Chapter 12

“This is gorgeous,” I said reverently as I took it all in while Pierre laid out the blanket and set up the picnic basket.

“Yes, it is. I enjoy coming here. The solitude and greenery remind me of my youth in the countryside in Romania, before I was turned.”

I took the hand Pierre held out and sat beside him on the blanket. “Is it painful to speak of how it happened?” I asked, taking the grapes he offered and leaning against his firm body, which rested on the tree trunk.

“For a time, all I knew was pain. My maker was not a gentle man, and his behavior toward me and others like me was cruel. Any sign of weakness would have been certain death. It was…a difficult time.”

I sat up and poured a glass of red wine for him and one for myself. “How did you meet Andre?”