9. Mira-Romance in Seattle
1288 Words
The door chimed and my apprentice, Kiara entered.
Silas stepped back instantly. Kiara stared between us, eyes wide in a silent holy sh*t.
I cleared my throat. “Kiara, can you handle today’s appointments?”
“Uh—yes, Mira. Absolutely. I can.” She added with a wink, “Go. Handle whatever this… situation is.” I rolled my eyes, but I’d make it up to her later.
We walked outside my studio. “Sooo” I said, trying extremely hard not to swoon, “What now?”
“I haven’t eaten since yesterday. I am kinda hungry.” he said simply.
Heat rushed to my cheeks and I bit my lip and obviously he noticed.
“I—I don’t know where I can get blood for you. But if you’re really hungry, you could… maybe… d-drink from—” I just couldn't finish it.
Chandra laughed, "Gods, you are so cute and embarrassing."
He moved so close our chests almost brushed.
“Don’t tempt me, my little Mogra.”
My knees nearly buckled and I couldn’t meet his eyes.
Chandra "We’re doomed. Absolutely doomed. In the best way possible."
He kissed my forehead, a teasing smile playing on his lips.
“We eat human food too, my heart. Blood is not a daily requirement, it's more like once a week kinda thing.”
“Oh,” I squeaked.
His laugh was sinful.
I cleared my throat aggressively. “There’s a restaurant my best friend Lily owns – at Westward Waterfront. Her food is to die for.”
He nodded, offering me his arm. “Lead the way, my Mogra.”
Chandra: Mate. Food. Sunlit stroll. Life can not be better.
My cheeks hurt from smiling. And yet somewhere in my chest… that warning from DanPa pulsed like a drum - Be home before dark. Nope, absolutely no, I will not go there now. For now, I will enjoy myself with my mate, my king, my Silas, and the beginning of something the universe had been waiting for centuries to complete.
Lily’s restaurant—Westward Waterfront—was already buzzing with the late-morning crowd when Silas and I walked in. The moment the bell over the door chimed, Lily’s head snapped up from behind the bar.
Her eyes widened — First at him, then at me, and then a wicked grin split her face when she saw our joined hands. She squealed loudly, “Ohhh. Myyy. Goood.”
And Chandra matched her squealing inside me. "She loves us. Look at her! She’s glowing more than you are, Mira."
Shut up, I muttered mentally, warmth rushing to my cheeks.
“Lily,” I began, but she cut me off, grabbing me by the shoulders.
“YOU. ARE. SMILING.” She looked at Silas again, taking him in from head to toe like a stylist evaluating a priceless mannequin.
“And you brought a man who looks like…" she is thinking, "like… if Prada and Zeus had a baby.”
I choked. Silas gave her a charming bow. “Hello, Lily. I’m Silas.”
Lily blinked. “Oh he’s polite. And he talks like royalty.” She threw a triumphant look at me. “You’re welcome.”
I groaned. “He’s not a menu item you discovered, Lil.”
“Not yet,” she whispered conspiratorially.
Chandra bark laughed. I love Lily. Please tell her I love her.
I rolled my eyes internally — No.
Chandra Huffed.
Lily seated us by the largest window overlooking the glittering water. She buzzed around us with the brightest excitement, her joy so palpable it softened something deep inside me.
She wants us happy, Chandra murmured.
I agreed "She always has."
Lily ordered all our food and had us stuffed to the T. While eating our delicious Seattle special desert - Pacific Northwest Berry Pies - Silas leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, eyes trained wholly on me, “Tell me, Mira… have you really been feeling the bond for years?”
My heart thudded. “I’ve… seen your eyes ever since I could remember. Maybe since birth.” I admitted softly. “And when I turned eighteen… your scent started following me. I thought I was going crazy.”
The corners of his lips lifted. “My Mogra… I wasn’t going to say it yet, but hearing that—” His voice dipped, lower, almost reverent. “It makes my centuries feel less lonely.”
“Centuries, How old are you?” I blurted before I could stop myself.
Chandra laughed "Oops" I covered my face with my hand out of embarrassment. "I am so sorry. You don't have to answer..."
He laughed “It's alright, Mira, there is nothing I don't want to tell you about my long 493 life.” He winked.
Heat climbed up my neck. My mate was ancient and devastating. To hide my grin I asked Silas, “So, tell me something about your life in Vegas… as the King.”
He sighed, leaning back. “Vegas is loud and distracting. It's a constant performance. My court keeps me busy—alliances, negotiations, keeping the peace between species and families…” His eyes softened “But I’ve never belonged to anything. Not like this, Mira, Not like I belong to you.” His words hit me square in the chest. My breath trembled.
Chandra purred. – Oh our Romantic Vampire King.
We finished our food, but my stomach felt full long before the last bite—filled with warmth, and hope, and something dangerously close to bliss.
Silas asked casually, “Can you take the rest of the day off, my love?”
My heart skipped, and I smiled, “Yes.”
“Good.” His smile turned soft, “It's been a while since I came to Seattle." He took my hand and sparks erupted on all my arm, "Would you please show me your favorite place, Mira?”
---------------------------------
If Westward was warm, Chihuly was magic. The moment we entered the glasshouse, sunlight poured through thousands of crimson, amber, and gold glass forms suspended from the ceiling like a living firestorm.
We walked through the galleries, stopping before each masterpiece—towering Icicle Forms, the swirling Sealife Room, the emerald spikes of the Glass Forest.
Silas moved with quiet awe, his reactions subtle but sincere.
I pointed at my favorite installation. “That’s the Persian Ceiling. One of my favorites. It feels like stepping under a kaleidoscope.”
Silas exhaled slowly. “This is… breathtaking.” I turned and noticed that he was watching me, not the art.
Chandra snickered. He’s not even pretending to admire the glass. He’s admiring how your eyes sparkle. Pathetic. Beautiful, but pathetic.
I just rolled my eyes.
At the gift shop, I found a glass Christmas ornament—deep ocean blue, with rippled patterns and a tiny warm light inside.
“It reminded me of you,” I said shyly. “Your scent and your warmth, its just like the ocean breeze in a tropical warm sun.”
“My Mogra,” he whispered, taking the ornament from my hands like it was something sacred. “I will treasure this forever.”
And that was when I finally asked, “Why do you keep calling me Mogra? What does it mean?”
He touched my cheek, gaze deep. “Mogra is an Arabian jasmine. Its Delicate, Fragrant, beautiful, pure with its white colour and very Rare in this part of the world.” His voice dropped lower. “It’s your scent when you’re happy.”
My heart nearly burst.
Oh stars, Chandra whimpered softly. He is absolutely ruining us.
- Writer
