by Verna Cyril
“Who is this?”, a voice cried out bitterly. Genevieve inhaled sharply. In a hurry, she pulled the hoodie over her head. It certainly didn’t sound like her father. The thundering footsteps approached her, Genevieve wanted to disappear but instead she took a few steps back in fear. She bumped into her chest of drawers. “Genevieve”, a familiar voice called her name
“Richard?”, Genevieve whispered in disbelief as he ran up to her.
Cold palms cupped her face while his big grey eyes stared back at her in amazement. Genevieve quickly averted her eyes from his searching gaze.
With relief, Richard pulled her into his arms. “Oh..”, he moaned, his face buried in her golden tresses. “Oh, how I have missed you,” he wagged his head in disbelief. His lips brushed her forehead then her lips, eyes red- rimmed from joy. He held her by the shoulders to look at her and continued to explain: “Someone saw you passing by and immediately rang me. I could not believe it. I just had to come see you myself, if this was truly you...” His voice trailed off into a lengthy silence.
Genevieve cringed. Although wearing the hoodie, someone had still recognized me. His lips brushed hers again. “I have missed you so much. You just left, without a word.”
Genevieve cleared her throat, then pushed him away. “It was imperative that I leave. I am so sorry it happened that way. Where is father?”
“Your father?”. Richard frowned, then cleared his throat: “I thought he was with you?”
Geneveive’s heart lurched with bitter disappointment as her lips curled into a pretentious smile. She had to pretend to know more than she actually did. She would hate for Richard to suspect that she was dishonest. “Oh yes, definitely. Father and I were together two weeks ago. It's just that he told me he would be spending a few days here to catch up with old friends and so I decided to come spend the weekend here with him. School has been so hectic and a few days back in my old home town sounds like heaven.” She ran her hand through her hair nervously, then blurted: “Just been a little homesick”
At Richard’s nod of his head, she continued with a mirthless laugh, arms open in a casual manner: “And like they say , home is where the heart is and you know papa and I? We were....I meant, we are like two peas in the pod.” Genevieve’s throat tightened from unshed tears. She quickly moved towards one of her stuffed animals on the bed and embraced it. She lifted her head just in time to see Richard's eyes roaming her body with desire. Her cheeks tinted a bright red. “So, what have you been up to?’’
Richard chuckled: “You know, same old, same old.” Genevieve nodded. Curious, Richard questioned: “So how is your new hometown, I have been trying to reach you for some time now but the number is no longer in service?”
Genevieve shifted from one foot to the next uncomfortably. “Oh yeah, unfortunately I lost my cell phone and contacts.”
Richard nodded thoughtfully then turned to leave the room. Genevieve followed quietly. “How about we get coffee and chat, just like old times. We can catch up with Tyler and Simon there.”
Genevieve feigned interest. “Sure,” Within a short walk they were already at the cafe.
“Genevieve!”, Tyler embraced her with a wide smile.“Where have you been? I tried calling you and I could not reach you.” Genevieve’s heart raced. She had lost her mobile that night in the hotel room when she was taken away. However, this was no excuse. She had already received a new one. Plus, there was the option of social media; she had purposely been ignoring their messages. Ever since her capture, Genevieve had been consumed with finding her father. She flashed Tyler a broken smile. Tyler was a beauty, with red shoulder length hair and a dazzling smile. Eyes as cool as the midday sky. Again Genevieve lied: “ I am sorry I have just been so busy with school.”
Tyler looked hurt. Simon changed the topic. “Join us?”. Genevieve gave a curt nod then sat at the table.
“A simple hello would do,” Tyler muttered with a roll of her eyes, then took a long sip of her coffee.
Genevieve inhaled deeply. “I am sorry, things have just been a bit overwhelming.”
“So you ditched your old friends to make new ones?”, Tyler fumed.
Genevieve’s cheeks flushed.
“Hey, hey, you’re not the only one she left hanging,” Richard returned gently while his gray eyes lingered over her profile. His voice a deep baritone. “I am sure she feels terrible. And I am positive she will make it up to us. Genevieve will be staying at the inn a few blocks away. This will give us the opportunity to catch up on old times.”
Genevieve opened her mouth to object but again she was interrupted. “Do you remember when we played truth or dare,this would be an awesome way to break the ice. Don’t you think?”, Richard asked.
Simon pulled Tyler close and whispered something in her ear which made Tyler burst into giggles. Feeling uncomfortable, Genevieve averted her gaze. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. Her best friend had found love and looked extremely happy. Her lips drew into a fine line as she threw Richard a sideways glance. His eyes were now a smoldering gray. Without a doubt, desire for her burned in his stare. She cleared her throat, her cheeks burning with indignation.
The familiar chime of the shop doorbell announced the arrival of a new customer. Genevieve watched as Tyler’s face lit up with interest. She was obviously piqued by this newcomer . Genevieve chuckled softly.
“Wow wee…” Tyler nudged her with a broad smile. “What a hottie!”
Stunned, Genevieve leaned over and whispered into Tyler’s ear. “Weren’t you just flirting with Simon, I thought the two of you were going steady?”
The blank look on Tyler’s face made Genevieve giggle. She clamped her hand over her mouth to try to stop her laughter. Merely curious, she spared this mysterious stranger a glance over her shoulder. Genevieve inhaled sharply and her knees buckled. Terrified, she immediately rose from the table but it was too late.
***
Alaric reached for her shoulders and pressed her back down on the chair. His eyes roved over the appalled faces at the table. He whispered in her ear. “A little far from home, isn’t it Gen?”
Richard rolled his hands into fist and stood. His eyes a stormy gray. “Who the hell do you think you are? Can’t you see the lady is not interested?”
Alaric scoffed and very calmly pulled a chair to sit next to his wife. “I suppose Genevieve can explain.”
Genevieve clamped her jaw shut as she wagged her head. A small frown tugged her shapely brows. She turned to glare at Alaric in disapproval . He looked rather impressive wearing just denim jeans, a plain white tee-shirt and a black leather blazer.
Richard snorted then pounded his fist in one hand. “I think you have overstayed your welcome, buddy.”
“Is that right?” Alaric raised one eyebrow leaning in his chair. He snickered, amused by the display. He turned to face Genevieve whose full lips were now drawn into a grim line. Her face now a chalky pallor. She was wearing a black hoodie, a gray tank top with plain blue jeans that hugged her hips. Her golden tresses now pulled back into a ponytail. The small dark smudges under her eyes indicated her lack of sleep and unhappiness with him. She had expressed her lack of interest in their marriage time and time again. His stomach churned as memories of their heated argument played vividly through his mind. Annoyed now, he turned to face Richard.
Simon’s chair made a short screeching sound as he too stood to oppose Alaric. He was a bulky guy well over six feet tall.
What a pity! Alaric’s features hardened; not the least entertained by their heroic attempts anymore.
“Didn’t you hear him?”, Simon warned softly.
Alaric arched an eyebrow then chortled. Snidely, he reached out and locked his lips with Genevieve’s. She began to disapprove, pushing at his chest with wild rage, then reluctantly he broke the kiss with a loud smack, bruising her lips to a bright red. Genevieve's eyes blazed with unchecked fury.
Overwhelmed with anger, Richard threw a punch at Alaric’s face. Alaric d
odged and reached out for his opponent’s fist, snapping his wrist with a twist. Richard dropped to his knees and whimpered from the unexpected blow, his fist still being held in a painful crush under Alaric’s strength.
Simon took the opportunity to attack Alaric from the back with a chair .The furniture shattered into pieces at the impact. The women screamed, scrambling to their feet.
Genevieve tried to appease the situation as Alaric shoved Richard to the floor and slowly turned to face Simon. “No, Alaric, please,” Genevieve moaned as she watched him grab Simon by the throat, lifting him inches off the floor. “Alaric please”, Genevieve cried out trying hard to pry his vice-like grip from Simon’s throat. Helplessly, she watched as colour slowly drained from Simon’s face and his body became paralyzed with fear. “Alaric, please.” she whimpered once more.
Disgusted, Alaric tossed a gasping Simon to the floor.
Genevieve quickly ran to Simon’s side, then Richard’s. She looked into his eyes. “I am sorry,” she whispered.
Richard slowly lifted himself from the floor, a dangerous scowl over his face, his jaw set with anger. Agony was visible on his profile. She turned to face Tyler who was now trying to comfort Simon. Pleadingly, Genevieve whispered:“ I am sorry.”
Alaric raked his fingers through his hair and in disbelief questioned Genevieve. “Are you so ashamed of me that you can’t say it?.” Tears rolled down Genevieve’s cheeks. “Say it!”, Alaric bellowed in a low guttural sound.
Genevieve gulped then stared at Richard whose eyes were filled with hurt. Misty-eyed, she explained: “He is my husband.”
Brewing with anger, Alaric stormed towards Genevieve and grabbed her by the hand. Impatiently he pulled her along with him, exiting the cafe. Burning with shame, Genevieve dared not look over her shoulder.
Richard stared at their retreating forms from the large glass windows. He kicked the table with blind rage and muttered a low expletive.
***
Icily, Alaric opened the door for Genevieve and waited impatiently for her to slide into the passenger’s seat. She flinched at the slam of the door behind her.
If only he would say something, she thought, as she nervously pulled on her seat belt .She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes as he pressed the ignition button. His jaw was set and a formidable scowl suffused his brows. He was obviously angry with her.
Sulking, she released a deep breath then silently stole glimpses of large Evergreen trees from the moving vehicle. The only sound was the soft accelerated hum of the engine as he drove past the speed limit. Genevieve held onto her seat for dear life. “Why the rush?”, she cried out in alarm. Alaric stared blankly at the open road, jaw clenched shut. With a loud sigh she lay her head on the window frame.
A few minutes later they entered the junction which led into the airport. With screeching tyres he pulled into the huge driveway and hastily stepped out of the car.
Genevieve gasped as he grabbed her by the wrist, his long manicured fingers biting into her flesh. Grimacing, she struggled to keep up with his long strides. “Alaric, please slow down.” They didn’t stop until they arrived at a chartered airplane, her jaw dropped, amazed by how much she didn’t know about him. Her heart yearned to know. What more was he keeping from me? she thought. Alaric tightened his hold but didn’t slow his pace until they entered the aircraft. Her eyes widened in awe as she took in the luxurious inside. Gray leather interior seats and a large built-in sofa. It was spacious and extremely clean.
A flight attendant dressed in uniform greeted them: “Good afternoon, Mr. Dunkan.” The woman beamed him a dazzling smile. Alaric returned the gesture, his eyes twinkling roguishly. If Genevieve hadn’t felt so hurt she probably would have accused him of flirting with the other woman. They exchanged glances and the woman’s obvious advances were enough to make Genevieve hurl. She scoffed. He had ignored her all this time and was now speaking casually with this other woman with a pleasant smile. Her heart clenched. She almost felt jealous.
Reluctantly the attendant acknowledged her presence with an empty look. “Would you like a cold beverage, Mrs. Dunkan.”
Geneveieve snickered then returned very sweetly. “Yes please, I would like a caviar on rocks.”
Alaric snorted loudly: “The hell you will!”, then seethed. “Mrs. Dunkan will have a simple cocktail”, emphasizing her title.
Humored, the woman smiled. “The usual for you, sir?” Alaric gave a curt nod. The woman looked like a happy drooling dog that had just received a pat and a bone for a good job at guessing. Not to mention, Genevieve didn’t miss the smug look she threw her before she cat-walked down the aisle. Her red tight-slitted mini skirt gave a full view of her creamy legs in sheer stockings. Genevieve sneered. “Wipe that stupid smirk off your face,” she muttered to herself as she gazed through the window of the flying aircraft. Alaric chuckled
Chapter eleven
Time is fast approaching. Lord Crinamorte thought, and in rage fisted his hands. He looked into his apprentice’s forlorn face as he stood before him with more news. It was evident that his henchmen were incapable of completing a simple task. He growled, eyes darkening into cold, dark pools. Suddenly, the four henchmen before him burst into flames. The other men in the room gasped in fear witnessing their colleagues being vanquished by their sire for their failure in returning with the girl.
The bravest one, Rigwort, came out of the shadows humbly. “But Sire… if I may explain. The girl is never alone. She is constantly under the watchful eye of her husband and father.”
The word husband returned a threatening snarl from the lips of Lord Crinamorte revealing sharp white fangs. “I want no excuses, get this girl here or else I will make an example out of a few more of you. Get that?”
Dunstan Crinamorte, son of Lord Crinamorte, entered the shadowed room, producing a lengthy silence. He had inherited his father’s striking appearance. He was tall, lean, and gifted with wide gray eyes and blonde hair which was usually neatly trimmed and kept short. “More solemn news?”, he bit icily.
Lord Crinamorte nodded in approval. “I am afraid so. These idiots have yet to return with the girl.”
Dunstan eyes darted across the room. The faces of the men turned a chalky pallor. “Father, I will not wait another day, who knows? She may have already been transformed.” He clenched his jaws slamming his hands on the desk.
Rigwort knelt on one knee, eyes pinned to the marble floors which gleamed in the torched room. “My lord, permit me to say. There is word that she was transformed a few days ago, although she shows no sign of increased strength. However , there is a word in the Underworld.”
“Word....word!!!”, Lord Crinamort fumed. “I need more information, words are not substantial evidence. Gather fifty men and return to Dunkan village immediately. Do not leave without the girl. Do you hear me?” Lord Crinamorte’s deep voice reverberated the room. “Meeting is over!”
***
A shakened Rigwort quickly fled from the burning eyes of his master and son.
The hunt for the princess hybrid had persisted for weeks now. Ever since his Sire came to know of the girl’s unique abilities, he had been obsessed with having her in his clutches. He called her “a diamond in a ruff”, his “next ammunition against the fallen world”. He had plotted to kidnap her ever since he heard of her betrothal to Lord Alaric. Rigwort inhaled deeply, getting the girl alone was more difficult than he expected. She was constantly under strict observation.
At dusk, a few days ago, he had watched her in the forest. She had felt his presence and had bolted away into the night running into a terrible accident near the Lake of Mirrors which separated the Dunkan’s and Crinamorte’s lands. Before he and his men could take her away, she was snatched away under their noses by her father and left to deal with the Lycans-- werewolves who occupied land past their borders. Sadly, his crew were left vulnerable to their attack, from being so small in number that day and severely outnumbered by the Lycans. He was the only one left alive
to return with the humiliating news of their demise. He seethed, rolling his hands into balls. Again had she slipped from his hands, he admitted grudgingly. With Jared alive and Alaric in the way, Rigwort knew he could never return home with the girl. However, he would not be so foolish to admit his failure to his Sire, not at the expense of his life. He smiled wryly at his upcoming victory, waiting not too patiently for Jared’s arrival. There were usually visitors of every kind at the club. Rumours were that this was Jared's usual spot. The poor man would often drink himself into a stupor at the bar every now and again. He looked at the entrance and gulped down the remaining contents of his drink. Slowly he pulled his hood, shadowing his eyes.
Jared entered the pub, his demeanour cold and brutal. He had usually spent most of his time here. This almost made him forget. He had lost everything, his wife, his daughter and there was nothing left to live for. He knew that Genevieve was searching for him, but there was nothing he could do. The covenant was done and over with. He grunted. After he had found her unconscious in the forest that night he had nearly lost his mind. That bastard Alaric had sworn to keep her safe but had failed. He knew his daughter was a handful, she was willful as hell but running away from the village in search of him was beyond belief.
Thankfully, with the help of the Lycans, he was able to get her away from the Crinamortes. He had carried her motionless body in his arms and lay her at the sidewalk, waiting patiently for someone to come. In relief, he had watched as an elder couple slowed down, pulled over and examined her body. At the feel of her pulse, they had carried her limp body away. He didn’t stop following them till he saw their minivan swing into the hospital’s driveway. Tears brimming his eyes, he left, knowing she would get the help she needed.
Thoughts of how Genevieve had been able to escape the village or even her husband’s side for that matter had plagued him. Absentmindedly, he snickered. Genevieve was a talented young woman who must have mastered how to control her thoughts. He slid onto a bar stool as the other men at his side quickly rose. Though he had lived a solitary life for years, men still grew wary at his presence. The bartender, knowing his usual order, handed him his drink. A whisky always calmed him. He sighed, inhaling deeply into the scent. For months this place had been his sanctuary. Even the sight of his old home repulsed him, haunting his mind with memories of his late wife and Genevieve. He swirled the brown substance in his glass, with a pensive look across his wearied face. Someone reached out for his shoulder and squeezed it hard. He grimaced, turning around to face his opponent with a jarring insult but was immediately trapped into a deadly throttle. His eyes widened in astonishment as he stared into the blood-thirsty eyes of Rigwort Crinamorte. He grabbed at his opponents wrist, trying to get out of his threatening grip.
