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A decade ago, a blood war took place emerged from the taboos of young Romeo and Juliet; a vampire and a mortal. As the tragedy goes, together, the paramours are bound to be led to the bite of awakening an impeccable and ravenous baby bi...
He was like a cloud. Always coming and going, in and out of her life according to his mood, not a single inkling of how much changes he made in the sky—or how many colors he imprinted into her heart.
"Prince Cross," she whispers as she disrobed the hood that veiled over her. Her mind was clouded with doubts and forlorn queries. The one person she dearly spent countless days and nights thinking about was standing before her, but she felt the choking sensation of tears welling up in her eyes.
The moment she took a step towards him, he tumultuously pounced at Scott with wild intentions and swathed his itching fingers around his neck. The situation flashed her back to the night she first faced a bloodthirsty beast, her eyes widening in devastation. "No! Prince Cross, please! He's a friend," she cried as she hung onto him in a desperate attempt to detach the two.
One look at Raven with his gleaming red eyes before he released the pestilent grasp as Scott immediately inhaled heavily, coughing and wheezing due to the sudden assault. "That wasn't very—" he breathed. "—prince-like of you, Prince Crossof Elysium."
Without the utter of a single word, he escorted the stunned girl back to the cottage as her gloomy eyes found its way back to her friend to assure his safety. For she was fully aware that she couldn't afford to go against Cross, she shot him a faint smile of apology. When the door shut behind her, he caressed her face with utmost qualities of chivalry.
She lowered her head and asked in a barely audible voice, "Why'd you hurt him?"
"Because he hurt you," he replied, hovering his thumb over the scar on her cheek. She grabbed his hand roughly and lowered her head.
"No," she said. "Scott's a good man. He'd never hurt me."
Rejection coursed through his veins, on the contrary to the blank look on his face. Despite the flames of envy burning the bars of his bosom, he embraced her, bringing her close to his aching heart that caused her pain. With his face buried in the sweet scent of her hair, he whispered, "Happy birthday."
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"Why can't I play outside with you, Cross?" six-year-old Raven, who knew nothing about the cruelties of the world, asked.
"It's safer to stay in your cage like a good raven you are, because big bad birds like to bully the little ones like you."
