Vampyre Bride ✔️

XXIV⎮Mal Aria

That was a very good question; and one that had her blushing hotly, for she knew she ought not be here with him. Unchaperoned. Nor should she have returned his kiss earlier or allowed him even half the liberties he had thus far enjoyed from her. And, ordinarily, she never would have dared any such indecencies, for she was no wanton; but he was no ordinary being. Moreover, her reality now included vampires, for pity's sake! There was, therefore, no more room in her life for anything in the common way, least of all prosaic etiquette and proper behavior.

"Because," she answered finally, determined that her question receive primacy, "you wished to show me something. So tell me once and for all why you've brought me here?"

"The night air," he replied, his sculpted lips compressed sardonically. "I brought you out to take the night air with me."

Many were those that were of the opinion night air, diseased miasmata, was dangerous to one's constitution. She had not forgot his rose analogy earlier, and his desire to corrupt her. It was in that same morbid vein that she answered him. "And shall I catch my death, do you think?"

"From mal aria?" he scoffed, understanding her dark jest. "No, nothing so bland as that for you."

"How obliging," she murmured, rubbing the chill from her arms. "Will you take your mask off. Please, Lord Winterly." The needling along her spine was now become unbearable and his mask, now that her eyes were better adjusted, appeared very devious indeed.

"In a moment," he whispered, holding up his hand for her to be still. "But first..."

She was of a mind to press the matter and parted her lips to do just that, but her words were swallowed abruptly when a faint glow materialized before her eyes. She finally knew now why he'd really brought her out into this corner of the secluded night.

Very gradually, and mesmerically, did she descry tiny green lights pulsing to life around her amidst the stygian trees. Hundreds of glowworms, kindled like muted stars, drifting indolently to and fro as she stared, enthralled. She swept her eyes from one verdant light to another until her gaze found its way to Winterly's. And there, where his eyes ought have been shadowed by the night, were two green orbs, chatoyant as not even the glow worms could be. He had, as promised, removed his mask whilst her attention had been absorbed by nature's illuminating spectacle.

With a sharp intake of breath she staggered back, reeling from the shock. Eerie malachite, like green embers, seemed to flash with momentary hunger as he returned her gaze.

"By thunder! Your eyes!" At the shock of her words the little insects sputtered their flames and disappeared back whence they came. Only two unblinking dots remained fixed unwaveringly to her. "What in Heaven's name are you?!" 

But ere those words had even tumbled from her lips, he was gone. Vanished. She whirled around, bemused and disquieted, to see that he had dematerialized into the shadows themselves. Lungs constricting and chest heaving, she backed away the while her eyes flew hither and thither in search of him. "Lord Winter—"

Suddenly she felt herself weightless and flying through the air, her breath stolen. She gave a yelp of terror that was abruptly cut short as she was thrust against a tree, the roughened bark gnarled and painful against her back. A wall of solid flesh caging her there.

"Oh, I daresay you know," Winterly seethed, his nose a hairsbreadth from hers as he loomed over her. He had her compressed against the tree, his chest unyielding and his iron fingers holding her fast. "Play no more games with me, Emmaline. You know what I am."

"Yes," whispered she, her hands like claws, as of a petrified cat, where she grasped them to the domino draped over his granite shoulders. "I know."