by Unknown
Where the first level had been an exquisite black and white palace, the second floor flourished in the Italian renaissance.
Raw dark stone columns as thick as tree trunks lined the hall in-between sets of double doors. Each column carved at the head and foot with tiny sculptures of angels so painfully beautiful they seemed better fit only for the Vatican.
Each set of doors was hand carved artfully such as Belinesian doors. They were all different with intricate scenes of everything from olive groves, to grape vine fields, and wondrous Italian grottos.
My jaw was slack as I walked the curling path in utter awe. Damien was gracious by allowing me to slow to a crawl as we walked so that I could look on at each splendid detail.
As large as the house was, it seemed somewhat surprising there were only two sets of doors on this floor. I was curious if they led to a hall of doors like the Wildflower, Neesa’s mother’s store. Why did I keep thinking of them?
The stairs swept in a large circle, acting as a balcony to the room bellow until it circled the entire room and spread up another story. Looking up and then down, I realized you could see from the bottom level up to the ceiling which was also decorated. In the center of the ceiling, I looked up at a sculpted brass sun.
A statue, tall as Damien, stood at the bottom of the next winding case, in its own little nook. It was life like in its perfection and detail.
A woman with eyes so exquisitely detailed it felt as if they were alive as they watched us even in their absence of color. The entire statue was black as midnight, carved from some beautiful black marble. Her hair curled in a mass of stone tendrils to the floor, tiny flowers wove in throughout the strands.
While her features were beautiful, they seemed to hint harshness. Not evil, no not at all. Just hardened. Almost similar to the face of a female warrior though disguised in the garb of a Goddess. One could have wept at her magnificence.
Before I could ask, Damien stood at my side speaking quietly as if she were too pure to raise your voice in front of. “Her name is Achlys... She is revered as the Greek Goddess of eternal night. She’s also called Nyx. There are those who believe she was the mother of our existence.” Of Vampires.
“I’ve never seen anything like her before,” whispering in turn.
“Few have. Jezabell created her... Achlys was a dear friend to Jezabell for a great many years.” It was hard to identify where my surprise came from most. That Jezabell could create such beauty. Or that she was friends with a Goddess.
Softly his hand placed to my lower back, guiding me to the stairs again.
The art on the second floor changed from masterful columns to paintings so stunning I froze, letting out a soft laugh of awe. My eyes could pick up details I had never seen before now. Each stroke of paint was easily identified on the many paintings hung along the wall from history’s most amazing masters. The cracks in the dried old paint made it look like a puzzle pieced together of a million pieces.
I had studied art history in my years as a human. Nevertheless, I had never seen these paintings before. Yet they were all somehow familiar. By no means was I a scholar but with my new eyes I believed I had identified each one as the work of the greats.
Vincent Van Gogh. Leonardo Da Vinci. Had he painted this for Damien? Another member of this house? The painting was beautiful. Undeniably Da Vinci. Yet it was absolutely savage. A nightmare. Stopping before it, all I could do was take it in, detail by frightening detail. Damien stood behind me, but said nothing. At last I pulled myself away and move on.
Pablo Picasso. Rembrandt Van Rijn. Jan Van Eyck. Raphael and Sandro Botticelli. They were all here, spread throughout the vast hall and leading up to another winding staircase.
Damien allowed me to study each piece, staying always just behind me. “Who is this one?” questioned in a mere whisper of humbled awe. “I don’t recognize this style.”
The painting itself hinted at the style of Michelangelo with such beautiful detailed perfection, but the colors were wrong in every way. This paint was older. The colors were more vibrant and wild, yet dark. Somehow, they shimmered.
The woman displayed in the picture had long black wild curls and much unlike the art of Da Vinci, her eyes and smile were wickedly appealing rather than timid and angelic. The eyes called to you. Much like the statue just down the stairs had been. Obviously though, these were not the same women. This woman was pixie like, with elegant yet sharp features. A narrow chin. The statue of a woman had a square jaw though quite feminine.
The painting was a nude though very tastefully done. The woman lay against a large stone covered in moss. The background was a beautiful waterfall so life like I was certain it must exist somewhere.
“You don’t recognize her? Lara painted her. That’s Jezabell,” he answered calmly, little emotion showing in his voice. “The shimmer you see is crushed pearl.”
“It’s-” It was difficult to form the sentence. The painting was ancient. I could smell the lambskin and the bare ingredients of the paint. Each painting varied slightly because everything came from different resources. They were diverse enough I could detect the differences even if I would not have known each painters work. This seemed easily the oldest here.
Hearing him speak his age and then seeing proof of their years was astounding and almost frightening. It told me more of what I had become.
“Yes, it’s very old... More than a few hundred years. You would have to ask her.” Damien supplied the answer to my unspoken question. His voice so casual on the surface seemed to alarm me for some unknown reason. Despite how content he seemed to be to show me his most beautiful home he was still in pain. How could I have been so cruel to ignore it, I wondered. I turned to him with a forced smile and motioned for him to lead the way without another word.
His blur of speed that I once found impossible to catch sight of now seemed a simple series of movements, even if it was very fast.
Up the next flight of stairs, my fingers brushed the rail as I walked. This staircase was iron. It, too, of course was just as finely crafted. Created to appear as glorious vines and exotic flowers. Mingled with the ivy were exotic birds. The only ones I recognized were peacocks. Splendid.
The banister was a masterpiece. Hm. Never imagined myself thinking that in regards to a staircase. The metal itself had somehow been smoothed so to touch it was as if to touch glass.
Murals decorated these walls in much the same style of the painting I had admired before. These murals dictated scenery of island life. Though of where I could never have imagined. “Yes, it’s Lara’s work. Azores Portugal. Lara and Jezabell lived there for a time.”
I nodded slowly. Of course they did. My favorite part of the mural pictured a grotto filled with greenery. The only plant I recognized was the Ginko trees. Everything about this House made me feel inferior.
“And you tried to tell me my work was good? I will have to remember how good of a liar you are.” My brows rose as I shook my head in disbelief while eyeing him with a playful coyness. I wasn’t just an amateur next to Lara and Jezabell. I fell off the artistry pedestal created by their work completely.
Damien’s brow furrowed darkly as he stood at the double doors down the hall waiting for me to join him. As I did so in a slow human pace, he twisted a knob and held the door open for me to enter.
Entering through that door, Damien took me away to another world.
Of course, Damien’s room matched the vastness of the rest of the house. However, it was nearly empty. No paintings. None of the fancy décor I had seen throughout the rest of the house. Just simple white walls and minimal furniture scattered recklessly throughout the room.
There was a Bose system on a lone table, but no CD’s in sight. I assumed it was some sort of MP3 gig. Personally I had never owned one. Too expensive.
Next to the system was a slim black laptop, no emblems showing the make on it at all. Aside from that, there was a couch near the system and a bed off at the other end of the room.
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br /> “And this is my room. Well, our room now,” his deep voice seemed momentarily amused at the correction. “Not quite what you expected, I see.” It was different than the rest of the house. Far less overwhelming, but for its simplicity it was surprising. Damien walked to the table and hit some buttons. Crossfade started playing at low levels. “Is this all right? I can put something else on if you want.”
“I like Crossfade.” Slowly as if testing the waters, I strolled around the room in a large circle. Simply amazed at how big it was. “This room is bigger than my entire apartment and then some,” I didn’t sound impressed, more or less amused. He shrugged casually without any verbal response to give.
The exterior wall was all glass and curved around the room rather than just a flat wall. It faced the west. It had no décor because it needed none. The view alone was more than enough.
Along the main wall, there was a large open archway. I could see the stone steps leading to a massive tub. Another solid door at the end of the room. Closet I assumed.
The bed seemed out of place strangely. I walked around the room slowly, mostly admiring the view from different points as I made my way to the bed curiously. Magnificent and huge in of itself was a four-poster bed. Solid black natural wood of some unknown origin. My fingers drug the stiff fabric of the spread. Of course, it was all a mix of fine Egyptian cotton and raw silks. There was just something strange about it. “Vampires sleep?”
“No. Jezabell insists it’s not a bedroom without a bed though.” My fingers trailed over the comforter. It was stiff as a board and smelled almost too clean. But not new. I could smell dust.
“No, it’s never been used. In any capacity.” My brow rose slightly at his answer to the question I never asked. I didn’t have to look to know he was smirking. All I could do was nod as I walked around more. His eyes followed me, watching my blank expression closely.
Everything was so spectacular everywhere I looked. It was as humbling as it was breathtaking. Even such simplicity was still somehow overwhelming. The view was all this room needed to be perfect.
“You all right?” Damien spoke in my ear, startling me from his sudden closeness as his arms slid around my waist slowly.
“Yes. It’s just a lot to absorb I guess.”
Damien’s arm hung around my waist as if he was still guarding me. I was so eased by his touch. It was like a drug to me even still.
He did not smile as he leaned over to kiss my temple before pulling away to look me over slowly. Appraising what I had become.
“What is it?” My brow arched as my arms folded around my torso tightly.
“I’m still used to you being warmer. This is different. It’s difficult to believe you’re no longer as fragile as you were before.” His eyes betrayed him in showing that he wasn’t telling me the entire truth.
“There’s more to it than that.”
“You miss nothing.” Though he smiled slightly, Damien’s sigh was heavy as he turned away from me. He strolled over to the window, folding his arms over his chest as mine were. As his posture was stern, mine was defensive.
“When you look at me now, you seem sad. This- me, well it’s not how you wanted things to be. Is it?” my voice so shaky, croaked out a hard laugh as my arms crossed tighter, fingers digging into my flesh unconsciously. Could Vampires cry? Hell, I hoped not.
“Lianna, tell me you don’t honestly think I don’t want you.” My lip quivered at his words. Damien saying it aloud made it sound nearly real. I forced a painful smile. My lips held in such a hard line, forcing new fangs to slice into my bottom lip.
Every emotion I experienced seemed so much more intense than I had known it before. The pain in my heart so devastating from even the possibility of rejection that it instantly flared my hunger.
Moving like a bolt of lightning, he came towards me. His eyes so pained it nearly burned me.
As he came near I backed into the wall behind me. Of course, it was no more than a purely instinctive reaction from him running at me.
Damien’s eyes narrowed. No matter how fast I moved he would have been faster. I think he would have liked for me to run. We stared at one another in silence. His stern brow rose slightly as he pulled me closer. Hands snug on my hips. He pulled me up slowly, tighter, and not near as careful as he used to be.
My legs spread and lifted up off the ground wrapping around his waist easily. Hands locked together behind his neck. I held myself as close against him as possible so the curve of our bodies did not show a single ray of light between our frames.
Damien’s lips found mine with an eagerness of their own, pulling at my lip to taste every drop of crimson. It was a need deeper than he’d ever shown me before. A low moan rumbled through my chest. His kiss deepened. My lips parted with his, soft but so determined. Purposefully, his tongue flicked against my newly edged fangs. A low rumbling growl rolled through his body. The sound made my blood race for my heart could not. My fingers slid down his back into the sculpted shape of his shoulder blades.
Before I knew it we had moved, suddenly falling back onto the bed. Landing on top of me, his legs slid to lie on the outer side of my hips. Balancing himself above me, his hands pressed on either side of my head against the bed. With little effort he had cast himself as a cage around me. His mouth pulled into the smug amused grin I’d grown to utterly love. “So you truly don’t believe that I want you?”
“And if I don’t?” So that he couldn’t get a clear grasp on my real thoughts, I did everything I could to hold my face stern and clear my mind. It didn’t work though.
He grinned wider just before his chest grumbled in a low growl. Again his lips found mine roughly. Long fingers wrapped around my wrists like shackles pinning me to the bed firmly.
It would have been impossible not to respond to him in the way that I did. Even with my near perfect memory those short seconds were hazy. As if I had no control or thoughts what so ever. It was purely a physical response leaving my mind somewhere else.
Gripping tighter around my arms, trembling slightly from the exertion of holding me down, he pulled back slowly. Blood dripped from his lips. A single brow rose curiously as he looked down at me.
It took less than a second to realize what I had done. Less than a second to attack the only thing in the world I wanted and loved. Would I ever be able to control myself again?
“Sorry.” Blood, thick and sweet like nectar filled my mouth. It was better tasting than I could have imagined. The blood lust was stronger than anything else was.
He was still weak from turning me. With a little more effort, I was free of him and curled up in a ball as far from him as I could be on the other end of the bed. Letting out a deep groaning sigh he rolled over to sit on the edge of the bed beside me.
“I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry!” I whispered in a rush. If I had needed to breathe, I probably would have hyperventilated.
Taking hold of my shoulders, he pulled me to lean against him. “It’s okay. You didn’t hurt me. See, look at me.”
Shaking my head, I clinched my eyes shut tightly like a stubborn child. Forcefully he took a hold of my shoulders and pulled me back down to the bed, repositioning himself on top of me once more. This time he sat against my hips. All the while I refused to open my eyes.
“Anna, I’m all right. Do you really think so lowly of me? You didn’t hurt me. Actually, it felt good. I just hadn’t been expecting it.” He chuckled.
“Felt good?” My eyes opened. Shocked and rather appalled, I stared at him in disbelief. Indeed, his lip was whole again with just a blood stain to remember me by. I wanted to taste it. Just one little lick.
When I was bitten while being turned, it had been horrible. It felt like my skin was being shredded by something laced in acid.
“Mmm by all means feel free to try it again.” Leaning to nip my lip gently, the taste was torture. “Come on, Anna, don’t you remember the night I bit you? When you were human, before you were turned?”
My
eyes closed, pulling up the memory slowly. Already it was easy to forget. Easy to not have a thought about my time as a human. Though the night he spoke of was just a few short days ago it seemed like nothing more than a transition. His hand brushed my lips gently. “I know how they hurt you when Liahm attacked you.” I couldn’t help the flinch that made my body tremble to its core from that name. “I know the pain they caused you. But it’s different for us. Not just as Vampires, but for you and me. Let me show you.”
Slowly he leaned down, barely touching his lips to mine. “Trust me,” whispered against my throat. His voice sent an urgent tremble down my spine, yet not one of fear by any means.
Even with his torn lip healed, blood coated them. It took every ounce of my self-control not to attack him again. This was something I needed to get used to.
Gently, he lay on top of me. His legs still lay on either side of my own, pinning me safely beneath him. One hand slid behind my neck as the other carefully held to my cheek. “Didn’t I tell you to never be sorry for kissing me?”
Tilting my chin, his lips drug kisses from my ear down to the nape of my neck. Tongue flicking softly, he tickled my flesh as his mouth parted. Before closing his mouth, his teeth drug my skin, mouth suckling against my flesh. Fangs sunk in slow and deep.
As I gasped at the feel of penetration, my back arched up. Damien held there, softly sucking the small wound. Fangs like ours were designed to render flesh from bone. This was tender. When he bit me though, it never hurt.
It brought me to a world and limits I had never felt in my body. The first time he had bitten me was nothing in comparison of the feeling ripping through me suddenly. Melting in his arms as he pulled away, Damien kissed the wound and held his lips there until it closed. Licking away any traces of blood gently.
“Told you it didn’t hurt,” he whispered kissing up around my ear. Putty beneath him, I murmured my agreement. He chuckled lightly.
Soft lips slowly made their way back to my own. Breathing out faintly over my flesh, his lips tugged on mine. A slow groan rumbled from his lips. “You still taste far too delicious for my own good.” Looking up at him, his eyes were brighter. It wasn’t a drastic change, but he looked better than he had before. Had the blood been that rejuvenating?
