Red Velvet [The Boy Next Door]

Tainted Blood

Axel on his nineteenth birthday in 1614 ------------------------->

THE BOY NEXT DOOR

 

Copyright © 2012 by Taina Regina

(Title and Cover may be subject to change) All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

 

(I’m not a big fan of changing POV’s halfway in the story, but I felt that this part was necessary. During my final edits, it would be entirely in Ember's POV, so this part is only temporary. Don't worry, I already know how I'm going to weave the content into the same chapter without it having to change POV's). 

Chapter 5: Tainted Blood

AXELS' TEETH SUNK into her skin like putty, as the silky form of Ember’s blood edged deeper into the cavern of his mouth, slipping eagerly down his throat. His eyes almost rolling back from the sweet taste and for the life of him he didn’t want to stop. It was the only way of distracting Genevieve from taking her and ending her life. By Axel drinking her blood and by treating Ember like one of their treats they fed on, using her for their own convenience. This would send a warning to those of his kind that he’d claimed her as his entrée—his meal for the taking. However, that was far from it. In his mind, the beautiful girl he’d spotted from his window when he first moved in wasn’t someone you used as a disposal rag. No. This girl was someone who you’d want to take care of, and introduce her to the world. But, what he wasn’t prepared for—was the haunting memories—as his tortured childhood came slamming back ten fold. With each greedy pull, her very essence consumed his thoughts, as he devoured her…and he was back where he’d thought he’d left in his past centuries ago.

March 16th, 1601 Romania, Brasov.

Locked in a concrete tomb, seven-year-old Alexander Nicolae Dean sat in the corner, waiting for what was sure to come.  The familiar smell of the dewy moss greeted him, which grew out of the mustard concrete on the walls as he tried dodging the water seeping from its creases. He’d accidently spilled over his late mothers pottery plant that his father had hand-made for her, and the shattered pieces of terracotta lay in the middle of Sir Augusto’s study. The shiny sapphire exterior of his study screamed wealth, but the accident made him squirm knowing he was going to be the center of his fathers’ wrath. Alexander had shoveled the mess into a pile to try to hide it, but his father had caught him, and the furious glare his father sent his way, was what made him scamper off to hide in the graveyard. It was his sanctuary where he sought comfort, and a place to show his weakness when he otherwise kept them hidden when in the company of his father. He’d only be punished for crying like a girl. Wiping at the wet splotches of tears that were making a pool out of his face, he forced them away but they were relentless. Here, in St. Francis Mortuary, he could let it all out, and cling on to the hopes of possibly joining his mother...

'Ia-mă cu tine mamă'—take me with you, mama he begged silently.

Praying, he held on to the cross his mother Lucille had worn before she’d died, as he rocked back and forth hugging his knees to his chest. His charcoal hair drenched with sweat and rain that buried in his clothes too, mixing in with the sight of his tears. The stubborn footsteps of his father crept closer, and Alexander shivered at the tone of his voice.