CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Connee's POV:
I slept through the night and woke up around noon on Monday. I didn't want to go to work. I didn't want to put clothes on. I didn't want to eat. I didn't want ... Hiliad. But I'd said it. I told Him I was in love with Him. And I meant it. And then, there was no going back.
I did make it to work, though. By eleven, still with no appetite, I'd finished all of my paperwork. There was nothing left for me to do ... until I thought of Bintaurs. Hiliad never reiterated on us 'creatures,' and I grew curious about them. I typed in the name, and was shocked at the number of sites there were. I clicked on the first site.
'HISTORY: Bintaurs are the least known of the Supe world. Their existence is masked in obscurity; the era of their creation is unknown. Word of mouth via family stories indicate it to be approximately three hundred years old, though that might be a gross under estimation ...'
That told me very little. I noticed movement by the door and saw Hiliad stick His head through and looked at me oddly. I was about to address Him when He ducked back out. I shook my head, wondering what He was up to.
'ABILITIES: The most prominent capability of the Bintaurs is Telekenesis, the ability to move objects, regardless of size. It cannot be explained ...'
Another dead end.
Hiliad sauntered past my door just then walking very, very slowly, narrowing His eyes at me.
"Sir, can I get you something?"
He walked away. I rolled my eyes that time.
'... Other facilities include, but are not limited to, telepathy ...'
That was curious, considering Wilma could read my mind.
'... mind control, psychic abilities ... LAST POPULATION KNOWN: Spring 2012, less than one hundred.'
What? It was clear to me at that moment that what I'd heard was the truth.
'LOCATION: Mid-Atlantic region, specifically Virginia and North Carolina.'
'APPEARANCE: Human.'
I bust out laughing. That was obvious.
'GENETIC CODE: ... a gene within 90% of the Bintaur population prevents successful gestation. Female Bintaurs who also carry the gene and become pregnant, either miscarry or have a still-birth die within minutes of blood loss ...'
Okay, wait. Then how did my mother ... oh, she must have been one of the 10% with normal genes. Which made me ... sick to my stomach. Thomas Milton wanted me because I would successfully carry his child, thereby regenerating the Bintaur population. A sudden burst of heat erupted in my face, and sweat built up quickly on my forehead.
'... rare blood type ...'
I'd had enough. I closed the website and turned to face the door, wondering what the hell to do with the rest of my time. Hiliad never showed back up again. Thinking of Hiliad, I'd thought of His accent when He spoke to Liza a few times. He told me He was a Viking ... Scandinavia, Norway, Sweden ... Swedish. That was as good a start as any.
Searching the internet for a good fifteen minutes, I finally found a site that had audio of select Swedish words and was excited. He would be so pleased to have me speak in His language! I had to put on my headphones so He wouldn't hear the words, and I had to make sure He was nowhere near the door when I tried to pronounce it.
I clicked on a few that I could use with Him, and concentrated really hard listening. I was smart enough to close the window and play the audio, just in case Hiliad decided to come in and tell me what He wanted to with the headphones on.
I closed my eyes and played them over and over and over. Then I took the headphones off and tried to say the words. I shook my head and went back to listen to them again.
When I went to remove the headphones to practice them, I gulped when I saw Him standing behind me. "Oh, god, I mean Sir!" I exclaimed, putting my hand over my heart.
"What are you doing wasting my money?" He demanded angrily, His eyebrows furrowed deeply. The look in His eyes was disconcerting; I'd seen them once before when He hadn't eaten in a week.
I turned my chair as much as I could with Him blocking the swivel with His leg, took a deep breath, looked up at Him and said, "Bra afton, Herrn."
His head flew back, His eyebrows troughed even deeper. "What did you call me?" He screamed at me, incensed.
I flinched, that damned feeling in my stomach roared into every fiber of my being. I had to fight back tears. "Sir, I'm sorry!" To hell with a spanking! "I ... I was ..." I glanced at the computer, "...learning how to sayβ"
"Good evening, Sir." He shook His head and smiled. "You have completely and utterly destroyed my native language, you know that don't you?"
I still wasn't sure how to react. I bit my bottom lip, trying to look as innocent as a child. "Was I even close?"
"Ja, perfectly." Bending down, He kissed me then pulled away quickly. "Tacka dig."
It sounded familiar, but I wasn't sure. "Um, du Γ€r vΓ€lkommen, Sir?"
He laughed. I was instantly relieved and relaxed.
Sitting on the edge of my desk, moving the chair so I was settled between his knees, He said, "It's descended from Old Norse in my time. That's where German originated. Are you interested in learning more?"
"Honestly, Sir, it's a very difficult language to speak. And I don't dare brutalize it even more."
He smiled. "So, are you done working?"
"Yes, Sir." I didn't tell Him I'd been searching on the Bins.
"I'm hungry." Just what I thought. I looked out the door, knowing the cops had cracked down on vampires draining humans in His club before, and didn't want to get Him in trouble. He must have read the expression on my face. "No, we'll go to Liza's."
"Sir, I told you I didn't want ..."
"We won't be scening," He said perturbed.