Cautiously, I proceed for the doors and into the chambers. I glide them shut, turn to look upon Amir who stands by his bedside table whilst he works to pour himself some wine in a flute. I lean into the walls, fingers fiddling aimlessly, thoughts wild and mind wandering.
“Where have you been, Yalifa?”
He brings flute to his mouth, tips, swigs, looks upon me. I work to conjure up a shallow response. I search my mind, I contemplate carefully.
“Forgive me, my prince, I came upon additional tasks,” is my response.
Still, I see how the wheels turn, see the dissatisfaction birthed from my answer to his query. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, avert my gaze and gaze upon anything but the man who questions my whereabouts.
“Yalifa, I see the finger prints by your neck clear as day. I smell the scarlet that oozes from the small cut etched into your right cheek. Care to explain?”
He chugs the remnants of drink, pours himself another glass, sits himself by the chaise that faces in my direction, swirls drink in flute. I ponder harshly, I swallow.
“I fell, hit myself by the edge of table whilst cleaning.”
His head tilts ever so slightly as he continues to scrutinize. He tips glass, tastes from it. I blink, only blink, and the lad now stands before me. His arms pressing into the walls by my left and right sides cage me effectively and I lean further into walls.
“I do not take kindly to deception, Yalifa. You are aware of this and yet…Did Aafil touch you? Did he harm you this way?”
His tone is not menacing, does not harbor malice, is genuine instead. I cannot -for the life of me- bring my gaze to hold his. I look upon his nude chest. How should I answer him? How should I come upon a response? It would be as though I beg for the caresses of death herself. Amir’s index traces the cut, grazes lightly the finger prints embedded into my flesh.
“Look upon me when I speak with you, Yalifa. I shan’t harm you,” his tone is serene, it somewhat soothes me.
And I do, I lift eyes to his blackly ones. I stare with perplexity at the little darkly veins that litter all around the sockets of each eye. And somehow, I feel no fear. I am not shaken up neither do I find this image of him appalling. If anything…
“He hurt you. Well, I shalt have to keep my end of the bargain, shan’t I?” He continues, cracks a smile to reveal his lengthening fangs.
“My prince, I do not wish that you fight this battle on my behalf . I am but a servant. This has been my life. No violence, I beseech you.”
He stares holes into my face, takes a lock of my hairs in his thumb and index fingers, feels for the texture.
“I made you a vow, Yalifa. And I did warn him not so long ago. Leave that decision up to me.”
Does not matter how hard I try to drive it through his skull that I do not wish to be associated with violence, he shan’t grasp those words. His mind is set and in my fatigued body and mind I find that I do not wish to banter or bicker with the lad over the matter. Instead, I lift a finger to the veins of his eye. I feel for them, just feel. He appears to battle against unseen restrains when he could so easily overpower my fragility. I drop my arm back to my side, clear my throat.
“Prince, I should leave you now, no? You must be exhausted from the days events.”
And with that, thoughts of Yemi faithfully return and begin to pester.
“What should be the matter, Yalifa. You appear unsettled by something. Upset even.”
I bring my palms to his chest in attempts to shove him but the prince hardly budges.
“Yemi is clearly in love with you. She will soon become your betrothed, Amir.”
“I do not fancy her, Yalifa,” the back of his index grazes my cheek so tenderly, so sweetly.
Never have I felt emotions so peculiar for a man. Never have I felt as though my heart burns with excitement at the sight of a man. No, this dangerous path I tread shalt be my very undoing.
“She is a princess, Amir. Beautiful as they come. Educated and thus knowledgeable. And the both of you appear to be well acquainted, no? She shalt become your queen, the mother of the next heir to Akhila kingdom, perhaps,” I work to reason with Amir who only leans into the hollow of my neck, presses chaste little kisses there.
He draws away to gaze upon me for a moment. The whites of each eye are still concealed behind the blackness but his fangs are no longer in sight. He cups my face gently, looks from my eyes down to my mouth and back up to them. And never has a man looked upon me as though I were anything more than a mere slave, a valueless piece of filth. My heart swells. My throat constricts. I swallow. I blink.
“And yet you are the most lovely, the most kind, the most intelligent of them all,” comes his smooth response, and I only stare, just stare as those words and the impact of them embed into the pits of my memory, “may I kiss you, Yalifa.”
There he goes, asking instead of taking, requesting instead of snatching, seeking instead of stripping from me. And I find my palms cupping his face drawing him closer to me and capturing his lips in my own. Tongues dance, one against the other, tongues pleasure, tongues sate. He draws away from me to stare upon my facial features and I find that my heart flatters with a new sort of bittersweetness. Heavens, to tread upon the path of love and death and war.
To tread without a care in the world. Do I hold such luxuries? May I love and be loved by a man without condition? Shall it all come to bite me in the arse? Heavens, am I witless to think in such manner? Am I deserving of a thing so blissful as love, protection, security? Our foreheads press softly into each other and my eyes flutter shut. All is merry, all is tranquil, all is peacefulness. Until…
“Yalifa, even if my body will belong to another, my heart, soul, and mind, will forever be yours to hold. Forgive me for the hurt I have brought down upon your feet,” he speaks so lowly I nearly miss it.
Those words burn holes into the pits of my memory. They etch and carve and cling to my heart like a leech. And my eyes? They begin to sting so horribly, so terribly. I swallow at the lump that threatens to wring the life from my lungs.
Heavens, those words, those sweetly, lovely words spoken by a man who is both like a foe and a lover of sorts. A strangled sob tumbles past my lips but I cannot bring my eyes to open and look upon Amir. And I feel it. I feel how his lips press little chaste kisses to my forehead. I single rivulet slips and dips into the corner of my lip.
Another glides down my cheek to the very edge of my chin. Grace, I do not intend or wish to come of as child-like. But for the first time in all my living, a man confesses to having fallen for me in earnestness and not because of the pleasures of my body. The very man who rained havoc upon my life now confesses to having fallen for me. And witless as it may seem, somehow, I harbor feelings towards him too. Emotions that exceeds mere tolerance or fancy…
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Bite Me Royal... (Mature Vampire Romance 18+)
VampireYalifa Gamila is a slave maiden that seeks to hide a deep secret -a gypsy witch of the Ahil tribe who conceals this truth from those around her lest they slay her as they did those before her. After serving in the Raiz Kingdom as a maiden for as lon...
