Forever Original | Alaric Saltzman

Chapter 25

Hilda was most certainly not dressed for a date.

Alaric had given her his jacket to wear over her workout clothes. It was warm and comfortable, but it did not go that well with the green leggings she had chosen.

He drove them to a nearby shopping center where there was 'a very nice Italian restaurant you need to try.'

She giggled when he said it. "Sure, alright." She refrained from mentioning that she had been all over Italy in the past and knew about the most authentic types of food.

The place had been filled with people when they arrived. She noticed he tensed, but it was clear that her advice had stuck in his head. He looked around, then closed his eyes, and he didn't flinch when a waitress walked up.

"Table for two?" she asked. She must have been around nineteen. Hilda could hear a very steady heartbeat, and with the bandaid on her finger, it seemed she had recently gotten a papercut of sorts. Alaric could clearly smell the lingering blood, but he looked into the girl's eyes and smiled cordially. "Yes, please."

The waitress walked off, and they followed. "Good," said Hilda proudly. "That was a very good start." She pursed her lips and whispered, "Another thing you can always do if you think you have the strength to do it, is first aid. Concentrate on healing. After all, our blood can heal. I always try to do first aid when there's too much blood. As you know, I don't feed my blood to anyone, ever, but you can choose that as an alternative, no matter who it is. You can overcome that hunger with worry once again and use the blood to fuel you to use yours for good. Only if you want, obviously."

Once they sat down and were able to order their drinks, Alaric leaned forward across the booth. "When you say you've never fed anyone your blood... you mean never?"

She nodded. "Never. I didn't like the idea of condemning someone to the same fate as me. And most times, I was the one doing the injuring. Other times, well, I didn't care enough to try and heal anyone that way. I've known some very basic first aid and I use that especially when it's a bunch of innocent people and the damage was done by some other party. But I just... I don't know, the idea of sharing my blood and healing someone... no one's been important enough for me to do that."

"If I were human," he said, drumming his fingers against the table, "and I were about to die, but your blood could save me..."

"I'd give it to you without blinking," she answered immediately. "I just would. It's a risk and I know that but you've died already and there was nothing I could do. But if you ask if I'd do it for anyone else... your answer would be no. Another reason I'm a terrible bitch."

Alaric made a face. "That doesn't make you a bitch. You just prioritize different things. You keep trying to make me see you like some monster straight out of Greek mythology but I don't see you that way."

Hilda raised a curious brow. "What do you see me as?"

Alaric smiled and leaned a bit further forward. "If I were to see the goddess Aphrodite," he mumbled, "she would have your face and personality, exactly."

She felt a blush rising to her face, and she cleared her throat, sitting back as the waitress set down two glasses filled with wine. Hilda immediately took hers and drank. The waitress suspected nothing. "Are you all ready to order?" she asked sweetly.

They did, but Hilda stuttered quite a bit. When the waitress left, Alaric started to laugh. "When was the last time someone complimented you?"

"The— the personality bit," she stammered, trying to stop feeling so flustered. "I haven't had someone say something so positive about that in a really long time. I know I'm a pessimist, I know that I'm really hard to like because I'm always being negative and obnoxious."