This is a story about a thousand year old royal vampire and a twenty six year old human woman. They have been bound by fate, the missing half's of their souls belong to each other. Destined lovers with an ending written by the fates themselves.
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Maisie draws one card from the deck and frowns. Her coiled curls fall from the loosely tied bun on top of her head and frame her heart-shaped face nicely. She shuffles a few of her cards in her hand to a different place before glancing up at me with those insanely bright purple eyes of hers, "Your turn."
I didn't even know purple eyes were a thing. Why the hell couldn't I have been born with them?
"You have an ace?" I ask, skimming my cards and settling on the pretty ace of spades.
She smiles sweetly, "Go fish."
I roll my eyes and grab a card. She's said those two words for the past twenty turns and has left me with nearly half the deck as my hand and somehow none of them are matches.
This game of "Go Fish" has been going on for an hour. It was the last game I thought she would suggest. Something more along the lines of, "let's see how many toes and fingers I can cut off before you scream," had come to mind—so, a card game is definitely okay with me. Still, in the background of my thoughts, I'm thinking a million questions and scenarios involving death run through my mind as well.
Even though I'm confused, I don't feel scared. It's not like I'm chained to the bed or being tortured. Instead, I'm sitting cross-legged on a very fluffy rug as I play a card game with a girl I only met an hour ago.
Strangely... I feel calm?
The initial shock of being in a foreign place with strange people has settled. Now, I'm focused on a stupid card game. A card game I usually do well in, but it seems Maisie must be a "Go Fish" master or something. There is no way I am going to beat her with half the fucking deck in my hand.
"Do you have any fives?" She asks.
I huff, annoyed that she was able to guess correctly. In my hand, there are two fives—a pair I was saving up for until I miraculously got the other two fives. I hand both fives to her, the five of hearts and the five of clubs. Her smirk turns into a wide smile.
"Any queens?" I ask.
She shakes her head, "Go fish."
I draw from the deck, grumbling under my breath as I do so. I pull the card toward me; it's the queen of hearts. Yay me! I scan the absurd number of cards in my hand and see that there is finally a match. I lay it down, two queens, one of hearts and one of diamonds.
"Do you have an eight?" Of course, I have an eight.
Just as I am about to hand the card over to her, very begrudgingly might I add, we get interrupted by the door opening to reveal a disheveled-looking Alastair. His eyes search the room frantically until they land on us near the fireplace. His tense shoulders sag in relief and he lets out a breath.
