The Dark Rose

by Ramsey, Valentine

  “You smell like you’ve been naughty this night,” he said, pressing against her back, pushing her into the counter. He pulled her hair from her neck and smelled it. Pan closed her eyes in disgust. “Definitely—naughty.”

  Pan pushed back into him, making him step back. Turning to face him, he grabbed her waist, standing intimately close as if he was about to kiss her. Pan placed a hand on his chest, warning that was enough. He gazed down at her, his eyes holding a heat she didn’t reciprocate as she glared up at him.

  “Is the skin of a strawberry no sweeter than the juice from which bursts inside?” Raphael’s smile was amused, the tips of his canines showing as he stroked her neck.

  After the kisses that had graced her flesh this night, it felt like he was tainting her with his caress.

  “Ah, you are silent for we both know the sweetness that lurks beneath.” Raphael reached behind her and brought forth a chocolate covered strawberry.

  Being that she was of royal lineage, her nose picked up the sweet tang of blood. Pan’s eyes narrowed as he held the strawberry to her mouth. How he would love to have some part of him inside her, whether it be physical or invisible.

  “The taut red skin that remains delectable in its delicious ripe form,” he said, words loaded with innuendo. “Oh, so succulent…” He traced her lips with the tip of the strawberry.

  Pan slapped his hand away. “Watch what you say to me Raphael.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Ooo,” he chuckled. “The growl in her voice is more threatening than her words.” He leaned close and whispered, “I fear not.”

  He made to kiss her, but Pan quickly turned her face, shoving him away, furious to consider another mouth ever pressed upon hers, let alone Raphael’s.

  “Heard you gave Andre the slip tonight,” he said, eating the strawberry. “The old man is losing it. Maybe you should let me be your bodyguard.” He looked her up and down, licking his teeth.

  “Real original,” Pan sneered.

  He snickered. “Where’d you go?”

  “Movies.”

  “You don’t smell like popcorn.” He leaned in and smelled her neck. “You smell like sweet…sweat.” His tongue darted out, licking her neck.

  Snarling, Pan shoved him in the chest. He bounced back into the island, laughing.

  “Goodnight, Raphael,” Pan said, needing to walk away before something bad happened.

  “Good morning Pandora,” he said, still laughing as she left.

  Reaching the east wing, the sanctuary that was all hers, Pan relaxed knowing she was safe. If Raphael dare venture into her private corridors her father would see to it he was drained and hanged. Andre would be more than happy to do the job.

  Pushing open the double doors to her room, Pan finally felt at peace to hold court with her thoughts. Her room offered more solace than the entire palace. As well it should as it was made for royalty. Huge and cathedral like with French provincial décor, ornate gold trim that was as lovely as a Faberge egg, and chandeliers, that when lit, created a dusky ethereal glow.

  Leaving the lights off to illuminate her room by moonlight, Pan opened the two sets of French doors. With the rain stopped, a gentle wind stirred in making the sheer curtains billow at either side. Inhaling the dewy air, Pan looked around.

  “Sheba?” she called, skipping out into her vast lavish garden with exotic flowers and plants of every nature. Statues, lanterns and lights made it even more magical.

  Bathsheba, her black panther wearing a jeweled collar was lounging lazily on the side of the water fountain. Purring contently the cat looked up, tail flicking. Pan skipped over to her and kneeled, stroking her silky black as night fur.

  “Oh Bathsheba,” she said, resting her head on the cats ribcage. The thumping of her heart nearly drowned out by her rumbling purr. “You wouldn’t believe the night I’ve had,” Pan said blissfully. “It was of fairytale measure. I would not be surprised to see tiny fae peeking from under the moss of my weeping willow. No one has lived a night so wonderful than the one I have lived tonight.”

  Signing in content, Pan moved to sit on the edge of the pond. Trailing her fingers over the water, giant koi swam beneath the large gonnere and aurora water lilies as she gazed at her reflection.

  “No grander awaking of love at first sight. Humanity has long sought it, but it is the inhuman that finds it.”

  Pan laughed abruptly with delight. Standing, she strolled through her personal paradise of Eden, touching and smelling blooming flowers. Plucking a pink cherry blossom from one of the trees, loving its delicacy, she smelled it, savoring its delicate scent.

  “What an odd night Bathsheba. Stolen forbidden kisses—pains shoot through my cheeks as they cannot stop rising in smile.” Pan twirled, beaming up at the moon, but her face fell as she realized something with crushing horror.

  “But what of his words, his kisses?” Pan touched her lips. “Were all those of cruel game? What shame! Of a cold hearted boy looking to bring the downfall of an all too eager girl. Oh what foolishness!” She stomped her foot. “Stereotypes corrupt my thoughts, infiltrating my sense of reason when I feel the truth in the memory of his words, in the tingle of my blushing bride lips.”

  She sighed again, her heart so full of them she need release them or float away as love is a smoke made from the fumes of sighs. In thought, Pan ran the cherry blossom over her lips.

  “I would swear a feather from an angel’s wing had grazed them. Oh Bathsheba, how can one live knowing such a dark angel exists and when finding them, how can one ever live life again without them?”

  + Chapter 9 +

  The Moon

  Leaping over the wall into Rose Palace, Dom stole into the shadows. Remaining downwind, he snuck about, avoiding guards that hid nearly as well as he. He didn’t worry of being caught. He was a Gray, born of shadows and disarray and being invisible was his forte.

  But in his rush and eagerness to find his destined, Dom moved too quick and near reveled himself to a guard that blended invisibly with the yard. The vampire stood so still his lack of movement camouflaged him to the naked eye.

  Knowing the slightest movement could draw the vampire’s attention, along with his rifle, Dom slowly sunk back into cover, careful not to disturb the brush around him. The wind blew, ruffling his hair and the guard went ridged at attention. Dom waited for the vampire to catch his sent and spring into attack, but drawing a shallow breath, he caught the floral feminine scent of his beloved.

  Closing his eyes, Dom inhaled deeper and shivered in pleasure. His dear Pandora was near. Grass rustling, his eyes snapped open to see the vampire shift, holding his face to the wind.

  “Princess,” exhaled the guard in pleasure. His posture relaxed and he strode away.

  Not wasting a second, Dom was on his way. Blurring through the grounds, he followed the invisible trail on the wind till he came to a stone wall covered in trailing pink rose vines.

  “Sheba?” he heard his beloved call.

  His ears have not yet drunk a hundred words of that tongue’s utterance, yet he knew the sound. Pandora, his Rose. Closing his eyes, relishing her voice, Dom sagged against the wall with relief, the fragrant soft petal roses his cheeks pillow.

  “She speaks,” he breathed. “She speaks to me, but doesn’t know as she cannot yet see. Oh, speak again, my bright angel for you are as glorious to this night, if mortals were to gaze upon your heavenly sight, they will fall to their knees for you are so glorious you simply cannot be. But you are, real and true, so why do I stand here when I should claim you?”

  With the grace of the undead, Dom leaped the wall, sailing upon the bosom of the air to land in a crouch, hidden by the trees to not cause her fright. Creeping along the top, he watched her through the curtained branches of a weeping willow.

  “But, soft! What light through yonder night breaks?” Dom whispered. “It is the west and Pandora is the moon. Arise, fair moon, and kill the envious sun that is sick and vivid with grief for it does not hold power
or sway over the ocean to keep the land at bay.”

  Such a vision she was, small and delicate with pixie like features, demure yet passionate, it made his heart ache.

  Finding deliverance in her voice, Dom draped himself on the wall, relaxing with his arm behind his head, leg dangling, listening in pleasure as she spoke of him, though he was too bold and had to wait as it wasn’t to him she spoke, but to the fairest stars in all the heaven as they were her subserviens.

  He spared jealously on their behalf since they had business entreating her eyes as she is the moon, her eyes twinkling spheres themselves that would shame them into submission. The birds as well would sing, thinking it were not night.

  Her voice faded and Dom’s eyes snapped open. Springing to his feet, he ran along the wall following her agitated pace, hunched to prevent sky-lining his body. Beyond the cherry blossom tree, she was so close if he were to reach three times the length of his arm he could graze her cheek.

  She plucked a blossom. Fascinated, he watched her every movement as she smelled it and ran it over her lips.

  If I were only a petal on that blossom, he thought.

  “Could I be so lucky?” she said in engrossed thought. “Luck does not favor those so richly rewarded when their birthing is of royal bearing.” Her voice held regret. “We have no use for luck when we can simply buy it.” She sighed. “And yet another dark cloud to obliterate the silver lining.”

  Unable to bare her mounting doubts and the growing hurt etching her face, Dom silently slipped from the wall, landing in a crouch. Her panthers head perked up as Pandora remained oblivious, wandering.

  Dom carefully rose so not to alarm the feline. Having unearthly control over his body he made sure his posture was relaxed and unthreatening, sending soothing energy. After a moment, the cat rested its head, unconcerned of harm.

  Moving with eerie silence, not disturbing a single blade of grass, Dom approached her from behind as she wandered from the cherry tree, admiring the blossom. She sighed and his heart nearly exploded with joy. Following inches away, Dom ghosted her movements, getting close enough to smell her hair. As he reached to caress it, she turned. Moving in a flash, Dom swiveled behind a tree, the leaves slightly rustling.

  Peeking out at her as she paced back, he moved to be her shadow.

  “How is this possible, Bathsheba? An hour not gone and I am ready to die for him.”

  Heart bursting with joy, Dom’s knees dipped as he threw back his head, sending a silent roar of victory into the night. It was all he could do not to yank her to him, smothering her to his chest. But he wanted to hear more, needed to hear the rest.

  “A Gray, a Gray, a Gray. Ugh,” she groaned, shoulders slumping. “My heart beats in turmoil. A Gray, a Gray, a Gray, my heart beats in aching love. A Gray I have given my heart to. But what is so dark about a Gray?” she mused. “He is neither black nor white, but a shadow that drifts in the night. Who am I to judge whether he is good or evil? I do not wear the tall ladies blindfold, nor do I hold the scales to weigh ones deeds and measure their punishments,” she rambled, frustrated. “And is it not my heart to do with as I please? Give to whom I will? Who is to decide what I do with my heart? My heart.”

  It is my heart now, Dom thought, lightly caressing her hair and smelling it.

  Her fingers played over the blossom caressing its pink petals. She twirled it.

  “My heart to protect and I go and give it to a Gray! Someone who could destroy it most and wouldn’t care of the host. Such a fragile thing my chest contains, he could maim.”

  To destroy your heart would destroy my own.

  She turned her face to the sky, setting it aglow in silver light. “How do I know his delicious words of love hold a sliver of truth? I am as blind to serpent tongued lies as I am visionary to justice. Oh, I am so confused Bathsheba! The stars and the moon above shine so bright and yet do not come close to penetrating the darkness shrouding my mind. What should I do, dark mistress of the night?”

  + Chapter 10 +

  Angels and Demons

  Desperate for guidance, Pan turned to Bathsheba, only to find a looming dark figure standing behind her, halting her search. Fear exploding in her chest, Pan let out a startled gasp and staggered back. But the shadows shifted revealing the face of her nameless love. A roguish smile pulled at his lips. His head was slightly bowed, wet hair dangling in his eyes.

  Without warning, he grabbed her face, yanking her to him, kissing her hard. Giving a squeak of surprise, Pan pulled away, stumbling back.

  She gaped at him. “How did you get onto the grounds? Guards surround every corner. Not a shadow shifts without them seeing it. The walls are high and near impenetrable! And,” Pan huffed haughty, flipping her hair, “have you no regards for a woman’s privacy and the words she whispers in confidence to herself and the wraiths of the night?”

  “I sprouted wings for the angel I am,” he said in wicked amusement, eyes gleaming as Pan blushed. “And the nights’ giving’s have left me buoyant and I floated above your near impenetrable walls. And as for your privacy—I joined the wraiths in their silenced faith and moved like a ghost therefore invisible and soundless until I could no longer bare your words and had to taste their essence on your velvet lips.”

  He made to kiss her again, but Pan ducked away.

  “You ask for certain death if they were to find a Gray on Rose territory. And I know not who you are! Though you seem to know who I am,” she said in startled realization.

  Andre had said of spies…

  “Yes, I know who you are Princess Pandora of Rose. Though do not fear me, I intend you no harm.”

  Pan was surprised at how calm she remained, no cord of fear struck as she should heed those words, but she had already realized the truth before he had spoken them. She trusted him completely.

  “And as for me—by a name, I know not how to tell thee who I am: as my name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, because it is an enemy to thee.”

  “A Gray,” Pan whispered. She had known what he was then as she knew now, yet it would seem she would have it no other way.

  Jeweled eyes dancing, he grinned and made a sweeping bow. “I humbly introduce myself to you as Dom, a Gray. And fear not for my safety as I wear the cloak of night to hide me from your guard’s sight. But if the price I must pay is death when the last sight I see is you imprinted in my mind, then I welcome it!” He threw his arms out to embrace the night. “I welcome it! For—”

  Pan covered his mouth, looking around, fearing someone had heard his shout. Eyes crinkling, his lips pulled into a smile under her hand. He kissed her palm.

  “Shh, shh,” she pleaded. “Silence. You are insane, your voice you must contain.”

  Her love, her Dom, pulled her hand from his mouth and swooped, kissing her. Pan wanted to sink into his embrace, but he was a Gray so she pushed him away. Pan paced back, wringing her hands.

  “This is insane. It is wrong,” she stressed. “You are my father’s most despised enemy and

  I betray him by enjoying stolen kisses with a Gray. What disgrace it would bring,” she said in heavy anxiety.

  Dom caught her hand and pulled her back to him. Pan didn’t protest, didn’t push away.

  She couldn’t. It felt like the most natural thing to relax into his hold as he nuzzled her neck.

  “And yet I don’t protest,” Pan breathed, holding his shoulders.

  He grazed her jaw with his nose then kissed her. Wandering from her lips, he kissed her neck. Pan tilted her head back, giving him better access as his tongue swirled.

  “One taste and I have fallen hard.” His voice was husky as he kissed her collarbone.

  “Addicted I am. No rehab for my wicked soul as you are a craving I cannot kick.”

  He claimed her mouth again then trailed kisses along her jaw, his hands sliding down her back.

  “I am not of such lose standards my eager Dom,” Pan said breathlessly.

  “I ask for nothing—”

 
“You ask not, but you certainly seek the golden gates of heaven. I feel the need in your fevered kiss.”

  “I have never longed to find grace for I am barred from heavens gates with in all its sad beauty is such waste, but that was until I found it in your impish face.” Cupping her feverish cheeks, he rested his forehead against hers, looking intently into her eyes. “Know now, my dear Pandora, that it is not your womb I seek refuge in but your heart.”

  “Words I believe have never been spoken by a man before.”

  Dom chuckled. “Perhaps not but for Adam and Eve.”

  “And she deceived him, bringing his downfall from grace.”

  “Mm,” he breathed, twining his fingers with hers. “Then I hope I fall hard and fast so the impact ends my misery that I have stolen you with me from paradise.”

  This time Pan was the one to seek his mouth.

  “Tell me you do not feel it as well?” he panted. “Such passion we cannot quell?”

  “Oh, and now you rhyme,” she laughed. “Will poetry spill forth next? Be warned poetry is not something I hold in high esteem.”

  “Then from me an appreciation you can glean. I will not speak poetry with my breath, but with my lips.” He kissed her. “I yearn for your every touch in any shape of your delicate form. So marriage, I believe, is the only key to bind our hearts and lock their doors, only each other’s names as secret passwords to gain entrance.”

  Pan looked at him with wide eyes. “Marriage?” she said weakly. She could not have possibly heard correctly.

  “Yes. I cannot live if I will not have you forever and always.”

  Taking a shuddering breath, Pan rested her head against his chest. It was too scary and wonderful all at the same time. Though she was never one to fear, the knowledge that she would be betraying her father and coven made her cold. So she had to ask herself…was he worth it?

  Absolutely.

  “You claim to be an angel, but what a sin it is to love you,” Pan said at last, hugging him tighter. She would never let go.