When you can't solve a problem in the present time, why not time travel into the past?
That's exactly what the witch Rebecca de Chauvette and her vampire mate Baldwin Brandt have to do.
In order to lift the curses from other countries they have to t...
Esme and Baldwin talked and talked and talked until Esme's voice got hoarse.
She told him everything about her – her age, her height, how much she loved me, what spells I had taught her, that she could write and read, what she had seen at Genevieve's.
Baldwin told her everything too – his age, how he had been born around 480 b.c. and reborn in 515 b.c. , which made Esme form her mouth into a big O, how much he loved me too, how old he was appearance-wise. He even told a few tales of his past life as a soldier and hunter, his family, his sons, his adventures.
Esme asked more than she had told him about, but Baldwin gladly answered every little question. Even what his third favourite animal was - which was a boar.
It was our first night together as a family and would always stay vividly in my mind. Esme had played so much with her father, she had passed out in the living room on the couch.
Baldwin cautiously wrapped his arms around our sleeping daughter, an unbelieving expression spreading on his face as he did so. My vampire took in every detail he could see, every little perfection of his daughter. Her hair – the same as his – the long lashes, the tiny nose and the full lips, his facial structure, their scents now a combination on her. Forest and sea. Esme nuzzled more into him as he kissed her cheek.
Baldwin looked up with teary eyes, the proudest smile spreading onto his face. "Thank you", my vampire quietly said not to wake her, reaching out for me with his free hand. Our fingers intertwined. "Thank you, Rebecca. Thank you for Esme."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
After I had brought her to her room, I had found Baldwin strolling the old cottage we were hiding in. "Shame to leave these behind", his bass voice rumbled pleasantly down my back. His thick, long finger traced the bindings of the books carefully. I could practically feel his rough touch as he did that.
Baldwin only had his attention on us, more so on Esme.
How else could it be? She was his daughter and he hadn't seen her in six years.
She was the most interesting person in the world, our most loved jewel.
☽
"Do you know how to make a fire?", Baldwin asked her one morning as he caught Esme staring fascinatedly into the chimney. She nodded, taking his hand. "I can show you if you'd like, papa. Not that it will help you much. You are a vampire, after all." Baldwin's perfect crooked smile appeared – the same as Esme's. The smile that had made me fall for the bad vampire.
"Nonetheless you can still make me proud." He crouched down to her seize, holding her hand softly.
Esme reached out to the chimney, her palm facing the wood. Her forehead creased slightly, her cute child face clenched together in concentration. "Fire – element of life, rebirth, sun and gold – light up at my words!"
