We were lost in a world of our own making, a world where only he and I existed, where the cook, Phyllis, didn't need the carrots for the stew, or where Detrand didn't need to meet with the captain of one of the ships to renegotiate a contract.
In our world, it was only him and me, our bodies pressed together, our lips consuming each other’s, a whirlwind of emotion building and surging like a giant wave.
Would these feelings ever abate?
Would I ever not want to feel his lips on mine, his roaring emotions through my body, the press of his heartbeat against my chest?
Would I ever grow tired of holding this man, touching him, wanting him to be mine?
All these thoughts and more tumbled around my mind as Detrand's hands roamed down to my side, squeezing me tight, tighter, as if he never wished to let me go.
As if he could hear the thoughts inside me and wished me to know that he was never letting me go.
That I would always belong to him.
That, no matter the passage of time, I would remain in his arms only.
It was only the clearing of a throat that made me hesitate, to pull back even though Detrand didn't, and finally pull my gaze away from his adoring eyes to look at Emily.
She was staring down at us with a disgruntled look on her face, her arms crossed against her chest, her foot tapping.
"I'm sorry." I grabbed the basket, holding it up to her. “I was distracted.”
“I can see that.” She didn't take the basket, but looked down at it, displeasure clear on her face. "And the peppers?"
"Oh." I'd forgotten about those.
Detrand's fingers on my chin pulled me back to look into his eyes and I was caught up in his gaze once more. He leaned forward, kissing me again, while simultaneously taking the basket from my hands. Then he lifted it, his voice a command in between kissing me.
"Get the peppers for yourself, that's one of your duties in this household, am I correct?"
He didn't wait for her response, but as soon as she'd taken the basket from his hands, her fingers lingering against his, he clasped my face, a dark rumble escaping him as he deepened the kiss, twisting my head and pressing his lips so tight against mine that I could barely breathe.
He was claiming me, in front of her. Deliberately.
She didn’t say anything, but stomped across the garden walk towards the rows of peppers.
"I don't mind helping," I murmured against his lips.
"Oh, but I do, if it's going to interrupt your assigned duties."
I pulled back, my eyebrow ticked upwards. "And what duties are those? I don’t have any assignments.”
"Ah, but you do.” He kissed me again, then his lips pressed across my cheek and moved down to my neck.
"And what are they?” I clasped his shoulders, reveling in the feel of the burning sensation across my skin.
"To attend to the master of the house, of course.”
I grinned, then my breath hitched as his fangs sunk deep into the soft skin of my neck. Emily's pouting steps were quickly forgotten as I was lost in the addicting sensation of his bloodlust for me.
2
Adelade
As we made our way, hand in hand, back up to the manor, I realized that he hadn't really answered my question about his life before he was a strigoi. I decided not to press him on it, as it was obviously still a bit painful for him.
I couldn't imagine losing your children to death. I know that it happened all the time but, in my mind, the parents were always meant to leave this life before the children. However, as a strigoi, I guess that was the opposite, wasn’t it?
If you were turned, you would watch your children grow old, and even their children.
How painful that must be.
But still, who could believe that even after four hundred years, the pain inside Detrand was still so acute?
It was a sad thing, and I wished I could take the ache from him.
As we opened the door to the kitchen, Phyllis immediately reacted to our presence. “I’m not done with the stew quite yet." She pounded the spoon against the sides of the pot, stirring furiously.
"It's okay," I tried to calm her. "It's my fault for not bringing in the vegetables earlier."
"Still," she glanced at Detrand who was only watching her curiously, "I should've woken Emily up earlier to go retrieve them if you were busy."
Emily only huffed a breath, walking back into the pantry to avoid being in the same room as us.
With Detrand trailing in my wake, I moved to Phyllis' side. "Things have changed, and you're still getting accustomed to them," I soothed her, ignoring the amused emotions from Detrand.
He didn't think that I should bother with the staff as much as I did, but knowing what their lives were like made me much more sympathetic towards them.
And it was true. Now that both Lula and I were sleeping during the day and waking with the strigoi, the staff had to adjust their schedules to make our meals in the evening. Everyone was switching their schedule to accommodate Lula's and mine, and even though they were paid well to do it, I still wished to make things a bit smoother for them.
"I can go dress if that would make things easier for you?" I asked Phyllis.
She nodded, her shoulders lowering as she began to relax. "That would be a great help, thank you."
I turned to leave, and Detrand took my hand again, murmuring in my ear as we left the kitchen. "Or I could set the table, if that would help the staff."
I led him through the dining room. “What are you talking about?"
"I would make things much more simple if I were to do it. I wouldn’t place plates and silverware. All I would need was you up on the table, your legs spread wide, the smell of your delicious cunt filling the air."
I blushed with the thought but there was still something inside me that made me heat with his words.
By now, everyone knew that Detrand and I were together, but there were still some issues with the staff.
As if answering my thoughts, Detrand spoke. "Emily may not exactly know what we do in my room, but if I laid you out on the table and ate from your cunt for all the staff to see, she would certainly get the idea. Then maybe she would finally let go of her hopes and dreams of catching me."
I smiled, actually enjoying the thought even though I would never let him do that to her. “She'll get the idea soon enough." I sighed heavily. "If only you weren't so handsome, it might make things easier on her."
“I could make myself a bit uglier,” he chuckled, “but then I might lose you to another, and that, I won't risk."
“Never.” I contested his words but he only pulled me up the stairs and to his room and, as soon as we were inside it, he turned to me.
"Take off that robe and nightgown, Adelade. I wish to see you."
A thrill hummed inside me, and I did as he commanded, pulling everything off and placing it on the edge of his bed, then turned towards him.
As his eyes roamed my naked body and I returned the inspection. He was incredibly handsome, his whole frame intertwined with strong muscles, power pulsing from his mere presence. His eyes were deep and sharp, betraying his intelligence. The cut of his jaw was as if Michelangelo had carved it himself along with the rest of his body.