By the time the sun climbed high, the heaviness of the vision dream thing still clung to me like smoke. But Alaric was doing a good job keeping my mind off it. We drove to his house so I could clean up. When I came out of the guest room, Alaric was standing in the kitchen with a basket that looked way too normal for him to be carrying—red and white checkered cloth, clinking glass bottles, even a loaf of bread peeking out.
“Didn’t know vampires did picnics,” I teased as he tilted it toward me.
His mouth quirked. “We adapt. Besides, I figured you could use a day that didn’t involve blood and screaming.”
I didn’t argue.
We got in the car and drove to the park. They’d gone all out—rows of craft tents lined the walking paths, glittering wind chimes and wood carvings swinging in the breeze.
