The Dinner

The Dinner
Vicky
Speaking of which, the spread before us was wonderful tonight.
Roasted pheasant, figs dripping with honey, and a wine so dark it looked like blood.

“Dimitri,” I said, setting my glass down, “this is our last night together. You have the right to choose how we’re going to spend it. It’s only fair.”

He leaned back, his white-blue eyes softening with a trace of regret. “It’s a shame you’re not staying. I would have a place of honor for you here, I always will.”

“It was amazing to poke around with you,” I replied, a small smile tugging at my lips. “It’s tempting to want to stay, but I’m not ready for that. I love James.”
The confession slipped out, and I felt Veny stir again, her approval a low hum in my mind. James, that flawed, infuriating wolf still held a piece of me, despite everything, and I couldn’t abandon that, not yet.

“You’re so beautiful, my sunshine,” Dimitri said, reaching across the table to brush my hand. “I wish you could take all of this for yourself.”

I tilted my head, a playful edge creeping into my voice. “You didn’t drink my blood, Dimitri, not a drop. I must not be your type—or at least your blood type.”

“It wasn’t a lack of desire, little one. It’s just that if I drank from you, my father would know right away that you were with me. Besides, despite all the affection I have for you, werewolf blood isn’t the best.” His tone was light, but his eyes held a flicker of something darker, a reminder of the stakes we’d danced around.

“Yes,” I said, curiosity piquing. “How do you do it? To feed yourself? Do you have regular donors? Do you hunt?”

“A little bit of everything,” he replied, his smile turning sly. “Humans, animals…”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I guess I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No,” he said, his voice dropping, serious now. “I’m a vampire, one of the terrible ones. I’m only sweet to you.”

He smiled again, and it was the truth. That was why I liked him, why I’d let myself fall into this with him. His sincerity cut through the games, the danger, the centuries of blood on his hands, and reached me in a way I hadn’t expected.

We left his quarters and went to a small restaurant on the campus, a tucked-away gem with warm lighting and the scent of herbs wafting from the kitchen. The food was delicious, and the bread was so fresh it melted in my mouth. We shared drinks, the wine loosening the edges of my thoughts, and then Dimitri rose, crossing to the piano in the corner.
His fingers danced across the keys, coaxing out a magnificent melody. Haunting, alive, a sound that seemed to pull the room into his orbit. He glanced at me, his white-blue eyes glinting with invitation, and I joined him, sliding onto the bench beside him. We sang together, our voices weaving through the notes, and it was quite an evening.
The other patrons faded into the background, their chatter a distant hum, until it felt like it was just the two of us.

He took my hand, leading me up a narrow staircase to the roof, where an outdoor rooftop garden awaited, the night sky sprawling above us. There, in the cool air, he undressed me, his hands slow and reverent, peeling away the white and gold gown until I stood bare before him. I reached for him, unbuttoning his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders, and we came together without tricks or distractions, making love like humans do.
His skin was cold against mine, but his touch was warm with intent, and I lost myself in him one last time, our bodies moving in a rhythm that needed no embellishment. It was the seventh night, my dues paid, my freedom earned.
But as I lay there, tangled with him under the stars, I wondered—did I want to go? These nights had washed away so much of my pain, my problems fading into a haze of pleasure and connection. I felt… well, whole in a way I hadn’t in months. Yet reality loomed, insistent and unyielding.

“Have you made your choice, little one?” Dimitri asked, his voice soft as he propped himself up beside me, his gaze searching mine.

“Yes,” I said, meeting his eyes, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Who knows, maybe one day I will…”

“I know.” He nodded, understanding flickering in his expression, and then he sat up, reaching for a small leather pouch. “Now pay attention. I have a fake passport for you—since you speak French, I created the name Nadine. In case you have any problems, you’ll be able to get out of here.” He handed me the document, crisp and official-looking, along with a key. “This is for your car. Remember that without my direct protection, Romania is not safe for you. He is the king. He can kill you easily. Don’t mess with him. Don’t trust him—he has no heart.” He laughed. “As if I had one.”

“Why are you saying all this, Dimitri?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly as I clutched the passport and car key. His expression was grave, a rare crack in his usual composure, and it sent a chill through me.

“Listen,” he said, pulling a sleek cell phone from his pocket and handing it to me. “On this, you have contacts of people who can help. They’re all human. The only vampire you can trust is Valeska. She hates my father and doesn’t mind dying. He killed her mate.”

“Oh!” I gasped, the horror of it sinking in. “How horrible.”

“Diana,” he continued, “something else happened.”

“What?”

“Queen Narttyri was murdered. Your father is the king of the witches, after all. And that makes you…”

“No, it doesn’t,” I cut in sharply, my stomach twisting. “I’m a half-breed. For them, I should be dead.”
The witches had never accepted me—Jean’s bastard daughter, tainted by werewolf blood. I’d spent my life running from that legacy, and I wasn’t about to claim it now.

“Not all witches think that way,” Dimitri countered, his voice steady. “You could have a home there.”

“Never,” I snapped, the word final, bitter. “I don’t want anything to do with Jean.”

“Well,” he sighed, then pressed on. “Finally… Jean blamed the Queen’s death on the Lycans, or rather the Tasmanian Devils.”

“What?” My breath caught. “James…”

“He made it sound like the Tasmanian Devils’ mission was to assassinate Queen Narttyri,” Dimitri explained, his eyes searching mine for a reaction.

“I doubt that,” I said, shaking my head. The Tasmanian Devils weren’t assassins, not like that. But Jean’s lies could twist anything, and I knew the danger they were in now.

“Well, your friends might be being hunted right now, by witches and vampires,” he added, his voice low, heavy with the implications.

“What?”

“You don’t need to get involved in this,” Dimitri said, stepping closer, his hand resting lightly on my arm as if to anchor me.

“Dimitri, there’s no way I wouldn’t…” I trailed off, my resolve hardening. I couldn’t walk away from my pack. It was why I’d come here, why I’d bartered seven nights for the truth.

“I already knew,” he said with a faint, knowing smile. “Valeska will be able to help you. We need to go. It’s going to be dawn.” He pulled me close, his voice softening. “I’ll miss you, my Frumoasa Moarte.”

“Me too,” I whispered, leaning into him. We kissed, a slow, lingering goodbye, then made our way to the living room. He retreated to his sealed chamber as the first hints of light crept in, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

This morning, I slept in my old room alone. The silence was suffocating, the absence of his presence a void I hadn’t expected to feel so keenly. When I woke, I stumbled to the mirror, staring at the woman reflected there. My skin was pale, my eyes shadowed with exhaustion and something deeper.
“Who are you?” I asked myself.