Petra had been sitting outside for some time. Brandon had left not that long ago, and she was feeling contemplative at the moment. She was sitting on one of the outdoor benches, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea, one denim clad leg tucked underneath her, and a slightly oversized sweater covering her, to keep her warm against the cool desert night air. She thought as she sipped at her tea, and when she was finished, she took the cup into the kitchen and rinsed it. Emilio would have done it, had she asked, but she felt he needed a rest now and again, and was probably getting things ready in Spain for Brandon’s arrival anyway.
Making her way from the kitchen to her room, she spotted lights at the stables, indicating Endrik was working – that meant that the house was basically to herself for now. She headed to her bedroom, where she turned on some music, and promptly began pacing. She’d made the decision to have Brandon embrace her, but she was almost afraid to say anything about it. Saying it would make it real, and a part of her still wasn’t sure she was deserving.
She bit her thumb as she paced, finally grabbing her phone, pulling up Brandon’s contact information in order to leave him a text. He may not get it while he was in the air, but he should get it eventually. I’m ready, is what she sent him, and then she stilled, letting out a solid breath. She couldn’t unsend the message now. The thought had been made real, though the part of her that wasn’t sure was rattling its cage, screaming.
For ages, it seemed, Brandon had been the one to tell her she was worthy of being embraced. But was it really her that had been screaming all these years that she was unworthy? Petra picked a remote up off her bedside table, and clicked on some music. Sometimes music was enough to help her think, though dancing helped too, and she might need both. It took a moment to connect her phone’s Spotify account to her TV, but she selected a playlist meant for this sort of thing, and waited for the music to carry her body to its rhythm, while her mind worked through the issue at hand.
It took several songs to work through it all, finding the loudest voice. There had been her family in life – very few of them thought much of her, but that wasn’t it. Where was it? What or who had ingrained their prejudice in her mind so deeply, she’d forgotten it wasn’t her own opinion? More dancing. Stretching, twisting to the beats, and working up a sweat. She snapped her body upright, arms hugging herself, panting to catch her breath at the end of a song, and then she felt she had her answer.
Ashur.
Ashur had been her previous Domitor before Brandon. Ashur had stolen her away from the Greeks to serve him, thinking she was a man with the gift to help him defeat Brandon. She’d grown accustomed to praise – broth from her regiment with the Greek army, and then from Ashur himself as she brought him wins. Once he found out she was a woman… that was when it began.
She scrambled around the room, looking for where she’d left her phone, and quickly took notes on her thoughts, to bring up to Charles when next she saw him. Her parents had set the groundwork, true enough, but Ashur had lit the fire. Ashur was responsible for disbelieving in my own worth, she wrote down. Ashur is likely also responsible for the issues I have had in being a woman. She felt as though she’d had a breakthrough, and wanted to celebrate – but she had no idea with whom.
I’ll celebrate later, she decided, getting business minded again. For now, I should prepare myself for the rest of my life. Things settled in her mind, she went about a personal care routine that would hopefully ensure some ease into her new life – that is, her new life, provided Brandon accepted her readiness.
~*~
It wasn’t until Brandon and guests were safely in flight that Emilio notified Petra that they were en route home, that Petra began to feel some anxiety.
“How long until they get back?” she asked him.
“I believe a little over half a day, Miss.” he replied
“Okay…okay.” she breathed.
“Are you okay, Miss?” he asked.
She turned from the full-length mirror she’d been looking into as she’d been holding up different things to wear as they spoke. “A little scared, I guess. Did he tell you?”
“Yes. He told me that you are ready.” he answered with a brief nod.
“How did he take it?” she said, twisting the garment in her hands a little.
“He is ‘stoked’, as Billy would say.” Emilio responded, attempting to inject some humor into the conversation to try and get her to relax.
“Good, good.” she said, smiling a little.
“If I may ask, what has caused you to be so anxious?” Concern crossed his features.
“I just keep remembering stories I’ve heard. About the embrace not always working for some vampires. How do we know that won’t happen to me?” she asked.
“We don’t. However, I am certain that, were you to ask, we could perhaps have Endrik nearby as a failsafe.” it was the best solution he could come up with for the moment, as he wasn’t certain he’d be able to use his magic to help or not.
She reacted to this by dropping the garment – a summer dress – onto the mirror behind her (where it promptly slid to the floor), rushing forward, and embracing him in a hug, something that took him off guard, though when he regained composure, he responded in kind.
“I don’t want to die, Emilio.”
He rested a hand at the back of her head. “I would never let that happen.” he spoke, just loud enough for her to hear.
“I know.” she said, squeezing him harder. “I just needed to hear it.”
The two of them stood there like that for a moment, before she pulled away. Emilio reached out for a moment, brushing tears from her face that she didn’t realize were there, and then produced a handkerchief that she gratefully took.
“Thank you.” she said, wiping the tears away. “You’ve always been so good to me, and I don’t know that I’ve said it enough.”
“You don’t need to, Miss.” he said.
“I’m glad I have you in my life. I’ve never told you this, but… well… honestly? You’re like the father I wish I’d had.”
Emilio smiled. “It heartens me to hear that, Miss. And, if I may confess?”
“Of course” she said, handing back the handkerchief.
“You may have come to us grown, but I have viewed you much like my own child over these many years. I hope that does not offend.”
“Not at all.” she said, smiling. “In fact, it helps. Thank you.”
“Of course, Petra.”
~*~
Brandon was home. She could hear muffled voices from the living room. Looking at her surroundings, she noted the luxury, and ran her hands over the surface of the bed. She was used to the bedding in her room, but she’d never before been comfortable spending much time in Brandon’s room, feeling she didn’t warrant being there. Now, here she was, waiting for him. To her, it was symbolic. By being there, she was finally fully accepting all he had to offer her. She hoped he took note of it.
When he entered the room, she stood in the middle. She wasn’t dressed up, like she thought she might do. Instead, she was dressed more casually, as was normal for her. Tonight, it was denim shorts, a sage green tank top, and a clear hair tie around her right wrist. The only other notable things about her appearance were that she was barefoot, and her long hair hung loose, neatly brushed and hanging behind her. She was strikingly beautiful to him, both precious and fierce somehow; vulnerable.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Petra.” he said.
“It’s alright. I knew you’d be here on your own time.” she said, giving him a bright smile. She floundered a little with her hands, though, not knowing what to do with them. She finally shoved them into the tiny pockets of her shorts.
Brandon approached her. “I’ll only ask once. Are you sure?”
She nodded. “I’m ready.”
Brandon gently picked her up, carrying her over to the bed, and laid her down gently, treating her much like a lover at that moment. Making some room for himself, he leaned over, tucking her hair behind her, the back of his hand and fingers caressing the side of her face as he slid them down, removing his hand after they touched her jawline. He wanted to drink this in, to see all of her, note the way she looked, every breath she took, every noise she made.
He thought about saying something before he bit, but he decided that no words just then were probably best. Brandon leaned in and kissed her shoulder lightly, before moving to where he planned to bite. He bit deeply, hearing her gasp in surprise and them whimper at the onset of the kiss, and he began to drink of her, lightly at first, and then deeper.
Although she knew better, she braced herself for pain. Instead, she felt a minute pressure, and then a delicious wave of pleasure, one that kept her happy and serene as Brandon drank. She managed to wrap her arms around him, tightly at first, but as he drank deeper, they began to loosen her grip. In her final moments, she felt him pick her up, holding her close to himself. When he did this, she murmured a few words, and fell into darkness.
Brandon had not really registered what she had said, so focused was he on the task at hand. Once Petra went limp in his arms, and he could no longer sense a heartbeat, he pulled away and sealed the wound he’d created, before bringing a wrist to his mouth. He bit it, and pressed it against her lips, willing himself to bleed; willing for all he was worth that this worked. Now that he was focused on feeding her, he could register what she had said. Those words were nothing more complicated than a simple ‘I love you’.
She didn’t know how long she’d been in the abyss, but she slowly opened her eye, blinking a few times as she readjusted. The lights seemed brighter, and she squinted, until some of them were turned off. The surface beneath her was so very smooth, and she ran a hand over it mindlessly to accept the texture. Everything just had so much more nuance, more detail, to it than she’d noticed before. Finally, she set her gaze on Brandon.
“Did it work?” she asked, her own voice even sounding a little different.
Brandon chuckled. “Yes. Quite well, actually.”
“Oh, good.” she said, sitting up with his help. Once sitting, she worked on placing her hair back into its signature braid.
Brandon waited patiently for her to finish before standing up and reaching out a hand to help her up as well, which she spent a moment fascinated by it before standing up herself and letting it go. He had made a decision, while his blood was working it’s magic, to not say anything to her yet about her final words. If they were truly meant for him, she’d say it again, in her own time.
“Hungry.” she frowned, stopped at the door, waiting for him.
“We’ll check on the others, then I’ll let you feed downstairs.” he assured her.
“Promise?” she asked.
“Promise.”