Casa Dracula 3 - The Bride Of Casa Dracula by Marta Acosta

only seen the tops of the trees from my window.”
    “Come then.” He led me through the hallways to a breakfast room with French doors opening onto the backyard. He flipped a switch and lights glowed on the stone paths.
    As we walked into the garden, I inhaled the fragrance from aromatic herbs that were planted in formal circles. We walked into a small grove of ancient birch trees with papery white trunks. In the center of the grove was a small amphitheater with two concentric rows of marble benches. Ian said, “When our people first lived in this house, they held ceremonies here. It’s one of our oldest sites in this country.”
    “The birches are beautiful,” I said, listening to their long graceful branches swish and whisper in the light breeze.
    Ian took a gold penknife from his pocket and I held my breath as I wondered what he was going to do. Then he cut three switches from the trees, folded the knife, and put it away, and began braiding the switches.
    “You know how to braid?”
    “I used to braid my sister’s hair.”
    I watched as he twisted the birch branches into a wreath. He placed it atop my head and then took my hands. The warmth and tingling spread throughout my body and I was aware only of Ian-his brown eyes so dark they looked black in the shadows, his aquiline nose, and the sense of power that emanated from him.
    “You’ve never heard our language spoken correctly.” He began speaking softly in the strange language. From his mouth, the words had a compelling, lyrical quality.
    “I’ll teach you,” he said. He uttered some words, and I repeated the sounds, surprised that I could pronounce them.
    I felt the blood rising in my skin, almost as if it was moving toward Ian. I thought I could hear the blood flowing in his veins. I wondered what it would be like to bite into his flesh, to once again fill my mouth with his intoxicating blood. “What does it mean?”
    “It means that my blood is your blood, my life is yours,” he said, moving close. “Don’t go back, Milagro. Stay with me.”
    I stepped back, pulling my hands away. “Why do you do this? You know that I love Oswald, and he loves me.”
    “He may think he loves you, but he’s been in love half a dozen times since I’ve known him. He’s addicted to your blood.”
    “That’s impossible. I don’t even let him drink it anymore. I haven’t since…” I hadn’t craved Oswald’s blood since Ian had given me his own. “I love him.”
    “You’re mistaking your love for his family with love for the first vampire you had sex with.”
    “But Ian, you were the first vampire I had sex with-and I don’t love you. It was just sex, a meaningless fling.” The words sounded far harsher than I’d intended, and I said quietly, “What would we have had anyway, Ian? A few weeks of partying until the next Ilena came along?”
    “I would be by your side, Milagro, and you would be the woman you’re meant to be.” There was anger in his voice. “The longer you stay with Grant, the more he’ll try to make you into a conventional, ordinary wife, and you’ll both grow to resent each other.”
    “You don’t know me, or what I want in life.” I wanted a home, family, love, a normal life.
    “I knew you the moment I set eyes on you. I knew you the moment I tasted you. I know you every time I touch you and feel something I feel with no one else.”
    “You can’t know someone that way.” I pulled the beautiful red ring from my finger and held it out. “I shouldn’t be wearing this. Please don’t send me any more gifts.” When he didn’t take it back, I let the ring drop to the ground.
    I ran inside and up the stairs to my room and shut the door behind me. My hands were shaking as I took the birch wreath from my head.

eight
    home is where you hang your bat

    I had a restless night but had finally fallen asleep. There was a knock on my door. “Come in,” I said. I didn’t know if I hoped it was Ian or not.
    Ms. Smith came in with