Plus, he doesn’t drink blood. No feeding at all. Regardless of everything else, that is what fundamentally defines us. So if he’s not doing that, he can’t be one of us.
It’s another fifteen minutes before Jae is peeking his damp head through the doorframe of the hallway. His golden hair looks especially dark since it’s wet, and his glasses are back on his face. He’d ditched them last night before our very sensual shower.
“Hey, there’s a mug and tea bag on the counter for you.”
“Thanks.” He moves slowly toward the counter, then sits himself atop a barstool. I grab the teapot, walk over and fill his mug with steaming water, careful not to spill on my countertop.
When I’m done, I flick my eyes up to him. “Is everything alright, Doctor?”
He tears the tea bag open and slowly dips it into the cup. He’s staring down into it, his face unreadable. “My baggage is clouding my view again.”
I breathe a laugh. Not because it’s funny, but because it’s forthright. “Can I help with this? I appreciate your honesty.”
He looks up at me, his lovely eyes serious. “Are we done?”
“Do you want to be done?”
“Well… not really.”
“Did you enjoy last night?”
“Yes. Did you?”
I smile. “Very much. I would like to do it again. Plus, you said you wanted two dinners.”
“I said as many as I can get.” He smiles for the first time. It’s a weak, hesitant smile, but it’s there.
“I remember.” I lean on the counter with my elbows directly across from him. “Because of who I am, and who you are, we can’t ever have anything very serious…”
The doctor nods. “I know.”
“But as long as we’re both enjoying, I think we should enjoy?”
“I would like that.” Jae smiles a little brighter, and I swear his eyes look like there’s light behind them. I shake my head.
“Alright,” I say. “Let’s seal the deal.”
Now, Jae is sporting his normal sincere grin. His perfectly straight white teeth are shining. He lifts from the stool and leans forward, tilting his head slightly as he presses his lips to mine.
It’s a sweet, slow kiss, and it feels like we already have our own rhythm. We’re learning each other. His mouth tastes like peaches and cinnamon to me, even though I know he couldn’t possibly have even brushed his teeth and humans typically have terrible morning breath.
Later in the week, Haruka sends me a text message asking me to come to the estate. This is weird.
Haruka never texts me. Or anyone. Nino says he only texts him back (sometimes) because he’s spent over a year fussing at him about it. The purebred simply doesn’t like smartphones. Something about the light of it bothers his eyes. It’s not an official summons with his family’s seal delivered and written in Asao’s voice, but knowing Haruka, something is up.
It’s Friday when I finally have time to stop by the estate. Being in Europe for two weeks is fantastic, but it creates a backlog of appointments and requests for me at home. I told Jae I would try to come to Himeji for dinner sometime during the week, but I haven’t had time. Maybe I’ll go tonight for a little while? Sundays are just better for both of us because he’s off and usually I am too.
Today’s visit to Haruka and Nino’s home is absolutely different, because when I walk in, Asao tells me Haruka is in his office. “Where the hell is his office?” I ask. “We conduct all our business in the kitchen.”
Asao laughs at this as he guides me down the hallway opposite the kitchen. “Your doctor boyfriend has created a spark of life in Haruka. He’s going to Hong Kong next week.”
I draw back, surprised. “Hong Kong? He’s not my boyfriend.” I’m a hundred and thirty years old and Jae is over thirty. Nobody in this situation is a fucking “boy.”
Asao stops, raising his eyebrow. “Are you sleeping with anyone else right now?”
I lift my chin, indignant. “How do you know I’m sleeping with him?”
“You’re sleeping with him. At home. That in and of itself is telling.”
“Alright, old man. Keep walking.”
Asao laughs and moves forward. I tell him too much. If I’m honest, Asao is a little like the father I never had. Well, the father I wish I had. He tells me what I need to hear, but he’s kind. Thoughtful, in a gruff way. I asked Haruka how it felt being raised by Asao after his own father died. He said he greatly respects Asao and values the role he’s played in his upbringing, but that no vampire could replace his biological father.
I’ve heard that Haruka’s father, Hayato Hirano, was an incredible male—both publicly and privately. Very sharp and notoriously affectionate. Mischievous. Vampires in Okayama are hard-core loyalists to the Hirano Clan in part because of him.
Haruka once told me that when he was little, his father used to hide in the house. When Haruka went looking for him, he’d jump out from somewhere and sweep him up, hugging and kissing him. Haruka said it was both exciting and terrifying.
That story and the image of it stuck with me. I can’t think of one time my father ever played with me like that—or in any way. Haruka’s situation was the exception. Mine was more the norm. Old-school purebred fathers… They’re not playful and affectionate. They don’t typically do hide-and-seek.
Asao slides the door open for me and I walk inside. Haruka’s office is his father’s old office. It’s traditional, with tatami floors, paper doors decorated with elegant sumi-e artwork and a wall of glass windows on the opposite side that show a view of the back garden and koi pond. There are also rows of bookshelves lining the back wall, and Haruka himself is sitting at a low table on a cushion. He’s wearing a casual black robe that I designed for him.
Aside from his clothing, it all feels a little too formal, so when I’m standing in front of him, I lift my palms. “Um, what the hell?”
He’s writing something. He briefly flicks his sangria-colored eyes up at me before looking back down at his journal. “Your lover is a vampire.”
I sit down across from him, folding my legs against the tatami. I quickly decide I’m more comfortable with “lover” over “boyfriend.” I don’t argue it. “He doesn’t feed, so how can he be a vampire?”
