Chapter 123: 123
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"May I?" I say, holding out my hand as one last final urge takes hold of my body, inviting her with a low sweeping bow to take me up in a dance. I suddenly find myself desperate that she should take my offer, but equally confused by the reason why. What sort of frivolous wanton had compelled me to ask for her hand in dance- in the middle of the forest no less- I cannot rightly tell. But there is some irresistible beauty about her that draws me to her like a moth to a flame, unwilling to move away.
If I had a heart, I am sure it would have pounded.
The girl looks up, her mossy eyes meeting mine, glittering like emeralds under the golden light of the flame, until after a moment's deliberation, she takes my hand.
And just like that everything explodes inside me.
Her touch elicits something inside me, a flood of emotion, of feeling, that I never expected myself to ever feel in the whole of my immortal lifetime. A feverish warmth cascades through my fingertips at the junction of where her hand meets mine, and had I drained anyone at all this morning, I already know I would be struggling to hide the warm blush that spreads on my face. I am breathless, intoxicated by this one mortal woman, utterly drawn to her timeless beauty and her blazon boldness that I have certainly seen somewhere before. I came here utterly prepared to kill this woman, to drain her blood and leave her dead or dying, with just enough blood to let her crawl from whence she came to lick clean her wounds. But now, right from the minute her hand fell into mine, I could not think of anything worse.
I want her: to feel her hands against my body, to feel her kiss against my cheek. I want to feel the softness of her hand in mine, and to hear the ways she moans as I pleasure her long into the cooling night. The urge to take her into my arms, to cradle her against my body, feel the beat of her heart against my chest is one I can hardly draw myself away from. But it is obvious from the look on her face- as pleased as it is, doesn't express the same intense glee as my own.
Then something strikes me.
A faint memory lingers at the back of my mind- a green dress, the murmuring hum of a child's voice. My mind strains to find the root of this vision, but with the heat of her hand in mine, I am struggling to think at all.
What is wrong with me? A vampire who won't kill- its practically unheard of. But no, there is something deeper here, something that draws me to her the way a moth is drawn with an inexplicable consistency towards the light. There is a tug in my soul, a warmth in the void of a pit that is my heart, an unusual attachment burning at my insides, as if suddenly nothing else mattered except this woman.
Could it be...?
Her body presses against mine, and again that bright, enamoured feeling washes over me, consuming me with its comforting warmth. My breath slips from my throat as we dance, her abdomen pressed up against me: I feel happy, and full, as if suddenly nothing else matters in the world, nothing except her. At once the idea of dancing with her into the night doesn't seem so disastrous after all. I do not want to leave her.
But why? Why do I feel like this.
Then a spark of realisation pangs inside me. I almost stop where I stand.
This woman... I choke back a gasp. This woman is my mate. I almost a full minute of maintaining a breathless awe, I chuckle an inward laugh. I can't believe it. After all these hundreds of years, I thought I would never find them. Maybe there is still hope for a tyrant prince after all.
"And where would you be headed at this time of night?" I ask, pulling her further towards me, my touch gentle, my movements light. As I watch her, her face crumpling up as she studies me with a cat-like curiosity, a small stream of thoughts trickle into my head, soft and tentative. I dare an inward laugh at the subject of the matter, the glimpses of her inner conversation flashing through my mind, adding a somewhat humorous appeal to this little deviant. One in particular stands out, and not because of its novelty, but merely because it is coming from her.
'The most beautiful creature I have ever seen.'
If only she knew that the feeling is mutual.
"The palace of Sezeria," she says at last, clearly trying to compose herself. Although I doubt she can see, I raise my eyebrows a little from under my hood. Ah, so she is travelling here for the ceremony, how wonderfully perfect.
"I am headed there myself," I reply, smiling a little as I allow myself to ponder over the absurdity of the situation. Briefly I let myself to wander over where she comes from- she looks elvish, and perhaps I would have been convinced that she is had I not seen the golden sparks of fire that she had conjured from her dainty fingertips and the broad silver sword she holds at her side. No elf going to the palace would hold a silver weapon, not unless they wanted to offend a lot of vampires in a very short space of time. And with the questionable keenness elves have with wanting to be turned, that would be the last thing they wish to do.
Then her eyes meet mine. Both our breaths stop.
A faint memory flickers at the backs of my vision- a little angel with two sets of wings, bright, mossy eyes and a devilish taste for danger:
'You will come back?'
'Perhaps.'
Could it be? This young, entirely wingless woman is that same angel I met all those years ago? An angel, but also my mate? What were the chances of something so unfortunate- the gods really must have a cruel sense of humour. I bite my lip.
I suppose I did come back for her after all. Perhaps I never really left to begin with.
I did not want to leave her that night. Buzzed with the exhilarating promise of finding my mate and the intoxicating rhythm that flowed between our bodies as we danced, that moment became a dream and simultaneously a nightmare, enchanted by the delightfulness of this woman and the sudden fullness of my heart, yet equally repelled by the horror of the notion that laid behind it. If it were true, that this woman is the same as the one I met all those years back, then why is she coming to my palace?
The answer itself is obvious. She is here to find the flame.
Yet I find it quite amusing- if not admirable, that a Queen- for she truly is that- has managed to escape the confines of the council of angels. The council are notorious for their greed and wealth, the indoctrination of their kind into orderly categories and training them with the mindset that they can be one thing, and one thing only. For a young Queen as she might be, not yet hardened to the ways of ruling and with too soft a hand to fully quell the masses, let alone bend the council to her will, it is a surprise to even consider that she is out here at all.
If they had wanted to kill me, or perhaps take back the flame, they could have easily sent in an assassin, or a warrior capable of doing just that- not that they would get very far. Misgivings and malice are always quite a prominent emotion, and in a palace full of vampires, it is rather easy to tell which among my subjects harbour loathsome misgivings in their hearts, against the drunken wooziness of my people and their fiendish addict to sex and blood, it almost makes it too easy.
But this little angel, this Queen, harbours no misgivings. In fact, she seems quite content to dance into the night, as though all at once every single one of her dreams had finally been realised.
I do not want to kill her. In fact I would class myself rather fortunate to kiss her.
But this does not rule out the fact that she is still an angel, still here for the flame, and perhaps to try and kill me.
So what should I do?
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"May I?" I say, holding out my hand as one last final urge takes hold of my body, inviting her with a low sweeping bow to take me up in a dance. I suddenly find myself desperate that she should take my offer, but equally confused by the reason why. What sort of frivolous wanton had compelled me to ask for her hand in dance- in the middle of the forest no less- I cannot rightly tell. But there is some irresistible beauty about her that draws me to her like a moth to a flame, unwilling to move away.
If I had a heart, I am sure it would have pounded.
The girl looks up, her mossy eyes meeting mine, glittering like emeralds under the golden light of the flame, until after a moment's deliberation, she takes my hand.
And just like that everything explodes inside me.
Her touch elicits something inside me, a flood of emotion, of feeling, that I never expected myself to ever feel in the whole of my immortal lifetime. A feverish warmth cascades through my fingertips at the junction of where her hand meets mine, and had I drained anyone at all this morning, I already know I would be struggling to hide the warm blush that spreads on my face. I am breathless, intoxicated by this one mortal woman, utterly drawn to her timeless beauty and her blazon boldness that I have certainly seen somewhere before. I came here utterly prepared to kill this woman, to drain her blood and leave her dead or dying, with just enough blood to let her crawl from whence she came to lick clean her wounds. But now, right from the minute her hand fell into mine, I could not think of anything worse.
I want her: to feel her hands against my body, to feel her kiss against my cheek. I want to feel the softness of her hand in mine, and to hear the ways she moans as I pleasure her long into the cooling night. The urge to take her into my arms, to cradle her against my body, feel the beat of her heart against my chest is one I can hardly draw myself away from. But it is obvious from the look on her face- as pleased as it is, doesn't express the same intense glee as my own.
Then something strikes me.
A faint memory lingers at the back of my mind- a green dress, the murmuring hum of a child's voice. My mind strains to find the root of this vision, but with the heat of her hand in mine, I am struggling to think at all.
What is wrong with me? A vampire who won't kill- its practically unheard of. But no, there is something deeper here, something that draws me to her the way a moth is drawn with an inexplicable consistency towards the light. There is a tug in my soul, a warmth in the void of a pit that is my heart, an unusual attachment burning at my insides, as if suddenly nothing else mattered except this woman.
Could it be...?
Her body presses against mine, and again that bright, enamoured feeling washes over me, consuming me with its comforting warmth. My breath slips from my throat as we dance, her abdomen pressed up against me: I feel happy, and full, as if suddenly nothing else matters in the world, nothing except her. At once the idea of dancing with her into the night doesn't seem so disastrous after all. I do not want to leave her.
But why? Why do I feel like this.
Then a spark of realisation pangs inside me. I almost stop where I stand.
This woman... I choke back a gasp. This woman is my mate. I almost a full minute of maintaining a breathless awe, I chuckle an inward laugh. I can't believe it. After all these hundreds of years, I thought I would never find them. Maybe there is still hope for a tyrant prince after all.
"And where would you be headed at this time of night?" I ask, pulling her further towards me, my touch gentle, my movements light. As I watch her, her face crumpling up as she studies me with a cat-like curiosity, a small stream of thoughts trickle into my head, soft and tentative. I dare an inward laugh at the subject of the matter, the glimpses of her inner conversation flashing through my mind, adding a somewhat humorous appeal to this little deviant. One in particular stands out, and not because of its novelty, but merely because it is coming from her.
'The most beautiful creature I have ever seen.'
If only she knew that the feeling is mutual.
"The palace of Sezeria," she says at last, clearly trying to compose herself. Although I doubt she can see, I raise my eyebrows a little from under my hood. Ah, so she is travelling here for the ceremony, how wonderfully perfect.
"I am headed there myself," I reply, smiling a little as I allow myself to ponder over the absurdity of the situation. Briefly I let myself to wander over where she comes from- she looks elvish, and perhaps I would have been convinced that she is had I not seen the golden sparks of fire that she had conjured from her dainty fingertips and the broad silver sword she holds at her side. No elf going to the palace would hold a silver weapon, not unless they wanted to offend a lot of vampires in a very short space of time. And with the questionable keenness elves have with wanting to be turned, that would be the last thing they wish to do.
Then her eyes meet mine. Both our breaths stop.
A faint memory flickers at the backs of my vision- a little angel with two sets of wings, bright, mossy eyes and a devilish taste for danger:
'You will come back?'
'Perhaps.'
Could it be? This young, entirely wingless woman is that same angel I met all those years ago? An angel, but also my mate? What were the chances of something so unfortunate- the gods really must have a cruel sense of humour. I bite my lip.
I suppose I did come back for her after all. Perhaps I never really left to begin with.
I did not want to leave her that night. Buzzed with the exhilarating promise of finding my mate and the intoxicating rhythm that flowed between our bodies as we danced, that moment became a dream and simultaneously a nightmare, enchanted by the delightfulness of this woman and the sudden fullness of my heart, yet equally repelled by the horror of the notion that laid behind it. If it were true, that this woman is the same as the one I met all those years back, then why is she coming to my palace?
The answer itself is obvious. She is here to find the flame.
Yet I find it quite amusing- if not admirable, that a Queen- for she truly is that- has managed to escape the confines of the council of angels. The council are notorious for their greed and wealth, the indoctrination of their kind into orderly categories and training them with the mindset that they can be one thing, and one thing only. For a young Queen as she might be, not yet hardened to the ways of ruling and with too soft a hand to fully quell the masses, let alone bend the council to her will, it is a surprise to even consider that she is out here at all.
If they had wanted to kill me, or perhaps take back the flame, they could have easily sent in an assassin, or a warrior capable of doing just that- not that they would get very far. Misgivings and malice are always quite a prominent emotion, and in a palace full of vampires, it is rather easy to tell which among my subjects harbour loathsome misgivings in their hearts, against the drunken wooziness of my people and their fiendish addict to sex and blood, it almost makes it too easy.
But this little angel, this Queen, harbours no misgivings. In fact, she seems quite content to dance into the night, as though all at once every single one of her dreams had finally been realised.
I do not want to kill her. In fact I would class myself rather fortunate to kiss her.
But this does not rule out the fact that she is still an angel, still here for the flame, and perhaps to try and kill me.
So what should I do?
"May I?" I say, holding out my hand as one last final urge takes hold of my body, inviting her with a low sweeping bow to take me up in a dance. I suddenly find myself desperate that she should take my offer, but equally confused by the reason why. What sort of frivolous wanton had compelled me to ask for her hand in dance- in the middle of the forest no less- I cannot rightly tell. But there is some irresistible beauty about her that draws me to her like a moth to a flame, unwilling to move away.If I had a heart, I am sure it would have pounded.The girl looks up, her mossy eyes meeting mine, glittering like emeralds under the golden light of the flame, until after a moment's deliberation, she takes my hand.And just like that everything explodes inside me.Her touch elicits something inside me, a flood of emotion, of feeling, that I never expected myself to ever feel in the whole of my immortal lifetime. A feverish warmth cascades through my fingertips at the junction of where her hand meets mine, and had I drained anyone at all this morning, I already know I would be struggling to hide the warm blush that spreads on my face. I am breathless, intoxicated by this one mortal woman, utterly drawn to her timeless beauty and her blazon boldness that I have certainly seen somewhere before. I came here utterly prepared to kill this woman, to drain her blood and leave her dead or dying, with just enough blood to let her crawl from whence she came to lick clean her wounds. But now, right from the minute her hand fell into mine, I could not think of anything worse.I want her: to feel her hands against my body, to feel her kiss against my cheek. I want to feel the softness of her hand in mine, and to hear the ways she moans as I pleasure her long into the cooling night. The urge to take her into my arms, to cradle her against my body, feel the beat of her heart against my chest is one I can hardly draw myself away from. But it is obvious from the look on her face- as pleased as it is, doesn't express the same intense glee as my own.Then something strikes me.A faint memory lingers at the back of my mind- a green dress, the murmuring hum of a child's voice. My mind strains to find the root of this vision, but with the heat of her hand in mine, I am struggling to think at all.What is wrong with me? A vampire who won't kill- its practically unheard of. But no, there is something deeper here, something that draws me to her the way a moth is drawn with an inexplicable consistency towards the light. There is a tug in my soul, a warmth in the void of a pit that is my heart, an unusual attachment burning at my insides, as if suddenly nothing else mattered except this woman.Could it be...?Her body presses against mine, and again that bright, enamoured feeling washes over me, consuming me with its comforting warmth. My breath slips from my throat as we dance, her abdomen pressed up against me:I feel happy, and full, as if suddenly nothing else matters in the world, nothing except her. At once the idea of dancing with her into the night doesn't seem so disastrous after all. I do not want to leave her.But why? Why do I feel like this.Then a spark of realisation pangs inside me. I almost stop where I stand.This woman... I choke back a gasp. This woman is my mate. I almost a full minute of maintaining a breathless awe, I chuckle an inward laugh. I can't believe it. After all these hundreds of years, I thought I would never find them. Maybe there is still hope for a tyrant prince after all."And where would you be headed at this time of night?" I ask, pulling her further towards me, my touch gentle, my movements light. As I watch her, her face crumpling up as she studies me with a cat-like curiosity, a small stream of thoughts trickle into my head, soft and tentative. I dare an inward laugh at the subject of the matter, the glimpses of her inner conversation flashing through my mind, adding a somewhat humorous appeal to this little deviant. One in particular stands out, and not because of its novelty, but merely because it is coming from her.'The most beautiful creature I have ever seen.'If only she knew that the feeling is mutual."The palace of Sezeria," she says at last, clearly trying to compose herself. Although I doubt she can see, I raise my eyebrows a little from under my hood. Ah, so she is travelling here for the ceremony, how wonderfully perfect."I am headed there myself," I reply, smiling a little as I allow myself to ponder over the absurdity of the situation. Briefly I let myself to wander over where she comes from- she looks elvish, and perhaps I would have been convinced that she is had I not seen the golden sparks of fire that she had conjured from her dainty fingertips and the broad silver sword she holds at her side. No elf going to the palace would hold a silver weapon, not unless they wanted to offend a lot of vampires in a very short space of time. And with the questionable keenness elves have with wanting to be turned, that would be the last thing they wish to do.Then her eyes meet mine. Both our breaths stop.A faint memory flickers at the backs of my vision- a little angel with two sets of wings, bright, mossy eyes and a devilish taste for danger:'You will come back?''Perhaps.'Could it be? This young, entirely wingless woman is that same angel I met all those years ago? An angel, but also my mate? What were the chances of something so unfortunate- the gods really must have a cruel sense of humour. I bite my lip.I suppose I did come back for her after all. Perhaps I never really left to begin with.I did not want to leave her that night. Buzzed with the exhilarating promise of finding my mate and the intoxicating rhythm that flowed between our bodies as we danced, that moment became a dream and simultaneously a nightmare, enchanted by the delightfulness of this woman and the sudden fullness of my heart, yet equally repelled by the horror of the notion that laid behind it. If it were true, that this woman is the same as the one I met all those years back, then why is she coming to my palace?The answer itself is obvious. She is here to find the flame.Yet I find it quite amusing- if not admirable, that a Queen- for she truly is that- has managed to escape the confines of the council of angels. The council are notorious for their greed and wealth, the indoctrination of their kind into orderly categories and training them with the mindset that they can be one thing, and one thing only. For a young Queen as she might be, not yet hardened to the ways of ruling and with too soft a hand to fully quell the masses, let alone bend the council to her will, it is a surprise to even consider that she is out here at all.If they had wanted to kill me, or perhaps take back the flame, they could have easily sent in an assassin, or a warrior capable of doing just that- not that they would get very far. Misgivings and malice are always quite a prominent emotion, and in a palace full of vampires, it is rather easy to tell which among my subjects harbour loathsome misgivings in their hearts, against the drunken wooziness of my people and their fiendish addict to sex and blood, it almost makes it too easy.But this little angel, this Queen, harbours no misgivings. In fact, she seems quite content to dance into the night, as though all at once every single one of her dreams had finally been realised.I do not want to kill her. In fact I would class myself rather fortunate to kiss her.But this does not rule out the fact that she is still an angel, still here for the flame, and perhaps to try and kill me.So what should I do?
