Chapter 31: 31
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A knock resounds from the door in the living room. From the heavy confines of the armchair, I start. It's late, too late for visitors, at least I might have thought. And Ithuriel returned hours ago, collapsing after a near run in with the palace's kitchen servants whose knife throwing skills had lopped off the fluffy tip of his tail. He had whined at me for hours about it. I frown deeply to myself. Poor thing.
Cautiously peering at the doorway, I attempt to make out any shadows that have crept under the door. No shadows, none at all. I feel my resolve waver. The knock comes again, only louder this time. If it were a butler, they would have called service. Not a butler then, so who? Hesitantly I rise, tiptoeing towards the door, my feet lingering on each step, darting round chairs and coffee tables with nimble ease. The knocking ceases, so I decide whoever is on the other side of the door either has left or knows I am coming; I know which option I would prefer more. The key in the lock is slippery in my grip. My fingers shake a little as I struggle to turn it (from fatigue or generally incapability, I am not sure), the lion's head indenting harshly into my palm. Finally I get it open, and pulling on the handle, crack the door open with a loud creak.
"Oh!" I exclaim quite suddenly, reaching up a hand to cover my gaping mouth.
Soren stands in the doorframe, an arm propped up against the side, lazy, relaxed, hips swaying slightly to a dance that has long passed. The vampire's dark hair is swept partially over his eyes, crown askew and crooked, looped over one of his smaller horns in a messy but somewhat elegant way. But that is the thing about vampires, you could shove one through a hedge backwards and they would still appear out the other end looking like a runway model from an elven fashion parade. I glance up. Part of me wants to reach up and righten the crown on his head, and had I not been worried about what would become of me if I did, I might have too. It would be a lie to say that he doesn't look dashing in is white waistcoat and deep navy court coat, embroidered with gold leaves and small matching flowers that trail down the cuffs and the hems. He adorns a thick velvety cape, its white rim sewn with the same lush, gold patterns on his coat. The rest of its blue-black fabric is dotted with embroidered roses.
"Hello again," he grins casually- so casually, as if he hadn't just been dining on thick cuts of me and vats of fresh blood in the dining halls- an event which I have staunchly refused to attend ever since my arrival. As if we could pretend between us that he doesn't bathe in the blood of his victims and smile while doing it. He pushes back his hair past his fine pointed ears, revealing an array of black studs and a pair of dazzling gems that swing on tiny chains from his ear that I hadn't noticed in the heat of my first day in the palace. All at once I realise how much of a mess I look, only just bathed, my hair still half damp, my nightgown loose and almost see-through. It is no state to be in, especially in front of a hedonist who happens to like sucking blood as much as he likes toying with me.
I almost shut the door in his face.
"Go away," I mutter apprehensively, fidgeting with the mess of my hair, reaching an arm to protectively cover over my chest. The hallway around Soren is empty; no vampires, or even the gaggle of adoring women he had earlier. Just him. The quiet of it all makes me shiver. Soren catches the door in his hand, forcing it open with a loud crack that I am certain will wake up Ithuriel- if he is not already awake. My heart drops.
"Now, now, that's not very lady-like," he chides, twisting his lips into a wry smile. I shoot him a vulgar gesture and he clucks his tongue in disapproval. "You let me drink from you, and now you are telling me to go away? What messages are you trying to send here?" he laughs, but there is a coldness in his voice that warns me not to test him further. I flex my fingers.
"I didn't ask you to touch me, mess with me, toy with me, and yet you did it anyway. Then I search for you for days only to find you trying to flirt with me across the throne room. So take a guess at why I might be annoyed." I grumble, my lips pulling down further into a deep frown. I push my head away, pressing my arms further into myself as I lean against the doorframe. Soren's laugh echoes around the empty hall.
"Serena darling, you seem to forget that I am a vampire, and I currently happen to be searching for a mate- I shall do as I please. If you didn't think you could handle it, why did you come here at all, hmm?" I stare at the ground in response.
Perhaps he is right. By law I had put myself under his control, the minute I had stepped into this palace, my body was no longer my own. Stepping into the palace put me up for full inspection of the Prince, his allowance to do as he wished with me, to test, to examine, to bite, or to kiss- because otherwise, why would I have come here? And though he has yet to do half of those things, I would be wise not to put myself against him, else my neck might just be snapped, and I can't come back from that. I had been foolish to think I could handle him, that I could escape a vampire's games- and the Scarlet Prince no less. It had been naïve to think I might have him wrapped around my finger- him the centuries old vampire who kills for fun and would drain my blood if he got half the chance- yes, he would do as he wishes with me. I grimace. What a joke. My eyes waver on a small red stain on the carpet, and I swallow, suddenly all too aware of the smell of blood wafting up to my nose from an unknown source.
To get the flame back, I would have to endure it, even if it means pretending to love this monster, and pretending to be one too.
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A knock resounds from the door in the living room. From the heavy confines of the armchair, I start. It's late, too late for visitors, at least I might have thought. And Ithuriel returned hours ago, collapsing after a near run in with the palace's kitchen servants whose knife throwing skills had lopped off the fluffy tip of his tail. He had whined at me for hours about it. I frown deeply to myself. Poor thing.
Cautiously peering at the doorway, I attempt to make out any shadows that have crept under the door. No shadows, none at all. I feel my resolve waver. The knock comes again, only louder this time. If it were a butler, they would have called service. Not a butler then, so who? Hesitantly I rise, tiptoeing towards the door, my feet lingering on each step, darting round chairs and coffee tables with nimble ease. The knocking ceases, so I decide whoever is on the other side of the door either has left or knows I am coming; I know which option I would prefer more. The key in the lock is slippery in my grip. My fingers shake a little as I struggle to turn it (from fatigue or generally incapability, I am not sure), the lion's head indenting harshly into my palm. Finally I get it open, and pulling on the handle, crack the door open with a loud creak.
"Oh!" I exclaim quite suddenly, reaching up a hand to cover my gaping mouth.
Soren stands in the doorframe, an arm propped up against the side, lazy, relaxed, hips swaying slightly to a dance that has long passed. The vampire's dark hair is swept partially over his eyes, crown askew and crooked, looped over one of his smaller horns in a messy but somewhat elegant way. But that is the thing about vampires, you could shove one through a hedge backwards and they would still appear out the other end looking like a runway model from an elven fashion parade. I glance up. Part of me wants to reach up and righten the crown on his head, and had I not been worried about what would become of me if I did, I might have too. It would be a lie to say that he doesn't look dashing in is white waistcoat and deep navy court coat, embroidered with gold leaves and small matching flowers that trail down the cuffs and the hems. He adorns a thick velvety cape, its white rim sewn with the same lush, gold patterns on his coat. The rest of its blue-black fabric is dotted with embroidered roses.
"Hello again," he grins casually- so casually, as if he hadn't just been dining on thick cuts of me and vats of fresh blood in the dining halls- an event which I have staunchly refused to attend ever since my arrival. As if we could pretend between us that he doesn't bathe in the blood of his victims and smile while doing it. He pushes back his hair past his fine pointed ears, revealing an array of black studs and a pair of dazzling gems that swing on tiny chains from his ear that I hadn't noticed in the heat of my first day in the palace. All at once I realise how much of a mess I look, only just bathed, my hair still half damp, my nightgown loose and almost see-through. It is no state to be in, especially in front of a hedonist who happens to like sucking blood as much as he likes toying with me.
I almost shut the door in his face.
"Go away," I mutter apprehensively, fidgeting with the mess of my hair, reaching an arm to protectively cover over my chest. The hallway around Soren is empty; no vampires, or even the gaggle of adoring women he had earlier. Just him. The quiet of it all makes me shiver. Soren catches the door in his hand, forcing it open with a loud crack that I am certain will wake up Ithuriel- if he is not already awake. My heart drops.
"Now, now, that's not very lady-like," he chides, twisting his lips into a wry smile. I shoot him a vulgar gesture and he clucks his tongue in disapproval. "You let me drink from you, and now you are telling me to go away? What messages are you trying to send here?" he laughs, but there is a coldness in his voice that warns me not to test him further. I flex my fingers.
"I didn't ask you to touch me, mess with me, toy with me, and yet you did it anyway. Then I search for you for days only to find you trying to flirt with me across the throne room. So take a guess at why I might be annoyed." I grumble, my lips pulling down further into a deep frown. I push my head away, pressing my arms further into myself as I lean against the doorframe. Soren's laugh echoes around the empty hall.
"Serena darling, you seem to forget that I am a vampire, and I currently happen to be searching for a mate- I shall do as I please. If you didn't think you could handle it, why did you come here at all, hmm?" I stare at the ground in response.
Perhaps he is right. By law I had put myself under his control, the minute I had stepped into this palace, my body was no longer my own. Stepping into the palace put me up for full inspection of the Prince, his allowance to do as he wished with me, to test, to examine, to bite, or to kiss- because otherwise, why would I have come here? And though he has yet to do half of those things, I would be wise not to put myself against him, else my neck might just be snapped, and I can't come back from that. I had been foolish to think I could handle him, that I could escape a vampire's games- and the Scarlet Prince no less. It had been naïve to think I might have him wrapped around my finger- him the centuries old vampire who kills for fun and would drain my blood if he got half the chance- yes, he would do as he wishes with me. I grimace. What a joke. My eyes waver on a small red stain on the carpet, and I swallow, suddenly all too aware of the smell of blood wafting up to my nose from an unknown source.
To get the flame back, I would have to endure it, even if it means pretending to love this monster, and pretending to be one too.
A knock resounds from the door in the living room. From the heavy confines of the armchair, I start. It's late, too late for visitors, at least I might have thought. And Ithuriel returned hours ago, collapsing after a near run in with the palace's kitchen servants whose knife throwing skills had lopped off the fluffy tip of his tail. He had whined at me for hours about it. I frown deeply to myself. Poor thing. Cautiously peering at the doorway, I attempt to make out any shadows that have crept under the door. No shadows, none at all. I feel my resolve waver. The knock comes again, only louder this time. If it were a butler, they would have called service. Not a butler then, so who? Hesitantly I rise, tiptoeing towards the door, my feet lingering on each step, darting round chairs and coffee tables with nimble ease. The knocking ceases, so I decide whoever is on the other side of the door either has left or knows I am coming; I know which option I would prefer more. The key in the lock is slippery in my grip. My fingers shake a little as I struggle to turn it from fatigue or generally incapability, I am not sure, the lion's head indenting harshly into my palm. Finally I get it open, and pulling on the handle, crack the door open with a loud creak. "Oh!" I exclaim quite suddenly, reaching up a hand to cover my gaping mouth. Soren stands in the doorframe, an arm propped up against the side, lazy, relaxed, hips swaying slightly to a dance that has long passed. The vampire's dark hair is swept partially over his eyes, crown askew and crooked, looped over one of his smaller horns in a messy but somewhat elegant way. But that is the thing about vampires, you could shove one through a hedge backwards and they would still appear out the other end looking like a runway model from an elven fashion parade. I glance up. Part of me wants to reach up and righten the crown on his head, and had I not been worried about what would become of me if I did, I might have too. It would be a lie to say that he doesn't look dashing in is white waistcoat and deep navy court coat, embroidered with gold leaves and small matching flowers that trail down the cuffs and the hems. He adorns a thick velvety cape, its white rim sewn with the same lush, gold patterns on his coat. The rest of its blue-black fabric is dotted with embroidered roses. "Hello again," he grins casually- so casually, as if he hadn't just been dining on thick cuts of me and vats of fresh blood in the dining halls- an event which I have staunchly refused to attend ever since my arrival. As if we could pretend between us that he doesn't bathe in the blood of his victims and smile while doing it. He pushes back his hair past his fine pointed ears, revealing an array of black studs and a pair of dazzling gems that swing on tiny chains from his ear that I hadn't noticed in the heat of my first day in the palace. All at once I realise how much of a mess I look, only just bathed, my hair still half damp, my nightgown loose and almost see-through. It is no state to be in, especially in front of a hedonist who happens to like sucking blood as much as he likes toying with me. I almost shut the door in his face. "Go away," I mutter apprehensively, fidgeting with the mess of my hair, reaching an arm to protectively cover over my chest. The hallway around Soren is empty; no vampires, or even the gaggle of adoring women he had earlier. Just him. The quiet of it all makes me shiver. Soren catches the door in his hand, forcing it open with a loud crack that I am certain will wake up Ithuriel- if he is not already awake. My heart drops. "Now, now, that's not very lady-like," he chides, twisting his lips into a wry smile. I shoot him a vulgar gesture and he clucks his tongue in disapproval. "You let me drink from you, and now you are telling me to go away? What messages are you trying to send here?" he laughs, but there is a coldness in his voice that warns me not to test him further. I flex my fingers. "I didn't ask you to touch me, mess with me, toy with me, and yet you did it anyway. Then I search for you for days only to find you trying to flirt with me across the throne room. So take a guess at why I might be annoyed." I grumble, my lips pulling down further into a deep frown. I push my head away, pressing my arms further into myself as I lean against the doorframe. Soren's laugh echoes around the empty hall. "Serena darling, you seem to forget that I am a vampire, and I currently happen to be searching for a mate- I shall do as I please. If you didn't think you could handle it, why did you come here at all, hmm?" I stare at the ground in response. Perhaps he is right. By law I had put myself under his control, the minute I had stepped into this palace, my body was no longer my own. Stepping into the palace put me up for full inspection of the Prince, his allowance to do as he wished with me, to test, to examine, to bite, or to kiss- because otherwise, why would I have come here? And though he has yet to do half of those things, I would be wise not to put myself against him, else my neck might just be snapped, and I can't come back from that. I had been foolish to think I could handle him, that I could escape a vampire's games- and the Scarlet Prince no less. It had been nave to think I might have him wrapped around my finger- him the centuries old vampire who kills for fun and would drain my blood if he got half the chance- yes, he would do as he wishes with me. I grimace. What a joke. My eyes waver on a small red stain on the carpet, and I swallow, suddenly all too aware of the smell of blood wafting up to my nose from an unknown source. To get the flame back, I would have to endure it, even if it means pretending to love this monster, and pretending to be one too.
