Til Death

8. Daniel/Blake

DANIEL

The press conference flew by and of course, the only question anyone wanted answered was "Who is Blake Winslow?" and "Where did he go?"

All Daniel could offer were promises and fancy talk of a future, more in-depth introduction to his shiny new fiancé. No one seemed totally placated by his responses, but lately it seemed like Daniel couldn't make anyone happy. He'd have to do more, to do something to satisfy their curiosities.

The moment his feet hit the outside hallway, safely away from the eyes of the press, Daniel released a loud suffering groan. He covered his face with his hands, manually attempting to rub the exhaustion out of his eyes.

It didn't work.

"I can't believe you drove Blake Winslow, the kindest boy in the world out of our home..." Daniel's mother berated him the moment she stepped inside the sitting room. She shoved her finger into his back as hard as she could, which for a normal vampire would be hard, but from a sick vampire like his mother, he was only slightly shoved. Just a smidge.

Daniel didn't want to look around.

He didn't want to see the look in her eyes. He feared it.

She went on lecturing, reducing Daniel to a child in front of his staff and his father, the king. That usual soft accent turned sharp quick. "After everything that boy has been through, you couldn't even show a sliver, darling, a sliver of kindness. I don't know if I've ever felt this disappointed in you. Honestly," she said, but stopped, suddenly needing to catch her breath. "This is worse than the time you took your grandmother's ring and dropped it into the ocean."

That was one time when he was twelve, when he wanted to give it to a girl he really liked at school. He got nervous and had fiddled with his oven the bow of a boat. Needless to say, he dropped it. By accident. That night, he considered running away from home or joining some sort of vampiric protection agency.

"Mother..." Daniel turned, and the next word lodged in the middle of his throat. He choked on it, meeting that horrible saddened look in her eyes. Daniel did this. Only fools made their mothers this sad.

She sharply raised a finger in-between Daniel's eyes, their eyes. They had the same eyes. Those eyes narrowed, sucking all the light out of the room and blinding Daniel in a single spot light. "Fix this."

"Yes," Daniel bowed slightly, thoroughly chastised. "Your majesty."

She turned in her flurry, swinging her dress out and whipping her hair so Daniel was left with nothing, but a chilling breeze. His father patted his shoulder in sympathy as Daniel kept his head down. They left in a group.

Michael stood by his side, stabbing his finger into his phone with enough vigor to break the screen. "Frances is dead meat. I cannot believe that bastard flew across the sea just to be a God damn menace. Sir..." he said to Daniel with enough conviction that could probably take this whole coven over. "If you still want a friend tomorrow morning, you better hope I don't find him first. What an embarrassment to the coven..." He muttered the last part. Maybe Daniel wasn't even supposed to hear that, but he did and the sentiment wrenched his stomach.

Before Daniel could stop him, Michael stormed out of the lounge.

For that brief second, when the door swung closed behind him, Daniel let out a breath and felt like he was alone, like he had a moment to genuinely think. He made a mistake by being so consumed with himself and his own feelings that he forgot to spare Blake a thought.

He didn't truly understand what Blake was going through. If he told his mother that, she'd tell him to simply ask. Quickly, he gathered his winter coat and a black muffler. His mind whirred, over-heating as he tried to come up with all the places Frances, the prince of all bachelors, would take Daniel's irate and shockingly attractive fiancé. He couldn't imagine Blake Winslow at a club. Or a bar. Just imagining it felt irresponsible.