Rosaline

by Penelope Marshall

  ROSALINE

  COPYRIGHT © 2016 BY PENELOPE MARSHALL

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO PART OF THIS BOOK MAY BE REPRODUCED, SCANNED, OR DISTRIBUTED IN ANY PRINTED OR ELECTRONIC FORM WITHOUT PERMISSION. PLEASE DO NOT PARTICIPATE IN OR ENCOURAGE PIRACY OF COPYRIGHTED MATERIALS IN VIOLATION OF THE AUTHOR’S RIGHTS. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. NAMES, CHARACTERS, PLACES AND INCIDENTS EITHER ARE THE PRODUCT OF THE AUTHOR’S IMAGINATION OR ARE USED FICTITIOUSLY, AND ANY RESEMBLANCE TO LOCALES, EVENTS, BUSINESS ESTABLISHMENTS, OR ACTUAL PERSONS – LIVING OR DEAD – IS ENTIRELY COINCIDENTAL.

  Prepare to be thrust into the world of Rosaline and Gideon. The story of what happens when a vampire finds her soul mate in the most unexpected place...a place that will send her world crashing down around her.

  After a few hundred years of vampire secrets are revealed to Rosaline, she runs away into the forest in search of the truth, only to find herself caught amidst the tragic death of an innocent.

  Rules have been broken and someone must suffer the consequences, but will it have to be her?

  The answer lies in her choice: fulfill her duty to family, or follow the path destiny has laid out for her.

  Can love really conquer all?

  Or will a generation of secrets destroy the only thing Rosaline holds dear?

  Full length standalone with a guaranteed HEA.

  To check out my other titles, please visit me at:

  http://amazon.com/author/penelopemarshall

  For new release updates, or if you are interested in getting my latest books for free (and before release), you can also sign up for my advance reader team list by contacting me at:

  http://penelopemarshall.weebly.com/

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  Dedication:

  To my family for their unwavering support.

  Acknowledgements:

  I'd like to thank everyone who helped make this book possible:

  My wonderful betas and friends, who are willing to read anything I throw at them,

  Alma, Heather, Jeanette, and my dad.

  Cover: Ric

  Proofread: Avril Stepowski

  It's been said that love knows no bounds. But perhaps there are forces in the world that keep love at bay. Forces working together to separate the gravitational pull of two souls meant to intertwine.

  Would such forces be considered evil? Or would they be of sullen heart, buried in the stench of scorn and betrayal?

  After all, what is love but a chemical reaction induced by neurons and electrons banging against one another in some random fashion?

  But what if love were predestined, written in the book of life by an omniscient author?

  What if love could be harnessed to raise armies…to sink ships?

  Then love would no longer be a chance meeting in the meadows of life. Love would be a game played with pawns and castles between kings and queens.

  And sometimes…just sometimes the players come veiled in myth and tale.

  Such is the story of Rosaline and Gideon…

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  SULLIED CREATURE

  WEATHERLY

  WHISPERS

  DRESS LIKE A LADY

  THE HUNT

  WILD WIND

  BREATHE ME IN

  MASQUERADE

  IT'S YOU

  UNDER THE SILVER MOON

  DELIVERY

  THE DÀIL

  TRANSCENDENCE

  BROKEN PIECES

  STRING OF FATE

  DO US PART

  SULLIED CREATURE

  ROSALINE

  Ten years earlier…

  I suppose you could consider him a handsome boy. His shaggy brown hair carried in the wind as he ran to and fro in the waning light of dusk. My mother said he was a good boy, and one day we would marry. But the days were long, and that day was a small speck in a distant future I had yet to meet. As for today, today was a day of play shared between two children whose families happened to be intertwined by blood…so to speak.

  "Rosaline." My mother called out from the porch.

  "Yes, Mother?"

  "Rosaline, say goodbye to William and come inside," she replied as she turned and sauntered back into the house. The black lace of her dress fluttered in the evening breeze.

  Mother was the epitome of a prim and proper, blonde haired, green eyed Irish beauty, and Father said I would be as beautiful as she one day. He said my beauty would spur a thousand wars, and he hoped he would live long enough to see it.

  My father had quite the humor, as he was already circling the ripe young age of two hundred ninety-three. Mother trailed behind him only slightly, but didn’t look a day over twenty-five. One of the many perks of being immortal…of being a vampire.

  Physically, we stopped aging in our mid-twenties. No wrinkles. No arthritis. No death. Just the beauty of youth coupled with the wisdom of age. We were quite the unstoppable force.

  But with every power came weaknesses. A chink in the armor that made it vulnerable to death, and we were no different. Silver and werewolves were our undoing, or so the legends said. My mother told me all about werewolves as bed-time stories, so I would never be tempted to wander off alone.

  She spoke of a time when she had come across one in the thick Connacht forest behind her childhood home in Ireland. She recounted the anxiousness she felt as the sullied creature encircled her small frame, brandishing its long fangs amidst a sea of marbled gray and white fur.

  The moment lasted for what seemed like an eternity, and as it lunged toward her, she could see the reflection of herself paralyzed in its crystal blue eyes.

  A shot rang out through the trees, startling black ravens into the sky from the safety of their nests. The wolf's body paused midair as its eyes widened before it suddenly fell dead at her feet, its fur brushing her toes as it swayed in the cool evening wind.

  My mother felt great anxiety as she stood over the mound of flesh that had lunged at her only moments before. Slowly the anxiety faded leaving a sadness that to this day she still felt.

  How could you be sad for that evil creature?

  A question I asked every time she arrived at this point in the story. A question she consistently glossed over. She would just continue by introducing the dark shadow which emerged from the tree line. It was her father; who had been hunting the wolf, tracking it through the night as it made its way, like a bee to honey, directly toward the family home.

  My mother shuddered every time she told me the tale, but consoled me with the fact she hadn't seen a werewolf in Georgia in over a two hundred years. She explained werewolves were evil shifters who walked among us in human form, luring unsuspecting vampires into their dens to engage in whatever depravity they fancied at the moment. Once lured, the victim was never seen or heard from again.

  From her stories alone, I knew I would rather take a blade of silver through my heart than ever have the occasion to meet one of the dirty mongrels.

  "Rosaline." William snapped his fingers in my face to get my attention.

  I slapped his hand away. "Don’t snap at me, William. I am not beneath you."

  "But you will be one day. My mother says when we marry and unite our covens, you will be seated below me because that's your place," William said snidely.

  "I will never sit below you, William," I blurted out, pushing him to the ground as I ran to the safety of the house, my feet thudding across the hardwood floor in the foyer.

  Quickly shutting the door, I pressed my back against it, hoping he wouldn't come knocking to tattle on me. But that was the kind of rat tailed boy William was, so it shouldn't have surprised me when I felt a pounding from the other side of the door.

  "Mrs. Winthrop! Mrs. Winthrop! Rosaline pushed me!" William yelled as
he continued to pummel the wooden door.

  My mother walked out from the living room. "Rosaline! I told you to stop acting like a little boy. You are a lady. Act like one. Apologize to that boy," she scolded with a look of disdain on her face.

  My head fell forward and sank between my shoulders.

  "Yes, Mother," I whispered.

  Twisting my body toward the door, I turned the silver handle, pulling the door open just enough to poke my head out. William was standing on the other side with his arms crossed and a sour look blanketing his face.

  "I'm sorry, William," I said quietly, looking at my new white ballerina style slippers, noticing they had been scuffed green by the grass. Secretly, I was happy I had ruined their perfection.

  "You will be sorry, Rosaline. One of these days, you will be sorry," he taunted.

  He ran down the red brick porch steps toward a waiting black limousine. His driver had been parked in the hot Georgia sun for hours waiting for our play date to end.

  "Good riddance," I muttered under my breath.

  "Rosaline Winthrop. I heard that!" my mother scolded from the other room.

  Sometimes the ability to hear a pin drop from a mile away wasn’t her most endearing trait.

  Slowly I closed the door, watching as William jumped into the back of the limousine. "Sorry, Mother."

  WEATHERLY

  Present day…

  I sat quietly fidgeting on the plush chaise as I waited for my mother to finish chatting with, Mrs. Santiago, the owner of the wedding gown boutique. I lodged a wisp of blonde hair behind my ear as I listened to Mother spout off all her wants and desires for the perfect gown for the wedding. My wedding. Although it was starting to feel more like hers.

  Granted, I wanted nothing to do with the charade that was to take place in less than a month's time. William had not changed much since we were children, which meant I was destined to marry a sniveling rat.

  The joining of the Winthrops and the McAllisters would create a coven rich with money and power, ruling most of the northern half of Georgia.

  But what was the point of all that power without someone to share it with, someone of my own choosing? Mother would never let that happen. Oh, how I wish I were extended the simple frivolities of life that mere humans enjoyed, to venture away and revel in the sweet joys of romance and fairy tales.

  I shook my head. "Mother, let's go."

  She turned to me, still as slender and beautiful as ever. Her long blonde hair, straight as a bone, lay tame next to her milky white skin. At this point, she could pass for my sister.

  "Darling, you can't just throw on any old white dress. You weren’t raised by animals," she said with a wink and a smile.

  It had been a long time since I had heard Mother's stories about werewolves, and I chuckled at the fact I had ever been frightened of such an old fairy tale.

  "Mother, you know those are children's tales."

  "Oh no, my darling Rosaline. Those are definitely not children's tales."

  She excused herself from her conversation and walked over to me, "What's the matter Rosaline?" she asked as she sat down and put her arms around me.

  Nervously twiddling my thumbs, I replied, "I don’t want to marry William."

  She interjected rather quickly. "Now, you know this contract was forged years ago. There is no getting out of it unless we want to go up against the McAllister's. I would never ask your father to do that…would you?"

  I shook my head. "Of course not, Mother…never."

  She tightened her grip on me and laid her head against mine, "I love you my sweet girl and I only want you to have the best ten thousand lives this world has to offer."

  "I know, Mother," I whispered, rubbing the arm she laid across my chest, the scent of wild jasmine wafting from her skin.

  "Look how well your father and I get along. He is a wonderful man…isn't he?"

  "Yes, Mother, Father is wonderful," I agreed.

  "Well, what if I had walked away from that contract? You would not be sitting here right now in my arms about to become Mrs. Rosaline McAllister. Now doesn’t that have a certain ring to it?" she asked proudly.

  "I suppose so," I replied sadly.

  "That’s enough of that, my darling…sweep those girlish whims aside and wipe the sadness from those beautiful blue eyes of yours. Let's get you married," she said, cupping her palms to my cheeks.

  I eked out a half smile to make her happy, and then watched as she excitedly walked back toward the owner. This was definitely her forte, and as much as I wanted to be my mother's daughter, I knew my true nature was her complete opposite. I would rather be in the forest hunting for dinner with my father.

  The Dàil, the vampire elders, decided long ago animal blood would have to be our main source of food in order to keep vampires from extinction. We were only allowed to drink from humans if it was our intention to turn them and accept them into our coven, or if a human posed any danger to us or our kind. But in those instances, the human would need to be killed and disposed of properly, so as not to bring unwanted attention.

  The turned, what we called non-pure-bloods, were kept under strict watch for the first year of their new lives in order to assess their ability to conform to the laws set forth by the Dàil. If they were deemed to be a risk to our kind, they were dealt with accordingly.

  My parents explained that when the massacres of small villages took place hundreds of years ago, vampires were actively sought out and killed in retribution, causing our numbers to dwindle and spurring the Dàil to take action.

  There were outliers though, vampires who refused to conform to the Dàil's decree. Vampires who had run away from their coven and lived solely on human blood. But those vampires, once found out, were quickly disposed of. My father was one of the death dealers entrusted with handling that sort of brutality.

  My father. So gentle. I sometimes found it hard to believe he could commit the savagery his work required of him. He was my favorite person, and I was his little Rose.

  "Rosaline!" Mother called from outside one of the dressing rooms, wearing a white mermaid style wedding gown. "I think I want to get married again. They didn’t have dresses this beautiful in my day."

  "That is beautiful," I said softly, noting her glow.

  Mrs. Santiago's crackled voice chimed in, "Your day? Why, you don’t look a day over thirty."

  "Bite your tongue, madam. I don’t look a day over twenty-five," Mother said as she adjusted her dress and blew a kiss at the mirror.

  "We'll take it," I said exuberantly to the owner. I was utterly past ready to wrap up this shopping excursion.

  My mother pouted at me as she picked up the bounty of material sprawled out past her knees and headed off to change.

  I handed Mrs. Santiago my card. "Can you have the dress sent over to Weatherly?"

  "Yes, of course, Mrs. Winthrop."

  "No, please, Mrs. Winthrop is my mother. Call me Rosaline."

  Mrs. Santiago smiled, her wrinkled face gentle like the fresh morning dew that settled on the lilies outside my bedroom window.

  "Do you need the address?" I asked.

  "No, Mrs." She paused. "Rosaline, I mean. Everyone in town knows the Weatherly Estate."

  Í smiled shyly as she handed me a pen and the receipt.

  "I'm ready, darling," Mother said as she exited the changing room, straightening her polished, white, cinched waistline dress that hugged her slender frame like a glove. "Mrs. Santiago, I left the dress hanging in the room. Please have it sent to Weatherly."

  "Yes, Mrs. Winthrop. Rosaline has already taken care of everything."

  My mother looked up from her wallet and smiled. "That's my girl."

  "Goodbye, and thank you, Mrs. Santiago." I waved as I pushed open the door.

  I was headed toward the car when a sudden anxious feeling blanketed my body, stopping me in my tracks.

  "What it is, darling?"

  "I don’t know. I feel different all of a sudden," I said, laying
my palm over my forehead.

  "Okay, well, let's get you home," she said, coaxing me to the car.

  I made my way slowly to the passenger side when the feeling overtook me again. I reached out for the door handle, but froze as the piercing anxiety intensified.

  Rosaline. A voice whipped through my head.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a handsome brown haired man walking toward me. His eyes, the color of autumn, maybe even amber, seemed to glow brightly as they neared. My gaze locked onto him as he brushed by with only a single nod to acknowledge my presence. Suddenly, just as quickly as it came, the feeling subsided.

  "Rosaline, get in the car." My mother's voice yanked me back from my fogged trance.

  "Yes, Mother," I said, pulling at the handle of the door.

  As we circled the parking lot, I chanced one last glimpse out of the window in the direction I saw the man heading. Not knowing why, I felt the need to see him again, I chalked it up to simple lust. Maybe even pre-wedding jitters.

  There, among the vacant chairs that littered the sidewalk of the coffee shop, I saw him sitting, broad-shouldered, chisel-jawed, and as magnificent as one could be without trying. He looked up from his coffee and directly at me. His eyes perforated my very being, beckoning me to jump from the car and run to him.

  "Reckless," I muttered under my breath.

  "Why do you say that, darling?" Mother asked as she turned toward home.

  "Nothing, Mother. Nothing at all," I said with a smile.

  WHISPERS

  As evening approached, I had yet to get the stranger off my mind. Reading and watching television did nothing to dull the angst when his image wafted through my thoughts.

  "What's wrong, Rose?" My father asked, pressing his lips against the top of my head.

  "Nothing, Daddy. I'm just thinking," I said, smelling the aroma of char on his navy blue cardigan.