Romance isn't something Alaric ever thought he'd have need of. He grew up in a family where political and practical marriages were the norm.
The fathers who were passing on the warrior legacy would take hardy,healthy peasants as wives, or those who had magic running through their veins.
Meanwhile, the ones who kept the family relevant in the eyes of the Bloodbane Order and leaders of nations—they would marry nobles.
Love was never a part of it.
But Vladira inspired something in him that was unfamiliar. Was it love?
Certainly not, He guessed.
He was on the path toward genuine affection for her, and it ripped him up inside.
The motel room felt painfully empty then.
With the Countess asleep in the closet, and him now wide awake and full of thoughts he'd rather not entertain, he decided to get up.
He took his first shower, and damn, it did
feel nice. A part of him felt a little sad that his archnemesis could never know this simple yet potent pleasure, averse to running water as she was.
Even that innocuous thought in her favor made him feel guilty.
He dressed himself in a T-Shirt and jacket and donned a pair of blue jeans,checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror—again, he thought of her.
He thought of how they could never take a photo together, or admire their reflection together in a mirror.
The invasive thoughts disgusted him, but his
resistances were lowering to her by the minute, and he couldn't even police his own mind anymore.
He blamed the bloodbond. That was the reason for their unusual attraction and affection. He just had to continue resisting until she found a way to cancel it.
They had bought a few items that would get her started—powdered herbs, a cauldron—well, a pot, but she said it would do.
The 'eye of newt and wing of bat' components unfortunately could not be bought at W-Mart.
He decided he had to take action. From this point on, each choice he made would lead him down one path or another. One thing was for sure—he needed an ID.
It was time that he figured out the truth of that esoteric process.
He ventured out into the world and found that his understanding of it had grown overnight.
Everything made a lot more sense, and he no longer felt as though he were groping around, figuring things out haphazardly.
He felt like a native of this time, more or less, when it came to technology, but bureaucracy was still a bit elusive.
He started with the gas station again, the Pump N' Go. The staff working at the front desk were not the same people as he encountered the last Night, which he'd expected.
"Greetings," he said, trying to sound more natural this time. "I need to update my ID so I can apply for this job. What will I need for that?"
The man at the desk was a scrawny, freckled man with thick-rimmed spectacles and orange hair. His name tag hinted at his name being Dustin.
"To apply we'll need you to fill in your driver's license or State ID number on the form. Do you need a copy?"
"No, I actually have one," he said. "I took it in a bit of a hurry last night without asking the right questions. I'm afraid I'm new to this area and need to update my ID."
Dustin beamed at him warmly as he sat behind the counter. "Oh, got it.Well—you'll need to put your Social Security Number on the tax docs we give you when you're hired, and you'll need that ID. You can have both
printed up for you at the city clerk, just a few blocks west of here. It's the biggest building on the block, between the McDaniel's and the Pizza Cabin."
"And what should I bring?"
"Whatever you have to prove you are who you say you are. Old IDs are an example of primary identification, bills in your name with your signature are secondary identification—hopefully you have your Social Security
Card, right?"
"Right," Alaric grumbled. He bought two long, tubular items called a hot dog and a churro and ate them both. He immediately bought two more of each and wolfed those down as well, which Dustin watched with
amusement as he checked out another customer.
Alaric headed to the City Clerk but was predictably turned away when he failed to produce any of the items they needed. That wasn't a surprise.
What he really came for was to see the open hours to find the best time to visit with Vladira so she could work her mesmerism on them—and there was a problem.
"Open Hours: 9:00 AM until 4:30 PM, closed for lunch from 12:00 PM until 1:00 PM. Damn," he grumbled as he read it. "That's going to pose a problem."
The City Clerk was only open during the strictest daylight hours—hours in which Vladira was useless. Or so he thought.
———Vladira Pov
She should not have retreated into the motel room closet. That only gave Alaric permission to go about his day without her.
Much to her horror, he had risen after she excused herself from the conversation,
showered, and gotten dressed. She watched through the crack in the closet
door as he walked outside, the sun's light blinding her for a moment as it creeped into their room.
He left! He left her! How dare he?! But he couldn't go far, at least—that was her one comfort. A few hundred meters at best seemed to be the limit… but with a man as uncommonly handsome as he was? He'd have women crawling all over him within the hour.
She had slighted him, made him feel bad, and now he was punishing her by throwing himself into the arms and pussies of as many women as he could.
She imagined some naked human whores bouncing atop him, sitting on his face, cloying and begging to suck his heroic cock until he painted their features with his potent and powerful seed.
Maybe he would even let them bear him children—the one thing she could never do for him!