. I gasp as he pins himself between my legs with his arms spread to both sides of the barrels. “Well my lady, the view from where I stand is rather delightful,” he says, donning his boyishly sexy grin.
Sweat from his forehead drips to my breastbone and I am still surprised that he manages to keep his eyes locked with mine.
In the last week that we’ve been together Sebastian has made no attempt to do anything more than kiss me. While a part of me admires his restraint, I can’t help wondering whether there is something about me that he recoils. Sure, the men in the saloon paid a pretty coin to en
ter my bedchamber, but I never had a problem with men noticing me. This is different.
So different that it puzzles me.
There is no mistaking our mutual attraction, but for the life of me I do not understand why he has made no advances toward me otherwise.
Nonetheless, I am more than thankful to have this beautiful man in my life, and I will gladly bide my time at his side.
I can only hope the time isn’t far spent.
“Where’d you go, my lovely lady?” Sebastian asks, extending his hands to lift me up from between the barrels.
“I’m right here,” I answer, forcing a dutiful smile.
“You do that a lot, you know?” He adds with a curious glare.
“What?” I reply, ringing out a cool iced towel and offering it to him.
“Thank you,” he says taking the towel and wiping his face and neck. “Well, it’s like you disappear but you’re standing right in front of me. Your eyes grow distant, and you just stare off. I wish I knew what you were thinking about, but you are exceedingly difficult to read, I’m afraid.”
“How do you mean? Read?” I ask.
Staring at me with a curious frown, he tosses the towel over his shoulder, opening his arm and allowing me to loop mine through his as we begin making our way through the warehouse. Turning off a few lights and checking the rutters of the large pressing unit he continues with his normal end of day routine.
Grabbing his shirt from a wooden stand he maintains his inquisitive gaze just as he parts his lips to speak. “I suppose I mean that since I am Altrinion, I should be able to read your mind, but I cannot.”
“Are you serious? Altrinions can read minds?” I sputter my words, taken aback at this new information.
Crap! Does Dalcour know about my dealings with the Changelings? Has this been his plan the entire time?
My thoughts go awry at even the possibility my hidden desires are not as hidden as I had hoped.
“See, you’re doing it again? I mean, for mercy Chartreuse! What is going on? Are you okay?”