The Dark Rose

by Ramsey, Valentine

He placed his hand on her back. “What did he say?” he asked delicately.

  “That I was a mistake, a waste,” Pan cried.

  “I’m sure—”

  “Leave us,” Victor said suddenly.

  Pan turned to see him striding at them fast. Andre glanced at her hesitating then left.

  “Pandora,” Victor said, his voice gentler and holding a touch of regret.

  Reaching her, he pulled her into his arms, near crushing her against his chest. Pan hesitated then hugged him back.

  “I spoke with cruel rashness. That has always been one of my faults.” He kissed her temple. “Please forgive me my child. Your mother and you are the only creatures I have ever loved in this wretched blessed existence of mine. I was un-defied in this world until you and now you are my only weakness. I am sorry, my darling.”

  Departing from her father, eyes sore and her cheeks scored from tears, Pan headed back to her wing. Once in her hall, she pulled her cell phone from a hidden pocket in her dress and dialed Dom.

  Waiting for him to pick up, Pan heard two ringtones, the one in her ear—and the one coming from her bedroom. Running to the gilded doors, she threw them open. The lights had been on, but were now off. Dom was hidden in the shadows, the blue light of his phone illuminating him. He swore, trying to turn it off.

  Pan closed the doors and he looked up.

  “Dom,” she said and ran for him.

  He met her in the middle, catching her up in his arms and spinning her.

  “I never thought I would see you again,” Pan said breathlessly.

  Dom laughed, but there was no humor in it. “My determination is of legend. I am not so easy to get rid of.” He set her down. “Admittedly, it was difficult getting to you. I’ve been hiding in the forest since last night until I saw a chance.”

  “Oh, Dom.” Pan pushed up on her toes and kissed all over his face.

  “I can’t stay long,” he rushed. “I’ve been here too long waiting for you.” He groaned and nuzzled her neck. “But it was worth it. You have no idea how worth it you are. I—” Dom’s brows pulled as he studied her face. “Either I have an ill divining soul or my eyesight fails. You look pale, your face abused with tears such as the like I have not seen in years.”

  “Dry sorrow drinks my blood. Will we ever be together? Will we ever be free?”

  Dom rested his forehead against hers. “We are together now my gorgeous Rose, and I have no doubt we will be soon, under this month’s moon. And when we are these woes will serve for sweet discourses in our times to come. So ease those glum eyes and keep our love ties strong with faith.”

  Pan nodded. Dom looked over his shoulder, hearing something she could not.

  “I have to go. Your wolves have picked up Deacon’s scent.” He looked back at her. “He and Urijah are my decoys. A swift kiss for these lips.” Holding her face, he swooped and kissed her.

  It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Victor could brand her with lashes, command her with orders, double guard their borders and horde her from her lord, but Pan would never give Dom up.

  “Sweet vampire,” Pan breathed. “This night I’ll continue to waste in sorrow if you say we won’t be together tomorrow.”

  “If not tomorrow, then another night I’ll borrow.”

  “Then till we are one again my poor heart sleeps in quiet, dead, lead with its beats.”

  “Take that back,” Dom ordered fiercely, gripping her tight. “Take it back. Fear strikes the dead alive in me to ever consider this miracle…” he placed his hand over her heart, “ended. Take it back.” There was a growl in his voice.

  “Okay,” Pan said, her eyes wide. “I take it back.”

  He relaxed.

  “But when will I see you again?”

  “Soon, I will find a way to get to you, I promise.” Dom pulled away, but turned back to kiss her again. He sighed and sank into her arms. Pan ran her hands up the contours of his back. “I must be gone and live or stay and die,” he breathed. “Which in your arms—a second death is a second most welcomed.”

  Pan’s eyes snapped open. “No, no,” she said, pushing him to her garden. “Go and be gone and live.”

  “Go and live when I’d rather stay and die.”

  Giving her a last quick kiss, when Dom’s lips left hers Pan opened her eyes to see he was gone, vanished over the wall.

  + Chapter 28 +

  Sad Hours Grow In Power

  Pan had planned to sulk and be depressed, but that idea became suppressed. Her friends took their jobs a little too seriously, doing everything in their power to shower her with busyness, inserting her mind in dizziness in attempt to keep her thoughts far from Dom. Though the more diverted they made her, the more inverted their efforts became.

  Their overcompensated distractions were missions of the impossible and highly improbable of success. Pan went along with it to cover her tracks that so clearly, if looked at carefully, still lead back to Dom. Princesses were notoriously good liars, but it was hard to pretend their relationship had met its end. This sin of her hers wasn’t temporary or else she’d commit herself to a monastery.

  Pan worried about her wolves of hire buying her lines of “I’m fine, I’m fine”. They were earth hunters and if they sniffed the ground they were bound to find the trail leading back to her sire.

  For one night, however, Pan’s endeavor to appear in disappointed recovery was over.

  Returning from the Bloody Apple, walking down her hall, Pan pulled her lace gloves off, pocketing them. As expected she had been the focus of every male vampire’s attention. Her popularity was more superior than ever with her defiance towards her father’s rule.

  Of course her outfit attracted attention as well. The sweeping leather trench coat with pressed designs emblazoned across the front overlaid her black leather corset and full-flared micro mini skirt. Her ballerina ribbon lace-up heels clicked on the marble floors. Pan hated wearing shoes, but she hated being short even more.

  But her favorite part of the outfit was what was hidden beneath it. No, not her yoni lovelies, but a note, tucked against her heart, a note given to her by a vampire of the Bjorn Coven, one of the most neutral.

  She had been sitting aloofly bored when a strong jawed vamp with long blond hair and fuchsia eyes smoothly took a seat next to her. At first, Pan had glared death at him. Nearly bit his face off when he leaned close and whispered in her ear— “Dom sends his love.”

  Pan looked at him with stunned as he placed a kiss on her cheek and slipped a folded piece of paper in the shape of a heart into her hand. Andre followed as Pan rushed to the bathroom, shoving humans out of her way.

  Khalil first making sure no one was in there, Andre and he then took guard outside the door as Pan went in. Leaning against it, she opened the note with shaking fingers.

  Pan smiled as she read: My darling love, I hope Fabian got this to you unscathed—the middle was composed with his vows of devotion; his words of love making it seem as deep as and wider than the ocean. It ended with—Ellis has managed to divert a second war with the Castle’s. Gaston’s death is under investigation. His cousin Holton will be his successor. I have faith he will lead well when his time comes. My sweetness, sad hours grow in power, the worst of them being away from you, my only happiness. I’ll see you soon, Love Dom.

  Back in present time, Pan was looking forward to revisiting his words when she opened her bedroom doors to find her room hidden behind a towering wall of blood red roses.

  Spotting a card propped against a vase, Pan snatched it and read. She bared her teeth. It was from Raphael. It all was from Raphael. Letting out a shriek of rage, Pan grabbed the vase and threw it. Hitting the wall, it shattered sending roses, water, and glass flying everywhere.

  Grabbing another, she screamed and smashed it on the floor then grabbed another…

  Chest heaving, Pan looked around at the glorious disaster, that she, the master of destruction, had created.

  “Whoa,” Magda said.
<
br />   Pan spun around. She, Gertrude, and Andre stood in the doorway, looking around at the garden of broken roses that lay scattered everywhere, blanketing every surface.

  “Are you possessed?!” Gertrude said, eyes bugging. “It took hours to arrange them!” She dropped to her knees, collecting the flowers. “What a rotten child you are destroying all these beauties! Can’t you appreciate anything that lovely gentleman does for you?! He tries so hard—” Picking up a rose with a snap stem, she shrieked.

  “Gentleman?” Andre said, alarmed.

  Magda corrected his assumption. “Raphael.”

  He snorted a laugh. “Idiot,” he said and left.

  “For the record,” Pan said, taking the gold Chinese fan comb from her hair to let it uncoiled to fall down her back. “If I must suffer Raphael’s gifts never bring them into my personal space. It contaminates my sacred self. Now clean it up.” Shrugging off the coat, letting it drop to the floor, she stomped to the bathroom, crushing roses and glass beneath her heels.

  “Demon child!” Gertrude accused as Pan slammed the door shut.

  Pulling the note from her corset, Pan thought, she has no idea.

  + Chapter 29 +

  More by All Mores

  Her hands. Pan studied them, water dripping from her fingers. Victor had told her once how much he loved her hands because she had her mother’s, Evangeline’s. Petit and feminine, he said, used delicately.

  They didn’t look so delicate now. Cuts were sliced into her palms and fingers from the thorns of the roses she destroyed yesterday. Sighing, Pan ran her hand up her arm, her knees tucked to her chest, just peeking above the sudsy bubbles. Her bath growing cold, Pan turned the hot water on. It gushed from the gold faucet.

  Waiting for it to heat, she dipped her head back, soaking her hair again. When the water was steaming, as she reached to turn it off movement caught her eye in the floor mirror. Pan jerked around, splashing water, crossing her arms over her chest. Dom stood in the door, watching her.

  “Dom!”

  He grinned wickedly. If he expected reciprocation he didn’t get it. Pan glared at him over her shoulder.

  “Interrupting, am I?”

  Pan scowled. “I could have you beheaded for this.”

  His smile widened as he strode in. “But you won’t. Because if you did you would never again know the joy of my lips and their mastery of kissing, which…I know you’re fond of.”

  “Kissing your lips is the last thing on my mind, I assure you,” she said darkly. “Voyeurism is a very distasteful act.”

  “Voyeurism is an intended act. I was simply, and pleasingly, surprised when I came looking for my girl and found her bathing like the less lovely Artemis.”

  “Turning you into a stag wouldn’t be justice as they are beautiful creatures—”

  “And tasty as I discovered this morning.” He picked his fangs.

  “Though setting my hounds of hell on you might be gratifying.”

  Dom’s smile died as she continued to glare. Pan wasn’t shy towards his admiring eye, but being so taken off guard wasn’t putting her in a good disposition towards him this evening.

  “I haven’t seen anything yet,” Dom said, apologetic. “Though I was hoping to.” His grin was back.

  Pan scowled, still clutching herself.

  “Don’t be mad. It will darken this night and we won’t have another for a while. If it helps, I won’t look anymore.” He turned and sat with his back against the tub.

  “I’m annoyed now. Your presence in here is unwanted. Wait for me in the bedroom and be ready to cuddle or I may have to claw your eyes out.”

  “Nope. I would like to listen to my fiancée bathe.”

  Pan couldn’t help but smile being called his fiancée. She was glad Dom didn’t see it. If he knew it had that effect on her he would use it to his advantage all the time.

  “Why do you choose to be stubborn now?” she asked.

  “Because you always get the chance before I do.”

  Trailing the sponge in the water, Pan glanced at him over her shoulder. The back of his hair shone like a raven’s wing. The simple gleam of it endeared him to her more, her raven feathered dove.

  Turning in the tub, Pan rested her chin on her arm on the marble. After a minute of watching him she reached forward, water dripping down her arm, and held her hand in front of Dom’s eyes. He didn’t move so they must be closed. Pan lightly felt his closed lid. It fluttered beneath her fingertips. Drawing her arm back, she pushed up on her elbows on the edge.

  Leaning out, she kissed the rim of his ear. Dom looked over his shoulder, his eyebrow arched. Pan splashed back, scowling. He smiled, but faced forward again.

  Moving behind him again, Pan grabbed his throat and squeezed. He didn’t flinch, but his Adams apple bobbed. After a second, she relaxed her grip and lightly trailed her fingertips up his neck, making him shiver, then along his jaw.

  Withdrawing her arm, about to sit back, Dom caught her wrist, drawing it in front of him to inhale her wet skin that was fragranced with cherry blossom bath oil. He kissed the inside of her wrist, her palm, and her fingertips.

  He slowly turned towards her, giving Pan enough time to protest. She didn’t. Facing her, Dom ran his hand up her arm to hold the back of her neck.

  “I love this,” he said, gazing at her lips. “The blush in your pure and vestal modesty as your own lips thinks their own kisses sin.”

  Pan’s brows pulled, confused.

  “The way your upper lip—” Dom leaned in and kissed it, “kisses your bottom lip—” his breath was warm and sweet as he kissed her bottom lip, “when you close your mouth.”

  Drawing her forward, he kissed her deeply, running his hand down her wet back.

  “I won’t look,” he said, trailing kisses down her neck, his tongue lapping up drops of water.

  Pan moaned and nodded. Kissing him, she laid back, holding a bunch of his collar, pulling him so he slid over the side of the tub. Pink water splashed up, slopping over the edges as he landed on top of her, her legs spread around him.

  Dom pulled from her mouth, his shirt plastered to his chest, making it transparent. His pupils were dilated so big Pan could barely make out any of the blue. He ran his hand over her forehead and hair as murky pink water lapped around her shoulders.

  “Every time I kiss you I think I will be sedated,” he said. “But again and again I am deceived as my lips crave more and more. It’s never enough. The feel of your skin, the scent and taste of it—” Dom kissed her jaw, his needless breath coming fast. “The warmth, innocence of your eyes,” he panted, rose fusing his cheeks. “All blessed gifts of the gods.” He kissed her again. “In life and death you are mine Pan. Say you’re mine.”

  “I’m yours,” Pan said, trying to undo his shirt. She didn’t know if sex was possible in the tub, but she was going to find out.

  “On that note, this was a very bad idea. I’ll wait outside.”

  “What? Dom, no—”

  But he was gone. Water rained down on her, sloshing around the sides. Letting out a frustrated breath, Pan banged her head back on the tub. She was tired of him starting stuff he wasn’t willing to finish. She told him so when she came out five minutes later.

  “I apologize,” Dom said, lazing back on her huge majestic crown canopy bed, his arm behind his head, clothes miraculously dry. “But there’s no need to insult me. I’ll finish it when we are married.”

  Pan grumbled. “That’s turning into an excuse I’m not buying anymore.”

  He sighed. “I know, but the priest I’m after is turning out to be hard to get a hold of.”

  Grabbing the decorative pillows off her side of the bed, she tossed them on the floor. She was tempted to bash him in the face with one for her frustration. Pulling the covers back, Pan slipped in bed. She barely had the blankets pulled up before Dom wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling her neck.

  “I’m still not convinced.” Pan turned in his arms to face him. “Why won�
��t you have sex with me?”

  He pulled from her and rolled his head back in exasperation. “You say it like I’m holding out for spite.”

  “What else would you call it? Tell me why,” she demanded.

  “Fine!” he burst, startling her. “If we were to have sex and it was discovered it would be napalm to the situation we’re already in. You, untouched,” he said intensely, “I can defend. Having sex with you unwed, I cannot.”

  “Because I’m a Princess?”

  “Because you’re the Princess. Waiting until we are married, no one can challenge us. We are husband and wife, each other’s superiors answering to none. Okay?” He lay back, draping his arms over his eyes.

  Pan watched him. His jaw was tense, his lips pressed in a hard line. She hadn’t wanted to make him frustrated, but it was better to understand his reasoning than being confused and frustrated herself.

  “Do you know how hard it is to deny you?” he asked suddenly.

  “Easy I had assumed, as you have continuously done it. But now I understand, so—I won’t pressure you anymore.”

  A smile cracked his lips. “Pressure me? You make it sound like I’m the girl in this relationship.”

  Pan scooted closer to lie pressed against his side. She draped her arm over his abdomen and rested her head on his chest. “Hold me.”

  Dom sighed and moved his arm from his face to comply.

  Satisfied with his embrace, Pan said, “You’re too heavenly to be the girl. Girls are mischievous and vindictive and manipulative and selfish and conceited. Boys are none of those.”

  Dom laughed. “Boys are all of those, just not as skilled in them as girls.”

  “Hmm,” she sighed, snuggling closer. “Sing me something.”

  “I don’t sing.”

  Pan stuck out her bottom lip and blinked her big eyes at him. “Please.”

  Dom grumbled. “Those eyes—why do I even bother to deny. What would you like to hear?”

  “Anything beautiful.”

  “So hard to pick.” He blew raspberries and thought for moment. “Okay, prepare your ears.”