Dinner with a Vampire

Page 51

‘You’re an arrogant, stupid, stuck-up jerk of a Prince with a serious ego problem who should really go and shove—’
My sentence ended in a high-pitched squeak as I was tugged around, an icy hand on my shoulder.
‘Fuck fate,’ he growled. Then his lips were on mine.
I was so shocked by his touch that I froze for a moment as he sucked gently on my lower lip, before I found my arms wrapping themselves around his neck, kissing him fervently back. I felt him smirk into the kiss before he drew back. I rolled onto my tiptoes, trying to reach his lips but he held me back.
‘Missed my touch then, Girly?’ He ran his thumb along my jaw and down my neck, pausing at my throbbing vein, pulsating far faster than it had been the minute before.
‘Ego problems,’ I murmured.
I heard him chuckle before he drew me closer again, lifting my chin and softly pecking me on the corner of my mouth. I followed him and he yielded, letting me suck hungrily and greedily at his lips as his tongue begged for entry, which I gave without hesitation. I let my tongue slip into his mouth too, gliding it across the points of his fangs.
I could taste blood and my heart picked up – he must have noticed because he chuckled, his fangs just clipping my lip as his hands worked their way slowly down my spine. Effortlessly, he picked me up and placed me on the railings as though I were a china doll – a doll he admired as he stepped back, his eyes raking across my body. His gaze was so intense I could almost feel my skin tearing away as it burnt hot; vaguely, I was aware that there was a fifteen-foot drop behind me.
He drew close again and clasped my hands behind his back before joining his own hands behind mine. I let my head rest on his shoulder, my mouth just brushing his neck, the Queen’s locket – my locket – trapped between his collar and mine.
‘Your father is going to kill us,’ I chuckled, but he shrugged.
‘He’ll have to deal with it.’ He sighed, his hands tangling themselves in my already-knotted hair. ‘Violet, don’t ever leave me. Whatever happens; however bad things get, just don’t go. Please.’
I pulled away, studying his face. I knew what he was referring to. ‘Kaspar, I have to tell you something.’
He frowned for a moment but then shook his head. ‘No, it can wait. Just enjoy now.’ I opened my mouth to protest but he pressed a finger to my lips. ‘Wrap your legs around my waist,’ he murmured in my ear.
I did so and with a muffled shriek on my part, he lifted me up in his arms. Stepping into the shadow of his room, he pecked me on the cheek, before kissing me again with an urgency that wasn’t there before.
It was an urgency I felt too and as his tongue delved between my lips I wriggled free of his grasp, though he quickly grabbed my hand and tried to tug me towards the bed. Yet I remained still, eyes transfixed on the open door.
In it stood the King, the irises and even the whites of his eyes entirely consumed with anger. He stared with an unwavering gaze at me, a soft growl escaping his mouth. Beside him stood a vampire I recognized as Ashton and another, unfamiliar to me. Both of their eyes were warring between black and red.
Kaspar yanked me to his side, hugging me close but I hardly noticed. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the King’s eyes as tears began running down my cheeks.
‘Not this again,’ Kaspar growled. ‘Forget my duty! It’s my choice whether to touch her or not!’
But the King didn’t hear, or maybe he didn’t care because he gave no reply. Instead, he motioned to the vampire I didn’t know, who moved forward.
‘Take her outside.’ His voice was flat.
Kaspar immediately moved in front of me and I began backing away.
‘What the f**k?’ he cursed, but quick as a flash Ashton had grabbed him and twisted his arms behind his back at a painful-looking angle; Kaspar was stronger and quickly broke free, elbowing him in the chest.
I back-pedalled, arms grasping at the air behind me until they hit something solid, my back following. The other vampire smirked, beginning to close the distance between us. But there was a sudden groan and the vampire glanced at Ashton, pinned against the wall, his neck encircled by Kaspar’s hand.
Seeing an opportunity I began sliding along the wall to reach the open French doors. The ridges of the wood panelling snatched like clawed hands at my shirt and though I knew I was running my feet didn’t seem to be moving; even as the vampire lunged towards me, I still had time to let my eyes wander to the painting of the Queen and her husband, her eyes as dead and lifeless as the living King that stood before us. My eyes found the locket around her neck as my hand found it resting against my collar and closing my eyes, I braced myself.
Hours.
The vampire’s weight thrust into me and I shrieked, yet heard no sound. I struggled, but I couldn’t move as his entire body pushed me into the wall, rapid breaths tracing a pattern along my throat. When I opened my eyes, I could see nothing but blotches until they gradually refocused and I could make out the King’s lips soundlessly moving as he stared in the direction of his son, who backed away from Ashton and spun to face me, a look of utter defeat on his face.
The King motioned and I was dragged out as Kaspar silently watched; something cold like a knife was pressed to the skin just below my jaw. I let the feel of that touch wash through me, cherishing the rush; the heavy scented air, rich with cologne; the light, the dark.
As I passed the King I stared at his unfeeling face, unmoved and indifferent as tears trickled down my cheeks and doors flew open, pleading and shouting filling the hallway as I watched his empty eyes follow me.
‘But, Miss Lee, what makes you so adamant in your belief that I abhor you?’
I tried to free my wrists from the vampire’s grasp as he lugged me down the stairs, but other hands tightened around my waist and the knife pressed harder into my neck. Amongst the confusion I made out faces – Cain, Fabian, Alex, Kaspar, Jag, even Lyla – but the only sound louder than my own heartbeat was the ticking of a clock and the giggling of a small child … the only face I could pick out amongst the sea of cloaks and black eyes gathering in the entrance hall: Thyme.
She wound between the legs of the onlookers, her black dress frilled with white and trailing silver ribbons. She came to a stop at the base of the stairs, clinging to the bottom banister as she stared up at me. Her eyes were wide with wonderment and her mouth ajar, but her lips quickly widened into a toothy smile.
‘Don’t look the Princess in the eye, scum!’ a cold voice said at my ear, and the knife – which, as I glanced downwards looked more like a dagger – was pressed further into my neck.
I looked away hastily as noise flooded my ears once more. I could hear the frantic protests of Cain and Kaspar, pleading and desperate, amongst the reasoning of Jag and Sky as whoever held me tossed me down the steps outside and caught me once more by grabbing my hair. I screeched, only for the dagger to silence me as it rested against my windpipe.
As they spun me around to face the steps I watched as Lyla tugged at her father’s sleeve and Fabian halted on the steps, frozen in horror as the household poured out around him, engulfing his form. Mary turned away into the arms of Jag, whose mouth was moving wordlessly as Thyme broke through the throng of onlookers: the family and their friends; the servants; the council …
Outside, it was hardly brighter. The sun no longer showed, instead colouring the clouds orange as hot, licentious chants filled the autumn air, curses for my name rising with the smoke from the beacons.
Two hands rested on my shoulder, another two on my arms and pressed down, forcing me onto my knees. I dropped down but they did not ease the pressure, instead taking a wrist each and twisting them behind my back until I screeched and begged for them to stop. They didn’t.
Gritting my teeth I lifted my eyes and found Kaspar, who slowed and stared at me, a thousand unreadable emotions written in his face – but horror was uppermost, evident and distinguishable.
‘I said don’t look!’ the same cold voice said as a hand met my cheek. I winced, but kept quiet, as blood, alongside tears, trickled down my cheeks. I tasted it on my lips and grimaced.
As the hand lifted once again, Kaspar broke free from the crowd and surged forward, only to be grabbed by his older brothers and Ashton, who lugged him back, their voices vying to be the loudest as each shouted, grunting as they fought one another.
‘It’s a wondrous thing knowing you will die at the hands of a man so adamant to fight for you now, is it not, Lady He**ine?’ a voice hissed beside my ear. I shuddered. Twisting my neck I came face to face with Valerian Crimson, kneeling, one hand clawing my wrist, the other holding the knife to my neck. Restraining my right arm was the other vampire.
‘You knew,’ I spat, droplets of blood pooling between the gravel.
He chuckled. ‘Oh, I have known you were a He**ine all along. You see, my dear son Ilta was gifted with foresight, much like Eaglen. But instead of being a bumbling fool, he took action.’ He tightened his grip around my wrist as Kaspar continued to struggle. ‘You see, a human should not be bestowed with such a title as He**ine. You have no right to it. Unfortunately though, his plan was fooled by his own desire for you, and your pretty Prince saving you over there. But I think it’s rather apt that he will finish what Ilta started, don’t you?’
I scowled. ‘You’re sick,’ I muttered.
‘Now, now,’ he chided, with false politeness. ‘I was just about to compliment you on how well-guarded your mind is: for us not to find out about your father’s little secret all this time is a clever trick.’ His voice lowered and out of the corner of my eye I could see him smiling. ‘But you were betrayed. Somebody sent a note.’
He pointed to the King as he raised his hand, silence gradually falling. Clutched in-between his fingers I could see a tiny slip of paper.
Valerian laughed.
‘Open your mouth about being a He**ine and I’ll slit your throat. Do you understand, My Lady?’ As if to prove he would do it, he pressed the blade right up against my flesh and I flinched away, believing him.
Silence fell and I let my gaze rest on the gravel, not daring to meet Kaspar’s eyes because I knew what the King would say next.
He opened his mouth, his voice a harsh whisper. ‘She deceived us. It was her. Her father ordered my wife’s death. And she knew. She knew all along.’
FIFTY-SEVEN
Violet
Spots of blood were still appearing on the gravel.
I closed my eyes and let my head droop forwards. The pain was easing in my arms, forced behind my back, but only because they were going dead. The knife pressed under my chin seemed warmer and I could see a lonely droplet of sweat – my sweat – trailing down its length and pausing momentarily at its tip as a perfect teardrop, like rain on a leaf waiting to fall. But it could not hang so precariously off such an edge for long and after a second it fell, mixing into the tarn of blood.
I was too scared to look up. I didn’t want to see Kaspar’s face.
‘Do you deny it?’ the King barked against a refrain of murderous words whispered by the council and the servants; but not the family. They remained deadly silent.
The blade of the knife pressed against my neck and so with the sort of guilt impossible to hide on my face I raised my gaze, then my eyes, and shook my head.
‘No?’ the King croaked. ‘No? You lie to me and my Kingdom for so long and yet you do not deny it?’
I paid little attention to him. Instead, my gaze had become transfixed on one person: Kaspar. On his eyes. Black. But not just black. Glistening. The tears that were trickling down my cheeks were matched on his.
He’s crying.
My lips parted and closed again as I gulped. ‘I’m sorry,’ I mouthed. ‘I’m sorry.’
The wind nestled in his hair as pride raised his chin slightly and exposed his neck, pulling taught the skin across his throat. His eyes stared into the sky and I followed his gaze to where two crows were circling, dipping and diving amongst one another, opening their beaks and shrieking.
I brought my eyes back down to him and in one blink, he had averted his gaze. He made no effort to wipe the tears away and I saw them plummet, falling and fracturing into tiny droplets on the stone steps. Slowly, they dried on his pale cheeks until they became nothing.
He did not turn back and with that, my tears fell uncontrolled; not withheld, not restrained but free to fall: not for my father’s sin, not for myself, but for him.
‘Do not look at my son,’ the King murmured, even the quietest of whispers audible in the still air – the chants had eased to a murmur at the King’s words. ‘Do not look at him.’
I spat blood onto the ground as Valerian pushed on the back of my neck and I was made to stare at the gravel at my knees. Fear, real fear, was beginning to rise again as the murmur of chants became a babble and the babble a chorus. But that was nothing compared to the sound my shattering heart made.
With the little lustre I could manage, I spoke. ‘Then who would you have me look at?’
There was no reply and Crimson grabbed a large chunk of my hair and wrenched my head back, straining my skin against my exposed throat not with pride, but with humility. I thrashed in his strong grip, fighting as he reached around and pulled the Queen’s locket from my breast, holding me still long enough to undo the clasp. He reached down and pulled the pendant from beneath my shirt. The locket fell away. The skin it had rested upon seared, na**d without the cold metal resting upon it. I struggled, but the grip around me tightened and slowly I stilled, recognizing the hopelessness of fighting. Valerian was a thousand times stronger than I was and half the bloodthirsty court stood in front of me; if I tried to speak up the knife would be driven through my neck.