The Vampire’s Redemption

“Wow,” Danielle said as Emily walked away. “You really are an avid meat eater.”

Michael shrugged. “Can’t help it. But what about you? How come you’ve decided to go vegetarian?”

“Factory farming is brutal,” Danielle said sincerely. “It started out as a protest against that and then I just decided that ‘my body will not be a tomb for other creatures,’ as Da Vinci said.”

Michael stared at her. He seemed struck by her words, as if he was reading something far deeper into them than Danielle could ever guess.

She shifted in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable at the intensity in his eyes. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” he said, visibly shaking it off—whatever it was. “It’s just a very beautiful quote, that’s all.”

“Beautiful enough to convince you to start eating your veggies?” Danielle teased.

Michael gave her a smirk. “Honey, nothing’s beautiful enough for that.”

Not even me?

Danielle blinked, taken aback by her own sudden, errant thought. Where had that come from? She cleared her throat inconspicuously, glad for the interruption when Emily came back with their drinks.

“These are on the house,” Emily said as she placed the two pints down on the table. “From Jack.”

Danielle looked over to the bar and gave her friend a grateful nod. Jack gave her a wink in response, but there was also something else—a shadow in his usually clear blue eyes. As he scanned Michael’s figure, there was a sort of guarded look on his face that was very different from the open admiration with which he had looked at Michael the first night the man had entered the pub.

Apparently, Danielle wasn’t the only one who noticed.

“Your friend is very protective of you,” Michael said, and it wasn’t a question.

Danielle felt herself flush in embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” she offered, even though she wasn’t quite sure what she was apologizing for. “He…uh…he’s got a bit of a big brother streak to him.”

“Well, that’s not a bad thing. You could have worse people in your life than a big brother.”

“Oh, that’s for sure,” Danielle agreed easily.

She watched, mesmerized, as Michael gave her a kind, dazzling smile over the brim of his beer glass before he took a long sip. She thought there was something fitting about the man only drinking dark stouts; there was a kind of darkness to him. Danielle had not noticed it the first time they had met, but now that she had the man up close and personal, she could feel it radiating off of him. It was as subtle as an undercurrent, but it was definitely there, and it put her on edge. Perhaps going out with a complete stranger had been a mistake after all.

Danielle took a steadying breath and told herself not to jump to conclusions. She could also see genuine kindness in Michael. Maybe his darkness was all inward and did not hurt others. Maybe his darkness was just a tough past; everybody could have that. Maybe his darkness wasn’t there at all and she was simply giving too much free rein to her trust issues. And besides, even if he did turn out to be sketchy, nothing would happen to her; they were in a crowded pub and Jack was watching them like a hawk.

So she decided to stay on guard but, at the same time, shake off her uneasiness and enjoy the ride.

And boy, what a ride it was! The more they talked, the more it seemed to her like Michael had seen everything. Every place on her “to-visit” list, he had been. He had traveled the world, quite literally. He had been everywhere. He had seen it all. The money, he told her, came from his family heritage.

“Where are they?” she asked. “Your family.”

His face had gone very dark then. “Gone.”

Danielle blanched. “I’m so sorry,” she said quickly, feeling horrible about having hit such a raw spot so soon. “I didn’t mean…” She had let the words hang in the air, because really, there weren’t any words to say.

Michael had shrugged it off like a trooper. “It’s all right. It was a long time ago.”

Danielle shivered. The man looked no older than thirty. How young must he have been when he had lost his loved ones?

She decided that she had done enough prying for one evening, and so she moved on to lighter topics. He wanted to know everything about her, and for the first time in a long time it didn’t feel like he was only half-listening in order to get in her pants later on. Michael really listened. He asked her questions. He asked her what made her want to become a nurse. He asked her about Ojai. He asked her why she wanted to leave so badly.

And Danielle surprised herself by opening up to him in a way that she had not opened up to anyone in forever, with the sole exception of Jack. She spoke honestly and without masks, and little by little she felt her walls go down. And for the first time in a very long time, that did not scare her. There was something soothing about Michael’s presence, about how genuinely interested he seemed to be in her—her, Danielle, the person. Not the body. It was refreshing.

“What about your family?” Michael asked her at some point. “Where are they from? You’ve got a mixed heritage, don’t you?” He seemed sincerely fascinated by this.

“My dad’s from here,” Danielle said, munching happily on her fries. “My mom was born in Japan. She moved to California with her family when she was very young.”

“Japan,” Michael repeated, almost entranced. “Where from exactly?”

“A small village outside of Kyoto.”

“Ah.”

It was the “ah” of someone who had been to that place, but there was no fond smile on Michael’s lips.

“You’ve been there too?” Danielle asked.

“As a matter of fact, I have.”

Danielle frowned. A shadow flashed across Michael’s features. Whatever his experience had been in Japan, it had clearly not been a good one. Danielle decided not to ask; she figured she had brought up enough bad memories.

The rest of dinner was a quiet affair. Danielle found herself more and more enthralled by this man who was so beautiful and had so much to say. She lost herself in his travel stories, and she offered domestic tales in return. It was the best exchange she’d had in a long while, and by the time he walked her to her car, she wanted nothing else but to kiss him.

She didn’t, however. She thought she had exposed herself enough for one night.

“I’d like to see you again,” Michael said. “If that’s okay with you.”

Danielle smiled. “I’d like to see you again too.”

“Can I call you?”

“Of course.”

Danielle scribbled her number on the receipt for the dinner—which they had split, just as she liked—and handed it to him.

“Good night, then,” Michael said.

And he didn’t kiss her, either.