9
It had been a week since I moved in with Matthew, and let me tell you, adapting to life as Mrs. Gorvell wasn’t as glamorous as I’d imagined. Sure, the penthouse was incredible, and the view of the city was breathtaking, but living with Matthew meant living with a vampire. And living with a vampire meant... well, let’s just say it was an experience.
On my first official morning as his ‘contracted’ wife, I decided to make breakfast. I was determined to start this new chapter off right—maybe surprise him with some pancakes. I was flipping the first pancake when I heard a voice behind me.
“Smells good,” Matthew said, appearing out of nowhere as usual. He didn’t make a sound when he walked, which was creepy until you got used to it.
I turned around, spatula in hand. “You want some?” I asked, gesturing to the growing stack of pancakes.
Matthew raised an eyebrow, looking at the pancakes like they were foreign objects. “I don’t usually eat breakfast.”
“You mean you don’t eat human food,” I corrected, smirking.
He flashed a grin. “Touché. But I think I’ll try one, just for you.”
I watched as he picked up a pancake and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. “Not bad,” he admitted, though I couldn’t tell if he was being genuine or just trying to humor me.
“You’re not going to, like, choke on it or anything, are you?” I asked, half-joking.
“Please,” he scoffed. “It takes more than a pancake to take me down.”
---
Later that day, I decided to explore the penthouse a bit more. There was one room that caught my eye—Matthew’s study. I peeked inside, expecting the usual: bookshelves, a desk, maybe a fancy globe. What I found was... well, unexpected.
The walls were lined with jars filled with strange things. Herbs, powders, what looked suspiciously like animal bones, and a few jars with dark red liquid. I stepped inside cautiously, picking up one of the jars. It was labeled ‘Dragon’s Blood’.
“What on Earth…?” I muttered.
“It’s just a nickname,” Matthew’s voice said from the doorway, making me jump. “Dragon’s blood is actually a type of resin used in alchemy.”
I turned to glare at him, clutching the jar like it was evidence in a crime scene. “You need a bell or something. Stop sneaking up on me!”
He gave me an amused smile. “Sorry. Old habit. Comes with the vampire territory.”
I set the jar back on the shelf, eyeing the rest of his collection. “You have quite the... assortment here.”
Matthew shrugged, stepping inside the room. “It’s my hobby. You humans have knitting or scrapbooking; I have alchemy.”
“Oh, yes, because collecting ancient artifacts and mystery liquids is the same as making a scrapbook,” I quipped.
---
Another odd occurrence happened during movie night. I was curled up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, ready to start our weekly tradition. Matthew joined me, looking slightly apprehensive.
“We’re watching Dracula,” I announced, trying not to laugh at the irony.
He groaned. “Why do you torture me like this?”
“Because it’s hilarious,” I replied with a grin, hitting play.
As the movie went on, I noticed him rolling his eyes every few minutes. “This is absurd,” he muttered when Dracula dramatically hissed at the screen.
“Let me guess—historically inaccurate?” I teased.
“Extremely,” he said, leaning back with a sigh. “The whole turning-into-a-bat thing? Total myth.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “You’re just jealous because you can’t do it.”
Matthew glanced at me, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just annoyed at how melodramatic they make us look.”
“Melodramatic? You?” I scoffed playfully. “Never.”
He chuckled, grabbing a handful of popcorn and tossing it into his mouth. I stared at him in disbelief. “Wait, you can eat popcorn?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Who do you think kept finishing your snacks? I may not need it, but I can still enjoy the taste.”
“Unbelievable,” I muttered. “I thought I was losing my mind.”
“Welcome to the life of living with a vampire,” he said with a smirk.
---
The following day, I decided to test out Matthew’s “vampire allergies” theory. I chopped up some garlic for dinner, just to see what would happen. When he came into the kitchen, he immediately crinkled his nose.
“Ugh, what is that smell?” he asked, looking genuinely offended.
“Garlic,” I said innocently, holding up a clove. “Problem?”
He took a step back, his nose wrinkling even more. “That stuff is vile.”
“So, it’s true,” I said triumphantly. “You really do have a problem with garlic.”
“It’s not a ‘problem,’” he retorted. “It’s just... unpleasant. Like smelling something rotten.”
I smirked, waving the clove in front of his face. He recoiled, looking like he was about to sneeze.
“Alright, alright! Put it away!” he snapped, half-laughing, half-serious.
I burst into laughter, clutching my stomach. “This is priceless. I can’t believe it’s true.”
“Enjoy your little victory,” he muttered, a smile tugging at his lips. “But don’t think I won’t get my revenge.”
“Oh, I’m quaking in my boots,” I teased, still grinning.
---
Living with Matthew was like navigating a maze of surprises. Every day, I learned something new about him, something unexpected. He had a habit of disappearing for hours and then reappearing with no explanation, his hair slightly tousled, his eyes a little wild. One time, he came back with a smudge of red on his collar.
“Rough meeting?” I asked dryly, pointing at the stain.
He glanced down, his expression guilty. “You could say that.”
I shook my head, laughing. “You’re like a messy toddler.”
“Hey,” he protested, wiping at the stain. “This is all part of my charm.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” I replied, rolling my eyes.
Despite the strange habits and the constant surprises, there was something oddly comforting about living with Matthew. We had our rhythm, our banter, and even though our marriage was born out of necessity, it was starting to feel... well, real.
Every quirk, every strange moment just made me like him more. It was like peeling back layers of a very complicated, very old onion. And I was surprisingly okay with that.
Because, quirks and all, this was our life now. And honestly? It was kind of fun.
