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The stench of Paris had not yet worn from his suitcases, and here she was, darkening his doorstep.
“I’m sleeping!” Vanez shouted.
“Not right now,” a female voice answered. He smiled warmly and rolled off the sofa in the living room.
He hadn’t seen Arra in nearly six months, and he was eager to be in her arms. He didn’t look forward to the sex (though that was a plus), and nor did he want to hear her theories on when she thought Larten would come back. He just wanted to hold her. He knew that their relationship lived on borrowed time- be it their death or Larten’s return- and he loved her.
Love was a funny notion. To him, it was like a cold you couldn’t shake no matter how hard you tried. It could also be compared to a parasite living within him, sucking the breath out of his lungs and filling his heart with joy simultaneously. He hadn’t ever considered love when he was blooded. Most of the vampires he knew didn’t, so why should he? Being a Gamesmaster doesn’t make you any different in terms of emotion and reciprocity. He still craved touch, and love, and kindness. Someone to be his second in a fight and bandage him later. He wanted someone he could trust .
And that someone was Arra Sails.
She was annoying, but she was persistent. Vanez had always said that she had the heart of a man in the body of a woman. She fought harder than anyone he had ever met, and if it hadn’t been for her breasts, she would’ve been promoted to the rank of General a few decades before she actually was . He didn’t love her for her hard work though.
He didn’t love her for her battle skills, either. She was one of the sharpest Generals he had ever had the pleasure of meeting- besides Larten, of course, but his name didn’t deserve to be mentioned. She had negotiated several hostage situations on her own throughout the decades. But that isn’t why he loved her.
He loved her for the moments of tenderness that shone through her rough exterior. For example, they were walking in a storm once and found a duckling wandering on its own. It had been injured by a wild animal and had lost an eye, so she did the reasonable thing- she smuggled it into the hostel they were staying in. She affectionately named it Vanez, even taking care to look at him while she uttered the sentence. She giggled, and he realized that he had never heard her laugh until that moment. She blushed and turned her attention to the duck, who had been quacking for some time.
She fed him every few hours, which was a chore in and of itself. It would have been easier to let the damn thing die, but she nursed it back to health. She tenderly stitched its wounds and warmed it up by the fireplace during the cold Welsh winter.
Vanez found himself staring at her more than he would have cared to admit, and he fell in love with her faster than he could flit.
She was reluctant to let Vanez go, but he was able to convince her to let him go. She had nursed him back to health for three months and he was ready to go. It was springtime, and the ponds had melted.
“You thought he would die, didn’t you?” She asked softly at the pond’s edge.
“Yes,” he answered softly.
“You know,” she began, “if you nurture something enough, it could grow into something beautiful.” She reached for his hand and grabbed it. He nearly jerked away from the shock. “You haven’t been sly, you know.” Vanez gave a small laugh and squeezed her hand.
“I know.”
Vanez opened the front door and saw her standing outside in the cold.
“Took you long enough,” she joked. Her teeth were slightly chattering, he noticed. “Did you think a stranger had darkened your doorstep?”
He strode outside to her and clasped both of her hands in his, bringing them close to his chest. He kissed her forehead and placed his cloak over her shivering form
“You can darken my doorstep any day, dearest.”