A Time Apart: Book One of The Macauley Series Read online

  Turning back around to face her, Olivia was surprised to see the tension gone, replaced by a completely different demeanor. Having spent a lot of time in therapy over the years, Olivia had grown used to diagnosing behaviors. She’d call his manic.

  “I’d love for you to come downstairs and join me for dinner,” he said, his blue eyes alight with something she didn’t quite understand.

  “It’s probably very presumptuous of me to have done so but I took the liberty of having my chef prepare a very traditional Irish dinner, complete with lamb stew and soda bread.”

  “I’d love some food, and was just thinking about what you might have around here for me to eat, but I’d also love for us to talk as well.”

  He was crazy if he thought he could distract her with promises of succulent meats and bread.

  “Of course we’ll talk about whatever you want. But first … ” he grabbed Olivia and pulled her toward him “ … I’d like a kiss hello.”

  With William’s mouth hovering just above Olivia’s, she thought that food wasn’t a proper distraction but that he certainly was. As his soft, chilled lips began caressing hers, she thought that she would happily kiss him all night – and then her stomach growled and told her otherwise.

  He laughed and stepped back, still holding on to her right hand. He seemed to need to touch her when they were close. She was probably thinking like a fool, but she found the compulsion charming.

  “Okay, food and conversation it is,” he said, pulling her out of the room.

  As Olivia followed William downstairs she tried to figure out which questions to ask him first since she had figured out the night before that he switched topics abruptly, before he had revealed much of anything. She was momentarily distracted from her plotting when she saw the table set for what could only be described as a small feast.

  “Are we having company?”

  “No, why do you ask?”

  William’s genuine look of confusion over her simple – but obvious, she thought – question made her laugh. At times he seemed cynical and practical, and then at moments he’d say or do something silly or mischievous. He hadn’t even realized that it would be preposterous for her to eat even a fraction of what was on the table.

  “That’s a bit much just for me.”

  He turned to scrutinize the table with a more critical eye, the feast spread out before them.

  “Ah, yes. I guess I did go overboard in my instructions to the chef.”

  Olivia circled the table, eyeing the repast with some trepidation. Irish stew, fresh-baked soda bread, greens dressed with shavings of parmesan cheese, cherry tomatoes and vinaigrette, a cheese course, some sort of bread pudding, and two bottles of red wine. The savory smell of the stew mingling with the yeasty aroma of the bread made Olivia’s mouth water and her stomach growl, a reminder of just how hungry she actually was. If she ate even half as much as she wanted to her skinny jeans would need to be replaced with elastic leggings to account for the extra girth.

  William pulled out a chair for Olivia to sit down in, something a man hadn’t done for her in a long time. She shouldn’t have been surprised that he would have excellent manners, but it pleased her nonetheless. Only once she was seated with a napkin spread daintily across her lap did William take his own chair, immediately to her right.

  “A simple bowl of soup and some bread would have sufficed,” she told him, looking around the magnificent bounty spread before them. She already felt as if she was invading his privacy – taking up residence there so quickly – and she didn’t want to be a burden on him or his staff any more than she surely already was.

  “Our first meal together was not going to be a simple bowl of soup and some stale bread,” he said, an edge of steel to his voice. “I want you to feel welcome, like the honored guest that you are. I want to dine with you in the manner in which you deserve.”

  Gaining some control of his emotions – his voice becoming more even as he spoke – William reached over, laid his hand over hers, and squeezed.

  “Rooting around in my kitchen for scraps of food to tide you over, or eating like a peasant is not what I’d have for you.”

  Olivia started to protest, to tell him that she was fine with simple food, that she didn’t need a big feast every night, but instead she kept quiet. If William wanted to give her a big fancy dinner her first night in the castle who was she to object? She’d just have to make sure later on that he knew he didn’t need to go through the whole production every night.

  “Okay, big fancy dinner it is. But please tell me that we don’t have to say grace.”

  Olivia’s father had made a big deal out of thanking God before all of their large, formal meals, as if he had actually believed the words he was saying. She and her mother had humored him, but the words rang hollow.

  “There is no God in this house.”

  “Well, there’s something else we have in common.”

  “You’re not a Christian then?” William asked the question a little too nonchalantly while he scooped spoonfuls of stew into a heavy white porcelain bowl that he then placed in front of her. He continued serving her dinner – salad, bread, and wine – while she thought of how to answer him.

  “I’m an atheist. I’ve never believed in God or miracles,” she said, choosing to go for the quickest path to the truth of her beliefs. “Based on seemingly factual accounts of him, I believe there was probably a man named Jesus who wandered the desert espousing altruism, benevolence, and mercy and doing kind works who is the basis for the stories of the bible, but I very much doubt he was the Son of God, and he certainly didn’t rise from the grave to become the world’s holy savior.”

  He poured wine into a second glass and took a sip, catching her off guard.

  “And have you always felt this way?” he asked.

  Here Olivia was sitting in a castle in Ireland with a vampire who was drinking wine – not blood – and he wanted to talk theology! In the past she would have answered that she didn’t believe in fairy tells but hello – vampire to her right. She as the reincarnation of said vampire’s dead wife? She was kind of living in a fairy tale right now, so she’d have to re-evaluate her stock answer to the question. Instead she changed the subject, much as he did when he didn’t want to examine too closely something she had asked him.

  “I’m sorry, but did you just take a drink of wine?”

  “Yes, it’s very good wine too.”

  “I thought vampires could only consume blood?”

  “Myth.”

  “Okay, tell me. What else is myth? What can and can’t you do?”

  Olivia figured him teaching her the basics – Vampire 101 – was as good a topic as any to get him to start talking, to educate her on what she was in for with this new life.

  “I can drink pretty much all liquids and I quite enjoy red wine and whiskey. There’s a theory that the alcohol can dull our … other cravings … but I’ve not found that to be the case. It can, however, help me relax and that’s a very good thing since vampire emotions are constantly heightened.”

  “Good to know, what else?”

  “I can consume food if I have to do so in order to keep up my human charade, but my body can’t process it so I need to get rid of the food later. And this is not mealtime talk.”

  “What about the sun?” Olivia asked, changing the subject to something that wouldn’t adversely affect her appetite.

  “I am, unfortunately, confined to the night. Because of my age I can withstand the pre-dawn light – that time right before the sun comes up – and dusk – just after the sun dips beyond the horizon – but I cannot withstand direct sunlight for very long. To face the midday sun would be suicide.”

  Olivia listened as she ate, enjoying both the delicious meal and how open and honest he was being with her about his abilities and weaknesses.

  “How often do you need to feed?” she asked, bringing the discussion back around to a topic that wasn’t exactly appetizing.

  �
�Ah, the age old question.”

  He took another drink of his wine, swirled the dark liquid in his glass, and inhaled its aroma before answering.

  “If it was a life or death situation, I could go a few months – say three or four – before my body would begin to shut down. Obviously I try to avoid that scenario to the best of my abilities.”

  He took another drink and seemed to be contemplating his next statement.

  “As an American woman, I’m sure you’ve spent your fair share of time on a diet.”

  Olivia didn’t see where he was going with that statement, but since he had answered all of her questions truthfully, she answered him truthfully as well.

  “I’m not exactly what you’d call a slight woman, so yes, I diet regularly. Sometimes better than at other times.”

  “And when you are on these diets, do you deny yourself the thing you most want? The thing your body most craves?”

  “Well, yes. That’s the point, isn’t it? If I ate everything I wanted to there’d be consequences. I can’t just go around eating ice cream, popcorn, French fries, and cheese all the time no matter how much I might want to. But what does that have to do with your ... eating habits?”

  “It’s the same for me too. I crave blood. I want blood. It’s the thing I think about most,” he looked Olivia squarely in the eyes as he said those last words.

  She didn’t think he was doing it to scare her but rather to make it plain that regardless of anything else, blood was first and foremost in his mind lest she had forgotten at any point that he was a vampire and not a mortal man.

  “But there’d be consequences if I went around drinking blood any time that I wanted to. Admittedly, my consequences are a bit direr than a few gained pounds, so I have learned to control either my cravings. I try to feed at least once a week because it gives me great pleasure, but I can go longer if needed.”

  Olivia knew that her next question was about to take them into a territory that could yield answers that she might be comfortable with but she had to know.

  “How do you feed?”

  She stared into her empty soup bowl as she asked the question, too afraid to see William’s reaction or watch his face as he said the words. He had drank from her at the height of their lovemaking; it might kill her to hear that was how he routinely fed because then she’d have to face knowing that he would never truly be hers. She could accept that he had been with other women in the past – she was no saint herself – and she could even accept that he might possibly have unfinished business to attend to with Elizabeth, but she could not abide sharing him with others.

  “I can hear your heart racing and see the trepidation in your face even though you’re trying to hide it from me. I don’t have to read your mind to know what it is you’re really asking,” he said gently, squeezing her hand in reassurance.

  “While it is true that taking the blood of my lovers enhances the experience, it is not a practice I routinely partake in. The connection it creates, the intimacy that is involved with the act, is something that I don’t take lightly.”

  Olivia looked up at him and saw the earnestness in his expression, the truth of his words clear in his eyes.

  “I have a stash of blood here that comes from a medical supplier who is aware of my situation and willing to help me. The majority of my sustenance comes from the same type of bags you’d see hooked up to an IV in a hospital.”

  Olivia sighed audibly, delighted to hear that she wouldn’t have to broach the topic of other women with her new lover. She also needn’t worry about him running around the country having sex with women and then sucking them dry, something that was even worse than him having regular bedmates she would have to contend with.

  William pulled his hand away from hers, sat back in his chair, and took another sip of his wine. Olivia had been observing him for less than twenty-four hours but she’d come to learn his speech patterns and some quirks of habit. She knew, for instance, that when considering his next words, he’d often look out the window, stare into the fire, or sit back in his chair, which was his signal for wanting to change the topic. His current position, given her recent statement of relief and delight, didn’t bode well for the rest of their conversation.

  “Out with it,” she demanded. “I can only withstand your mysterious pauses in conversation so much, so just say what it is you want to say without trying to come up with a way to say it that doesn’t scare me off. I’ll let you know when it’s too much, when I can’t hear anymore.”

  William relaxed – if only infinitesimally – and nodded his head in her direction as a smile broke out on his face in acknowledgement of her keen powers of observation.

  “While the majority of the blood I drink comes from my supply – and now you, it seems …” – he paused to see if she would interject or object – “ … there have been times, very recent times in fact, where I have acted on my baser instincts and fed from what you might call the unwilling.”

  He stared at Olivia while the words left his mouth, all the while gauging her reaction.

  She too sat back and took a drink of wine, trying to keep her face a mask of calm as she decided how she should acknowledge his statement. She tipped her glass in his direction, indication for him to keep talking.

  “Go on.”

  Olivia moved the glass back to her mouth in case she needed to hide her face or gulp down the remaining ruby liquid. She didn’t really know where his confession was going, but she was afraid of what he might reveal lest it change everything about the way she had come to feel for him.

  “Sometimes I hunt. It is who – what – I am.” He gestured with his hands as if to add, “it is what it is.”

  He said it so nonchalantly that Olivia almost couldn’t believe it; his matter-of-factness and complete lack of shame was akin to him admitting that sometimes he gardened.

  “I can see that you are shocked by this.”

  Olivia set her glass down, hoping that he also didn’t see her hands shaking. She doubted it though; the man didn’t miss a thing. Damn supernatural senses.

  “I’m shocked that you’re so blasé about it. You speak about killing as if it’s nothing. I’m a very cynical person – pretty unimpressed with humans as a species, in fact – but I find that I’m having a hard time accepting the wholesale execution of innocent people based on …what is it you called them … your baser instincts?”

  Olivia knew her voice was rising again and that she was gearing up for a fight – who fights with a vampire?! – but she couldn’t help her reaction. It was all so ridiculous and completely and utterly without question unacceptable. Regardless of what she felt for William, or what their connection was, Olivia couldn’t abide by the random and senseless killing of another human being just because he wanted to go hunting. In fact, she pretty much felt the same way about all hunters, supernatural or otherwise.

  “I can’t be with you if you’re a killer!”

  The more heated Olivia became the calmer William seemed, retreating into a world of frosty stares and cool indifference. As her fury erupted, an icy calm spread across his features.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way. The truth of the matter is, I am a vampire. You knew this when you came here. What did you think I did to sustain myself? Last night when you fucked me, you didn’t seem to care whatsoever what my baser instincts were. In fact, I’d say you reveled in them.”

  “That was different!” she shot back.

  “Indeed? How so?” He raised an annoyingly perfect eyebrow at her, knowing full well that he had her in a bind. It wasn’t different and she knew it. Olivia had known last night what he was, and regardless of what movies or TV shows wanted to sell, vampires lived on human blood. She had to accept that William likely went about his feeding the old fashioned way.

  “I didn’t know anything at all at the time because you wouldn’t tell me. For all I knew you live off the blood of animals,” she tried, grasping for something that would strengthen her argument, anyth
ing that would justify her position.

  “I assure you, Olivia, real vampires do not live off rodents, vermin, cats, dogs, deer, or any of the other animals you’d like to believe. I am a vampire, and as such I feast on human blood. Sometimes willingly and other times not. Sometimes I kill, sometimes not. It is my way, the way of my people. It is what I am and I ask that you accept it.”

  “I need air.” Olivia put down her glass and pushed her chair back from the table. “I’m going for a walk.”

  William looked at her blankly as she spoke, and she couldn’t read anything in his face. He could have been a statue staring back at her for all the emotion he held in his wintry gaze.

  Making her way to the door, Olivia turned to look at him but he was no longer looking at her. In fact, he was no longer in the room. She hadn’t even heard him move. His disappearing act unnerved her, yet another reminder that she was possibly in a very dangerous situation. It would be wise for her to remember that he could turn on her at any minute and she wouldn’t even see it coming.

  William had promised Olivia that he wouldn’t hurt her and she had believed him. But Seamus’s earlier warning came back to haunt her: William would never let her go without a fight. What did that mean, really? If she decided that it was all too much for her and that being the lover of a centuries old vampire wasn’t her life’s calling after all, would it matter? Would he let her leave? He had said earlier that he would, but Olivia was beginning to get the feeling that was more a statement regarding field trips than major life decisions.

  His being a bona fide killer tore at her psyche on so many levels. The people he had killed had families, friends, and loved ones that mourned for them when they were gone. What right did he have to end their lives just because he was looking for a little blood sport? Why did he have to give in to his dark desires?