by Mila Young
His strong hands fall to my hips and he drew me closer where I found myself climbing into the chair with him, straddling his lap as his hands moved in under my shirt, gliding lightly over my back.
The sensation was back, and I couldn't help a gentle shiver.
"Not sure why I thought that would be better," I gasped, feeling my lips brushing over his with every word. It felt like heaven… I almost laughed at the thought considering who I was kissing.
The novelty of the sensation crashing through my body was passing, and I could enjoy the taste of the wine still on his lips and the roughness of his hands moving over my hips, pulling me closer to him. His mouth parted, letting me in. It surprised me how he let me take the lead at first, but it didn’t last long. His hands pressed to my back, forcing us together, our mouths locked in unriddled passion. I accepted his tongue as he explored my mouth, and I quivered beneath him.
What was I doing?
I let my fingers move over his neck, feeling the same feverish heat on his skin. And it grew hotter the closer I got to his shirt collar.
There was a heat under mine as well, and I pulled away, breathing heavily. I sat on the edge, well aware of how close I came to falling off and into this demon’s bed. And by the erection in his pants nestled against me, well, he wasn’t going to stop this.
A smile came across my face.
And I didn't want to stop but I’d already gotten in deep with him. What would sleeping with a demon lead to? Selling my soul for eternity?
“This isn’t what you want?” he asked.
“So much so, but we shouldn’t.” I glanced away, suddenly blushing as he roughly gripped me by the hips, lifting me off the chair with him and moving backward. He held onto me, towering over me, and I couldn’t ignore the fire he’d ignited. “I don’t agree, but I’m not going to push you. But once we are officially married, there will be no more waiting.”
That right there woke me up a bit, and I pushed out of his arms, remembering clearly the predicament he’d put me in.
I pried myself free from his hands, and despite the longing in his gaze, the lust burning me alive from the inside out, I pulled away from him. “I better go.” And I didn’t look back, but hurried out of the barn.
Chapter 7
My eyes opened slowly, looking up at the ceiling of my room, blinking and taking in everything that was around me. Remembering the kiss with Rog in the barn. What had I been thinking? Yet, my lips still felt bruised from our kiss, and my skin tingled from how amazing he felt.
It felt like there was an absence, a vacuum that was sucking everything else in the world around me. The faded wallpaper. The shabby look of the ceiling. The light seeping in through the cracks in the slats told me that the sun was rising.
There was no headache. No hint of a hangover. A bottle and a half of wine would not have been enough to get me blackout drunk, but I had expected some kind of low-intensity headache. A bad taste in my mouth. Something.
But there was nothing. Once again, I felt rested. A foreign enough feeling that I felt I had to study it, if only to make sure.
I was alone in the bed, of course, but my mind went to the possibility of how differently last night could have gone.
Last night felt like a blur. It had started in the barn building, and then we’d had too much wine, and next thing, I was straddling him.
There was obviously something magical about him. An intense dislike, coupled with wine and a hint of the connection I felt, was about as much as I could make out. It seemed like something so very unlike me. I would have doubted that I'd done it if the memories of last night weren't so very vivid.
I lay there a while longer, still unable to believe how easily I was led astray, and how even now my body betrayed me. Finally, I got out of bed, searched for clothes to wear, and headed into the adjoining bathroom for a shower.
Downstairs, I found two loaves of bread on the table next to the cheese and no sign of Rog. Was he with more clients, giving them advice?
The plates, glasses, and bottles were still in the sink, but I ignored them, leaving the cleaning to Rog.
Instead, I turned back toward the living room to where I’d seen an office on my scouring of the house. If Rog had a client, I was more than curious to understand what that entailed. Did he use demonic trickery on them?
The floorboards creaked under each step, and I cursed the old house. The door to the office was shut, but I could hear murmuring of voices from inside, which had me moving faster to listen.
The front door the house suddenly opened and a flurry of warm air rushed inside.
I flinched around as an old woman walked inside, carrying an oversized basket with breads.
Her eyes widened at seeing me. “Oh, I have missed my bookings with Rog again?" She frantically looked at her watch.
"Not at all. Come in.” I held the door wider for her as she came into the wide hallway and made her way to the empty seat outside Rog’s office. She set the basket by her feet and placed her hands on her knees. She looked at me, wearing a head scarf and a black dress tied around the waist with an apron.
"Are you new here?” she asked. “I haven’t seen you before."
"I just arrived. But if you don’t mind me asking, why do you come to see Rog for advice?"
"He is good at seeing things, but you have to be smart.” She tapped the side of her temple. “Read between the lines. He is an expert on many things but his suggestions don’t always turn out well. Sometimes they go bad. So, I take on advice with caution.” She grinned at me, and I just nodded, finding her reasoning strange.
I turned back to the office just as it opened.
A young man emerged. "Ma’am." He bowed in my direction, looking nervous, and hurried out the front door.
I swung back to meet Rog’s gaze as he stood in the doorway, then turned to his next client. "Florea, come on inside. I won’t be a minute."
Once she was inside, he shut the door and leaned an arm on the doorframe, staring at me with the same look he had the previous night. One of devilish desire. I resisted the urge to chew on my lower lip and show him he had any impact on me. Was he thinking about our kiss too?
"What do you have planned for the day?" he asked, breaking the growing silence.
"I need some distance between us," I answered. "Proximity between us will distract me." Anyways, I'll be heading into the village, do some exploring, talk to some of the locals. Don't... don't follow me."
"I wasn’t going to."
"Good. I'll see you later today, Rog."
I was as civil as I was going to be around him. I had a feeling that he was playing as nice as he could, but there was a hint of sass coming out when he wasn't paying attention.
It would be interesting to see what he was like when he wasn't trying to convince me that marrying him was a good idea, which was why he was on his best behavior.
Not that he really needed to convince me, legally speaking. Or whatever the actual terminology was. I shook my head, making my way outside.
It was still cool enough, making a brisk walk actually enjoyable. The sun would be baking down on us in a little while, but I would hopefully be at the village by that time, hoping that the walk wasn’t as long as Bram had suggested. Part me wondered if he exaggerated, trying to scare me. Maybe he was in cahoots with Rog all along.
It was time for me to get some sun. It would be a welcome distraction after recent events.
"Too much has been happening," I said aloud, looking around the open expanses surrounding me. "Seriously, since when are demons contained to a single spot in the world? And what are the chances that he's the actual inspiration for Dracula, if not the vampire himself? It can't be a coincidence that he's this close to the castle."
There was nobody else around to hear me, but hearing my voice bouncing back at me told me just how nuts my whole life had become.
The village was coming up quicker than I thought, and I knew that Bram had mislead me. I could feel the s
un beating down on my shoulders, and I thankfully found myself some shade under a large oak at the edge of the town. Up ahead was an open courtyard with what looked like a farmer’s market, a large stone town hall behind it with a pointy roof. Beyond that, cobblestone streets lead to stone cottage like houses.
It was a lot less medieval up close, I realized. There were stalls set out, selling a variety of local products, but each stall had their own credit card machines, and as Bram told me, there were more than enough tourists heading up to the castle.
I headed closer to inspect the market.
"It has to be intentional," I whispered. "So less the village that time forgot and more one that's kept this way to attract more outside money."
"Are you talking to yourself?"
I turned to see that Bram was sitting nearby. The old man had a stall of his own, selling a variety of cheeses and other products while he sat in the shade, fanning himself slowly.
"More and more each day, I've come to realize," I answered, tilting my head, studying Dracul calmly curled up in the shade as well. "Why did you tell me the village was so far?"
"Well it is easy to get lost in the woods, and I was worried you’d go the wrong way."
My right eyebrow shot up at his response, but I left it at that. "How's business today?"
"Already sold more than yesterday. There was a tourist group stopping by on their way to the castle. From Wisconsin, they said they were. They knew a great deal about cheese."
"They tend to do that," I said, approaching and looking over his produce. "They call themselves cheese heads. I would have gone with curds myself. Seems a little less... self-degrading."
"Nothing wrong with cheese, I don't think."
"I didn't... I didn't mean it like that." I rubbed my eyes with one hand, feeling something cold and wet pressing against the other.
A quick look down and I could see Dracul had risen from the ground and was nuzzling my hand gently.
"He does appear to like you." Bram chuckled. "Not many that he does, although I've never been able to determine the why of his reasoning."
"He either does or he doesn't," I said, scratching the hefty black dog behind the ears. "I've come to trust the instincts of a dog over that of humans any day."
"A good idea. Hounds have good instincts."
Something flickered into my attention. Not into my eyesight, but I felt it, like static electricity suddenly lighting up. I could sense someone using magic near me.
I turned to look at one of the stall owners. There was something about him that had me narrowing my eyes, but once I was able to focus, there was nothing out of the ordinary. The man was picking out fresh and delicious-looking fruits from a basket on his table, fresh fruits and setting them out for the next group of tourists to buy.
The idea occurred to me of joining the group and seeing if whatever was keeping me here would be able to physically stop me from leaving if I was being driven by someone else.
But that was something to think about later.
Dracul was standing next to me, eyeing the owner of the fruit stall. His lips were peeled back, and the fur on his back was standing on end, with a low rumbling growl emanating from the creature.
In a quick motion, I ran my fingers through his fur.
"No... no need to be alarmed," I whispered. I didn't even know if Dracul could understand English, but my voice calmed him, and he stopped growling, although his body was still tense, eyeing the shopkeeper.
I'd heard of cats being sensitive to magic, but not dogs. Or maybe there was no magic at all, and I'd imagined it.
"Would you like some tea?" Bram asked, clicking his tongue to summon Dracul back to him as he placed a couple of Styrofoam mugs and a thermos on his table.
I took in a deep, shuddering breath and ran my fingers through my hair before tearing my gaze away from the fruit vendor.
"I'd love some."
Chapter 8
It was good to get a start on things. But first, I wanted some food and I couldn’t stop staring at the cheese wheels that seemed to be multiplying on the table. I grabbed one of the heavy suckers and brought it over to the kitchen counter. With a knife, I pierced it in the middle and cut myself a wedge as if it were a wedding cake. For all I knew, I could be butchering this and committing the worst cardinal rule ever of how to slice this wheel of cheese. But I didn’t care. Instead I peeled off the hard casing on the outside and headed outside into the backyard, taking a bite. It melted on my tongue, coming with a slightly tangy and strong aged taste. I took another bite. It was good.
I stood in the backyard of the house, staring at the dried up land. No sign of Rog.
I needed to keep telling myself that. My visit to the village was not as productive as I’d hoped it would be. I wasn't sure if there was magic being used in the town, or if it was just my own head playing tricks on me.
Saying that I didn't have a green thumb was something of an understatement, but I did know a thing or two about tilling soil. I'd done it often while growing up.
Soil aeration, they'd called it. Turning the dirt over, getting it moving so that it would be more receptive to fertilization.
Chewing on more cheese, I glanced around for the garden tools, when a white blur came rushing around the corner.
A goat that must have escaped from Bram.
"How did you get in here? " I asked.
The thing rushed up to me with speed, showing no sign of slowing down. A small thread of panic raced through me. I backed away, but I wasn’t fast enough. The goat charged into me, headbutting me in my hip, making a grunting sound.
Out of pure shock, I flinched away, dropping the wedge of cheese.
The animal scrambled to pick it up fast, chewing on it, staring at me with I could only describe as anger. I wouldn’t lie when I said, he scared me a bit. Thank goodness it had no horns.
Rog’s words came to mind about how he fed the cheese and bread to the goats, and well, this guy saw me as a threat to his treats.
"Well, you might need to share the cheese. It’s quite tasty."
He unleashed a bleating sound, protesting no doubt.
I rolled my eyes and headed to the small shed where I tracked down some tools.
It would be a lot of work to get this soil working. I would probably have to hire some people, but we were going to have to start somewhere, and I was due some cardio anyway. All I could think about was how much a vineyard like this in working order might sell for. Enough to set me up with a small apartment in New York that I owned and maybe left over money.
Fifteen minutes in, I could feel the muscle memory kicking back in. Still, it was hard work breaking the baked, dusty earth up, probably for the first time in forever, cutting up the dead roots and moving back along.
Slow work, but the exercise, it was worth it. My mind wasn't going back to the demon with the devilish kiss, for the most part anyway. I was breathing hard and sweating for another reason entirely, all the while being watched by a goat. My calluses were gone, which meant that I would probably be getting some blisters through the gloves I was wearing.
But it would be worth it.
I heard heavy footsteps coming in from behind me, from the house, finally coming to a halt a few paces away. I didn't need to look to know who it was, and I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of acting surprised.
"Well aren't you a treat," he finally said after a few minutes of watching me work. "What are you doing?"
"Aerating the soil," I grunted, pushing my cap up to wipe some of the sweat from my forehead. "First step before putting in fertilizer and watering everything down. All the dirt around here is as barren as... I don't know, your mom after giving birth to you?"
"Is that the best you can do?" he asked.
I scowled, finally turning to look at him. "Hell. I'm a little tired here."
He shrugged. "I'm just surprised that it looks like you actually know what you're doing."
"Whereas you look like a cut-rate B
ob the Builder."
He looked down at his flannel shirt and coveralls, complete with the tool belt and heavy boots. "Bob the what?"
"Is that a little too obscure for a demon in Romania?" I asked, straightening out and rubbing my hands together. "There's an animated kids show from Britain in the... early two thousands, if I remember correctly. He was dressed about the same as you, except he was always wearing a security helmet. Shouldn't you be wearing one, or do demons not need to worry about head injuries?"
"Less so than even your average witch. Speaking of, why are you doing the work yourself? Shouldn't you be using your magic to churn through the soil?"
I tilted my head. "I mean... sure, if I had been a practicing witch. It's been a while. Besides, I like the hard work. And why are you fixing things? Shouldn’t you be advising people on their problems?"
His smirk told me that he was contemplating making a dirty joke. He stopped short, however, meaning that he probably realized that I would be hitting him over the head with the hoe in my hands. Maybe then he would regret not having a helmet on.
"You did know a couple of tricks, if I remember last night correctly," he said, taking a tentative step backward.
"A couple of tricks that help me blow a couple of uncomprehending minds from time to time is a long ways away from being able to till an entire goddamn vineyard."
He nodded. "Point taken. Let me know when you would like to come inside. I bought beer from the village brewery, and it's been chilling all day. Quite the refreshing treat."
"I thought you were a wine guy."
"Red wine is considerably less refreshing than a cold beer on a hot day, wouldn't you say?"
The demon had a point, and I found myself following him back to the house, pulling my gloves off.
"You worked on a farm before, yes?" he asked, pulling the cask from inside the cooler and tapping it to fill a pair of tall glasses.
"I grew up moving from farm to farm," I answered. "My mother kept us on the move and away from the larger cities, and it wasn't long before she made sure that I was pulling my weight, and we couldn't show our powers to the farmers that we were living with for some reason. I'm pretty sure that they knew that she was practicing. At least a few of them."
