One evening spent chatting away with Dorian in his study soon turned to many more. At first, this happened unwillingly, as per the unavoidable demand of Dorian, but then, I began to come to his study without his request.
Though, sometimes I do wonder why I decide to even bother with that brute of a vampire, especially now. I'm currently bored out of my mind, lounging in a lavish chair, one that Dorian brought into his study recently. He had claimed that it was not for me, but I would've been a fool not to notice the slight rise of his lips when I sat down in the chair for the first time. I laugh to myself at the memory, which makes Dorian's eyes break from the paper on his desk to look at me.
"May I ask what it is that you're laughing at?" He questions me, the slight crease between his white brows only grows as I continue to laugh.
"I'm laughing at you," I answered honestly, earning a disappointed shake of his head.
His eyes crinkle slightly as a smile creeps across his face. The sight of such a genuine smile on his normally scowling lips makes me stare in awe at him. I almost don't want to blink in fear that he might just revert back to his normal expression of disdain.
But, the thing is, I shouldn't like his smile, nor should I feel this strangely just because he has mustered up something other than a scowl. I mean, it practically feels as if my heart might just come tearing out of my chest with the way it's beating. It's almost as if...No, no, no! Abruptly, I shoot out of my chair and set my sights on the door.
If I spend one more second with this man, I'm sure my mind and heart will only get more confused. That is the last thing I'm in need of, especially when I'm supposed to hate him enough to drive a dagger through his heart. I slowly make my way over to the door, silently hoping that Dorian wouldn't stop me.
This hope of mine is crushed to bits when I feel a looming presence behind me. "Don't tell me you're already planning on leaving. The sun has not even set yet," He speaks softly, not a single bit of anger or threat in his voice.
His voice is almost caring, almost like he...No, no, no, and no again! I clench my jaw and place my hand on the doorknob. A simple move like that brings the steady breathing behind me to a still. It catches and it's not released until I feel a long breath of air expel onto the tip of my right ear.
Everything inside of me sets ablaze as I squeeze my eyes shut, steeling my resolve as I turn the handle of the door. The sound of the knob turning seems to echo through the room loudly. Though, it soon stops when a warm hand falls over mine, ceasing my desperate attempt at escaping.
"There's no need for you to go so early. Unless you have deemed some other trivial matter to be more important?" He suggests, but little does he know, I'm trying to leave because of him and his damn smile. "Then, go on. Tell me what you're leaving me to do. I'll decide if it's worth your time."
If I didn't know any better, I'd think that he actually wants me to stay, as if he enjoys my company. Of course, this does nothing to help my quick-beating heart.
"I'm..." I grasp for a string of words that would create a plausible excuse to convince the man behind me to back off.
"You're...?" His low voice pushes me to answer as his warm breath flows into my ear, making me inhale sharply.
"I'm just going to get my journal!" I quickly shout out an excuse that instantly makes me cringe internally.
What twenty-two-year-old woman willingly admits that she journals?! I know for a fact that I'm either going to be laughed at or teased one way or another. Instead, all I hear from behind me is a hum of what seems to be agreement.
"If you needed something to write on, you should've immediately told me rather than wasting all this time distracting me," He tells me with the tone of an annoyed parent.
When I turn to give him a sharp glare, I see that he has returned back to his desk, now busy sifting through the various papers on the wood top. I scrunch my eyebrows together with silent confusion, only watching as he proceeds to pick up a piece of paper, examine it carefully, then shake his head and place it back down. This process repeats itself almost ten times until Dorian takes the whitest, most perfect piece of paper I've ever seen and extends it toward me. I simply look at it, then look back at him.
"I'm not doing your work for you," I swiftly reject whatever idea he has in roping me in to help him with his boring princely duties.
He rolls his eyes before pushing the piece of paper into my chest. "I would never trust a human to do my duties. The kingdom would go to ruins if I did." When I reluctantly take the piece of paper, he turns back around, then faces me with a quill pen in his hand. "You don't need to leave me when I can provide you with everything you wish for. Now, write to your heart's content, human. I'll be expecting you to show me whatever it is that you come up with though."
My confusion has shot through the roof, and it's not because of my heart but because of his strange behavior. It is nice, too damn nice for me to get used to. I'd rather he just continue to ignore me as he always does, or at least remain spiteful and sarcastic. That way I'd be able to think clearly enough to actually write something on this blank piece of paper, instead I'm stuck sitting in my chair, occasionally shifting about in it, as if that might help me write something. After I end up sitting sideways with my legs hanging over the arm of the chair, I come to terms with the fact that I have severe writer's block, all because I can't seem to ignore Dorian's presence.
I quietly groan, then shift my eyes over to him. He's paying no mind to me now. His eyes are trained on a long scroll beneath him. Every so often, he'll momentarily chew on his bottom lip, then tilt his head before writing a few words onto the scroll. Although he's not doing anything extraordinary, I find it entertaining to watch him do something as simple as this.
A smirk forms on my face as I switch my gaze between Dorian and my blank piece of paper that is slowly beginning to be marked up by my inky quill pen. Fifteen minutes later and I'm finally finished. There's more black ink on my hands than the paper, but I'm still fairly proud. Like a student that wants praise from their teacher, I go up to Dorian, displaying my work to him.
When he doesn't take notice of me, I clear my throat, announcing, "I have finished. Do you want to see it or are you too busy glaring down at that scroll?"
"That didn't take you too..."
His voice trails off as he stares at the paper in my hands. I know for a fact that he has fallen silent because he's astonished at my raw talent. That has to be it. Though, I soon discover that is not the case when he opens his mouth once more.
"I thought you were going to write something, not draw a picture of a deranged forest troll," Dorian comments with a look of disbelief shot toward me.
"It's not a deranged forest troll!" I shout defensively, pulling the drawing back toward myself to examine it before shoving it back into Dorian's face. "I drew you! Can't you tell? I mean, look..." I point at the fangs I drew in the smiling mouth, "...there's your pointy fangs. And, and..." My finger stabs into the inky lines that are supposed to make up tousled hair, "...your hair!"
He tilts his head, admitting, "I thought that was supposed to be horns."
My pride in this drawing has been thoroughly shitted on by the very muse of it. I huff, beyond offended as I look over the portrait once again. Now that I'm looking at it more critically, I do see the deranged forest troll. A sigh leaves me as I realize that I'm definitely not cut out to be an artist. I laugh in spite of myself, taking both of the top ends of the paper and pulling them in opposite directions. Only a small rip is made before the paper disappears from my grasp.
"Do not destroy it. This paper was derived from the trees of the forbidden forest," Dorian says as he scowls at the tiny rip in the paper that is now in his hands, "It costs a hefty sum of gold, enough for it to be wasteful to tear it simply because you're not happy with your work." He places the paper on his desk, carefully smoothing it out with a small smile on his lips. "Besides, I'm fond of forest trolls, even deranged ones. I'd like you to make me another." When I don't immediately agree, he gives me a hard gaze, ordering me, "Make me another, human."
His voice is demanding, as if he's ordering me to do some challenging task, not to create another poorly drawn troll. It's far too funny for me to be able to hold back the laughter swelling in my chest. I start laughing and, much to my surprise, another, more beautiful laugh joins mine.
It's like hearing the sweet coo of a dove mixing with a crow's cawing. Still, I can't seem to hush my awful laughter to make room for Dorian's. I just keep laughing until I'm on the floor, rolling around while clutching my stomach. All the while, I feel a warm gaze following me, and I soon realize that it is Dorian who is staring at me with that same old smile on his face. I hate to admit it but I like that stupid smile, and...I want to see more of it.
____
For several days, I foolishly did everything I could to get a glimpse of that smile. Though, through every hour I spent with him, I made sure that my heart had not swayed. But, at some point, I began to neglect to do so, and that was a mistake I should never have allowed myself to make. The consequence of that mistake came swiftly, without much of a warning.
It had just hit the hour of three, the time when I always went over to visit Dorian. My journey from the gardens and to his study was normally one I went on alone, but this time, Selene is at my heels.
"Miss, miss! Why don't you return to the gardens? I'm sure Master Dorian wouldn't mind!" She vainly attempts to stop me with her shouting voice, and eventually, resorts to grabbing at the flowing back of my green dress.
Finally, I stop in my tracks and turn to face Selene whose pale face is flushed a deep red from frustration and exhaustion. Although I don't want to continue causing her trouble, I can't bring myself to do as she's asking me. Surely, Dorian will wonder where I am if I suddenly don't come to visit him.
"I've spent enough time in the gardens for today, Selene," I tell her softly while her red eyes practically plead with me not to keep on walking, "I'm sorry, but I'm going to his study. You're dismissed for the day."
Her expression falls. "Only Master Dorian has the power to order me around." She approaches me with a slight frown pulling at her lips. "Why exactly do you think I'm trying to dissuade you?"
"Because..."
He ordered you to. Only one question surfaces in my mind and it consists of a single word. Why? I do not have an answer, but I know exactly who does. The calls of Selene are ignored as I walk down the hall, forcing myself not to run. I won't allow myself to desperately sprint to his study like I'm a woman who fears her husband may be cheating on her.
When I finally reach the door to his study, I'm greeted with the sight of Callon standing guard. He holds that same look in his eyes as Selene. It's a look of pity.
"What's the deal?" I ask when Callon refuses to move from where he stands. "Is there a fee to enter now?"
He casts his eyes to the floor, quietly responding, "He has a guest, Miss."
"Great! He's about to have another one!" I declare defiantly, only to have Callon step in my way once more.
As long as he's on guard, there's no chance in hell I'll be able to get inside. I need to get past him somehow. My eyebrows knit together as I struggle to come up with a plan that ends with me getting into Dorian's study.
Maybe I can do a surprise attack? No, no, he'll definitely beat my ass within seconds. How about I do the good old 'look over there!' trick? That's too lame. Oh, what--...
The thoughts passing through my mind are interrupted by a loud crash sounding from behind the door. I snap my head up, worry flooding through me. My hand itches for the dagger resting in the pocket of my dress.
Right now, someone could be getting to Dorian before I have the chance to do so. Of course, that's the only reason why I felt the unfathomable urge to use the dagger on Callon so I can break inside of Dorian's study.
I drop my hand to my side, forcing myself to attempt to use another means of removing Callon. "Come closer for a moment. I must tell you something." Suspicion rises in his gaze, making me quickly say, "It's really important!" This isn't exactly a lie, as what I'm about to tell Callon is important, at least to me.
When he finally complies, I quickly shout out my much-needed apology to him, "I'm sorry for what I'm about to do, Callon!
Before he can react, I swerve around him and lunge for the door handle. Fortunately, it turns as my hand grasps it. A loud, almost strained yell comes from behind me as I push through the doorway with a smile that instantly disappears. The sight I'm greeted with is not the one I have grown accustomed to. No, this is entirely new and painful. Frozen in shock, I stand there as Callon pulls me against him so that my back is flush with his chest. I pay no mind to our close proximity.
All I can see is Dorian bent over his desk, head turned into the neck of the woman beneath him. All I can hear are the horrible moans that leave her lips. All I can feel is the all-too-familiar pain coursing through my limbs. Though, there's no reason for me to feel such a thing. It's not like he and I are in a true relationship. But, then, why does this hurt so terribly? It's as if my heart had been ripped from the cavity of my chest, then torn to pieces before being placed right back from where it was stolen from.
I clutch the green fabric covering my left breast, half-expecting my hand to be met with blood. The only blood in sight comes from the woman though. It trails from her neck and onto the desk, where it flows to the edge and finally falls to the floor. Each drop of blood that's added to the ever-growing pool of redness makes it even harder for me to stay quiet.
A strangled gasp, one that I vainly beg myself to not release, escapes me at the full view of Dorian who finally removes his fangs from the woman to face me. His tongue flicks out from his mouth to lick away the excess blood still coating his lips. Whatever he can't remove is wiped away on his forearm.
"Dorian, darling, come back," She practically pleads him to return to her with her hand reaching toward him. "You can't possibly be satisfied yet. I still have so much more to offer you."
A bit of superiority finds its way to me when Dorian pushes the woman's advancing hand away from him to turn his attention back to me.
"Hold her down, Callon, and do not let her leave," Dorian orders him.
My lips part, the ghost of an angered scream leaves them in the form of another gasp. A sort of numbness falls over me at the feeling of Callon's grip upon my arms tightening. Now that I want to leave the prison I willingly walked myself right into, I'm being forced to stay. I struggle against Callon as Dorian continues where he left off with the woman.
After a while, my rough pulls against Callon's unwavering hold cease. I simply turn my head to the side, closing my eyes and silently hoping the tears of frustration will stop falling down my cheeks. For, Dorian is not worth my tears, yet they do not seem to want to end. Rather, they grow worse and continue to do so. The feeling of a hand upon my cheek wills my teary eyes to open.
"I tried to be considerate of your fragile human heart," Dorian tells me with a voice that winds its way around me so that I can't escape from it, "Yet you ignored that consideration and came barreling right through my door." His finger swipes away at a tear that falls from my left eye. "Now, look. You're crying. Tell me why you are doing such a thing. Is it because I'm with another?" I clench my jaw, forcing the honest truth down into the depths of my throat so that it may never be heard by him. "Tell me, Cyra."
Hearing my name leave those filthy, blood-stained lips of his ripped me open, revealing the entirety of my vulnerability to him as my wide eyes stare at him. I can only hope that the guise of anger within my gaze is strong enough to conceal the true emotion that is clutching my heart.
"No! I couldn't care less!" I scream at him, angered at the almost victorious look in his eyes, and most importantly, angered at myself for letting myself react to his taunting. "Take her as your bride, so that I can finally escape this hell!"
A condescending smile appears on his face. "Are you sure about that?"
Callon finally releases my arms, allowing me to flip Dorian off before storming out of his study. I run through the halls, only stopping when I'm behind the safety of my door. I rip the dagger from where it burns against my thigh, then briskly walk over to my bed. My free hand snags a pillow, then I place it down on the bed in front of me. Although the poor pillow has done nothing wrong, I unleash my fury upon it with my dagger. All the while, I imagine Dorian beneath me. The white stuffing spilling forth turns into his silvery blood, and the sound of my strained breathing is joined with his pitiful voice as he begs for mercy. But, as he told me, no mercy is to be given, and I certainly am not giving the imaginary Dorian any.
"Die, you damn fanged asshole! I don't care about you! I never did, not now or in a million damn years!" I yell as I continue stabbing at the Dorian Pillow.
I sink the entirety of the dagger into what's supposed to be his heart. My chest violently heaves up and down as I stare at the pillow, struggling to gather air into my lungs. I hate that bastardly prince, I hate him, I...Defeated and drained, I sit down on my bed, covering my face with my hands. One shaky sigh leaves me before I allow myself to do the one thing I've wanted to do since I was thrown into this shitty fantasy land, cry.
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Ohhhh, my gosh! MFUFT hit 100+ reads!!! Woot, woot! 🎉
Big thanks to all who have helped me get here 🥰
Anywho...if I were Cyra, I would've slapped Dorian into a coma