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Xander scoffed, winking at the waiter, and nodding at the bottle. “Pop it, daddio.”
He bowed briskly. “Excellent, monsieur.”
After Xander did a taste and the waiter poured the froth and fizz into our long, slender flutes, we were on our own again.
This would be another first. I’d never had champagne before. I’d hardly ever drunk at all. Thankfully, the legal age for drinking in New Nebraska was eighteen, so at least I couldn’t be arrested for having a little fun.
“I’d better sip it. I’m not much of a drinker. Cheers.” I raised my glass.
Xander held up his too, gazing into my eyes. All of the joking demeanor drained from his face, and after an intense look, he clinked his glass to mine. “Cheers. To the start of something special.”
“Very special.” I raised my glass again.
He looked relieved by my response and tugged on his collar, in a show of vulnerability I’d never seen from him before. He cleared his throat. “I’m actually the opposite with this stuff.” He took a drink. “I could down bottles and feel slightly tipsy at best. It has a negligible effect on us vamps, unless its mixed with…well, anyway, no matter.” It was like he didn’t want to remind me what he was. “Anyway, to a great evening.”
“Yes.” I finally took a sip. The delicate, dry bubbles danced across my tongue. “It’s delightful, thank you. And I’m supposed to be the one thanking you today, but here you are spoiling me.”
“Spoiling special people is one of the greatest joys in life.”
I glanced away, suddenly bashful. Despite what Xander, and Aaron and Jax, kept saying, I didn’t think there was much special about me. But they kept showing me how much they cared about me and maybe being with someone you cared about was more than special and something to cherish.
I forced myself to look back to him and own how special he thought I was.
When a different waiter returned for our order, I picked out a mix of vegetarian and seafood dishes. Xander selected beef options, steak tartare and chateaubriand, requesting his main course cooked extra rare and the starter straight up raw. His food choices weren’t gross, just something that anyone, vamp, or non-vamp could have picked.
“Is that enough for you?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I just thought, maybe you’d need more… blood?” I fidgeted with my napkin.
“I get enough at other times, though…”
“Yes?”
“Well, I don’t want to turn you off with this talk, but—”
“You won’t turn me off. If we’re going to know each other, I want to truly know you.”
A look of peace and acceptance settled over his face, that mischievous Xander from the start of the evening even farther gone. “I’d normally have more blood with a meal, yes. The fresher and higher quality, the better. But I actually haven’t been able to stomach much other than the packaged stuff since I met you. I’ve had no desire.” He looked down and it was his turn to look bashful.
I decided not to press him on that and when our dishes came, he fed me a forkful of his. Everything was amazingly succulent and well-seasoned.
We chatted as we ate. The serious tone to our evening continued. He told me all about how his parents had both been killed when their private jet had crashed on takeoff in New York City, leaving him as leader of their coven while he was still only in junior high school. He was much older than me, but apparently young for a vampire, and traditional schooling was usually broken up and not rushed in their young life. Life experience meant more to vampires. I could still see the sorrow in his eyes as he talked about his mom and dad, and them being taken from him so suddenly. He seemed to view his top position as a burden, rather than a source of pride, having only one aunt who he said he could fully trust to advise and guide him in his duties.
His parents died a few years before the Nebraska Agreement and right before the world learned about paranormals. So Xander ended up responsible for managing that volatile time in history when humans first discovered powerful beings lived among them. There’d been protests and prejudice against paranormals everywhere, especially in New York City. Then once the Agreement was finalized—and human and paranormal leaders around the world had agreed most all paranormals but the Fae would be relocated to Nebraska (with the humans already living there paid huge incentives to move out, though a few had stayed)—he’d had to handle the upheaval of a coven of several thousand vampires from New York to here. His responsibilities hadn’t ended after relocating. After they got here, he set up and supervised all of their business interests, investments, and agreements with covens in cities and towns across the new state. My heart really went out to him, having such a responsibility to carry, with no choice, at such a young age—by vampire standards, at least.
Clinking his knife and fork down halfway through his main course, he dabbed his lips with a napkin, saying, “Oh, I was meaning to tell you something, but didn’t want to get your hopes up, because in all reality, it’s most likely nothing.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, one of the young boys in the teams I had out looking for your mom. A particularly ditzy lad, unfortunately. He claims to have seen a lady fitting your mom’s description, through a limousine window.”
I put my knife and fork down, the word ‘mom’ pinging, like my ears were radar. “What? Where?”
He pressed his palms downwards into the air. “Calm down, my dear orchid. This is why I wasn’t going to mention it. I find that false hope can be far more damaging than no hope at all.”
“What did he say?”
