The Heart Of A Vampire

chapter fifty seven: lemonade

"What's it like?"

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"I can imagine quite similar to your own life. You certainly are not a king, however you live in a fashion quite akin to my own, in the sense that we are both nobles."

"But you are a king," she countered "I on the other hand, am the daughter of a mere duke. Certainly there is a disparity between our social classes."

"Indeed there is, however I doubt it is as prominent as you are making it out to be."

She paused before responding.

"I suppose. Would you like a drink?"

"Have any blood?"

Her eyes widened slightly and she pursed her lips, shaking her head.

"I'm so sorry, I d-"

"I jest," he chuckled. "I'll drink anything, as long as it's a liquid."

"I fear you'd have difficulties drinking anything that isn't a liquid, don't you think?"

"Fair enough," he shrugged. "Do you have any lemonade?"

"I could probably make some. It would take me a few  minutes."

"Ah, fresh?"

"Indeed. Ice cold. I think I've developed a skill for it."

"Who would have thought you'd become a professional lemonade dealer?"

"I find myself sharing that sentiment," she chuckled "How far I've fallen. A noblewoman reduced to a lemonade connoisseur."

"And in only a matter of weeks too- perhaps you were never much of a noblewoman."

"Well i certainly didn't act like one," she retorted.

"I gathered- why else would you be here after all?"

"It paid off in the end. I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Do I make up for the lack of servants and jewels?" he teased.

"Barely," she conceded.

"Better than nothing," he shrugged. "Anyways, about that lemonade?"

"Coming right up," she grinned, slipping off into the kitchen and returning within a matter of minutes, holding a cold glass of icy lemonade ready for consumption.

She handed it over to him, watching as he downed the cup in one big gulp, and raising an eyebrow.

"Thirsty much?"

"It's hot out there," he shrugged.

"Too hot for a big and powerful vampire king? That's pathetic."

"Ouch. I'm but a man."

"A man at the mercy of a sunburn."

His brow furrowed.

"I have a sunburn? Really? Am I all red?"

"Oh, as red as a tomato. A strawberry with a face. A pomegranate that can talk."

"Now I know you jest," he countered.

"And you also know that you love me for it," she retorted, taking the glass from his hand and beckoning him to follow her into the kitchen, where she placed it into the sink.

He leaned up against the counter, watching as she quickly doused it in water.

"That I do," he murmured, almost inaudibly "That I do."