Page 13 of Forsaking All Others

She chokes on her drink and places the glass down, hard, on the coffee table in front of her.

“Pardon?”

“This game is not like any other dating show, Thorun. The rules say only one woman can remain standing. All the rest will be killed either by the bachelor, namely me, or by other contestants. No one can leave once they’ve entered. You won’t be getting out of here with a ‘unique’ experience. I’m afraid your grandmother has accidentally signed your death warrant.”

“No!” She gasps.

I keep my eyes on hers and nod slowly, watching as the weight of the information I’ve imparted sinks in.

“Fokk!” She eventually exclaims.

“Yes,” I nod as I pour myself another whisky, “my thoughts exactly.”

9

“Last again?”

He rises as I approach and indicates I should take the seat beside him, before sitting back down heavily.

I do so, nervously.

I hadn’t planned on being the last to speak to him tonight, far from it, but there were others more intent on demanding their time and more forceful in staking their claims. My plan was to take it easy because those women would either have a big target painted on them by other contestants, or be bitten. I took a gamble that by staying around to the end he would have already killed two contestants by the time he met me.

The gamble hasn’t paid off.

As far as I know he hasn’t even asked anyone if they’ll accept his bite, death bite or love bite.

‘Perhaps he’s saved all his appetite for me.’

I take the proffered drink and try to slow my racing heart. Being eliminated on the first night is not part of my plan.

Turning to him, I open my mouth to speak, but sensing a deep melancholy beneath his polite, urbane veneer, the feeling rubs off onto me almost immediately, and instead I take a sip of my drink.

It’s been a long, long day and an even longer night, and I’m dead on my feet, figuratively — hopefully not soon also literally. I’d dearly love to rest now, but just like all the other contestants, I need to stay here to see who’s eliminated and learn who will get his first impression date tomorrow night.

As he looks at me over the rim of his glass, clearly waiting for me to speak, I sip again, still holding his gaze.

Eventually, he clears his throat.

“It’s been a long night.”

I nod.

“Very.”

“And the dawn is coming,” he adds.

“Yes, the dawn is coming.”

We each take another sip of our drinks, and I realise I might actually have an easy out of this situation.

Placing my drink down, I stretch my arms up to the sky and yawn.

When I turn to him he has one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“So,” I smirk, “I can sit here until you ignite, or I can spare you the pain, and we can take a raincheck on this ‘getting to know you,’ thing.”

“That’s very generous of you,” he snorts, rising and holding his hand out to me.