by Serena Rose
“I’m better off dead, you think?” the senior Drake’s gruff voice had become softer this time, full of regrets.
“You’re alive. Emilia needs you.”
“Emilia has barely seen me, since- how long have I been down here?”
“Six months,” William told his father.
“That’s why you have to get better.”
“I can no longer muster this kind of life, Will,” his father told him. “It is true. I am better off dead. We’re a blight. What good are riches? What good is a long life, if everyone you love just dies around you?”
“You regret marrying my mother? Having me?”
“Ah,” the senior said, closing his eyes for a moment. “That one I do not regret at all. She was a beautiful one, inside and out. You know how rare that is? Marrying her was the greatest thing that had ever happened to me, it still is- I mean, I feel for Natalie, but it must be the generational gap or something.”
“I need not be reminded that I’m older than my stepmother,” William said, shaking his head.
“I like that Emilia turned out as she is. Female,” his father said, stretching his hands. “Natalia was a good decision.”
William nodded, knowing his father had wanted another chance at normalcy, he had wanted to become a father once more, and he knew that the man had secretly hoped it would turn out to be female, something rare. Emilia was the rarest gemstone in the world, according to his father.
“I do not mean ill toward you, Will,” his father continued. “You are borne of your mother. You are the heir to the Drake family dynasty-”
“And curse.”
“Yes, the curse. I suppose it’s only a given that we have more money than we’ll ever need; if only we were human, we’d have enjoyed it more. The fragility, the fact that life can go away with a breath- this is why I don’t see the point of living anymore. Emilia is old enough, I’ve provided for her well, and she won’t want for money till the end of her days…”
“Don’t talk like you’re dying anytime soon,” William told his father.
“I’ve been drawing more and more, you know.”
His little corner in the dungeon was full of portraits, mostly done in charcoal, haphazardly taped to the walls. His father was a brilliant artist in his own right, with a high I.Q. William couldn’t draw to save a life, although he spoke five languages fluently, and he played the piano like a virtuoso.
“How are you feeling now?” William persisted.
“Do you have a stronger sedative?”
“I don’t want to keep drugging you,” William said.
“But if it’s necessary?”
“I will, of course. But can you at least try to control it?”
“Insanity is part of this, I should know. It happened to my own father,” the senior Drake said, sounding resigned.
“Emilia should be a good enough reason to stay sane.”
“Is Natalia cheating on me?” his father suddenly asked.
“No,” William replied. It was the truth. He had private investigators check on his extended family every now and then. “She has developed a drinking problem though, enjoying sedatives with it. I don’t think she’ll live long enough to see Emilia marry or graduate from college...”
“Where are they now?”
“New York.”
William’s father sighed once more. “I hope you never go through this, Will.”
“I don’t intend to,” William said.
*
It left him perturbed. His father’s regrets and insecurities were coming up in full force. William knew that his father truly loved Emilia, seeing she was the only female for generations on end, and she had a better chance at a normal life, if having a shifter for a father was even remotely normal.
Emilia had seen their father shift once, and it left her scarred emotionally and psychologically. It was too much for the then eight-year-old Emilia, and she had been sent to doctor after doctor, keeping that secret with, but trying to find other ways to cope.
I hope you never go through this, Will. It was said with the best intentions, he knew. It probably meant he still needed to procreate, it meant that he still needed to keep the bloodline going, it meant that he still needed to have a son at some point in his life.
A daughter was wanted and needed, but a son was desired. Why couldn’t they just end the bloodline with him? What if he refused to procreate? What if he killed himself? It was still a strong urge in him to survive.
He had to live through this. He had to survive, he had to see how far he’d come for himself, and for the family name to live through. Centuries and centuries of fighting everything that reality had to bring to the table. The Drake family had to emerge victorious, always.
He was on time, he thought, and his engine hummed as his car remained idle on the side of the curb. He liked the fact that her neighborhood was quiet, and that nobody came up to his car to have a picture taken with it. From a distance, he could hear thunder. It was going to be a rainy night, but he intended to make the most out of their date. It was to be his first date in years. Did he still remember how to do this?
It wasn’t like she was the first woman he had seen in a while. Maybe she was the first accommodating one. Ha, unsure about women since 1903, he chided himself. Humans were easy to read, women could be read by their emotions, but he’d still lose his judgements halfway for certain women. It seemed that Kelsey Long was going to be one of those women. He wondered how long it was going to take before he’d tire of her. There was no reason to keep someone annoying in one’s life, and there was an even bigger reason to not keep someone interesting in his life, especially a woman.
She waltzed out of her apartment, wearing a dark grey sweater dress and ankle length leather booties. Appropriate for the weather, he guessed. She slid into the seat.
“Hello,” she said simply.
He could tell she was nervous, yet she tried to play it cool. “You look nice,” he said to her.
“You’re not even looking at me,” she replied.
“I’m driving already.”
She shook her head and looked out the window. “I’m sorry. This is getting really weird for me. I haven’t dated in a while, I mean, I haven’t gone out in a long time.”
“It’s just a dinner date. My place.”
“Oh, that’s why you said that I should dress as casually as I can.”
“You sound disappointed we’re just eating at my place.”
“There must be a reason for it,” she replied earnestly.
And he did. He couldn’t risk being seen too much in public, out on a date with a normal human. What kind of mess would that bring? It wasn’t like he had enemies, but his current enemy was the rapid modernization and influx of social media. It had never occurred to him to even be remotely visible online. The people his company had hired were under strict protocol and instructions to keep his family on the low. A date outside, a date in public brought about risks.
“There is.”
“Your father?”
He nodded, his eyes on the road. He didn’t want to look at her. For a second there, he felt vulnerable. And for a second there, he thought he wouldn’t be an efficient liar. He disliked lying, but there was no other way to go about surviving if he didn’t. Don’t let the damned morals play right now, he thought.
“We’re not going to disturb him, are we?”
“He’s resting at the moment, in some other part of the manor.”
“Which room is this?” she asked, her eyes glistening, ready for a joke.
“Room 38, by the north wing. I don’t think I’ve taken you there,” he replied, as if on cue.
She laughed a little, almost to herself, and he couldn’t help but smile.
“Why haven’t you dated in a while?” he asked her.
“The opportunity hadn’t presented itself as of late…” her voice trailed off. “I was busy working on my scholarship and keeping a roof over my head. What about you?”<
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“Well what do you know? We’re actually on the same boat this time.”
“It’s hard to believe you’ve never dated in a while.”
“Why is that?”
“Because, I mean, look at you,” she stopped herself, and she shook her head. “Never mind.”
“You’re patronizing me?” he said.
“I just thought you were… not bad to look at the first time I saw you,” she mumbled.
He recalled the scent of her lime body wash. He recalled the way her eyes danced against the lights in the auditorium. He couldn’t look at her now, not yet. He would have all that time later, he told himself. He suddenly felt like a teenager on his first date. He wanted her to enjoy the night, as badly as he did. To distract himself, he increased the volume of the radio.
“I like this song,” she murmured.
Ella Fitzgerald’s version of ‘I Only Have Eyes for You’ was currently playing.
“You weren’t even born,” he remarked.
“My dad was an old soul. He enjoyed jazz.”
“Can you sing?”
“I can try,” she said with a wistful smile.
Try was an understatement. He was surprised to learn she could belt out a good note, and he found himself smiling as she sang, her mellifluous voice filling the car and filling his soul with a good kind of warmth, a non-violent warmth. He hadn’t even noticed that they had arrived at his manor’s gates, clearly enjoying himself too much, just plainly listening to her.
“Well, that was nice,” he said, as he drove up the road leading to Ashborne Manor.
“Thank you,” she said shyly.
“Sing for me later again, will you?”
“Is this how a date should go now?”
“It’s just the two of us,” he told her. Just the two of us…
*
She was back in the manor again, and this time, she was led to a dining room, where a sparkly Waterford Chandelier hung above (he had mentioned how old the chandelier was, as well). There was an informal dinner set-up, just for two. Lee was nowhere to be seen.
“Do you hire ghosts or what?” she asked him, curious as to where his household help was.
“They’re here somewhere,” he said. “Let’s eat.”
There were three dishes in front of them, and she couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t eat the vegetables, completely ignoring the fresh and crisp looking salad.
“You don’t like vegetables?”
He shook his head, drinking his second glass of whisky in the last thirty minutes.
“And you don’t plan on getting plastered tonight, right?”
“Of course not,” he replied. “All is well. It’ll take more than this to knock me out.”
She nodded, concerned. Was this some warning sign that she should stop at the first date with him? He seemed like an alcoholic, even though he was quite nonchalant with how much he had imbibed.
“Have you been drinking long?” she found herself asking him.
He laughed a bit. “If you think I’m an alcoholic, no, I’m not. I just enjoy my liquor. It’s also to calm my nerves, I haven’t dated in a while, remember?”
“That’s a joke, right?”
“You didn’t laugh, so it isn’t.”
“Why did you decide to date me?” she asked. “There are lots of other people you could have dated in class.”
“You mean the loud and obnoxious ladies near you?” he shook his head. “No thanks. It’s the quiet ones I watch out for.”
“Sounds like a warning,” she remarked.
He shook his head and finished his second glass of whisky. “I like talking to less noisy people. If that makes sense at all.”
“A little.”
“You’re too kind,” he said to her. “Where’s the harsh person I met yesterday?”
“I figured it was high time I behaved.”
“No, I’d rather you act the way you really are.”
“I’m not even sure if it was me. I mean it was unlike me to say those things yesterday.”
“Maybe you do like me, more than you’re letting on.”
Kelsey said nothing, but she continued to eat her salad. There was soft jazz music playing in the background. She found out that William collected vintage records, which made her smile. Dinner wasn’t too awkward, thank god.
She finished her single glass of wine as soon as he finished his fourth.
“At least I know you aren’t alcoholic,” he said to her. “Shall we proceed to the music room?”
Music room? She didn’t want to assume anything about it. The music room could end up looking like a dungeon… and she was pleasantly surprised. There was a grand piano in the center of the room, and heavy red curtains hung by the windows. There were plush seats, a tea table, and a love seat by the piano. She felt as though she was transported to 17th century France.
“You know how to play the piano?” she asked him.
He nodded. “Do you?”
She shook her head. Her curiosity for his playing grew, and she took at seat across him, as he sat on the piano chair.
“Hope you like Liszt.”
Rolling up his sleeves to the elbows, he began to play. She watched and listened with rapt attention, his fingers dancing gracefully on the keys, beautiful sounds filled the room as he played. She felt something stirring in the depths of her soul, and she found herself staring at his face, and his face looked composed, at peace, and he clearly enjoyed what he was doing. The piece finished, and she couldn’t even bring herself to clap. She stared at him, her mouth slightly open.
“I hope you won’t say you hated it,” he said, looking directly at her eyes.
“I- I don’t. That was just… breathtaking,” she said, blinking as if she was breaking herself away from a trance.
“It was?” he sounded surprised. “I thought I’d gotten rusty.”
“How long have you been playing?”
There was a pause. “A while now.”
“Is William Ashborne your real name?” she asked him, piecing in her thoughts together, and the clues all around her.
“Why? You don’t believe me?”
“I barely know you.”
“Isn’t that why we’re on a date?”
“In your house. Hardly seems fair, and it hardly seems like middle ground…”
“We’re not fighting, why would we need middle ground? Neutrality’s sake demands a date in public, you mean?”
“It’s just-”
“You’re still uncomfortable?” he asked, standing up from his piano chair and talking a quick stride for her, standing above her.
“Is this supposed to make me feel comfortable?” she retorted, her heart racing as he stood in front of her. She stood up, in an effort to calm herself, in an effort to assert herself.
“Music’s supposed to make anyone feel comfortable,” he said, his face moving in closer to hers, his eyes boring into hers.
She felt her knees buckle. “I don’t think I’m-”
“Supposed to be this close to your date on the first night?” he continued for her. “Don’t you feel the least bit of attraction for me?”
“I- What?” she was flustered now, and she felt her face heat up, and her fists clenched.
“You heard me. At least I think you feel something for me. Attraction, I hope,” he said, his voice lowered.
“You mean panic?” she gave a nervous laugh.
“I won’t touch you unless you allow me to touch you,” he told her, his face millimeters away from hers.
She looked at his mouth, and his teeth flashed a brilliant white as lightning streaked outside of the windows. She shuddered, glancing quickly outside, and the moment she turned to face him once more, his lips met hers.
CHAPTER SIX
It was a soft kiss, she recalled later on, after the whole thing was through. She didn’t even push him away, she kissed him back, not knowing her body could have been that hungry for intimacy.
One of his hands trailed down her neck, and he pressed himself against her, and she almost lost her balance. She fought a gasp as one of his hands clenched her waist, and he pulled her closer to him. Didn’t she want to leave? Didn’t she want to stop this?
I think you feel something for me. Attraction, I hope.
Did this answer his question? He was gloating, was he not? He was gloating, and he was having her. Why didn’t she feel bad? She wanted this, which was why. She wanted this from the very start, the moment she saw him, the moment she got a good look at him. It was a strange play on love at first sight.
She stumbled, and he stumbled, and they fell on the love seat, but they didn’t stop there. There was a flutter inside her, a desperate need to have this happen, she wanted him. She wanted him even more as he caressed the edges of her mouth with his lips, she wanted him some more as his lips trailed down to her neck, and she felt his warm breath, and it send shivers down her spine. She couldn’t help but moan as his hand trailed under her sweater, his fingers playing against the lace edges of her bra.
How long had it been? It had been too long. In fact, it had been never. A pleasure stole through her body. Should she even feel the slightest bit guilty that she was doing this now? It had never occurred to her that she would be kissing a stranger she had only met yesterday. It had never occurred to her that some long dormant feeling would suddenly break like a dam.
They quickly undressed each other, almost awkwardly, and it made her think he was probably right, that he hadn’t dated anyone in a while. While that seemed hastily done, William proved himself to be well versed with pleasure. His hand roamed for her panties, and he slid a finger in, playing with her. Her back arched, and she let out a soft moan.
“Don’t we need-?” she asked, unable to finish it.
His eyes narrowed. “We’re fine,” he rasped, covering her mouth with his. Gone were the chaste kisses, instead they were replaced with something rushed, something torrid, and she felt caught up in the maelstrom of intimacy with a single stroke.
“You’re wet,” he whispered to her, his fingers brushing against her clit.
