for self-serving reasons. I think we can both agree what he did to you was wrong.”
It was why I didn’t seduce you unless absolutely necessary, though the temptation was always there. If we were enthralling each other at every turn, it would be impossible to maintain trust between us.
But a discussion on boundaries was a short-term fix. There was a much larger problem weighing on my mind.
How would I ever be able to give you the life you deserved?
We sat across from each other at an outdoor café. Your t-shirt said, Ask me about my blood pressure. One of your cheeky thrift-store finds. Had you purchased it to upset your father or was it to amuse me? Perhaps it was only your absurdist sense of humor. I wanted to take the bait and ask you about your blood pressure, but unfortunately, this wasn’t going to be a lighthearted conversation
“We need to talk about what happened.”
I’d ordered you custom-made contact lenses that offered UV protection so you wouldn’t have to wear sunglasses all the time. Your stare was unflinching, and I found myself drawn to your gaze time and again. I could admit, at least to myself, that since you’d come of age, your amorous sentiments weren’t entirely one-sided.
Which meant I had to get better about drawing lines.
“I shouldn’t have done it,” you said. You’d apologized several times already. You knew it was wrong, but I needed to make sure you knew why.
“You’re at an age where you want to test the limits of your seduction, but the true test of power is in your ability to show restraint.”
You nodded emphatically. I didn’t sense you were agreeing just to placate me. But it must have been contradictory to Lena’s instruction—that respect is earned through brazen displays of aggression and conquest.
“I’m not going to tell you how to behave with others, but I’d like to set some guidelines when it comes to the two of us. I would rather you lie to me than seduce me. I want us to be able to trust each other, and incidents like what happened at your birthday party erode that trust. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” you said quietly. Humility colored your cheeks. I didn’t want for you to feel shame over what had happened. I only wanted you to understand that it couldn’t happen again.
“I wanted to know more about him,” you said quietly.
And here I was plagued with guilt; it was a stain upon my soul that I should keep the truth of your identity from you, but I didn’t want you to hate me. Or fear me. I needed your trust if I was to help you navigate this existence.
“I’d like for you to wait until I’m ready,” I said. Until we were ready.
You nodded again. Your jaw tensed and you swallowed tightly, holding back.
“Talk to me, Vincent.”
“I’ve been having dreams,” you said, eyeing me closely. I attempted a neutral expression.
“What kind of dreams?”
You buried your face in your hands, embarrassed.
“Sex dreams?” I asked. You nodded, not looking up. “Seems natural.”
“These dreams are not natural, Henri.”
“Who are these dreams about?” I asked, suspecting I knew already.
“You can’t tell anyone.” You peered at me through your fingers.
“I promise I won’t.”
“Swear it?” you asked, and I nodded. “Papa,” you said with a groan. “Are bloodborns perverts or what, Henri? Because the fantasies I’ve been having… they’re… not right.”
I tugged at your hands so that I could see your face, unobstructed. “It’s perfectly normal,” I said. Normal for two selves seeking union, a mortal soul reborn as divine.
“I don’t think so,” you said.
“I promise you, Vincent, it is.”
You glanced skyward then, collecting your thoughts and blinking slowly. I’d seen you do the same thing in your past life when you needed a minute to compose yourself.
“I think about the two of us,” you said, swallowing tightly. “Not just sex but about the things I want… and part of me worries I’ll never have it because you’ll always see me as a kid. And even though I knew it was wrong, I think using my powers made me feel like your equal.”
The honesty of your admission pained me. Some part of you must remember how it used to be between us. The imbalance that made you feel powerless. I’d been reckless as well, so all-consuming was my desire to possess and protect you. I’d waited too long in your last life to give you the room you needed to thrive. Was I repeating my same mistake?