“And you’re pureblood?”
“Yes.”
“And you have other pureblood siblings?”
“I had one,” he said. “My twin. She was born a few minutes before me.”
“Had?” I echoed the word carefully.
“She died.” He didn’t offer more details.
I tamped down my curiosity about his sister’s death. As much as I wanted to know more about his twin, I understood grief. I’d experienced it myself. I saw it now contorting his gorgeous face. Apparently, sorrow was a place that vampires and humans found common ground.
I needed to change the topic and fast. I still had a million questions about how vampires were made or born, but there were other things I wanted to know, too. For one, how had I wound up playing cello at a vampire party? My plate was nearly empty. I had no idea how much longer Julian was willing to sit here and allow me to interrogate him. “So, what were you celebrating tonight?”
“Celebrating?”
“The party,” I explained. “I was told it was a reception of some sort.”
“A party? Yes. A celebration? Not exactly. Every fifty years or so, we gather for parties–a social season, if you will.”
“A social season?” I couldn’t help but think of Jane Austen novels. “So you have balls and stuff?”
“And stuff,” he confirmed.
“Why? That sounds a bit...old-fashioned.”
“I suppose vampires are a bit old-fashioned, as you put it,” he said. “We cling to our traditions.”
And with lifespans that lasted hundreds of years, that meant that they probably had some ancient traditions. “So, why bother with a social season?”
“Why do you think?” he asked, tilting his head to study me.
“Well, I’ve seen like every Jane Austen movie ever made, so I’m guessing it’s to show off.”
Julian’s head fell back, and then to my surprise, laughter bellowed from him. When his amusement finally died, he nodded. “I suppose you’re right. There are other matters, of course.”
“Like?” I pressed. There was something romantic about the idea of these beautiful creatures gathering in expensive clothes and discussing the lives they’d led. I couldn’t imagine all of the history they’d witnessed, the art they’d seen, or–a jealous realization hit me–the musicians they’d heard perform throughout the centuries.
“Matchmaking.” His voice took on a bitter tone.
I stared blankly at him.
“You said you watched Jane Austen movies,” he said. “I presume they’re concerned with the same subject matter of the books.”
Why wasn’t I surprised that a vampire would have that the book is better attitude? I ignored the subtle dig and nodded.
“What are the mothers always worrying about?”
I thought for a moment. “Marriage?”
“Exactly,” he groaned.
A strange sadness overcame me as I put all of this information together. “So, you’re all getting together to find someone to marry?”
“It’s a bit more–”
“Complicated.” I finished for him. While he’d been vague on some points regarding vampires, he’d made it clear that nothing about his world was simple. “And your mother wants you…”
I couldn’t even bring myself to say it, but I wasn’t sure why.
“To marry and make little vampires.” He looked like he’d rather go back to his nap.
“So, you’re looking for a wife.” It sounded strange to say it. It was the twenty-first century. People did not go around attending balls and making matches.
But apparently, vampires did.
“I’m not…” He paused as the waitress appeared to deliver the bill.
I reached for it, but he was faster.
“Don’t tell me that men no longer pay for a meal,” he said as he withdrew an expensive leather wallet from the breast pocket of his jacket.
“On dates, they might,” I said, rummaging around my purse.
“Thea, what are you doing?” he asked.
I drew out a couple crumpled bills I found at the bottom of the bag and tossed them on the table. “I can pay for my half.”
