Worlds Apart Ch. 03

It reminded me very much of Vincente's private suite yet in much grander scale. Classic to the era in which it was built. To the owners who still dwelled within. What exactly had I agreed to? I wasn't ready for this.

"Mademoiselle," Vincente said as he opened my car door, distracting me from my thoughts.

I smiled shakily and took his proffered hand. Leaned on his arm for support while our shoes crunched on the gravel of the driveway. His presence only slightly calmed me this time.

"Vincente! Mon garçon!" A female voice called out before I saw a woman approach us from under a wider arch that defined the front entrance, her arms held wide open.

I knew this must be his grandmother, yet she looked so young. She was tall, just like her grandson, and looked very sophisticated in her tailored slacks and blouse. Like a French model that'd only grown more becoming with age. Her gray hair was cut short, framing her narrow face. And little laugh lines around her eyes crinkled when she smiled. She definitely did not appear to be around the 900 years that Vincente had told me she was. I wondered if that was natural for dysons.

"Salut, mémère." He let go of my hand to kiss the woman on each of her cheeks. Then he turned to me, his voice full of pride as he said, "Danae, this is Renée, my grandmother. Grand-mère, my Danae."

"Is it Viscountess?" I whispered at Vincente.

He shook his head. "Only I have the title. It is not passed down through my lineage but was awarded at a time when it meant something."

Turning back to his grandmother, I held out a shaky hand. "Salut, Renée."

The woman's smile lit up her eyes. She bypassed my hand and went right to cup my face, kissing each of my cheeks. "Elle est belle. Très belle."

I glanced at Vincente and raised my eyebrows.

"She said you are very beautiful."

Renée glanced at me and then tilted her head at Vincente. "C'est elle?"

"Oui. J'ai trouvé mon cœur. Mon â me."

I poked his arm and whispered, "And that means what?"

Vincente stroked the back of his fingers across my cheek. "She asked if you were 'the one.' I told her, yes. You are my heart. My soul."

Heat filled my cheeks. I had not expected that at all despite the pet names he called me. "Uh. Wow."

Renée laughed loudly then. "Danae, you will learn that my boy is nothing but honest."

I gave her a halting smile. "You speak English?"

She nodded at me and hooked an arm through mine, turning me toward the house. "Now tell me, child, how was your trip? Did you enjoy it? My grandson, he would skip all the details. He's just like his grandfather. You will meet Liam later. He is out riding. Do you like horses? Vincente can take you to the stables if you want to ride before dinner."

My head was spinning with all of her questions. But my smile widened. I had nothing to worry about with impressing Vincente's grandmother. If he approved, she approved. I felt...at home.

###

We had one week abroad, and I had intended to use it to see as much as possible of France. But we never left the estate. Vincente said that if I agreed to be with him—to marry him eventually—we would have all the time in the world. For now, I should relax and enjoy the peacefulness we were granted.

It wasn't difficult to relax once I'd relented to his wishes. Though I thought it was too soon to talk marriage. He'd hushed me with a kiss when I tried to tell them that. And then, he'd gone down on me and done an amazing thing with his tongue that I loved. Uh...yeah, I could get used to that!

Renée and Liam—who gave me a good indication of how handsome Vincente would be at his age—doted on me as if I were their own granddaughter. They offered me every amenity I could imagine from the aforementioned horses to an in-ground pool and a real feather bed (complete with fur blankets). Their staff prepared decadent dishes for almost every meal. And most of all, they honored our privacy when we went on long walks through the lavish gardens or chose to hide away in the rooms Vincente said he'd grown up in.

Goddess? Maybe not. But I sure as damn well felt like a princess.

Cristal had been right about one thing. Being with Vincente, I had never been happier in my life. Her approach had just been wrong, in my opinion. It was sad that I couldn't share my joy with her. Trust me, I'd tried. But I got the same 'invalid number' error in response to my text to tell her I'd gone to France.

Just as on that early morning when I'd returned to Vincente's mansion, I felt like I was where I belonged. And the longer I was with him, the more my decision—my path—became clearer. Ours was a strange relationship, but it worked. It was right.

Our last day in Marseille was unusually warm. After a picnic in our favorite spot, we took a walk down to the lake at the back of the property. The sky had barely a cloud. A slight breeze rustled the trees along the bank, taking the edge off the heat.

The water beckoned me. I sat down sideways on the end of the wooden dock, dropping one leg over so my toes dipped into the coolness below. Vincente sat behind me, mirroring my stance with his legs on either side of mine.

For the longest time, I watched two birds swooping and diving out across the lake. Listened to the sounds of nature. Felt my lover's steady breathing as I leaned back against him, his fingers absently stroking my bent arm and leg. My other leg gently swung, my foot creating ripples in the water.

A recollection of something he'd said that first day with him in Chicago compelled me to pull my leg up and twist to face him. But I worried my lower lip. Struggled to form the right words.

Vincente tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. "What is it, my love?"

"You once told me that both partners keep each other alive, even if one is human...and they do not produce children. How have you survived for so long without a partner?"

"Dysons can live up to five-hundred years without one." The light in his eyes grew dimmer. "Yes, I am reaching my completion. I had accepted my fate. Decided to spend my last years in your country."

That thought brought an ache to my chest. "What a lonely life."

"Do not cry, Danae." He brushed his thumb under my left eye, wiping away the tears I felt forming. "My life has not been lonely. I have met many interesting people. Seen every corner of the globe. Experienced things you could not even imagine. That books do not tell you. But you would be right to think that yes, I have lived through almost five centuries without finding someone to...love. To feel that deepest connection."

I nodded and pressed my side to his chest, but I was unable to relax again. I did the math while he caressed my back. He had 30 years left. He'd explained before that dysons aged 100 years to every human 10. Therefore, like humans, his kind was considered fragile and on death's door when they reached a lifespan of 1000 years old. Few made it that far, and even less surpassed it. If 100 years was long for a human, I couldn't image the time spent on this earth if a dyson could survive the equivalent. Even half of that—which he had—amazed me.

How did he manage, not having that special someone to share his thoughts and desires? Seeing every human he knew pass away? I would question if he was still capable of grief after having experienced so much, but I'd seen firsthand what my absence has done to him. It had practically broken him.

And holding onto that many memories? There had been so many changes—advancements. Especially in how people lived. Where they lived. Yet after all that time, he still chose to reside in what was essentially a miniature version of his childhood home. He'd just disguised it as a luxurious mansion in an upscale Chicago suburb. As though he'd adapted to the evolving world, though only to the minimum requirements for appearances' sake. Like having electricity throughout his home but preferring to use candlelight in the few rooms of his realm.

I could understand his mindset. He'd found what made him most comfortable. Why sacrifice that to please others? I wouldn't peg him as a conformist. He held to ideals that had long been forgotten or ignored. But he wasn't really a rebel, either. Except...

"Vincente?" I tilted my head back. "How did you come to have padded handcuffs if you don't have a partner to use them with?"

He shrugged. "What was once taboo has become acceptable over time. Popular, in fact. I spent quite a bit of time in the circles of bondage and discipline. Observing. Wondering what the appeal was."

"What was your analysis?"

"Women liked to be restrained, even without punishment."

I raised an eyebrow, to which he smirked.

"Remember the times you were bound? Did you not feel your arousal mounting? Fear fighting with anticipation of the unknown to come?"

"Well...y-yes." My cheeks grew very warm—and my pussy wet—just from those memories. "The night of your party, were you planning to seduce someone to have a little fun? Is that your thing?"

The back of his fingers caressed my cheek. "I had no predispositions to entrap you that night, my love. Or anyone for that matter."

"So why —"

"Fate intervened. Brought us together."

"How do you mean?"

Vincente dropped his hand and linked his fingers through mine in my lap. "You were troubled, Danae. Your tension, it was palpable from the moment I stood beside you. Like an aura pulsing around your body. As much as the atmosphere suited you, you would have rather not attended."

Now I was embarrassed for a completely different reason. I had no idea he had seen—sensed—my disinterest. I had offended him long before I'd chosen to escape after the tour. I nodded slightly, although he'd not asked me a question.

"To feel what you were feeling? It was new. Exciting, yet disquieting. It intensified the more I was with you. I ached to relieve your discomfort. But it was not possible with my visitors and your friend around."

"Oh, Cristal wouldn't have minded. She only invited me to the party so I could hook up with you."

His eyebrows shot up. "Your friend, she planned our meeting?"

I laughed dryly. "Cristal has made it her life's mission to introduce me to eligible men. She feels I'm unhappy—incomplete—without one. But only because that's how she felt about herself before she met her husband. I have since set her straight. Unfortunately, at the cost of our friendship. Which maybe was inevitable. How good can a friend be if they can't accept you for who you are?"

"I see." He lifted our joined hands to his lips and kissed the back of mine softly. "Your pain. I needed to ensure I was not the reason for your desire to flee. Your aura changed once we were alone. There was now also arousal. The balance shifted the further we drew away from the visitors. Something moved inside of me, long forgotten, lying broken. The wine...it was only to calm you. I did not want you to fear me. It was my intention to give you only a sip. I was told it could be quite powerful for a human. I was unprepared for how well you took to its taste. Delighted in how willingly you opened for me."

"And the handcuffs?" I said, reminding him of my initial question I felt was still left unanswered.

"The bindings were from another time in my life. Once you and I were joined together—when you only exuded serenity whilst in my arms—I had a sudden desire to use them again. A new reason." His voice had grown quieter on that last admission.

I thought on his words. I felt better knowing he hadn't just taken one look at me and made it his mission to bed me. "You mentioned you had heard sex could be good." I twisted to look him straight on. "Had you never been with someone before me?"

"There you would be wrong," he chuckled. "Many women have called me irresistible over the ages. I did not want to disappoint all of them. But I am not what they call a Don Juan. Those I chose to share intimacy with were special."

"But there was no one you've truly connected with? Wanted to marry?"

His smile softened. "There was a time, at the end of the eighteenth century. Elaina was the widow of an older man, an officer who died leading troops for Napoleon. I lived closest to them, and she took shelter in my home after theirs was torched by revolutionists. I felt burdened by her nightly wailing. I could not stand to see her so miserable. When she sought solace in my arms, I did not deny her. I provided her comfort when she required. Became more accustomed to her needs. I was content. I believed her to be as well. But then one day, she asked me to ease her guilt for sleeping in the bed of a man who was not her husband."

After a long period of silence—when his gaze was somewhere out over the lake, his thoughts probably lost in his past—I whispered, "What happened?"

He blinked suddenly, as though remembering where he was. "At the human age of twenty or so, I was still naïve to the customs of the dysons. I had left here as soon as mémère and pépère allowed. The girl they had planned for me to marry had eloped with another. This suited me. I wanted to travel the world before settling down. I believed myself to be fearless. But, I was merely arrogant."

"How so?"

"The thought of telling Elaina the truth of what I am? Even with all that I'd lived through, I had never been so terrified. I had always held in my true nature. There were many more dysons back then, and mating outside of our kind was not encouraged. Sex? It was acceptable. Anything more? No."

I was still jealous that he could prevent a pregnancy if he wanted to. I wondered if dysons were susceptible to diseases like humans. I was going to ask him, but he let out a shaky breath, and I saw his eyes glisten, as if he were tearing up.

"I wanted to do the right thing by her. But if we were to wed, I would be expected to try to procreate. She would need to know the truth, and I feared she would not accept it easily, if at all. To assuage my own selfish desires, I told her I did not care for her in that way. And so she left. I had no desire to seek out intimate companionship for a long time after. It had been a partnership born of despair, and one I did not want to experience again."

"But surely, the time you spent with her..."

He shook his head, his eyes downcast. "It was not pleasurable for me."

I gulped. "Ever?"

Our eyes met again, my sadness reflecting in his. "No, Danae. Not ever. Because I could not fully be myself with her. I was too afraid."

"Was it good for her?"

"Always, or so she told me." His lips pressed together in a half-smile, half-frown. "When I was much older—more matured as a dyson—I thought I'd found the one meant for me. It was in the 1960s. Bridgette was beautiful. Innocent. Like many humans at the time, she smoked marijuana. We met in a group traveling throughout Asia. After months on the road, the connection between us grew stronger. She was such a delicate flower. Blossoming for me every time we joined. Even more so when we smoked the drug."

I definitely could not see him smoking weed. But there was so much of his life I did not know about. He probably held so many more stories than I had time to listen.

"I told her some of my adventures from her time period; she told me her dreams. One night, she showed me the special handcuffs she had acquired after I'd told her about watching a woman achieve greater release with them. I obliged. Once Bridgette was bound, I was enraptured by her willingness to give me her body so freely. To trust me. I could not control myself due to the drugs. I felt compelled to be as open in return. But she became hysterical. Thought it was the drug making her see things. I did not know she had a phobia of snakes. I abandoned the group that night. Chose to abstain from sex henceforth. The cuffs, I kept as a reminder why."

My heart ached for him. He'd spent the most of his life being chaste because of regret. A shudder raced up my back, and my chin trembled. I couldn't look at him while I asked my next question. I was too nervous of his answer.

"Why now then? With me? Do you even enjoy—" I gasped at his sharp grip on my chin. At the grim line of Vincente's lips when he lifted my face to his. I was not prepared for his gruff voice. The torment I heard there.

"I had been asleep my entire life. You have woken me, Danae. The first moment I saw you..." His eyes closed, and he sighed heavily. When he looked at me again, the color ringing his pupils was as brilliant as sunlight reflecting off the surface of the bluest ocean. "I have not known pleasure until I met you. I did not know how wonderful it could be just to listen to your voice. To be by your side. The day you left? Your aura, it had changed. I felt your pain again. I could not bear to be the source, so I had to let you go. But I was lost all over again. I did not know how I would go on. When you returned, you were radiating desire. You have not stopped glowing."

Good lord, the man was a walking, talking romance novel. And maybe I was a fool to believe him, but I felt the same way he did. I was empty when I wasn't with him. The pain I had felt was due to confusion. But apart? I had found that something connected us even when my brain—my body—wasn't altered by his wine.

His hand cupped my cheek, his thumb rubbing my lips. "I am serious, my love. I was merely adapting to each new century. Each change in politics, culture, and personal decorum. I have not truly lived until these past few weeks. I have missed so much. All because I had not met you."

I had no idea what to say to that. Even if I had, he didn't give me a chance.

"My sweet Danae." Vincente brought his lips to mine, kissing me tenderly. Nipping at my bottom lip. Darting his tongue out then pulling back.

When my lips parted, he tilted my head back. Restricting my motion as he repeated the feather-light touches. The tips of our tongues met. Flitted back and forth between panted breaths. Then he entered my mouth. Leisurely showing me the true meaning of a French kiss, which left me moaning and shaking while his other hand wandered.

After some time, he wrapped his arms around me and tucked my head under his chin. Every muscle in my body seemed to go slack. My eyelids threatened to close when he stroked my hair. I fought against giving into sleep and wanting to capture this moment forever in case the dream disappeared.

This trip had been...enlightening. And yet, it prompted so many more questions spinning in my head. Most of all, what was to become of me if I stayed with him?

###

The morning of our departure, Renée and I sat quietly side-by-side on a settee in one of the many parlors of her antiquated home, waiting for the maid to bring us tea. It felt natural to be there with her. Although she acted very proper—noble even—her presence was inviting, warm. Time had helped her become refined, just like her grandson.

She had talked for quite a bit about how much she'd enjoyed our visit. But once the maid had departed to carry out Renée's request, the conversation did not pick back up. The silence was welcoming. But it allowed my mind to wander.

"Renée, do you mind if I ask you a question? I have been wondering about something. But I am embarrassed to ask Vincente. And our time here has run out."

"Not at all. What is it, my child?"

I looked down, playing with edge of my shirt. "How do women dyson differ from the men?"

Her cool hands covered mine, stilling my movement. As her touch warmed, I looked up to see her smile. "Humans usually have one offspring at a time. Sometimes an anomaly causes two or possibly more. For us...for dysons? It is not unheard of to produce up to a dozen at a time. Though we still have the same nine-month incubation process."

Twelve babies at once? Holy shit. I kept imagining a real snake with all those eggs developing inside it. It wasn't hard with her using terms like 'offspring'...'produce'... 'incubation'...all relating more to the reptiles than a human being in the sense of reproduction. I was able to stop the grimace that tugged at the corners of my mouth, but not the goosebumps that rippled down my arms.