Page 8 of Tainted Souls
Probably something practical with a touch of sentiment, just like his style. Understated, but elegant.
My mind races ahead, painting vivid pictures of our future together.
Our wedding will be small, but sophisticated. I’ll probably wear something unconventional, maybe a deep burgundy dress that makes Max’s eyes widen when I walk down the aisle. My friends will begrudgingly attend, some of them making sarcastic comments throughout the ceremony but secretly dabbing at their eyes when we exchange vows. We’ll honeymoon somewhere far away from both vampire politics and human prejudices—just us and the stars.
I imagine lazy mornings in bed, with Max’s arms wrapped around me, his heartbeat steady against my back. The way he’ll kiss my forehead before leaving for work, promising to be home for dinner.
We’ll have Sunday brunches with freshly squeezed orange juice and pancakes stacked high, Max reading the newspaper while I sip coffee laced with just enough blood to keep me satisfied. Our child will have curious eyes who won’t care that her mother is different.
Marriage.Despite everything, the word itself feels foreign in my mind, like trying to pronounce a language I’ve never spoken.Five years together, and still the concept seems to belong to someone else’s life. Someone normal.
Someone human.
My father used to tell me and my brother stories about his private wedding by the lake. How magical it was. How special their union was. How deep their love for each other was, despite their forever being two entirely different timelines.
The mere idea of promising Max forever, knowing that he’ll go much earlier than I will, unsettles me.
The door swings open, my senses heightening on instinct. It isn’t Max. Just a group of office workers with their ties loosened and chatter obnoxiously loud, celebrating the end of their workweek. They claim a booth not too far from me, already ordering shots before they have fully settled in.
“Expecting trouble?” Lou asks, jolting me right out of my thoughts. “You’re watching the door like it might sprout fangs.”
“Just a date,” I reply, trying to downplay my excitement.
He lowers his voice. “The lawyer with the nice suits?”
I nod, surprised he remembers that detail. Then again, bartenders make it their business to know their regulars.
“He seems decent,” Lou remarks, wiping down the counter. “For a human.”
The way he let the word roll off his tongue carries a familiar sting, the kind of subtle condescension common among vampires. I’ve heard it a thousand times before. No matter how much we insist our city is different, some old habits die harder than others.
Among the younger, more radical crowd, relationships like mine are viewed as little more than passing indulgences, dalliances to be scoffed at or whispered about. Even among the more progressive types, the sting of superiority lingers like an aftertaste.
Vampires like Lou often believe that the allure of humanity is just a temporary fascination until the inevitable pull of their true nature takes over, even if they were human before they were turned. It’s as if that part of their lives died along with them, or the passage of time simply has that effect on our brains.
Me dating Max is therefore seen as undeniable proof of my inherent recklessness. Lou’s words might have seemed innocuous to an outsider, but I know the underlying message. He doesn’t need to say it outright for me to hear his silent warning of not getting too attached.
I feel the heat rising to my cheeks, a response I can’t quite suppress, especially when my boyfriend’s earnest face pops into my mind.
Lawyers aren’t known for their longevity in relationships like ours, and I sometimes wonder if the council has taken bets on how long we will last.
“He is,” I say, unable to keep the flush at bay. “More than decent.”
“You know what they say about mixed relationships.”
“You know that I don’t care.”
Lou raises his hands in surrender, a smirk playing on his lips. “Just looking out for a valued customer.” He eyes my glass. “Another?”
I shake my head. “Water for now.”
He frowns but doesn’t comment, sliding a glass of ice water toward me. The cool liquid does little to wash away the lingering taste of blood whiskey, but it clears my head slightly.
Max won’t appreciate me being buzzed when he arrives, especially if tonight is what I think it is. The drive from his office to here takes around twenty minutes. Only five have passed. As impatience creeps up on me, I set out to order Max a drink in advance when I spot Evan weaving through the crowd, his signature red vampire eyes scanning the crowd before settlingon me. His ocean blue hair, now damp with sweat, clings to his forehead as he makes his way over.
“There you are,” he says with a booming voice that slices through the ambient chatter. He slides into the stool beside me, his long, slender fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on the bar top. “Haden’s been asking for you. It’s been a while since you two last spoke.”
“I can’t right now.” I pout my lips. “Tell him we’ll catch up soon.”
