by F. E. Heaton
"I said no fangs.” She backed away from him and stared into his black eyes.
"You said that to Tiberius, not to me.” He grinned and licked his teeth.
"Fine,” she said and switched, forcing her fangs to descend. “But I'll still beat you, old man."
She grinned and rolled out of the way when he swiped at her. His strong signature stirred her senses and her desire for the fight. She focused on it, using her hunger for violence to control her actions. He swiped at her again and roared.
A thrill ran through her.
She roared back, hunching forwards and extending her claws at the same time. He looked a little shocked by what she'd done and she only added to his expression of surprise when she licked her lips, enticing him in.
It was easy to use him against himself.
He wouldn't be able to resist moving towards her.
The moment he placed one foot out in front of himself, she sprang at him, shoving her palm against his chest and using the force of the blow to slam him into the ground. He lashed out at her and she narrowly avoided being hit. Catching hold of his hand, she sat across his chest, pinning one arm with her legs and holding onto the other. She wrapped her hand around his throat and looked down at him.
He stared back at her, his now blue eyes full of disbelief. She slipped out of her vampire guise and looked down at herself, swallowing hard when she realised that she was straddling him.
Not good.
Before she could say anything or move a muscle, he'd used her momentary distraction against her and flipped her onto her back. She stilled beneath him, feeling his hands pinning hers hard into the ground and not wanting to think about where his hips were.
He looked down at her, his eyes searching hers when all she could do was stare back at him, unable to find the strength to look away or push him off her.
She had to get free. This could only end in disaster.
His eyes dropped to her mouth for a split second and nerves squirmed in her stomach, making it feel warm. She opened her lips, willing her voice to come back to her, all the while unable to tear her eyes away from his.
He lowered his head towards her and she closed her eyes when his breath washed over her lips. She breathed in sharply and held it, waiting for the inevitable.
Then the weight of his body against hers disappeared and she could hear his footsteps heading away from her. She released her breath, keeping her eyes closed as relief spread through her. She frowned when it was followed by the slightest feeling of disappointment. He'd wanted to kiss her. She'd seen it in his eyes. She'd been powerless to stop him so why hadn't he taken advantage of the situation?
She sat up and looked at him where he was walking towards the door. She realised that he didn't want it this way. He didn't want a stolen kiss and didn't want to force himself upon her. He wanted her to love him and come to him of her own free will.
But she could never do that.
She loved Valentine too much. She wished she could offer Venturi something other than friendship, something that would stop her from feeling wretched about not being able to return his feelings, but she couldn't.
Getting to her feet, she went after him.
"Venturi?” she said and stopped at the same time as he did.
He turned to look at her, his eyes betraying his feelings for the briefest of moments before they cleared, leaving no trace of emotion.
"What is it?” he said and she could hear the resentment and disappointment in his voice.
"Why ... why didn't you come to see me?” She hated the way her voice trembled, showing him that he'd upset her by apparently not caring about her. It was exactly what he wanted and she knew that she shouldn't have asked, but she had to know.
He stepped towards her and brushed his fingers across her cheek. “I think you know why."
"Valentine,” she said and he nodded. “He wasn't here. You could've have come to see me. You could have used one of those million excuses that I'm sure you thought up."
"I could have.” He smiled and then sighed. “Would you have seen me?"
"Of course. It would have been nice to see you. Better than sitting up there alone wondering if you hated me."
"Prophecy, no...” he said with a frown and went to raise his hand again to touch her but seemed to get control of himself at the last moment. “I would ... I could never hate you."
She dropped her eyes when he pressed his hand against his chest and she stared at it, watching his fingertips clutch at the point over his heart.
"Do not ever think I could. You did not make me have these feelings but I have punished you for them regardless. I am sorry if I made you believe that I hold nothing but love and devotion when it comes to you. They are constant feelings, ones that will be with me for eternity. I know you do not welcome them, but I cannot make them go away. I have tried, Prophecy, I swear that I have. Look at me."
There was such intense emotion in his voice that she automatically obeyed. She raised her eyes, cursing the tears that were filling them. She smiled shakily when he wiped them away for her and gave her a tender look.
"Friends?” he said and she could see the nerves in his eyes when he extended his hand to her.
She stared at it for what seemed like an eternity and then placed hers into it, wrapping her fingers tightly around it.
She hesitated for a moment and then pulled him towards her, circling her arms around his neck. She closed her eyes when he held her tightly, lifting her off the floor a little so she had to tiptoe. She swallowed hard and sighed at the same time he did. A strange sense of sadness and regret filled her. Before she had a chance to think about what she was doing, she pressed a kiss to his neck.
"Friends,” she sighed the word into his ear and released him.
Walking away, she didn't dare look back at him.
Chapter 4
Prophecy stripped off her tank top while she walked across her room. She didn't want to think about what she'd done in the training room or the way she'd felt. Venturi hadn't muddled her feelings this time. He hadn't tried to confuse her into believing that she had affections for him. He hadn't needed to. There was a part of her that loved him, but it wasn't with the depth that she loved Valentine and she knew it never would be, no matter what happened.
She slipped out of her combats and walked over to her bathroom. Switching the shower on, she went back across the little room to retrieve her bathrobe and paused when she passed the mirror. She stared at the dark red wall reflected in it. Sometimes she wished she could see herself. She wanted to see what made Valentine and Venturi love her. She'd been told that she looked like her mother but she could barely see the resemblance in her passport photo. Her mother was beautiful. Her hand automatically moved to her chest and she felt the mark there pulsing with magic.
It had been so long since her mother had come to her. She hadn't had a vision in days and it was beginning to worry her. She had grown used to being shown the things that would happen. It had given her a sense of security knowing that she had a future. Now there was nothing. Did that mean her future was gone too? She considered asking Venturi to drug her again, but decided it was best to leave him with his thoughts. It was safer that way.
Besides, she hadn't had a vision when she was unconscious after destroying the portal in Venice.
She stared down at her hand, seeing the threads of magic weaving around her fingers. Their movement was slow, calming, and she wondered what it was trying to tell her.
"Mother?” she whispered, wishing that she could call her like she had before. In Dmitri's bastion, she'd willed herself into the amulet so she could see her mother. Could she do that again?
She removed her amulet and placed it on the side. Grabbing a towel, she put it beside the amulet and then stripped off her underwear and stepped into the shower. The water was hot, heating her body through and making her feel pleasantly warm. It wasn't often that she got to feel like this. She turned the heat up, wondering if she could
bring her body temperature up to that of a human's. She'd never had body heat. Had never had a heartbeat either. She'd never had a reflection.
She sighed and ducked her head under the water. It washed over her, easing her tired body and cleansing away her heavy thoughts. The magic had left her aching and sparring with Tiberius and Venturi probably hadn't been the wisest of moves.
Squeezing out a dab of shampoo, she massaged it into her hair and emptied her mind.
Valentine.
She smiled.
He was always there at the back of her mind.
She wondered if he would return to her soon. She missed lying in his arms, missed the comforting feeling of his presence and the way he made her feel safe. Nothing could hurt her, not while he was around.
Rinsing her hair off, she washed herself. Her thoughts remained with Valentine and whether she'd see him soon. She hated waiting. Everything had been moving so fast and now it was going so slow. She couldn't stand it. She wanted something to happen, wanted to know what Elena had up her sleeve.
She stepped out of the shower and slipped her bathrobe on, wrapping her hair up in a towel. She placed each finger of her right hand into the rings and fastened her amulet around her wrist again. Walking into her room, she looked around.
The rain was still pouring down the window. She opened it a fraction, allowing the damp earthy air to drift into the room. It was a comforting smell.
Drying her hair, she leaned against the wall and stared out of the window. She frowned when she heard voices below and pulled the sash up higher. She poked her head out, looking at the three guards below her and frowning when she caught snippets of their conversation.
They were talking about the Aurorea. She sighed when they mentioned how they'd never join forces with them. There had to be some way of reconciling the families, something she could do to ensure that when the final fight came she had one army, not two. How were they going to react when Venturi's men came? He would have to call some of them soon. They needed all the able hands they could get. Defeating Elena was going to be hard enough but she got the impression that they wouldn't be up against just Elena. The zombie dogs that had been left back in Venice had given her a sense of foreboding. Elena was a necromancer. Raising the dead and controlling them was something she'd been doing for centuries. It was going to be easy for her to create an army of flesh-eating monsters.
It wasn't just human flesh that zombies had a taste for. Judging by the way the dogs had come after her, any flesh was on the menu.
She zoned back into the conversation and frowned at the way they were talking about the Aurorea. Anger coiled inside of her, pushing her into reacting when she heard Valentine's name mentioned.
"You there!” she hollered down at them and they looked up. The light from the window they were standing in front of illuminated their faces, showing her the intense look of guilt they were each wearing. “I hear another word against the lord of Aurorea or his bloodline and I'll have you all thrown in the cells. Get to work!"
They disbanded immediately and she waited until they were all out of sight before ducking back under the sash window. She walked over to her wardrobe and tried to move her focus on to finding something to wear but the anger over hearing them talking about Valentine refused to leave her.
She had to do something to make the two families have a change of heart. It was no use her and Valentine leading separate lives like this. She didn't want him to be always in his house and her in this one. She wanted to be with him. How was she supposed to plan a way of saving the world when she hardly saw the man who was instrumental in helping her do it?
She sighed and stripped her bathrobe off, tossing it onto the floor. Taking down a long skirt, she held it up, running her eyes over the length of it. The material felt soft, a black satiny velvet that delighted her senses when it slipped through her fingers. She put it on, fastening it at the waist and smoothing it over her hips. It fitted them snugly before flaring out into a wide hem that skimmed the floor. Taking down a deep plum-coloured strapless bodice, she placed it on, breathing in when she zipped up the side. It was tighter than she remembered. Maybe she'd grown since she last wore it.
It was strange to think that she was aging. She intended to hold Valentine to his promise not to let her grow old.
She skimmed her hands down over the front of the bodice and then the skirt. Pulling the hem of it up, she stared at her bare feet. She couldn't wear her boots. They wouldn't match the outfit.
A smile teased her lips when she remembered the gorgeous dress she'd bought in St. Petersburg. She wished she had been able to keep it. She'd felt so divine in it—alluring and beautiful. She'd loved the way it had made Valentine react, and the way he'd danced with her.
Before she knew what she was doing, she was spinning around the room, holding her skirt up off the floor. She closed her eyes, imagining that she was back at that night and he was dancing with her again.
A noise outside made her stop and she looked at the window, listening for another. Nothing came. She looked down at her clothes and wondered what had possessed her to put on something so impracticable. She considered changing out of it, but stopped herself when she thought about Valentine. She wanted him to see her in it, wanted to see if she could stir the fire in his eyes again like she had that night. It was nowhere near as stunning as the dress she'd worn, but it was a lot more elegant than her usual clothes.
Besides, just wearing it was making her feel a little more positive about things.
Grabbing a pair of heeled boots from her wardrobe, she pulled them on and did them up. She sat down in front of her small vanity and closed her eyes when she picked her lipstick up. It had been a long time since she'd learnt to use her senses to guide her hand when applying make up. Serenity had helped her at first, but now she had the hang of it. Reflections be damned. She smiled to herself. Who needed one?
Another noise outside her window made her get to her feet. Iron creaked and gravel shifted. The rain pelted against the glass and saturated the sill. She looked at the damp carpet where the rain had made it into her room and then raised her eyes to the outside world.
Her eyes followed the men as they entered. Her chest tightened and anticipation rose in her stomach. She smiled as she singled out one of the men. He was striding purposefully towards the mansion. His long black coat reached the floor and was buttoned to his waist where it flared out. It caught the wind, flapping around his legs but not hindering his confident step.
Even in the rain and darkness, she could recognise him without seeing his face.
She slammed the sash down and bolted from the room, ignoring the stunned looks the people gave her as she passed them. She ran down the stairs. Her grin stretched from ear to ear. She didn't care what people were thinking of her. She was too happy to see him.
* * * *
Valentine strode towards the house. The weather was atrocious and he wondered if Prophecy had anything to do with it. It matched his mood perfectly, reflecting the lingering greyness inside of him. He was tired, sick to death of attempting to placate his family. He'd snapped tonight and given them an ultimatum. They either remained an Aurorea and accepted him as their lord, or they left.
He'd given them a third option of death. It would be interesting to see how many chose it.
He'd had to do something to lighten the sombre mood in his house. The option of death had been intended as a joke but they'd pushed him so far that it had come out sounding deadly serious.
He gritted his teeth when he passed some of the Caelestis guards, bracing himself for their muttered comments. They pleasantly surprised him by not making any. Again he found himself wondering if Prophecy was responsible.
He'd been wondering a lot of things about her recently. Mostly his thoughts got stuck on wondering what she was doing and whether she was as miserable as he felt. He'd never thought that he'd live to see the day where he missed someone, especially a female Caelestis, but here he was, storming towar
ds her mansion with the express purpose of seeing her to alleviate the overwhelming sense of loneliness inside of him. Of course, he'd never let her or anyone else know that. If anyone asked him, he'd come on business.
Unbuttoning his jacket while he walked through the brightly lit entrance hall, he was just about to remove it when something hit him. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her lips pressed against his throat, and he couldn't stop his arms from encircling her, holding her tightly against him. He sighed into her neck, kissing it lightly and savouring the taste of her skin and the smell of her scent. His eyes closed, his fingers digging into her sides as he held her tight enough to alleviate his need to feel her in his arms.
It felt as though the whole house had stopped to stare. There wasn't a sound being made within fifty feet of them.
He buried his face into her sweet neck a moment longer and then relinquished his grip on her. The words he'd been about to say disappeared along with his voice when he caught sight of what she was wearing. He held her at arms length, images of her at the masquerade flashing into his mind. It had been the first night that he'd truly felt the full impact of his feelings for her and it was happening all over again.
His fingers trembled against her shoulders, his chest tightening and making it impossible to breathe. He raked his eyes over her, down the delicious curve of her throat to her breasts where the bodice had pushed them together, creating a slight cleavage. He could see the star over her chest and the faint pulses of red that were tracing it.
His gaze dropped lower and he found the ability to breathe again, only it felt more like panting. He steeled his jaw at the sensual curve of her body in the plum strapless top and struggled for control over himself but knew it was a hopeless battle. When she looked like this, his desire for her would always win over his sense.
Stepping towards her, he ran his hands down her arms to her chest and moved them onto her bodice. He inwardly groaned at the feeling of the satiny material beneath his touch and his eyes became hooded when his fingers reached her skirt. The softness of the velvet and the feel of her hips beneath was too much for him.
