Rain patters down on the leafy bower above you, soaking your gown. But you hardly notice, intent on capturing the way her face simply glows in the watery moonlight, almost illuminating the dark green tunnel you two are hidden in. She turns slightly, catches you staring at her. Again. A smile, as radiant as the sun, lights up her face as she reaches out to cup your cheek, palm warm against your skin.
"Come, darling, let us return before we are missed," she whispers coyly.
You start to open your mouth, a clever retort on the tip of your tongue, but think better of it. Instead, you wend your fingers through her elegantly curled hair, pulling her in. Your lips almost touch, the closeness exquisitely painful. Her sharp intake of breath ignites the fire inside your belly, and it takes all your self-control to stop yourself from surging forward. But you wait. Because you've learned she needs power to feel safe.
"Thank you."
Her lips tremble for the briefest of moments before they curve upwards. She carefully places her other hand on your other cheek and takes a shaky breath. Slowly, ever so slowly, she leans, finally closing the distance. You remain absolutely still, wary of frightening her with a too-rapid movement—it has happened before. Your fingers twitch. Sometimes you think you should just tell her the truth, so that she knows and understands. But you don't. Because at the bottom of your heart, buried so deep you will never admit it to yourself, you realize she may not love you for who you are.
Your lips meet with a sigh, a kiss so deliberate it seems stiff. But, a kiss nonetheless. From the loveliest being to walk the earth. You forget yourself. You urgently press your lips against hers, yearning for more. She jerks away abruptly.
Water droplets drip down through spaces between the vines overhead, forming a thin veil of mist between you and her. The silence stretches, solidifies until you can't stand it. You must say something, anything to direct your emotions elsewhere.
"How do you like Schloss Schönbrunn?" you ask.
She looks startled before she composes herself.
"It is lovely beyond compare," she murmurs. And then adds something in an undertone which you have to strain your ears to catch.
"Pardon?" you say before you can stop yourself.
She blushes, cheeks now rosy in the white light streaming in through the opening in the tunnel.
"I said it is lovely beyond compare … just like you, Mircalla."
Medical science has not progressed to the point where it can explain how an undead heart can beat again. But yours does, the pulse strong and steady. You feel like flying.
"Come. Those old fools can dance for a while longer. I have something to show you."
You take her by the hand, ignoring her feeble protests. The gardens at the back of the palace are too open for your liking. You have a special place in mind. To the left of the leaf tunnel, a secluded grove of trees hides a small clearing, perfect for stargazing. So you start dragging her there, giggling with her and blocking out the world. Until you feel cold fingers clamping down on your shoulder.
Happy endings are not meant for vampires. Nor for their lovers.
"Mircalla, who is this charming girl?" Your mother drawls, the words filthy in her mouth.
You grit your teeth and let go of her hand, trying to give her a subtle warning glance to stay quiet. But she answers anyways, seemingly oblivious to the danger ahead.
"If you please Countess, they call me Ell."