In any case, the rage I felt in that moment, while staring at Cornelia’s cruel mother, would lead me to a dark place that night. I never did tell Neli how her parents perished, or that they sent her to her death, but from that day forward, I felt protective of her. Perhaps because I saw her as a version of myself. Left behind by those who were supposed to care for her. When she came of age, I never even considered eating her as a snack. She was smart, feisty, and as close to family as a vampire like myself would ever get.
Then, on her twenty-third birthday, she asked me to change her, but I did not wish to curse her to a life in the darkness. There was, however, something appealing about the notion of never having to be alone again. A platonic forever companion. So I told Neli that I would give her my blood, and I would take hers. If she wanted to turn, she would have to do it herself by taking her own life. Until then, she would remain human, bound to me, ageless.
Looking back, I am pleased that I did not change her. I think once she saw all the benefits to being my immortal human slave, what was the point? She is afforded many luxuries, including one slice of bread and cheese each day. Her annual day off is also another lavish perk.
Neli smiles sweetly, grateful for my generous suggestion. “Yes, I’ll look forward to fresh air on my day off next year. Can we get this over with?”
“Yes, I am ready for the final step in my transformation into a modern man. Stella will not know what hit her.”
Neli rolls her eyes and mumbles, “It’ll take a hell of a lot more than a suit and a spray tan to make you into a modern man.”
“I am a fierce, deadly vampire. And last time I checked, being an alpha male never goes out of style.” This battle is as good as won. “And now for my victory suit!”
CHAPTER TEN
Boz
The moment I step inside the mall, my senses are assaulted by the tiny suns and a cacophony of sound. I stay close to the edges of the space, passing by a variety of food stands with scents of meat, bread, and something spicy.
“Fortunately, it’s a Thursday, so it’s not too crowded,” Neli says. “We should be in and out in no time. I’ll point out the men’s clothing stores, and if you like the outfits in the display window, we’ll go in.”
I follow her, uncertain of the right direction. How confusing this place is with the many paths and multiple floors. I stare at a moving staircase. There is definitely some witchcraft at play here. I will not be fooled so easily.
A few shops later, I find a store that is dim inside with pulsing music that reminds me of the delicious rhythm of a fresh vein.
“This is the place, Neli.” I step inside a shop that is split down the middle—men’s outfits on one side and women’s on the other. What a talented tailor to attempt both.
“This store is for teens,” Neli says under her breath.
I do not know who these teens are, and I do not care. This place is for me. I find it relaxing. A young man with blond hair that sticks up like a field of spikes approaches.
He stops in front of us, slouches, and shoves his hands in the pockets of worn light blue trousers with holes in several places. They must not pay the staff adequately here. “’Sup, can I help you?”
“I am Mr. Bozhidar, not a ‘sup.’ Please tell your tailor I will need an outfit in my size for this evening.”
He gives me a lopsided smile and slowly nods his head. Perhaps the village idiot has been employed for the distributing of outfits already made in the proper sizes. It seems a simple job. “Sure, man. You look like a large. What’s the occasion?”
I smile, pleased that I know all the modern lingo. “A date with a virgin.”
“Big man! High five!” He holds his hand in the air.
High what? I flick my finger at Neli. I cannot deal with the idiot any longer.
Neli steps forward. “He means a first date. So how about you get us some jeans for a six-foot guy, bring a measuring tape if you’ve got it for his waist, and I’ll help him with the shirts.”
He nods, smiling for no reason. “I got you.” He turns to me, still smiling widely. “There’s a sale on our button-downs and some polo shirts up front that could be good for a virgin date.” He chuckles and walks in a slow stroll toward the shelves in the back of the shop. His trousers are so ill-fitting I can see his underclothes with bright yellow faces sporting idiot smiles. Is this intentional to match his expression? His tailor boss has made a fool of him.