by J. D. Brown
He groaned as he shoved me into the shower. “Clean yourself off.”
He turned on the ball of his heel and then marched out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. I pouted and then clambered out of the shower stall. Yanking the door open, I boldly strode into his room and then put my hands on my waist. He glared at me. My hip pivoted to the side and a sly smile formed on my lips. “You said you would help me.”
I crossed my arms over my stomach and then peeled the sticky cardigan over my head. It fell to the floor. The thin tank top underneath did little to hide the lace of my bra straps, or the peek midriff just above the wrinkled skirt. Deep green flames burned in Jesu’s lingering gaze as he took in the sight of my body. His brow furrowed and he blinked to the side.
“You are drunk.”
“No, I’m horny.” I stepped closer to him. My hands reached behind and found the zipper at the back of the skirt. I tugged it down, freeing my thighs. The soggy fabric crumpled around my feet and I stepped out of it, standing before Jesu in my panties. My chin rose to look him in the eyes. “Shower with me?”
His every muscle stiffened, but he glanced away. “We are family, remember? You should not want to do such a thing with your uncle.”
My breath hitched and I froze in place.
He met my gaze, the fire still burning in his irises. “That is what you said, Ema. That is how you will feel again once the bloodlust wears off.”
The euphoria wore down a notch and my heart tightened. I hugged myself and glanced to the side. How could he throw my own words at me like that?
“You’re cruel.”
“Ema,” his voice was a whisper, but I noticed the strain as he said my name, like it hurt. “You have made quite a mess. I am trying to save you from more trouble and embarrassment.”
I winced. Is that what I am, an embarrassment? My gaze fell to my blood-coated arms, and then continued to a top that was once white, but was now soaked in raw meat juice. I scoffed. I’m not sexy. I’m a mess. What had I just said in front of Nikolas, in front of everyone? He wants to fuck me. My legs were suddenly too wobbly to stand and my butt sank to the floor, nausea knotting my stomach.
Jesu immediately kneeled and cupped my cheeks in his hands. “Ema?”
I couldn’t face him. I was so ashamed. I twisted away and fixed my gaze on the floor. “You’d think I would be able to control myself by now, but I’m such an idiot.”
A moment of hesitance passed and then a gentle finger brushed my hair behind my ear. “You are not an idiot,” he said softly. “You are the most brilliant and brave woman I have ever met.”
I scoffed.
He inched closer, his breath sweet as it pooled against my cheek. “You are also the most beautiful.”
“You lie,” I said, and then fixed him a look that dared him to say otherwise. The fire in his eyes had vanished, replaced by a gentler, deeper, sparkling green. The Northern Lights, I realized. That must be what looking at the Northern Lights is like.
“I am not lying, Ema. You are beautiful, inside and out.”
I searched his face, hoping for any sign, any warning, that would stop me from doing what I was about to do. Jesu returned my gaze with the same look of longing, eyes wide and searching, seeking permission. His lashes lowered as he looked at my mouth and then wet his own lips. I leaned closer, as if coaxed by strings which he pulled. The heat of his breath mingled with mine, our lips mere inches from meeting.
He closed the distance and pressed his mouth to mine. My breath caught and my eyes closed. His hands rose to cup either side of my face, and my palms pressed against the floor to keep from falling as I leaned into him.
Our lips parted a little and then met again, slowly, softly, as if we both waited for the floor to give out, for the dream to clear. My body melted. He scooted closer and my hands rose to grip his shoulders. His fingers dug into my hair, holding my head and neck so carefully. The tips of our tongues met. He was so slow to taste me, so gentle, I thought I would explode. I could tell from the way he sighed, the way his body relaxed against mine, how long he’d been waiting to kiss me this way. He pressed gently against my shoulder and I responded by lowering onto my back. His lips fervently followed as his torso loomed over mine.
Every fiber of my being wanted to let him have me, but my heart ached. How could I let this be? How could we ever be? As if he could sense my troubles, Jesu whispered against my lips.
“Tell me this is right, Ema.”
Think! I shouted to myself. This will go downhill if I don’t say something. But what could I say? That he was right? That I was his niece, and yet I was attracted to him anyway? That wasn’t even the worst part. If I was honest with myself, the shared DNA was just an excuse. What really scared me was Bridget. I knew how weak men could be around beautiful girls, and I couldn’t risk hating Jesu the way I hated my ex, Anthony.
“Ema?”
“Jesu, I…” My gaze met his and I shook my head.
His brow furrowed. “This… this is not what you want.”
“Please try to understand.”
He pushed himself to his feet, avoiding my gaze as he sighed and ran his fingers through his long hair. “I should go back downstairs before anyone suspects—”
“Jesu, please.” I stood and grabbed the hem of his shirt, balling the fabric in my fists. “It’s not about what I want. How could I face myself knowing—”
His eyes widened and his expression shattered. “Is the idea of us being together truly so repulsive that you could not face yourself after?”
“You’re not listening, that isn’t what I—”
He yanked my hands from his shirt and then shoved me against the bed. A gasp caught in my chest as he stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut.
I’d never been very churchy, but the moment he was gone, I begged God for a good long cry. When the tears refused to fall, I shunned His name all over again. I marched through the conjoined bathroom into my bedroom and then gripped the edge of the nightstand as I lowered to my knees. Anger and self-loathing simmered through every pore on my body. My eyes squeezed shut and I gnashed my fangs together, fighting the scream I wanted to release. I couldn’t swallow it. I couldn’t control anything. I was stupid and powerless. So instead, I lifted the nightstand and flung it toward the fireplace. It hit the mantle, knocking over and smashing several artifacts in its path.
My breath ragged, I pulled myself onto the bed and lay with my eyes closed, trying to keep my thoughts away. I breathed deeply, recalling a few of the meditation techniques Bridget taught me. Thinking of her sent another wave of anger and frustration through me, so I just tried my best to think of nothing.
Hours passed. My limbs fell asleep and my brain felt numb, but I was conscious nonetheless. Soon my bones ached, but I ignored it. Then a sharp rap on the bedroom door cut through my pity bubble. I mumbled something unintelligible. The door opened. Rudo, the vampire servant with the gray skin tone and completely black eyes, took one step inside, glanced at the broken artifacts on the floor, and then cleared his throat.
“Lunch is served, madam.”
“I’m not hungry.”
He nodded once and then closed the door on his way out. I returned to my unfortunately conscious coma. A couple hours later came a second knock. This visitor didn’t wait for a response before opening the door. I glanced to the right—the most I’d moved in eight hours—and was taken aback as Princess Sara carried a small bundle of chopped wood into the room. She pushed the door closed with the tip of her shoe and then crossed over the broken bits on the floor like they were nothing out of the ordinary.
I rose to my elbows, wincing as pin-pricks of feeling returned to the muscles. She arranged the logs in the hearth then removed a book of matches from her pants pocket and lit one. The tiny flame caught the edge of a log and quickly grew to a bright blaze. I turned away from the flickering light and watched Sara from the corner of my vision. She stood and smacked her hands together to rub off an
y traces of dirt.
“That should warm you up,” she said. She came to stand near the foot of the bed and folded her fingers together. “Are you still feeling ill?”
I pushed upright and crossed my arms to cover some of myself—the fact that I was still bloody and wearing only my underwear didn’t seem to faze Sara—and then grumbled. “Who said I was ill?”
“I assumed.”
My brow cocked. “I thought vampires couldn’t get sick.”
A small smile played on her features and she shrugged. “Not all feelings of distress come from a virus.”
Well that was true. I chewed my lip and stared at the decorative ceiling.
“Are you well enough for a drink? I could bring you a selection from the cellar. We have all the human blood-types, if animal is not to your liking.”
My gaze widened and I faced her. “You keep a supply of human blood?”
“It’s all donated, I assure you. My family hasn’t hunted or kept livestock in ages.”
Livestock? As is in human livestock? I tried not to think about that too closely.
“I’m not thirsty, thanks.”
Her grin widened. “Well, I suppose you wouldn’t be after the amount you ate earlier.”
My brow pitched together. “Is there a reason you’re here?”
Her smile fell and her gaze dropped to her hands. “I was too bold, I apologize.”
I instantly felt like a jerk. “No, Sara, I’m sorry. I’m just grumpy right now, but I don’t mean it.”
She hesitated and then plunked her bottom on the edge of the bed.
Okay, I thought while scooting closer to her. I didn’t mean to solicit company, but Sara was reaching out for something and she was so sweet, I didn’t have the heart to tell her to leave. “Can I ask you an innocent question?”
She nodded.
“Why is a princess tending to an outsider? Shouldn’t you have, like, lady’s maids or something?”
Sara raised her chin and squared her shoulders. “I’ve outgrown my lady’s maids. I’ve been deemed a spinster and retired to a quiet life caring for my mother and my nieces and nephews.”
“Are you kidding me? You hardly look old enough to drive.” I looked Sara up and down. She couldn’t have been a day older than sixteen, her body slender and long like a ballerina. She kept her silky black hair in a simple ponytail. Tendrils fell over bright yellow eyes shaded under long wispy lashes like her brother’s. She didn’t wear makeup, but it wasn’t needed. Her cream-white complexion framed a round face, small mouth, and button nose.
“Oh, you are still used to human age.” She said this as if it were cute. “Don’t worry; it’s an adjustment for all of us. I will celebrate my three-hundredth birthday in two months.”
I bit my tongue. A woman stuck in a teenager’s body. Sara was officially the youngest vampyre I’d met, and yet I couldn’t fathom being alive as long as she. There was something about meeting a three-hundred-year-old vampyre that made the immortality card a little more imperative. Being thousands of years old like Jesu, or tens of thousands like Apollyon, just seemed too surreal to even think about.
But three-hundred? That meant Sara was born in the 1700s. She could have witnessed the revolutionary war, the birth of a new country. That was a rare sliver of history where everyone could at least agree on the facts, unlike, say, the birth of Christ or the evolution of man. I released a slow breath as the weight of my own immortality dawned on me. What in the world would I do with all that time? Maybe it wouldn’t matter since Apollyon was committed to cutting my life short.
“I know,” Sara interrupted my thoughts. “It seems impossible, doesn’t it? They say even some vampyres have a hard time adjusting.”
My brow cocked and I studied Sara for the second time. “Are you… okay?”
Her bright eyes glanced at me and she grinned, making her round cheeks fuller. “Listen to me go on. I’ve had my whole life to prepare for the change, and here you are a brand new thing. You’re probably feeling so confused.”
“I think I’m more embarrassed than confused. I said the wrong thing at breakfast, didn’t I?”
She chewed her lip for a moment, then, in a whisper, she asked, “Is King Apollyon really alive?”
I nodded in answer. “I’m worried I don’t really know what it means. I know he was an emperor and a tyrant, but there is so much history about your world that I don’t know. I’m so unprepared for this.”
“He truly wants you?” She murmured as if to herself.
“Yes,” I sighed. “Will your father… hand me over to Apollyon?”
She watched the floor in thought. The fact that she didn’t answer immediately felt like a bad omen.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t think he will.”
“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to drag your family into this, but I really needed an ally. Jesu and I were out of options.”
Sara nodded. “I’ll tell you what I know. It’s not much, since it all ended before I was born. I had to study it from text. I didn’t live it like my father did.”
“Your father was alive during Apollyon’s reign?”
“He was a young boy at the time,” she said. “My grandfather ruled. Our clan was much smaller back then, just a tribe really, among several other tribes in the area. We lived peacefully, but separate, until King Apollyon and his army invaded Western Europe. The tribes united against him, but they were outnumbered. Grandfather died in battle. My grandmother managed to escape with my father. They ran all the way to the Portuguese coast.
“Father had grown into a man by the time Apollyon was defeated. He returned to Germany for the first time since his escape, determined to reclaim his title, but it wasn’t easy. Apollyon’s empire fell apart within days of his death, and chaos followed. The people split up, wanting to revert back to their original tribes, but for many it was impossible. Most of the original leaders and their families had been massacred. There was no one to govern them and so much had changed.
“Disagreement divided the people and resulted in an eight-hundred-year war.” She paused and grinned. “You’ll never guess how the war ended.”
My brow perked. “Enlighten me.”
“Jalmari flew in one day and started preaching to everyone about democracy and an idea he called the High Blood Council.”
Sara was right; I never would have guessed that.
“He negotiated between clan leaders and taught them about voting. They agreed to vote on a single king to unite them under a new form of vampyre government. My father won the election and was reinstated as the one true king representing what became the Alpan clan.”
“Fascinating,” I said, hoping she didn’t notice the clip in my tone. First the R.E.D. was Jalmari’s idea, than he was the genius credited with bringing democracy to over half a continent of vampyres.
Overcompensate much?
Sara watched me for a moment then squelched her nose. “Would you like to bathe? I could help you with the electric cuffs.” She pointed at the metal bands on my wrists.
“I can manage,” I said. “But I don’t have anything clean to wear.”
“Rudo has your things. I can have him bring them up while you enjoy a bath.”
After a moment, I nodded. “I’d like that, thanks.”
She beamed and then excused herself from the room, rushing off to find Rudo.
I went to the bathroom and locked the door to Jesu’s room even though the lack of sound attested to his absence. I soaked a washcloth under the sink faucet and then wrung out the excess. Carefully rubbing the damp cloth over my arms, hands, chin, and neck, I removed as much of the bloodstains as I could.
Then I started the shower and stripped the remainder of my clothes. I angled myself under the stream of water, making sure to keep my hands well out of reach. The remaining blood melted and ran down my legs, turning the tiles at my feet red. Mesmerized by the crimson rivers, I pondered licking myself clean. I shook away the barbaric urges
and then stepped out from under the water, where I proceeded to scrub off the top layer of my skin with the loofa.
I shut off the water then wrapped a towel around my torso. I waited a moment and listened for any sign of activity in my bedroom. When none came, I poked my head out from behind the maroon curtain to be sure. The broken bits of nightstand and other items had been removed, proving that Rudo had already come and gone. I went to the wardrobe in the little dressing room and inspected its contents.
All the clothes and shoes from the hotel were present, along with the text books Bridget had given me. On top of it all sat my father’s scroll, as well as the folded newspaper clip disclosing a detailed description of Jesu from his days as Jack the Ripper—a.k.a. Vampire Assassin sworn to kill the Romani community all in name of hopefully saving one special half-Romani woman.
I grabbed the clipping and tore it into hateful strips and then shoved it under the layer of clothes in the bottom drawer. I tossed a pair of jeans and a navy blue T-shirt onto the loveseat and then dug around for a new package of underwear. I dressed and then brushed my teeth and hair. Then I made the bed and straightened the remaining items that survived my little tantrum. Now that the room and I looked decent, I felt a little better.
I realized I still hadn’t heard any sounds coming from Jesu’s room. I listened for him again, but he wasn’t there. I wondered what he was doing, if he was talking to Nikolas, and what were they talking about exactly?
I went to the dining hall to find them, but the hall was empty. Four doors stood at the far end. One of them most likely led to the kitchen. I couldn’t guess where the other three went. I closed my eyes and concentrated. The walls were very thick, the majority of the castle interior being made of stone and solid wood, but after a moment my ears picked up the faint sound of voices. I stepped lightly until I was certain I could tell their direction, but was it the first door on the right, or the second? I could always backtrack if the voices faded, so I chanced the first door.
A wide corridor opened beyond the threshold. Thick blue carpeting absorbed the sounds of my footsteps. Leather armchairs sat against the right wall below large tapestries and paintings of the countryside. On the left stood several more doors and beyond them, more halls. This place was a giant rat maze. I listened carefully and phased my fingertips, searching the air for ripples of movement. Men chatted in low voices, but the sounds were still too far away to make out what they were saying.
