Reynaldo didn’t know what he’d expected after his declaration, but what happened wasn’t it.
Awash with tears, Simone’s eyes were clear and deep, the green beyond any he’d ever seen. Yellow-green at the edges they changed to a sea-green shade in the centers. He’d rarely beheld such warmth. Genuine. Convivial. Utterly guileless. He could gaze into them for hours. Easily. They resembled precious multi-hued jadestones his family had once traded for in the Orient. Unique and rare. Or, perhaps they were closer to a deep, mysterious section beneath the surface of a sunlit pond. If it hadn’t been centuries in the past, and if he had the ability to be out in bright daylight, he’d might be able to conjure a decent comparison.
Either way, Simone’s eyes altered as he watched. Her expression went unreadable. Almost blank. And then she looked down and her lashes hid him from seeing even that much.
“Um. Reynaldo?”
Her voice cracked slightly. His heart twinged. That meant hers must have the same response. She was his mate and he was hers. Matching physical responses wasn’t an option, especially now that they’d physically mated. He ran his tongue along his upper teeth, touching fang tips that were almost receded, while he waited for her to look back at him.
But she didn’t.
“What is it, love?” he finally prompted.
“You...shouldn’t have said that. And you shouldn’t call me that.”
She pulled from him as she spoke, then rolled to her side, physically separating what she’d already mentally begun. She had to hold herself from him, though. Otherwise the slant of the mattress would have sent her right back to him.
“Why not?” he asked.
“You said you were always truthful.”
“I am.”
“Well, then. Your endearment can’t be true.”
“It is.”
“We just met.”
Reynaldo studied the tangled locks of her hair for a bit, how it followed the curve of her back. How that led to a narrow waist. From there, to her lush buttocks. Stockings still clung to her thighs, but they’d slipped. The lace tops hovered just above her knees. She was so luscious. So desirable. So utterly womanly...
His cazzo stirred. Hardened.
Merda!
Almost too late he realized he was adding trouble where none was needed. Reynaldo quickly moved his gaze to the chamber beyond her, and tried to repress any emotion from in his voice. “Did we now?” he finally replied.
“You know we did. Hours ago. I think. Heck. I don’t even know anymore.”
He waved a hand although she couldn’t see it. “Hours. Weeks. Years. Time is an immaterial construct, actually. One designed by mankind to produce stress in themselves and others.”
“Try telling that to my alarm clock.”
Reynaldo’s lips twitched.
“Look. I’m in over my head here, okay? This is all so unreal! It feels like I’ve been tossed into an unlit maze and every turn I take just gets me in deeper.”
“Deeper?”
“Yeah. Deeper. Like, into psychosis.”
“I am unfamiliar with the word,” Reynaldo admitted.
“It means insane. Crazed. Mad. Sufferers need to be locked up in a padded room away from others. Oh. And toss in a straitjacket.”
“But you are none of those things.”
“I’m with a man who says he’s a vampire. He has fangs...and ugh. He even sucks blood. And you’re telling me I’m not crazy?”
“I beg to differ, darling, but just slightly. You are with a vampire who exhibits all the traits of one...because he is one.” He stressed the last portion of his reply.
She sighed heavily, lifting her shoulders with it. “And there you have it. Psychiatric care and drug therapy, here I come. I wonder if this is covered in my health plan.”
“Simone.”
“Reynaldo.”
She mimicked his careful tone. Exactly. He couldn’t control the snicker. “You are so priceless! Do you know that?” he remarked.
“All I know is you can’t possibly be a vampire. There is no such thing. It’s a proven fact. It’s a physical, medical, and chemical impossibility.”
“But you saw—.”
“I know you exhibit all the ethos of a vampire,” she interrupted him. “That doesn’t mean you are one! It just means I’m seeing things. Or, I’m insane.”
“Do you work all your debates in this fashion?” Reynaldo asked.
“Excuse me?”
“I am evaluating my prospects for the future. I shall obviously have to be on my toes before I enjoin a debate with you. But, oh! I so look forward to them.”
“We don’t have a future, Reynaldo.”
“Oh. Forgive my lack. Allow me to rectify that. Will you accept my hand in wedlock, Miss Simone Ryan?” he asked easily.
She choked. “What?”
“I apologize for the short notice, and my failure in offering an engagement trinket, nor am I on bended knee before you...but I am proposing a wedded union with you. And now I anxiously await your answer.”
“This is insane.”
“That is not the answer I was hoping for,” he quipped.
“Reynaldo, please. I wish you’d stop. Just stop.”
Moments passed with the sounds of their breathing. Something moved on the dressing table. Reynaldo watched a candle wallow in its wax pool before it fell over, extinguishing itself. The one that had been beside it tilted. There weren’t many tapers still lit. He counted sixteen but that didn’t include those in the water closet that still shed a dim glow.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Following your command.”
“I didn’t command anything.”
“Your wish is my command, love.”
“Will you please stop calling me that? Please?”
He blew a sigh. “I shall try, but it may prove difficult. You are so very easy to love.”
“I don’t know why I even question this anymore. I’m in a fairytale palace, with a fairytale prince. Only this one claims to be a fictitious creature. And now there’s a fictitious emotion involved. Why the hell, not?”
The amusement was difficult to stifle. He had to clear his throat before speaking. “I love you, Simone. That is a declaration of my feelings, not a fictitious emotion.”
She shook her head, her tangled mass of hair shifted with it. “You don’t even know me.”
“Love doesn’t need time, Simone. It only needs the right person. A moment can be enough. An hour. An evening. Time is immaterial. Love isn’t something earned. It may not even be deserved. Those whose hearts are touched by it...they know. And rejoice. And those who will never feel it? Well. No amount of time would be enough.”
“You’re a poet, too, aren’t you?”
“I admit I dabbled in prose at one time. A long time ago. In my youth. It was...a socially desirable pursuit of the era.”
“How old are you, Reynaldo?”
Her question was a surprise. He considered an answer for long enough she looked over her shoulder at him. She had a skeptical look about her. As if she already prepared for him to prevaricate. Reynaldo tucked hair behind both ears, then folded his arms, doing his best to look honest and trustworthy. But he’d never been tasked with demonstrating those qualities – not at the same time anyway - so he was guessing what might be required. He already knew she expected eye contact. That was easy. Assuming a non-aggressive pose was another facet.
And finally!
She turned back to him, although she pulled the covers to her chest. It was still better than conversing with her back.
“Would you like the figure in mortal years? Or immortal ones?” he finally queried.
She closed her eyes and held them closed for long enough he fidgeted with a tasseled corner of the drape that had once hung down the back wall. She opened her eyes back to him. Set her lips. Lowered her chin.
“You pick,” she finally said.
“Very well. I am thirty-three.”
Her lips lifted slightly, giving a Mona Lisa expression. His heart jolted at that small gesture.
“That’s a good age,” she commented, finally, as if that explained her smile.
“However, I must also add that I am...four hundred and ninety-something.”
She tossed a hand up. “Look! This is too bizarre for me! I work in a lab. I deal with the periodic table. I deal in facts. Figures. Verifiable results.”
“Very well. Deal with this fact.” He lowered his voice and spilt the words. “I. Love. You.”
“You can’t.”
“I can. And do. And will continue to. Which does remind me...you have not given me an answer yet.”
“To what?”
“My marriage proposal. Was it that...uninspiring? Allow me to enhance upon it. The Paola Veronese painting you worried over? It is just one in my collection. There are many more. Mostly in my palazzo in Venice. Perhaps you would consider that as a wedding present?”
Her eyes went wide and she stared at him.
“Your art collection?”
“Or the palazzo. Or any of my possessions. Or all of them.”
“Reynaldo, I—um.”
“Just don’t say no!” He quickly inserted in the pause. “Please?”
“Look. It’s not that I couldn’t fall for you, Reynaldo. That would be easy,” she replied, “Really. But—.”
Reynaldo’s breath stopped. His shoulders tensed. The spot between them sent a twinge of pain down his spine. And then she changed everything with a stifled yawn.
A yawn!
Jubilation shot through him. He stopped the shout of joy that accompanied it, but nothing halted his expression. She saw it, and correctly interpreted it.
“What...happened?” she asked. “What did I say? Do?”
“I now know exactly what those taken across the Bridge of Sighs felt. Exactly. Except...I have been spared!”
“Bridge of Sighs?”
“Forgive me, my darling. I am...overwhelmed at the moment with my good fortune. The Bridge of Sighs is a Venetian landmark. It’s very picturesque. Tourists throng there. Few know prisoners were marched through it. There is an aperture in it for a last glimpse of the outside world before meeting their fate. Hence the name.”
“I’m not following...any of this.”
She gave another yawn. It looked like she was working to keep her eyes open, as well.
“Sunrise has begun,” Reynaldo explained.
“It cannot possibly be morning.”
“It does not take full sunlight.”
“For what?”
“Dawn effects.”
“We’ve been in here...all night?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, my. All night?”
She may have blushed. He couldn’t tell. She had her hands to her cheeks, her elbows close to her breasts, maintaining the covering. She looked very young. Very beautiful. And eternally sweet.
“Come. I’ll see you to another chamber. With an...undamaged bed.”
“I think...I should just pack. Get my cello. And call for the car.”
“That will not work, love.”
“I asked you not to call me that.”
“Apologies. You did request that. And I did say I would try. I believe I also mentioned the possibility of failure, however.”
She waved a hand. “You’re taxing...my brain with all these words. And it’s very...hard to think right now.”
The words were slow. Whispered. Her eyes were half-closed as well. Reynaldo couldn’t resist. He had her in his arms the next moment. Stood beside the wrecked bed. But couldn’t see anything beyond his mate’s perfection.
“What...are you doing?”
“Seeing you to another chamber. For your rest.”
“I didn’t say...I would stay.”
“You must.”
“I don’t do...what strange men tell me.”
“I am no stranger, darling. I am your mate.”
Her forehead wrinkled. She blinked slowly, and regarded him for a few seconds. “Did you slip...me a drug or something?”
Reynaldo shifted his eyes from her. “Not exactly.”
He’d moved. Reached the water closet. Strode through it. Entered and left a wardrobe room, a series of sitting rooms, and an antiquities chamber. Entered his suite. All before she answered. He was not moving as rapidly as he could. For a reason. It felt far too wondrous to rush.
“What do you mean...‘not exactly’?” she asked.
“Come. You need your rest.”
“No. I need...answers.” The words were barely audible. She clearly struggled to say them.
“I will give you all of them you need, darling. Tonight. You have my word.”
“No. You need...”
The words ended on another yawn. It was followed by her stretch within his arms. A blast of heat went through his chest. Grabbed his heart. And cradled it in wonder. Reynaldo tightened his arms and hugged her to him. Fought tears.
Porca vacca.
This could be the most amazing sensation he’d ever experienced. So wondrous he’d trade every worldly possession he had for just a taste of it.
“Rest, my love. I’ll explain everything. When we rise.”
“Rey...naldo.”
She was very persistent. Would not let it be, but he should have known that about her already. Reynaldo took a deep breath for courage. And confessed.
“You need your rest because vampires are weakest during daylight hours. That is especially true...for the new ones.”
The last words were whispered as he approached his bed. But he knew it was too late. She couldn’t hear it. She was already gone. A dead weight in his arms. He wouldn’t trade that sensation for anything he owned either.
That’s when he realized this wasn’t a reprieve.
He’d merely been given a delayed sentence.