When Love Runs Red

When Love Runs Red:: Chapter Twelve

Copyright © 2012: Letitia Van Herck. All Rights Reserved.

                                                  When Love Runs Red

                                                      Chapter Twelve

　

The lights were low painting the warm coloured library in a gentle fiery hug. Charlotte sat, staring at a pile of books she had plucked off a shelf with very little resolve. The books appeared tp be a part of a series, as each volume was a brilliant red and marked with numbers on the side. She traced her fingers across the side of the book and blew away the thick line of dust that coated her fingers. They had obviously not been used in a while. Picking up the first book entitled ‘Basic Biology Of The Vampire Race’ she shuffled in her seat as she had begun impatient. Flicking the book open she was met by a yellowish coloured page with a considerably large contents list. Her eyes grew wide. Surely that was much for one book, and yet considering the thickness of the book what had she expected?

          Charlotte had awoken that morning to find a note left on her bedside cabinet, a yawn escaping her lips and a scratch to her head she had picked it up with sleep ridden eyes and scowled. Written in elegantly posed writing had been a request to go the library that afternoon. She had been told to ask the librarian for assistance in locating the books listed too in the note. She hadn’t known why but upon seeing the Queen’s signature marked on the bottom she had been quick to comply. There had been no further instructions on what to do with the books.

          She was curious to start reading the books as she knew that this species was different to her. They had long pointed fangs and their skin was considerably pale but other than that they looked frighteningly similar to her. The Queen had shown and mentioned she was not like them and ultimately wasn’t one of them; which meant they were something else. She looked down at the book again figuring that they were this supposed vampire race. There had been many rumours of vampires back home; they had become quite the phenomena. There had been a range of speculation of their actual existence, but it had never been fully proven. They were said to be feared and considered deadly murderous killers whom rose from the dead and drank the blood of unsuspecting mortals.

           If what she was living with now where in fact vampires she had seen naught such behaviour off of them. In fact no one had even attempted to eat her as of yet. It was odd but in truth it occurred to her she was not as afraid as she ought to be. She was comfortable here and had been accepted amongst most of the people. Previously she had sensed something different about them, something faintly odd, she had recalled that both Dante and Ivory’s skin had been cold and she wondered why she had not picked up on it before now. In the truth of it in both events that involved contact with their skin it had not seemed important as both had been quite distressing.

          At the thought of Dante she smiled. She wondered what he was doing at present. Perhaps he was making his men do another gruelling days exercise out in the cold? Or maybe he was in his room taking some well deserved rest? She wondered too what he thought of her. She had never normally cared how people had perceived her and yet she wanted him to find her perfect. She wanted him to find her attractive and suitable. Most of all she wanted him to think of her like she thought of him. She had become painfully aware that he had consumed her mind more than often, and it worried her. She knew too that her heart all but raced with joy when she was in his presence. Could it be she had taken a fancy to him? It seemed more than likely.

          Your mother wouldn’t approve, her mind scolded her and she winced.

         She missed her mother, as any daughter did, but she found this new world so overly fascinating; so new and exciting she often wished she didn’t have to go home. Here she was free and without her mothers watching gaze. If her mother had been here she would have made Charlotte distance herself from Dante and perhaps even looked down on him. By title he was presentable of sorts. He wasn’t a commoner by any means and he served the Queen, but he wasn’t a noble and her mother no doubt would have disapproved on his rugged appearance. She certainly wouldn’t approve of his thick mattered hair, and smouldering eyes, or of his choice of clothing from his boots to the cloth of his shirt. She wouldn’t approve of his deadly demeanour that oozed from him as he walked. He didn’t grab attention the collected well presented way but from how dangerous and deadly and wildly wicked he appeared, and yet Charlotte liked it. More than liked it in fact for she found it more than a little exciting.