Til Death

7. Daniel/Blake

DANIEL

For the last few days, Daniel stayed away from the castle as if a fearsome creature lurked the halls. He moved constantly, traveling to parties and meetings he'd normally avoid as if someone was chasing after him. Daniel was definitely running. Not from a thing. Not from a monster.

He ran from the inevitable.

Avoiding reality with one meeting at a time.

He hadn't planned on any of this, the curse or the engagement and he didn't know how to handle drifting into the unknown. His assistant, Michael must have figured that out because he sent Frances Petrovic with a set schedule and a timer to bring him back when needed. Frances was the Prince to another coven back in the States, who had more time on his hands than needed since his younger brother, Collin took his fiancé and the crown.

Not that Frances wanted either of those things.

That morning, Daniel did get up to go back home and meet with Blake again, but when he sat in the back of the car, he told the driver to take them to another hotel. He arranged a meeting on the way in secret.

He missed brunch too.

Finally, the upset stomach he suffered from the last few days turned into a painful ache. The weight on his shoulders doubled and he knew he wasn't making the right decisions. That wasn't like him. Daniel didn't know this guy. He didn't like this guy at all, which was more than a little aggravating.

A phone call from his mother finally put him in the car to take him home. She basically said if he ever wanted to speak to her again, he'd come home that very second.

Daniel avoided reporters by sneaking through the kitchens. Taking one step outside into the hall, he stiffened, and double checked his pockets. He forgot one of his cell phones in the car. He called after Frances, "Wait, Frances. I need to go back-"

Slowly, Frances turned around like it physically pained him. Everything about Frances read like he just rolled out of bed the morning after a long night of partying and wild sex with his dark tussled hair and bedroom eyes. Even his voice sounded rough and low, "Daniel Bellerose, don't make me embarrass you in front of all these people and drag you up those stairs."

"I forgot my phone."

"You have your phone!" He slammed his hands with painted black nails on his narrow hips. He wore half a suit, the actual blazer and pants, but he wore a black shirt and let the top buttons stay unbuttoned. He reminded me of a tired black cat, rolling out of a sunspot on the floor.

"My other phone."

"You know..." Frances squinted. "Every time you say that, you sound like a douche bag and that's coming from me."

"Leave me alone," Daniel sighed. He trudged past Frances, forcing his legs down the marble hall and towards the stairs. The pair of their dress shoes echoed and bounced through the emptiness. "I'm stressed out."

"You'll be fine. How do you think I feel? I'm officially the last single guy in my friend group. It's pathetic. I'm always the third wheel."

"How did you possibly make this about you? And don't you have a matchmaker friend?"

"Yeah, but I can't let her help me or I'll have to undead myself. Besides," Frances rolled his eyes and pushed through the double doors to the stairs.

The boys went up the first flight, covered in a red and gold runner. We passed portrait after portrait of Daniel's family, his distant relatives and his ancestors. They all watched him. They judged him.