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Chapter Thirteen: Aralyn

"What do you mean, your world?" Caldric had images of Aralyn wielding stakes, while executing a perfect flying kick, followed by a pile of ash as said stakes pierced a vampire's heart.

And while he was more than aware that some vampires perhaps deserved such a fate, he did not want any part in it. These were, after all, the creatures he had to spend eternity with.

And that eternity would be completely unbearable if he developed a reputation for having any part in killing another vampire.

It was like an unwritten rule.

Unless it was self-defense. But even then, it was frowned on.

Her brow creased for a moment. "I don't really know."

"You are inviting me to be part of your world, but you do not know what that world is?" Caldric asked. "Just to be clear."

"I rarely have any downtime," she admitted. "So in some ways, I am as oblivious to what everyday people do as you are."

"Doubtful," Caldric replied.

"No, if you think about it, you probably have more experience of what a normal life looks like than I do." She paused and looked him up and down. "Look at you. You must be fortyish."

"Add a few centuries on," Caldric replied.

"But you lived those first forty years as a normal person." She nodded. "You were not molded into a weapon against supernatural forces from the time you could walk."

"I was not," he conceded.

"Then let's venture out together. You can tell me what you liked to do, what your life was like before you became a vampire. And I will try some of the things that I never usually get to do." She was obviously warming to the idea. "And then, to finish off the evening, we could go to The Lonely Tavern for a drink. Uncle Burt told me there was a live band playing later that are very good. He said they always get people on their feet dancing."

"I'm not so sure," Caldric replied.

"I am." She would not take no for an answer. He could see it in his eyes. "This could be just what we need."

"It could?"

"Yes, we have spent enough time practicing stiff vampire rules. Now we have to focus on making our relationship believable. We need to get to know each other so we can answer any searching questions someone might ask. And we have to look comfortable around each other." Aralyn's excitement was evident. She wasn't exaggerating when she said she didn't get out in the real world much. They truly were a perfect match. "The best way to do that is to actually spend time together, doing things—normal things that couples do."

Caldric sighed, feeling the weight of his centuries-long existence pressing down on him. It had been so long since he'd done anything remotely resembling normal.

As for doing things a normal couple did… The last time he'd dated was so long ago. A date comprised a meandering walk through a cobblestone market square, perhaps followed by a chaste kiss under the watchful eye of a town clock.

These days it was all fancy restaurants and coffee shops, spontaneous weekend getaways, and swiping right on something called an app .

He cast a sidelong glance at Aralyn, her eagerness shining through the disciplined mask she usually wore. Her excitement would be contagious if he were capable of catching excitement.

But what did he have to lose? Apart from his pride. And he'd lost that, along with his self-respect, when he lost the ability to feel.

In fact, there was something peculiarly freeing about not being able to feel anything. No matter what he did, there would be no embarrassment, no shame. Not even a glimmer of regret if things went awry.

Which might be why he wasn't against the idea of mingling with mortals.

"All right," Caldric finally relented with a resigned sigh. "Why not?"

"Why not indeed." Aralyn's eyes sparkled with triumph. Without another moment's hesitation, she grabbed Caldric's hand and pulled him toward the door. Her touch was warm, so full of life it was almost painful for him to feel the contrast to his own frigid skin.

"Where do we start?" he asked as they stepped into the night, where the full moon hung over the ocean and stars twinkled in the sky. There was a magical feel to it.

Or perhaps the magic came from the woman by his side.

Aralyn pulled him forward, down the driveway, and out onto the sidewalk. "How about a stroll through the town square? I've heard there are often street performers and vendors setting up shop at this time of night."

"Sounds…fun," Caldric said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

"Don't knock it until you have tried it." Aralyn wagged her fingers at him. "Oh, that's the thing. You can't sample the food vendors, can you?"

Her expression faltered and a distant memory reminded him that he should feel a pang of guilt at disappointing her. So, he forced a smile, one that felt foreign and stiff on his lips.

"I will enjoy it vicariously through you," he replied, trying to sound more genuine. "And I can still smell the food."

"Are you sure?" Aralyn asked.

"Yes," he said firmly. "If nothing else, I will learn more about your likes and dislikes."

"True," she agreed, and they headed along the street, past the large houses and mansions belonging to other vampires.

What did they do to amuse themselves during their eternal years? Apart from Silas, he'd had little to do with his own kind for so long. After the curse, he had not fit in.

What if Aralyn lifted the curse?

How would his life change? Would he go back to being the vampire he was before? Worse, would the sudden flood of emotions cause him to lose control?

Would a certain vampire hunter be forced to drive a stake through his heart as he was driven mad by years and years of pent-up emotions, waiting to break free?

"What was your favorite food?" Aralyn asked as they left the street lined with mansions behind and headed along a narrower road where the houses were smaller, less auspicious.

"My favorite food?" He scrunched up his brow. "It so, so long ago…. Freshly baked bread, smeared with freshly churned butter, and, if we were really lucky, sweet mountain honey. I remember the way it would melt in my mouth, the simple perfection of it. Yes. Fresh bread was my favorite food. What about you?"

Aralyn thought for a moment, her eyes wandering over the quaint shops and cozy homes they passed. "I've always had a soft spot for blackberry pie. My grandmother used to make it every summer when the blackberries were at their ripest. The crust would be golden and flaky, and the filling...oh, it was just the right balance of sweet and tart that you could just keep eating it. I can almost taste it now."

Caldric chuckled softly. "I remember the sweet taste of blackberries plucked from a bush. It was worth the occasional prickle from the thorns, just to get that burst of flavor," he said and nudged her lightly. "We have something in common."

"We do," Aralyn agreed.

"Your favorite color?" Caldric asked.

"Oh, blue," Aralyn replied. "The kind of blue you see on a cloudless summer day, just before the sun starts to sink, when the sky is so vivid it almost doesn't seem real. And you? Favorite color?"

"Green," Caldric answered without hesitation. He didn't have to think too hard about that as the interior of his house was still mostly, albeit faded, green. "The deep, rich green of the forest after a heavy rain. It has a way of making everything feel alive and fresh."

"Next," Aralyn said.

"What is your greatest fear?" he asked.

"If I tell you, will you promise not to use it against me?" Aralyn asked.

"I promise," Caldric replied.

"My greatest fear," Aralyn started, her voice almost a whisper, "is never having experienced life. I mean a life outside of vampire hunting."

Caldric nodded thoughtfully, his gaze fixed ahead. "That's quite understandable."

"It's ironic, isn't it? In a way, we are both cursed by destiny. By fate." Aralyn's mood turned more serious.

"Yes," Caldric agreed. "Bound by paths we never chose."

"And if you could choose?" Aralyn asked. "What would your life be? If you hadn't been turned into a vampire."

Caldric tugged his brows together. "If I had not been turned, I would have lived a simple life. A man of no great importance, one forgotten by time. I'd hoped to meet a woman I could make my wife, but that was not my destiny."

"And if you had not been cursed?" Aralyn asked.

"I always thought I might one day travel to the World Beyond and play in a big concert hall. I've seen photographs of them. I've heard orchestras play, the instruments blending seamlessly." He paused for a moment. "And there is the conundrum. It was only after I became a vampire that I truly honed my skills on the piano. It was my sister who encouraged me. It gave me focus, a way of holding onto a piece of my humanity. If I had never been turned, I might never have found that part of myself."

"Being a vampire has its perks, then?" Aralyn arched a questioning eyebrow. "As much time as you need to master something you love."

"I suppose."

"If you could change things, would you rather have grown old and died all those centuries ago?" Aralyn asked.

Until Aralyn had come into his life, the answer would have been an instant yes. The loss of those he loved, his family, his friends, had been the hardest thing he'd ever endured. Music had been his sanctuary. He'd poured his heart and soul into his compositions, he'd infused the music with his pain.

But it had not been enough.

"Caldric?" She squeezed his hand lightly.

"Believe it or not, I do not know," he replied.

"Even after all this time?" Aralyn asked. "I mean, it's not as if you haven't had plenty of time to think about it."

"Do you think it is easy to give up immortality?" Caldric asked, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration.

Aralyn's gaze softened. "No, I suppose not. It's just…sometimes I wonder if the burdens we carry are worth the advantages we gain."

Caldric turned to her. "Would you give up being a vampire hunter if you had the chance?"

"In a heartbeat," she answered and then shook her head. "Truthfully, I don't know. As much as I dream of a normal life, the idea of not being able to protect those I love from what I know is out there…"

"And if you had a choice, if you did not have vampire hunter blood in your veins," Caldric began. "What path would your life have taken?"

"When I was young, and I used to visit my grandmother, the one who baked blackberry pies," Aralyn began, "I used to dream of living in her cottage, of foraging in the forest for roots and herbs, to blend into lotions and potions. I suppose not unlike yourself, I'd have been someone unimportant."

"A healer is what that sounds like," Caldric said. "And they are of great importance."

"Yes." She shrugged. "But I did not get to choose my path. My path chose me."

"Is there no way to step off that path?" he asked.

"As far as I know, no one ever has," Aralyn replied. "Comes with the job, I guess."

"That does not mean it cannot be done," Caldric told her.

"No, it does not. At least I hope that's the case," Aralyn agreed as they turned the corner into a wide, cobbled street filled with an array of vendors. "But let's not dwell on the past or the future right now." The excitement returned to her voice. "Let's live in the present and enjoy what we have right here, right now."

"And right now, I can smell warm blackberry pie." Caldric sniffed the air with a sense of nostalgia that brought a smile to his lips. The scent was wafting from a nearby stall, where an elderly woman stood behind wooden crates covered with a colorful cloth and laden with an assortment of golden-brown pies and pastries.

"Shall we?" Aralyn inquired, as she tugged him toward the stall.

"Yes," Caldric murmured, as he followed close behind her to the vendor's stall. His mouth watered instinctively as he licked his lips, wishing not only to taste the pies but also to feel the genuine hunger and satisfaction that came with eating. It was an odd ache, this longing for something so basic and human.

Aralyn squeezed his hand. "Blackberry pie." She pointed to the largest one on the table, its crust perfectly golden and the filling a deep, inviting purple. "Just like my grandmother used to make."

The elderly woman behind the stall smiled warmly at them, her eyes crinkling with age and wisdom. "Ah, a scrumptious pie for young lovers to share."

"Oh, we're not…" Caldric began.

However, Aralyn interrupted, "We'll take the whole pie, please."

"You won't be disappointed." The woman carefully wrapped the pie in a piece of cloth decorated with little embroidered blackberries. "Here you go, my dears," she said as she handed it over to Aralyn. "Made by my own fair hands with love and sprinkled with a little magic."

"Thank you." Aralyn handed over a few coins. "I'm sure it tastes even better than it looks. And all your pies look amazing."

"Thank you, my dears," the vendor said with a smile before she turned to her next customer. "What can I get you?"

Aralyn turned to Caldric, pie in hand. "Here," she said softly, holding the pie close to his face so he could inhale the rich, fruity aroma mingled with the buttery crust. Caldric closed his eyes, letting the scent wash over him, vivid memories of a life he once knew flooding his mind.

As he opened his eyes and looked at Aralyn, her face alight with simple joy, a revelation struck him with startling clarity. There was more to his yearning than just the desire for food.

His heart ached for something far deeper, far more complex than the warmth of a pie.

If he were capable of such feelings, his heart would be filled with love and desire for this vampire hunter.

The question was… If she lifted the curse. If his emotions returned…would he feel the same way? Would he admit it to her?

And would she reject him?

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