Chapter 23: 23
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"Ah, I ruined your dress, little dove" he sighs a little morosely, smiling slightly, drawing my attention away from the door. He lifts a free hand, gesturing at the stains of thick, now burgundy liquid that have splattered over my dress like droplets of rain. I hadn't even noticed. Slowly, he swipes away a strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear carefully, as though it had personally annoyed him. By the time his eyes meet mine again, all I see are the charming hues of sparkling gold. I suck in my breathe.
"I'll have spares." The knock comes again at the door, this time harsher and more urgent. I cringe.
"Soren it reeks of blood all through the palace. If you killed that girl everyone is talking about, the juicy little one with the nice figure and cute button nose that you ran off with, then I'm not cleaning up the mess." The voice sighs tirefully, the tone of his voice making it seem as though it were a regular occurrence- perhaps it was. Soren's eyes flash madly in the direction of the doorway. My breath catches in my throat. Is he…? I shake my head furiously. That can't be it. I put my hand gently on his shoulder to steady him, brushing past the soft raven feathers, and give a brave smile.
"I can go," I tell him, gently, my tone almost sounding patronising coming from my mouth. I can't help but thinking it feels entirely wrong to be addressing the Scarlet Prince in such a manner. Usually, I wouldn't be the one asking to leave. He opens his mouth to protest, but I must've given him an odd look as he closes it soon after. Despite the mask of uncaring he is trying so desperately to wear, his face is pained. "Sorry to intrude but you were taking so long to open that goddamn door."
I spin around. Where the shadow of the person had been under the doorway now stands a man. His hair is a short, ruffled array of white strands that almost blend so seamlessly into the colour of his skin that you might think them a crude mere extension of his flesh. His eyes are darting, red beedy dots, lined with kohl that only serves to enhance the cruelty of them further. The shirt he wears is of a silky, navy fabric, woven with silver patterns that spiral from the cuffs and fade out into the rest of the fabric. Unlike Soren, who maintained some decency by having the goodness to only partially unbutton his shirt, the white haired vampire has gone the whole way, proudly displaying the pack of hard muscles beneath his skin, and the thick gaping scar crafted onto his chest. A scar like that must have been caused by silver. It's the only thing that can scar a vampire. A frown crosses my face as I find myself wondering how he got it. Slicked back horns flash in menacing spikes on his head as he sways towards me, big, but not as big as Sorens. I think to myself that it might be possible in the same way angel wings do, that the horn size has an indication of power dynamic, since looking at the monstrous spread of Soren horns is probably enough to send most people into a spiralled panic. The vampire hitches up his black trousers and pulls a lazy hand through his hair.
"My, I didn't expect her to be alive, how unlike you, Soren. Got yourself a little plaything before you settle down with a mate?" The stranger laughs hollowly, his eyes drifting over my body with a careless blazon that only a vampire has.
"Just leave before I make you," Soren growls menacingly from between clenched teeth, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. I grit my teeth. My hand itches towards my sword, thoughts of skewering a vampire on it running through my head not for the first time today. Soren had given me no reason too, besides, I need Soren alive to help me. But that doesn't mean any other vampire isn't fair game. I would probably be doing the Scarlet Prince a favour. The white haired vampire advances a little, boots tapping against the wooden floor. "Look you got her all messy, what a shame, that cute little outfit is ruined, almost no point in wearing it at all now,"he sighs, fiddling with the hem of his shirt with a roll of his eyes. There is a tone in his voice that sets me on edge. Warily, I look up at Soren, whose yellow eyes pierce into the vampire in front of us, telling me nothing. His mouth is taut, pulled down into a grimace as he comes to lay a hand on my shoulder, body squared up harshly behind me, his stance both protective and menacing. His eyes almost seemed to burn holes in the vampire before him, alight with silent rage. I shiver. The vampire takes another step closer, looking me up and down. This time, I do draw my sword, a metallic ring pulsing through the air as I bring the shiny silver point inches away from the creature, my reflection gleaming and bloody in the hilt. He looks more amused than he does surprised, as though he hadn't expected me to be so non compliant. I wonder if he realises it is silver.
"Little girl," says the vampire, uncaring for Soren, ruby eyes leaping with a sadistic glee. "Take off your clothes, won't you?" The words shimmer through the air, embedding themselves into my ears and working into my head. All at once my mind becomes heavy, thick with a dense fog that blocks out all my other thoughts, leaving me swaying giddly. I forget about Soren's hand on my shoulder. My sword drops from my fingers. Suddenly his words seem wonderfully compelling to me, the prospect of taking off my clothes so inviting. If I do something wonderful would surely happen, that I might hope to please this beautiful creature? My mouth carves into a dizzying smile and my heart beats wildly in my chest. With movements that are not my own move to push down the straps of my dress from my shoulders. Soren's hands catch my own, his grip harsh, fingers stiff and colder than blocks of ice. He wraps his body around me, drawing my hands to my sides, a furious expression darting over his face, his fangs gleaming. I strain against him. Why is he stopping me?
"Don't you dare glamour her. The girl is mine, Azrael," Soren growls menacingly, his hands tightening in rage around me, body shaking with an uncontrolled fury.
"Aw, come on Soren, when have you ever cared? I'm sure you'd love to see her naked body just as much as me." The vampire- Azrael, pouts in mockery, and looks at me again. "You don't mind, do you, little girl?" he asks, tones thick and honeyed. I find myself shaking my head, though I don't recall thinking to move.
In that moment, Soren loses it.
He lunges forward with such speed that I am knocked back from where I stand, stumbling into the wall behind me, my back digging into the grooves of the torn up wood. A huge crash ensues as the white hair vampire is flung high onto the opposite wall, Soren's hand wrapped around his throat, breathing heavily. Azrael chokes as Soren's black nails dig deep into the flesh around his throat, drawing up thick streams of blood from his pasty skin, stark and grotesque. It trickles down onto his clothes, ruining the beautiful navy, soaking it with his own blood as more proceeds to trickle down the corners of his mouth, his eyes bulbous and wide.
"I already told you, she's mine," Soren whispers, his eyes flashing mad hues of red and crimson and black. The words ring in my head like a bell tolling. She's mine… I'm so distracted I barely see the wild look on his face, his teeth bared to show the lengthy set of fangs he bears. The whole room goes cold, the fire extinguished by the pure amounts of rage emanating off his body. All at once everything seems grim to me, as though death itself had stolen away the lifeforce of the room. A chill runs through me. Shadows curl themselves around him like dense wings, some manifesting into a solid smokey form that bites and cuts at the white haired vampire, tearing up the fabric of his shirt, his trousers. Soren doesn't seem to care for the blood pooling onto the floor. Nor does he seem to care when a sickening snap issues round the room and the white haired vampires head lolls at an odd angle, like a rag doll on a bed.. The vampire groans.
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"Ah, I ruined your dress, little dove" he sighs a little morosely, smiling slightly, drawing my attention away from the door. He lifts a free hand, gesturing at the stains of thick, now burgundy liquid that have splattered over my dress like droplets of rain. I hadn't even noticed. Slowly, he swipes away a strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear carefully, as though it had personally annoyed him. By the time his eyes meet mine again, all I see are the charming hues of sparkling gold. I suck in my breathe.
"I'll have spares." The knock comes again at the door, this time harsher and more urgent. I cringe.
"Soren it reeks of blood all through the palace. If you killed that girl everyone is talking about, the juicy little one with the nice figure and cute button nose that you ran off with, then I'm not cleaning up the mess." The voice sighs tirefully, the tone of his voice making it seem as though it were a regular occurrence- perhaps it was. Soren's eyes flash madly in the direction of the doorway. My breath catches in my throat. Is he…? I shake my head furiously. That can't be it. I put my hand gently on his shoulder to steady him, brushing past the soft raven feathers, and give a brave smile.
"I can go," I tell him, gently, my tone almost sounding patronising coming from my mouth. I can't help but thinking it feels entirely wrong to be addressing the Scarlet Prince in such a manner. Usually, I wouldn't be the one asking to leave. He opens his mouth to protest, but I must've given him an odd look as he closes it soon after. Despite the mask of uncaring he is trying so desperately to wear, his face is pained. "Sorry to intrude but you were taking so long to open that goddamn door."
I spin around. Where the shadow of the person had been under the doorway now stands a man. His hair is a short, ruffled array of white strands that almost blend so seamlessly into the colour of his skin that you might think them a crude mere extension of his flesh. His eyes are darting, red beedy dots, lined with kohl that only serves to enhance the cruelty of them further. The shirt he wears is of a silky, navy fabric, woven with silver patterns that spiral from the cuffs and fade out into the rest of the fabric. Unlike Soren, who maintained some decency by having the goodness to only partially unbutton his shirt, the white haired vampire has gone the whole way, proudly displaying the pack of hard muscles beneath his skin, and the thick gaping scar crafted onto his chest. A scar like that must have been caused by silver. It's the only thing that can scar a vampire. A frown crosses my face as I find myself wondering how he got it. Slicked back horns flash in menacing spikes on his head as he sways towards me, big, but not as big as Sorens. I think to myself that it might be possible in the same way angel wings do, that the horn size has an indication of power dynamic, since looking at the monstrous spread of Soren horns is probably enough to send most people into a spiralled panic. The vampire hitches up his black trousers and pulls a lazy hand through his hair.
"My, I didn't expect her to be alive, how unlike you, Soren. Got yourself a little plaything before you settle down with a mate?" The stranger laughs hollowly, his eyes drifting over my body with a careless blazon that only a vampire has.
"Just leave before I make you," Soren growls menacingly from between clenched teeth, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. I grit my teeth. My hand itches towards my sword, thoughts of skewering a vampire on it running through my head not for the first time today. Soren had given me no reason too, besides, I need Soren alive to help me. But that doesn't mean any other vampire isn't fair game. I would probably be doing the Scarlet Prince a favour. The white haired vampire advances a little, boots tapping against the wooden floor. "Look you got her all messy, what a shame, that cute little outfit is ruined, almost no point in wearing it at all now,"he sighs, fiddling with the hem of his shirt with a roll of his eyes. There is a tone in his voice that sets me on edge. Warily, I look up at Soren, whose yellow eyes pierce into the vampire in front of us, telling me nothing. His mouth is taut, pulled down into a grimace as he comes to lay a hand on my shoulder, body squared up harshly behind me, his stance both protective and menacing. His eyes almost seemed to burn holes in the vampire before him, alight with silent rage. I shiver. The vampire takes another step closer, looking me up and down. This time, I do draw my sword, a metallic ring pulsing through the air as I bring the shiny silver point inches away from the creature, my reflection gleaming and bloody in the hilt. He looks more amused than he does surprised, as though he hadn't expected me to be so non compliant. I wonder if he realises it is silver.
"Little girl," says the vampire, uncaring for Soren, ruby eyes leaping with a sadistic glee. "Take off your clothes, won't you?" The words shimmer through the air, embedding themselves into my ears and working into my head. All at once my mind becomes heavy, thick with a dense fog that blocks out all my other thoughts, leaving me swaying giddly. I forget about Soren's hand on my shoulder. My sword drops from my fingers. Suddenly his words seem wonderfully compelling to me, the prospect of taking off my clothes so inviting. If I do something wonderful would surely happen, that I might hope to please this beautiful creature? My mouth carves into a dizzying smile and my heart beats wildly in my chest. With movements that are not my own move to push down the straps of my dress from my shoulders. Soren's hands catch my own, his grip harsh, fingers stiff and colder than blocks of ice. He wraps his body around me, drawing my hands to my sides, a furious expression darting over his face, his fangs gleaming. I strain against him. Why is he stopping me?
"Don't you dare glamour her. The girl is mine, Azrael," Soren growls menacingly, his hands tightening in rage around me, body shaking with an uncontrolled fury.
"Aw, come on Soren, when have you ever cared? I'm sure you'd love to see her naked body just as much as me." The vampire- Azrael, pouts in mockery, and looks at me again. "You don't mind, do you, little girl?" he asks, tones thick and honeyed. I find myself shaking my head, though I don't recall thinking to move.
In that moment, Soren loses it.
He lunges forward with such speed that I am knocked back from where I stand, stumbling into the wall behind me, my back digging into the grooves of the torn up wood. A huge crash ensues as the white hair vampire is flung high onto the opposite wall, Soren's hand wrapped around his throat, breathing heavily. Azrael chokes as Soren's black nails dig deep into the flesh around his throat, drawing up thick streams of blood from his pasty skin, stark and grotesque. It trickles down onto his clothes, ruining the beautiful navy, soaking it with his own blood as more proceeds to trickle down the corners of his mouth, his eyes bulbous and wide.
"I already told you, she's mine," Soren whispers, his eyes flashing mad hues of red and crimson and black. The words ring in my head like a bell tolling. She's mine… I'm so distracted I barely see the wild look on his face, his teeth bared to show the lengthy set of fangs he bears. The whole room goes cold, the fire extinguished by the pure amounts of rage emanating off his body. All at once everything seems grim to me, as though death itself had stolen away the lifeforce of the room. A chill runs through me. Shadows curl themselves around him like dense wings, some manifesting into a solid smokey form that bites and cuts at the white haired vampire, tearing up the fabric of his shirt, his trousers. Soren doesn't seem to care for the blood pooling onto the floor. Nor does he seem to care when a sickening snap issues round the room and the white haired vampires head lolls at an odd angle, like a rag doll on a bed.. The vampire groans.
"Ah, I ruined your dress, little dove" he sighs a little morosely, smiling slightly, drawing my attention away from the door. He lifts a free hand, gesturing at the stains of thick, now burgundy liquid that have splattered over my dress like droplets of rain. I hadn't even noticed. Slowly, he swipes away a strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear carefully, as though it had personally annoyed him. By the time his eyes meet mine again, all I see are the charming hues of sparkling gold. I suck in my breathe. "I'll have spares." The knock comes again at the door, this time harsher and more urgent. I cringe. "Soren it reeks of blood all through the palace. If you killed that girl everyone is talking about, the juicy little one with the nice figure and cute button nose that you ran off with, then I'm not cleaning up the mess." The voice sighs tirefully, the tone of his voice making it seem as though it were a regular occurrence- perhaps it was. Soren's eyes flash madly in the direction of the doorway. My breath catches in my throat. Is he? I shake my head furiously. That can't be it. I put my hand gently on his shoulder to steady him, brushing past the soft raven feathers, and give a brave smile. "I can go," I tell him, gently, my tone almost sounding patronising coming from my mouth. I can't help but thinking it feels entirely wrong to be addressing the Scarlet Prince in such a manner. Usually, I wouldn't be the one asking to leave. He opens his mouth to protest, but I must've given him an odd look as he closes it soon after. Despite the mask of uncaring he is trying so desperately to wear, his face is pained. "Sorry to intrude but you were taking so long to open that goddamn door." I spin around. Where the shadow of the person had been under the doorway now stands a man. His hair is a short, ruffled array of white strands that almost blend so seamlessly into the colour of his skin that you might think them a crude mere extension of his flesh. His eyes are darting, red beedy dots, lined with kohl that only serves to enhance the cruelty of them further. The shirt he wears is of a silky, navy fabric, woven with silver patterns that spiral from the cuffs and fade out into the rest of the fabric. Unlike Soren, who maintained some decency by having the goodness to only partially unbutton his shirt, the white haired vampire has gone the whole way, proudly displaying the pack of hard muscles beneath his skin, and the thick gaping scar crafted onto his chest. A scar like that must have been caused by silver. It's the only thing that can scar a vampire. A frown crosses my face as I find myself wondering how he got it. Slicked back horns flash in menacing spikes on his head as he sways towards me, big, but not as big as Sorens. I think to myself that it might be possible in the same way angel wings do, that the horn size has an indication of power dynamic, since looking at the monstrous spread of Soren horns is probably enough to send most people into a spiralled panic. The vampire hitches up his black trousers and pulls a lazy hand through his hair. "My, I didn't expect her to be alive, how unlike you, Soren. Got yourself a little plaything before you settle down with a mate?" The stranger laughs hollowly, his eyes drifting over my body with a careless blazon that only a vampire has. "Just leave before I make you," Soren growls menacingly from between clenched teeth, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. I grit my teeth. My hand itches towards my sword, thoughts of skewering a vampire on it running through my head not for the first time today. Soren had given me no reason too, besides, I need Soren alive to help me. But that doesn't mean any other vampire isn't fair game. I would probably be doing the Scarlet Prince a favour. The white haired vampire advances a little, boots tapping against the wooden floor. "Look you got her all messy, what a shame, that cute little outfit is ruined, almost no point in wearing it at all now,"he sighs, fiddling with the hem of his shirt with a roll of his eyes. There is a tone in his voice that sets me on edge. Warily, I look up at Soren, whose yellow eyes pierce into the vampire in front of us, telling me nothing. His mouth is taut, pulled down into a grimace as he comes to lay a hand on my shoulder, body squared up harshly behind me, his stance both protective and menacing. His eyes almost seemed to burn holes in the vampire before him, alight with silent rage. I shiver. The vampire takes another step closer, looking me up and down. This time, I do draw my sword, a metallic ring pulsing through the air as I bring the shiny silver point inches away from the creature, my reflection gleaming and bloody in the hilt. He looks more amused than he does surprised, as though he hadn't expected me to be so non compliant. I wonder if he realises it is silver. "Little girl," says the vampire, uncaring for Soren, ruby eyes leaping with a sadistic glee. "Take off your clothes, won't you?" The words shimmer through the air, embedding themselves into my ears and working into my head. All at once my mind becomes heavy, thick with a dense fog that blocks out all my other thoughts, leaving me swaying giddly. I forget about Soren's hand on my shoulder. My sword drops from my fingers. Suddenly his words seem wonderfully compelling to me, the prospect of taking off my clothes so inviting. If I do something wonderful would surely happen, that I might hope to please this beautiful creature? My mouth carves into a dizzying smile and my heart beats wildly in my chest. With movements that are not my own move to push down the straps of my dress from my shoulders. Soren's hands catch my own, his grip harsh, fingers stiff and colder than blocks of ice. He wraps his body around me, drawing my hands to my sides, a furious expression darting over his face, his fangs gleaming. I strain against him. Why is he stopping me? "Don't you dare glamour her. The girl is mine, Azrael," Soren growls menacingly, his hands tightening in rage around me, body shaking with an uncontrolled fury. "Aw, come on Soren, when have you ever cared? I'm sure you'd love to see her naked body just as much as me." The vampire- Azrael, pouts in mockery, and looks at me again. "You don't mind, do you, little girl?" he asks, tones thick and honeyed. I find myself shaking my head, though I don't recall thinking to move. In that moment, Soren loses it. He lunges forward with such speed that I am knocked back from where I stand, stumbling into the wall behind me, my back digging into the grooves of the torn up wood. A huge crash ensues as the white hair vampire is flung high onto the opposite wall, Soren's hand wrapped around his throat, breathing heavily. Azrael chokes as Soren's black nails dig deep into the flesh around his throat, drawing up thick streams of blood from his pasty skin, stark and grotesque. It trickles down onto his clothes, ruining the beautiful navy, soaking it with his own blood as more proceeds to trickle down the corners of his mouth, his eyes bulbous and wide. "I already told you, she's mine," Soren whispers, his eyes flashing mad hues of red and crimson and black. The words ring in my head like a bell tolling. She's mine I'm so distracted I barely see the wild look on his face, his teeth bared to show the lengthy set of fangs he bears. The whole room goes cold, the fire extinguished by the pure amounts of rage emanating off his body. All at once everything seems grim to me, as though death itself had stolen away the lifeforce of the room. A chill runs through me. Shadows curl themselves around him like dense wings, some manifesting into a solid smokey form that bites and cuts at the white haired vampire, tearing up the fabric of his shirt, his trousers. Soren doesn't seem to care for the blood pooling onto the floor. Nor does he seem to care when a sickening snap issues round the room and the white haired vampires head lolls at an odd angle, like a rag doll on a bed.. The vampire groans.
