“It’s nothing for you to know about,” I say, still looking deep into Cole’s eyes.
“Fine, whatever. Story or no story?” Devon asks.
“Story,” Cole says and lets me cuddle up to him. I feel a bit more weight lifting.
“Soooo, I met Elizabeth in a brothel off the market square and before you interrupt me again, no, she wasn’t a prostitute. She was visiting with one,” he deftly adds with a smirk.
Cole looks at me in amusement and I flush, providing my excuse, “It was food, that’s all. Devon, continue.”
My phone buzzes again at that point and I note it’s about work. “I have to get this. Carry on with your story.”
Moving back out to the terrace, I answer a few questions on contracts from the European offices and hang up. I return to the den, just in time to hear Devon saying, to my complete mortification, “… and I fucked her right there and then in front of everyone!”
My mouth drops open in horror as Cole looks across at me with, what can only be called, horrified amusement.
“Devon!” I growl and he has the grace to look slightly abashed.
“You said it’s my story to tell,” he says petulantly.
“I didn’t mean every gory detail,” I snap.
“Well, I happen to think that it’s a rather important part of the story,” he says haughtily. “I accepted you straight away.” He’s smug.
“Devon,” I warn quietly, as Cole looks anywhere, but at me.
I sit back down next to Cole and take his hand in mine. “It’s of no consequence. Tell your tale. The censored version,” I press.
Cole looks at me a bit pained. “Sorry,” I mouth.
He shrugs, adding, “Ever since you said you had turned him, I figured that you had, you know. I guess it is kind of different to hear it put quite so literally.”
“How about we make this a long-story-short kind of deal?” I remark now in annoyance.
“Fine,” Devon says, now a bit annoyed as well. He launches into the abridged, PG-13 version of events that led to his turning. I tune out, remembering it in my own way like it was yesterday.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Helsby, England, 1506 - Elizabeth
A fter that fateful day at the brothel, Devon and I were inseparable. We stayed up all night making love and talking. I told him stories of my adventures and tales of my sire, Constantine.
One day the question came, just as I knew it would. We were in my room at the inn, lounging on the bed, naked and spent.
“Will you bite me?” he asked.
I looked over at him and rolled onto my side; he did the same, so I was staring into his clear blue eyes.
“Will you?” he asked again
“Are you sure?” I asked. Acceptance of what I was, was one thing, giving into the bite was a whole other story.
He nodded.
“Now?” I asked.
He nodded again.
I lit up at the hint of human blood, willing human blood, and I sat upright. He followed me. I motioned for him to sit on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor. He did as I asked.