Chapter Ten

Alice

"Ma, please do not embarrass me in front of Damon." I say, literally begging her not to say anything that might embarrass me or show my baby pictures. Knowing my mother, she'd start talking about how I used to wet my bed and shit my pants—she'd always show the baby pictures, saying how I look cute but the truth is, I was a fat little girl after I turned six. Never want to go through those stages of embarrassment. "Please, just . . . not with him,"

My mother rolls her eyes, "What's wrong with showing him your baby pictures?"

"Just . . . don't. I don't want to scare him away," I respond.

"What? That's nonsense. How can those pictures scare them away? Look at these," She smiles as she takes the album and begin showing me one by one. My eyes widen at the sight, seeing my cute baby pictures and my embarrassing pictures as a child; my mother has always thought I was beautiful since I was born but honestly, I just don't think that was the case.

"I was fat!" I groan, closing the album.

"You were a chubby kid, that's all."

"And, I'd like to bury that in my past."

"How about telling him stories when you were seven? Oh, the moment you saw Santa—"

I cut her off, "—for the love of god, please don't. Ma, I want him here for a long time and I think you would just make him run away."

"If he really likes you, he won't run away. That's how you will know," She puts the album away, grabbing onto my hand before rubbing the back of it. "I know you're scared, sweetheart. You are really scared after what happened with Eric and you feel like you can't take the leap but honey, if someone really cares about you . . . they won't mind all the flaws and imperfections. They'd stay,"

Mama is right. As always.

Eric has made me think of love differently—when I first met him, I was being myself and I got comfortable really quickly. Maybe because we were friends first before we became lovers but that was not the exact case. He made me fall in love with him and it was the most beautiful thing I ever experienced in my early adulthood. It was the moment I believed in romantic relationships.

He worked really hard to get me. All the efforts he put through, it was worth it.

Then, one day, he just stopped.

I was being myself. He just didn't like it anymore. The way he responded, it was entirely different and I began to wonder, how to change myself in order for him to fall in love with me better. I was crying at night, beside him when we slept—he didn't bother hugging me like he used to, he just turned to look the other way and he fell asleep. He said I was being too clingy, too demanding and always asking for more.

When months into our relationship, he said he wanted me that way.

How did someone change that fast? What made him change?

I never found out about it—he just wanted to leave.

Eric never had the guts to say it out loud, he never wanted to say it because he thought it would hurt me but I was almost dying when he kept torturing me endlessly. In our relationship, all I wanted was love from him, comfort, sincerity but he started to give me pain.

I remember when we were in love, it was madly beautiful:

"Your eyes are very pretty," He says as he smiles, pushing the strands of hair away from my face.

Our lips are inches apart as we smile, knowing well enough if we move, we'd kiss. Eric has always been the type to compliment me and with all his compliments, I'm grateful. He'd say I'm too beautiful or how my eyes are mesmerising and I'd fall for it, all the damn time.

"Really? They're yours," I reply, grabbing onto his hand.

"Mine? What else is mine?"

"My nose,"

He pinches the bridge of my nose which causes me to laugh, pushing him away. "Eric!"

"You said it was mine!" He pulls me closer, pecking onto my nose. "It's mine,"

"Well . . . what about my lips?"

"Mine," He glances down before leaning in, kissing me gently.

"Yours?" I mutter, smiling.

"Mine, baby. You're all mine,"

I pull him by the neck to meet his lips instantly, enjoying the warmth of his arms around my waist and the softness of his kisses. Eric is an amazing kisser, maybe the best I ever had, not that I had a lot of experience in that department but Eric is just . . . amazing when he kisses me. The way his lips move in sync with mine or the way our tongues dance together, it's leaving me on cloud nine.

My hands continue to grab his face, pushing him down on the bed as I sit on top of him.

"You're so beautiful," He breathes, eyeing my body. "Perfect."

His hands begin to make his way, doing the job by undressing me; leaving me in nothing. Completely bare, in front of him, causing his eyes to be filled with lust—it's not the first time. We've done this many times before ever since we became a couple but what excites me is the way he would respond. It's like this is our first time when it has been . . . probably, our hundredth?

"Look at that," He whispers, kissing my cheeks.

I chuckle, "Mmm, you like them?"

"They're mine,"

I blink a few times, breaking from the trance; realising that my mother was busy talking about how I should've worn a better dress. Honestly, I think my dress enhances my body shape quite nicely, knowing well enough that my curves are attractive—men will always be men, as nice as they are, as romantic as they are, they'd always fall for sexy women.

"You're not even listening," She says.

"I am."

"Okay, repeat it then. What was I saying?"

"That I should show more cleavage,"

"Alice!"

The doorbell rings, causing me to immediately leave my mother in her bedroom as I make my way downstairs, glancing at the clock hanging on the wall: exactly eight in the evening. Damon seems pretty punctual which would definitely impress papa . . . speaking of papa, he's already sitting in the living room, pretending not to be bothered.

"I like that he's punctual,"

"Of course you do, papa."

I rush towards the door, pulling it open; revealing an attractive Damon.

Don't get me wrong . . . he is always attractive but tonight, he has made my heart skipped a beat, again.

Our eyes meet in an instant, leaving no time for me to react as he smiles. If only he knows how much that smile would always weaken my knees, it'd be fun to just grab him by the face and push him down on the sofa, I'd trail kisses all over his face. "Damon, you're on time."

"I got here early but I waited until it was exactly eight,"

"Really . . . well, hi."

"Hi," He continues to smile before slowly handing me a bouquet of red roses, "This is for you."

"You got me flowers?" I ask, smelling them.

"I couldn't come empty handed."

"Thank you, Damon. They smell amazing,"

Damon smiles, liking the sincerity in my voice as he leans in, kissing me lightly on the cheek which causes me to blush—the warmth immediately seeping onto my cheeks, probably showing a tint of pink. Honestly, how can this man makes me feel this way? Of course, he's attractive, super attractive but . . . he's not even doing much. He's doing the bare minimum and I've fallen head over heels.

There's just something when I meet him. When I touch him.

An unspeakable spark.

"You look really beautiful, Alice." He compliments, smiling as he glances down my lips.

"How do you do that?" I ask, shaking my head as I lean closer, not wanting my parents to hear the conversation. "Like . . . you just make me feel different every time you're here. How do you even do that? Is that a werewolf charm or something?"

"Werewolf charm?" He chuckles, "What on earth is that?"

"I don't know . . . you tell me,"

"I'm not doing anything," He smiles, putting both of his hands up in defeat. "You're doing all the work,"

"Yikes, am I?" I respond, sarcastically before taking a few steps back and making my way inside; letting him follow behind me—not wanting to overthink because I know I'd lose my mind if I do so.

"I guess she feels it, too." He mutters, almost inaudible but clear enough for me to make out the words.

Mama and papa is already standing near the stairs as they smile, greeting Damon. My mother is already glancing him up and down, trying to find any flaws but pretty sure she fails to do so while my father is already shaking hands with him; being a true gentleman. "It's nice to meet you,"

"It's a pleasure, sir." Damon replies, showing his perfectly straight teeth.

"Is that a Rolex?" Mama says, breaking the ice as she points down at his watch.

Both papa and I turn to look down at his wrist, seeing the luxury watch nicely fitted for him. The last time I saw him, he was wearing a different watch but then again, it's not a surprise to find out if he has a closet full of different wrist watches. Papa seems to be a little surprised by mama's question but before he can say anything, Damon has already beat him to it.

"It was bought directly in Switzerland. They only make five of this," He replies.

"Impressive. My father used to have the same one,"

Grandpapa, of course, was a busy collector of watches. He never minded the price as long as it brought him good sentimental values, he was pretty content with doing whatever he wanted. As far as I knew him, before he passed away, he was a man of his word. He even gave papa a brand new watch, the one he loved but he never worn it before because he said, 'I believe you can take good care of my daughter. If not, you'd see yourself being hit by a car.'

I don't know, maybe that's one of the reasons why papa is still here.

Kidding. Of course, he loves mama.

"His taste is remarkable,"

"They never manufacture a new one. How did you get it yourself? It seems brand new,"

Damon continues to smile, "My father gave it to me. I consider it too valuable to sell,"

"No wonder. It's impossible for you to get a new one,"

"Right . . . mama, this is Damon. We met at a charity event last month," I clear my throat, wanting them to talk about something else because knowing mama, she'd start a pretty intense conversation and I really don't want Damon to walk out of this house and never wanting to talk to me ever again.

"So, I've been told. Please, let's have a seat." Papa says, gesturing for us to sit in the living room.

Damon sits beside me, smiling towards my direction once in awhile as mama and papa continues to find anything to complain about—I'm their only daughter, they are pretty determine to find me the right man.

"What do you do for a living?" Papa asks.

"I buy and sell properties. Investments. Tradings." He replies, firm.

"A lot of things, then? How do you buy and sell properties?"

"I buy the whole company and I sell them by parts to other investors,"

"What kind of companies do you buy?" Papa continues, feeling interested.

"Crippling and struggling companies. I offer them money for them to sell and once I've bought it, I make it whole again before selling them with a higher rate. It depends—I like to think that I'm helping them clear out their debts," He says, "As for investments and tradings, I am a shareholder of a few top companies."

"Really intriguing. You're doing hard business,"

"There's no easy way to earn money."

"That's true," Papa chuckles. "Especially when it comes to business, you spend years of your life trying to earn money and it's a never ending cycle. I'm really impressed that you manage it well,"

"I always try," He smiles.

"How old are you, Damon? You seem young," Mama asks, curiously.

"I'll be thirty-one soon."

The only person that knows his real age is me. Two hundred and forty-four. An age that is almost impossible for a human being to exceed but the person sitting beside me is not a regular human being. He has a different DNA and he has a different blood running through his veins which makes him spectacular. For mama and papa, they'd think Damon and I are six years apart while we're actually centuries apart. He is even older than my parents or my grandparents if they were alive.

"Thirty-one, that's a nice age to settle down. Don't you think?"

"Mama," I frown, not liking her approach but she feels confident in her question.

"It is. I've been on my own for a really long time—I'm glad I met Alice," He replies which causes me to turn and look at him immediately, surprised by his response. Both of his eyes are already staring at me but it doesn't take him long to look back at mama, "Settling down is the plan. I just don't want to rush, I prefer it when things go with the flow."

"So, you're serious with our daughter?"

"Yes, I am." He replies, "I'd like to think she is, too."

Holy crap. Why do I feel like I've just been proposed?

"There you have it." Mama smiles, "I like you."

"What do you mean?" I shake my head, sighing in disbelief.

"I've always wanted a son. You're the best we got—so, come on, let's have dinner."

Even as we sit at the dinner table, mama wouldn't stop talking about how I grew up to be just the way she wanted me to be. I joined different classes, had different hobbies and wanted to be excellent in all of my achievements. Mama and papa has always taught me to look forward and never seek less. Always and always aim for more.

Papa seems to have liked Damon the moment he walked into the door and well, mama is treating him way nicer than Eric was ever treated. She keeps talking about different recipes and baby names while Damon listens, occasionally nodding as he agrees with her, they seem to be close now, as if they have met for a few months passed.

"I'll be back with more wine," Mama says as she walks away to the kitchen.

"She really likes you," I whisper, catching Damon's attention.

"She does?"

"Yeah, when my mother can't stop talking, she's practically loving the company."

He chuckles, "Your mother's great. She's funny, too."

"Yeah, haha, I don't inherit that."

"Really? You're just being humble,"

I continue to look at him, "Did you mean what you said?"

"About me settling down?"

"About you being serious. About us,"

"Hundred percent. I meant it,"

I blink a few times, "We just . . . met, right?"

"And, there's nothing wrong in being serious to know you more. You're different, Alice and believe me when I say that because I've met a lot more people than you can imagine." He replies, slowly grabbing onto my hand before lightly rubbing the back of it with his thumb. "I know, we just met and we barely knew each other. There is no problem in letting time flies as I get to know you,"

"You're really sweet. Maybe, because you're old."

"Would've been in my grave by now,"

Papa returns back to answering a business call and mama with a new bottle of wine in her hand, continuing to talk as we enjoy tonight's dinner. They keep talking and sharing each other's experiences while I sit and stare, mostly at Damon—seeing the way he would sometimes clench his jaw, without him even realising it or how his eyes twinkle when he laughs and how he would sneakily grab my hand under the table to assure me that he's there.

The best part is that he's always reaching out for my hand, rubbing the back of it.

"Alice was fat, a really cute and chubby baby," Mama continues to speak.

"Yeah, keep embarrassing me."

"I said you were cute,"

Damon laughs, seeing mama showing him my baby pictures from her phone.

After dinner, both Damon and I are walking along the garden in our backyard. Mama spent months trying to make sure this place was perfect and it was worth all the money she spent because this garden is absolutely breathtaking especially at night, when the lights just hang up above our heads. Other than that, when it's early in the morning is best for a calmer scenario.

"I'm sorry about my mama," I say, sighing.

"Why are you sorry for? Don't be,"

"You must felt annoyed—"

"—no, far from it. I actually enjoyed listening her talk about you," He cuts me off.

"You did?"

"I did."

"Right, even though it was just in the past."

"I'm happy knowing you went through all that," He replies, stopping me in my steps as we both turn to look at one another. "You had a beautiful childhood, Alice. I loved how even before you were born, I was already here waiting for you. It's fate,"

"Waiting for me? Fate?" I chuckle, "I don't really believe in those."

"Well, I do. I'm glad,"

"It's kind of weird to think you were already two hundred-years-old when I was like, one?" I laugh before tucking a few strands of hair behind my ears, "What were you even doing twenty-five years ago?"

"On my own. Handling the pack. Changing identities,"

"Changing identities?" I ask.

"Yeah, every once in awhile, a few decades or so, I'd fake my own death or change a hairstyle, body shape, habits and even my attitude. I never want people to notice that I don't age—I'd be in a lab rat and people would experiment things on me."

"How many identities have you changed?"

"A lot. I lost count,"

"So, you're telling me, you were once bald?"

"And fat." He adds, causing me to laugh.

"Oh my god, you're hilarious."

"Can't let anyone know."

"I'm just curious, how many girls have you slept with?" I ask.

Damon seems pretty surprised at my question, "Wow. I wasn't expecting that,"

"No, really. Tell me because I'm really curious now,"

Both of his eyes are looking anywhere but me as he crosses his arms, somehow not expecting to be asked about his sexual life. Then again, he is at least two centuries old, he must've met different women from all around the world and it would be weird not to encounter into any sexual relationships—even if it's just for the sake of sex.

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you," He replies, raising an eyebrow.

"Try me," I smirk.

He leans in closer, "I've slept with—"

"Ha! I knew it, I knew it was too good to be true—" I exclaim, clapping my hands.

He cuts me off calmly, "—none."

Our eyes meet in an instant, silencing me for good. "None?"

There is no way. There is no way in hell that he would've slept with none for the past two centuries—he has everything, he has fortune, he has the abilities, he has the charms, he has the goddamn looks. He is literally the most beautiful man I've ever laid eyes on, even if he chooses to resist, a lot of women would tempt him. He must've given in.

"What about you? How many men have you slept with?" He asks, his eyes flashing a tint of yellow for a couple of seconds.

"Me? You're asking me?"

"Well, you did ask about me. I want to know about you as well,"

"We're not even done talking about you."

"You asked me a question and I gave you my answer,"

"I don't believe you. You've slept with none?"

He clears his throat, "I spent a few decades in isolation. What makes you think I had the time to involve myself in any sexual encounters?" The look on his face is pretty obvious, I must've probably lost my mind or being too many assumptions.

"Right . . . it's just, what about before you were bitten?"

"Before I changed?" He asks.

I nod, "Yeah. You didn't have anybody?"

Damon stops for awhile, looking away as if trying to remember back his past memories. The look on his face shows that he has been through a lot, different types of pain, pleasure, discomfort and safety. It is hard to understand what he went through because he has defeated the actual law of living—he has made a few new rules of his own.

"I had someone. Her name was Lily,"

"A crush?"

"A fiancée."

My heart sinks, knowing well enough that before he became a werewolf, he had a normal life. Damon used to live a normal life where he had someone he loved, someone he had full intention of marrying before he lost everything. It must've felt like he was dying, watching his loved one grow old as he just sits and blankly look at his disability to age.

"You were engaged," I mutter.

"Mmhm, after I was bitten and I finally discovered about my new abilities, I went back to see her. I thought that she'd be waiting for me but it was too good to be true. She was betrothed to another and when our hands touched, I didn't feel the sparks. It was just touching a pair of hands—emotionless,"

"You're saying . . . ?"

"She was not my soulmate. Never was her,"

"I'm sorry,"

"Don't be. I started searching for my true soulmate for decades but she was nowhere to be found and I just gave up. There was no hope in trying to find an inexistent person to fill my sad and depressing life." He continues to speak, looking down at his own hands. "I watched as Lily married another. She got pregnant a few months after and after a couple of years, another baby. That time, it was a girl, but she didn't make it."

"The baby?"

"No, Lily. She passed away during childbirth,"

"Oh, I'm really sorry, Damon—I shouldn't have asked about this,"

"It's fine. You didn't know," He replies.

I breathe out, "You never found her? Your soulmate?"

Damon turns to look at me, smirking.