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We jog through the grass, bare to the moon and the sky, and another laugh pours out of me. “Sebastian…” I giggle breathlessly.
But we’re not moving back toward the winery. We’re headed in the opposite direction. We crest another hill and on the other side, I see an enormous house in the distance. It looks like some sort of Tuscan villa, surrounded by lush gardens and a sparkling pond. Sebastian beelines for it. It’s even bigger than my family home back in Scotland, and that’s saying something.
He leads me to the front door and when I step through it, it feels like I’m in some sort of fairytale. Granite floors…fluted columns…Renaissance art…marble statues….frescoes on the ceiling.
“So, this is your house? Of course it is.”
I laugh, and Sebastian grins. Which is hilarious considering we’re both still completely naked.
He arches a brow. “Did you expect anything less?”
“No.” I giggle again.
“I think we need a drink,” he says, and he tugs my hand again, leading me deeper into the house.
We stride through the huge grand entry hall, a massive formal dining room, a kitchen that’s bigger than my cottage, and finally into a small, intimate sitting room with windows out onto one of the gardens. Sebastian lets go of my hand and walks over to a mahogany cabinet on the far side of the room. When he opens the door, I can see that it’s actually a built-in wine cooler.
“What do you want?” he asks, shooting me a glance with his silvery eyes.
“I’m curious to know what your favorite is,” I respond.
“Ahh, well that’s akin to asking me to choose a favorite child.” He smiles, cocking his head to the side. “But wine is about mood. So, I’d say tonight I’m in the mood for something decadent.”
I watch his stellar ass from behind as he scours the cabinet. After about thirty seconds, he pulls a small bottle of golden liquid from inside and sets it on the marble-topped bar next to him. He retrieves two wine glasses from the rack and pours a viscous liquid into them before walking back over. He gestures for me to take a seat on a white suede sofa, then sits down next to me.
“And what have we here?” I ask as he hands me my glass.
He doesn’t answer, just swirls the glass beneath his nose with a coy smile. I do the same.
“What do you smell?” he asks.
I inhale deeply. “Caramel. Orange peel. A woodsy scent. It’s Madeira?”
“Nothing sexier than a woman who knows her wine,” Sebastian says.
He takes a sip, and I watch his mouth as he swirls it around. I take a sip of mine a moment later. It’s sweet, and thicker than a typical wine. Something like sherry, but better. Golden and warm in my mouth.
“Did you make this, or did you import it from Portugal?” I ask.
“I make it here.” Sebastian smiles. “It’s definitely one of my favorites to make.”
I take another sip, looking at him over the rim of my glass. The wine warms my chest instantly. I can’t help but wonder what Sebastian’s role is in the Night Guild. Everyone else is creating worldwide chaos, and Sebastian seems to just… make wine. Did his brother drag him into this dark world? Or am I just trying to convince myself of an innocence that isn’t there?
“What are you thinking about?” Sebastian asks, brushing my curls back from my cheek. “Madeira is such a contemplative wine.”
My skin flushes, both from his question and his touch. I decide truth is the best option. I can only get away with so many lies in the presence of a demon. “I was just thinking how different you are from your brother.”
Sebastian stiffens a moment. “How so?”
I take another sip as my head spins through what to say. “It just seems to me that you enjoy your passions here in wine country while the rest of your guests dabble in darker ventures.”
“Darker ventures,” he echoes, his eyes pinned to mine, expression unreadable. “That is what demons do, generally. But you should know that, being half demon yourself.”
I can’t help but watch his lips as he takes his own sip of wine. “I think people should just be who they are, regardless of the family they were born into. Regardless of what magic runs through their veins.”
“Mmm.” Sebastian makes a rumbling sound deep in his chest. He tips back his wine glass and drains the rest in one long swallow, then sets it down on the coffee table next to us. “What a delightfully naive and utterly charming concept.”
“I can’t tell if you’re being cute or condescending,” I say, finishing off my own wine.
