Chapter 55

ARIC

Eleanor’s body was crushed against mine. Her skin was so soft, her heartbeat was ringing in my ears, and her body rubbing against mine.

Her head fell back, her back arched toward me, and I pressed my lips against her throat, basking in the touch of her warm skin, the soft racing of her heart.

I wanted to dip lower, to rip her dress off and take her on the balcony.

My mind spun, imagining her completely naked and propped against the railing, screaming my name, tits bouncing as I buried myself in her.

She let out a small moan, bringing my thoughts back to the present, to her hands in my hair, to her body flush against mine.

I pulled away from her just slightly. Our faces were only inches apart. She gazed up at me through her lashes, her blue-green eyes wide, her full lips slightly parted.

Her chest was heaving. Through our Infinity, I could feel her emotions swarming, the warmth filling her, hope. My own heart beat. Once. Twice. Three times.

I traced my fingers down her arm, lifted her hand, and placed it on my chest, pushing against it hard.

She looked severely confused, but when my heart beat another time, I saw her eyes widening in surprise, confusion, and curiosity.

“Aric? Is that...”

A smile played at the edge of my lips. “Remember when I told you our hearts could beat?”

“Of course! When you’re hunting, or eating?”

“And emotional,” I finished for her, crushing her against me. Her eyes were wide, but she bit down on her bottom lip, looking quite cheeky.

“Are you trying to show me how much you care for me, Aric Mcnoxnoctis?” she teased.

I grinned at her, cupped her chin in my palm, and pulled her face up to mine to press my lips against hers again very lightly. She beamed up at me.

“Just to be clear here, Aric,” she murmured, casting her gaze downwards for a moment. “I have said yes to being your girlfriend.

“I have not agreed to be turned, or to join any pureblood cults or have a vampire wedding.” She looked serious. I smiled at her, stroking her soft cheek.

“I know, Eleanor. Don’t worry. Each thing in its own time.” I winked.

She nodded and smiled.

“Sit, let us enjoy the rest of this show,” I guided her to her chair, and she sat down, immediately leaning toward the railing, gazing at the performers. Her eyes were shining, and she grinned at me.

I leaned back in my chair, unable to move my gaze from her. She sat at the edge of her seat, leaning heavily against the railing, her chest heaving, goosebumps rising against her skin.

I reached out and placed my hand gently on her knee. She cast me a grin then turned back to the show. I smiled. Her skin was soft and warm.

I watched the lights play against her face, her gaze following the performers, her body tensing with the flow of the music.

Her wonder was childlike and brought me hurtling back to a time when we had lived together as a family, and she had been innocent.

The expression of awe, joy, and surprise on her face was the same she wore when I taught her to ride Whisper.

I clearly remember the sound of her giggles, her squeals as she tumbled off the horse during her first gallop, and I caught her in my arms.

She giggled and screamed when James and I used to toss her in the air to each other. I remembered bringing her home late and carrying her, sleeping, to her bed.

I remembered staying up past the sunrise with her as she read, and I played her the piano. At the time, I had known that I loved her like a brother, like her caretaker.

I had imagined that one day I would take her to the opera and watch her on the edge of her seat as part of the musical education that I was giving her.

Never had I considered I would also be on the edge of my seat hoping that she would like the music, hoping that she would look over at me and smile, hoping that she would accept me.

I had never felt more vulnerable. Eleanor had, even as a child, been my weakness, as she had been for Mother and Father as well.

Losing her had given us our strength and standing back in the pureblood world, but it had shattered us inside. We had not been able to protect her.

Having found her again, having her by my side and feeling the undeniable attraction, the profound sway she had over me, I started to feel weak again.

Not only could she shatter my world completely if she decided that she didn’t want me, but the pain I would feel if I wasn’t able to protect her again would utterly destroy me.

Vulnerability wasn’t something I was used to feeling, and I wasn’t enjoying it. But I knew it wouldn’t be enough to tear me away from her side. Especially considering the way she had kissed me.

She would always be my weakness. There was no turning back now.

When the final aria finished, the crowd burst into applause, and Eleanor leapt from her seat, whistling loudly through her fingers and clapping.

As the curtains drew closed and the lights flashed on, illuminating the red and gold room that hadn’t changed in the last two hundred years, Eleanor was still clapping and jumping up and down.

I was elated. I could have only hoped for her to enjoy the opera half as much.

“Aric, that was amazing,” she gushed as she picked up her bag, checking the time on the phone. “I didn’t think I would love it so much! I felt the music inside me!”

“Good music has a physical effect,” I agreed. She grinned up at me. “Would you like something to eat?”

She nodded eagerly, still grinning.

“Do you want to come to my place?” she asked. “I have plenty of food, and I can get you a glass of wine.”

I smiled and nodded in agreement.

With my hand on the small of her back, we made our way slowly behind all the old humans, back downstairs and outside into the fresh summer night.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silver light over the people pouring out of the opera house. Eleanor slipped her hand into mine as she guided me through the streets.

She beamed up at me. As we walked, she talked to me about the different shops, telling me which were her favorites and which were absurdly overpriced.

I told her the history of the streets we were taking, remembering the shops that had been there a hundred years ago. She pointed out windows and doors, asking about their history.

“What about that bakery?” she asked.

“The one opened approximately fifty years ago, I believe,” I told her. “But when I lived in Toulouse in 1901, that was a tanner.”

“And that place?”

“That place was a butchery in the sixteenth century. See how the street dips a little? That was so that when they hung the meat up outside, the blood would run down the streets.”

She looked at me, mildly horrified. “There was blood running down the streets?” she uttered.

“About three hundred years ago, yes.”

“How hard was that for you to control yourself?” she asked. I chuckled at her disgusted expression.

“We avoided butcheries,” I told her. “The twins and I were still young and still learning to control our urges. Mother and Father didn’t take us into town much before our three hundredth birthdays.”

“Sure, yeah, because by two hundred, you were obviously still completely uncontrollable,” she muttered sarcastically. I snickered.

“You can make fun, Eleanor, but in all reality, that is the case. It takes a lot of self-control and practice not to rip out every human’s throat I came across.

My every instinct pushes me to run wild through these streets, drink the blood of every passerby, and hunt down those hiding until the sun rises.”

Her steps faltered, and I felt her fingers flexing slightly. I grasped her hand more tightly. “I am not human, Eleanor. I am a hunter, and humans are my prey. It’s my instinct to hunt, kill, and control.”

“I hadn’t realized,” she murmured.

“Not surprising. With you, when you were growing up, we never showed you that side.

“Mother kept you far away from our hunting and feeding expeditions. She didn’t want you to find out until you were an adult.”

“Find out just how bloodthirsty and murderous you are?” Her voice came out as a small squeak.

“As I told you before, Eleanor, murdering humans is my way of life, my nourishment. I would die if I didn’t drink human blood.

“But remember, Eleanor, we don’t just follow our instincts. We adapt and hide in the human world. We have jobs.

“We learn to control our urges and only interact with the human world when we are old enough. You don’t need to be afraid of me. I have very good self-control.”

“I’m not afraid for me, Aric,” she murmured, her brows pulling together in frustration. “I’m trying to morally justify in my head how I can be with you, knowing you kill people and drink their blood.”

“We’re population control. It’s the circle of life. We are no crueler than sharks, lions, and snakes. We all have a place and our role on this planet.

“If you can justify humans killing animals to eat, then you can justify a vampire killing a human to eat.” I arched my brow at her as she gazed up at me, frowning.

“Thank you for explaining to me, Aric. But it’s not something I’m going to be able to just ignore. It’s going to take some time for me to understand it, let alone accept it.”

“No problem,” I smiled down at her. We had stopped in front of her door. She pushed in the door pin and tossed herself at the heavy door, pushing it open with her shoulder.

She lived on one of the top floors. She marched up the stairs ahead of me. I watched, trying not to get too distracted by her tight behind and short skirt sashaying in my face.

When she reached her door, she fumbled with her keys, taking them out, finding the right one. She was taking forever.

I sidled up to her, placing my hands on her hips lightly. Her body tensed, and she let her head fall back against my chest, gazing up at me.

“White wine or red?” she asked. I dipped my head and placed a kiss on her forehead. She was blushing.

“Always red for me, Eleanor,” I breathed into her ear. Eleanor shivered and leaned back against me, her round bottom pressing against my thighs.

I growled softly, feeling my penis twitching in anticipation. She let out a small gasp and slipped the key into the lock, swinging the door open.