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Novel Hearts

Page 17

by Rebecca Boucher


  “Have you spoken with my father? Am I to be released?” she wondered, hopeful. Damian watched as Chandler left with a glare, wondering what had happened in his absence and why Amelia was suddenly clutching his arm, beaming up at him as if she was going to get what she wanted. He was a little confused by her changed attitude, but he kept things simple and admitted to the truth. “Yes, but just for today only. Gather your shawl and we shall go into the village,” he instructed her gently, waiting as she rushed to gather up a warm covering. Then he held the door open for her and accompanied her downstairs.

  Damian had planned a full, romantic day for them both. He took her to the beach, watching her adoringly as she built sandcastles and ran from sea creatures, giggling and laughing to herself. They walked through the meadow behind the mansion and then he returned to her room when the sun had set and the hour was late. Even then, when Amelia thought it was all over, sitting in her room, reminiscing about their day, Damian kept his secret. Out on her balcony—if she only looked—was a special display where he would profess his love for her. Two seats set at a table where they could watch the stars, with candle light, fresh flowers, a special jug of rich blood and a brand new dress that he had bought from her favorite seamstress that morning. It was all ready and prepared, hidden behind the long drapes that shut out the drafty windows.

  “If you will excuse me for just a moment, Amelia, there is one more thing I must do … then I have a special gift for you,” he explained with a slight smile. He wasn’t surprised to see that Amelia looked excited and promised to wait patiently for his return. He left her alone for barely more than ten minutes, going back to his room to talk himself into a confession, wanting it to be just right. He didn’t want to make the mistake of trying to tell her that he loved her and having the words come out confused or end up saying something completely different. He changed into a fresh suit, checked his hair and took a few deep breaths to calm himself before returning to Amelia’s chambers … only to find her gone. He sighed in frustration; this was so typical. Of course it was only natural for her to ruin everything by running off. It was so typically Amelia.

  After searching her best friend’s room, the store room and kitchens, he made his way to the council room to see if she had gone to plead her case to her father, but at the bottom of the stairs, Damian froze in his tracks. Amelia was at the bottom of the stairs, talking to Chandler, but what made matters worse was she was flirting with him. “Damian won me a day of freedom. He says there is a surprise for me and I rather think it may be another day of freedom tomorrow. I would so love for you to share it with me. Perhaps, after my surprise, you may take me on a moonlit walk?” she asked, beaming up at the soldier … just as she had always beamed at him. Chandler nodded his agreement and gently touched her hair in a show of affection that, rightly, shouldn’t have been allowed between a soldier and a princess. Then, he gave her a single rose, and Amelia’s face lit up with love. Damian was heartbroken.

  “Amelia, it’s time to return to your room. Chandler may join you for tonight only,” he interrupted suddenly, unable to ignore her guilty smile, as if she knew what she was doing to his emotions, but Damian tried to ignore her as best he could. Chandler snapped back to attention outside the council room, fearful that he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have and that he would now be punished for it. “It’s alright, soldier, I’ll take over your duty. It’s Valentine’s Day and Miss Amelia has a rare opportunity to enjoy it, without confinement to her room. It is your one chance, if you wish to take the opportunity,” he offered, trying desperately to ignore the lump in his throat and the way his stomach turned into knots.

  Chandler looked at Amelia for a clue as to what he should do, but her hopeful smile said everything. She wanted him to go with her. “What of the master, sir?” Chandler wondered as he reluctantly handed his spear to Damian. It was his duty to stand guard outside the council room, after all.

  “I will explain if the master wonders why you are not here. You may as well enjoy yourself, soldier … for both of us.” Damian said, faking a smile as best he could, watching as Amelia ripped out his heart and threw it away once more, as she took Chandler’s hand and rushed him up to her chambers.

  Damian was devastated, but he stood guard all the same, taking up Chandler’s position outside the council room. He was only mildly surprised by the way Amelia rushed back down to him five minutes later to gush over the presents left for her. To his relief, she thought her father had sent them up and he wasn’t going to correct her. It was only when Lucius appeared that he was caught unaware.

  “Damian? I thought you were with Amelia?” he wondered, looking around curiously, looking for Amelia.

  “We had our day together, sir. She wishes to spend her night with another,” Damian confessed through gritted teeth. Somehow, he could never hide his true feelings from Lucius, no matter how hard he tried.

  “The young soldier whose place you have taken? I was afraid of such a thing. I had noticed that he took a rather long time whenever he was sent to run errands for her. Now I know why,” Lucius replied, contemplating whether or not to ban Chandler from ever seeing her again without making it seem like he was punishing the poor solider. “Why did you allow such a thing? You love her, do you not? Why allow her to spend Valentine’s Day with another man?”

  Lucius had no idea how his words stung him. Damian took a deep breath and admitted the truth, whether or not anyone understood. “It will make her happy and that is all I care about,” he confessed, unashamed of his feelings or how easily Amelia twisted them. One day he would either move on and forget about her and find love elsewhere, remaining a solider his whole life, or else he would finally confess his feelings to her and find that she reciprocated them. Miracles could happen. It was Valentine’s Day after all, and he had actually enjoyed himself.

  “Even at the expense of your own happiness?” Lucius asked, placing a hand on Damian’s shoulder, feeling the tension that ran through his whole body. No matter what he said, he could never convince him that he was alright knowing that Amelia was spending Valentine’s night with another man.

  “Yes. Amelia and I do not have the best relationship, but that is one thing that will never change. Now, matter how I feel about it or what sacrifices I have to make, her happiness will always come first,” Damian replied, smiling to himself. It was true. No matter how many Valentine’s days they shared throughout their lives, no matter how many other men she wished to spend those days with, he would always put her happiness first … no matter what.

  Valentine’s Day 1675

  Shiloh had never known anything like it. Her life had always been far too simple and innocent. Now, it was so far beyond complicated that she barely knew what to do. She had been a college graduate looking for a way to make some easy money; that was all, and quite innocent. Well, not anymore, but it had been at the time. Now she was so far out of control that she barely knew any other life. To make matters worse, it was Valentine’s Day, and instead of being in love with some local village boy, she was alone … so, so alone.

  She had found a small ad in a local newspaper, looking for a nurse to care and feed a man of ninety. Since she had spent two years as a volunteer nurse, she went to the interview to see if she could be of any use. She wasn’t sure how much medical knowledge they required, but she was willing to give it a shot. She hadn’t expected to arrive at a mansion in a sleepy English town an hour’s drive away from campus to find it buzzing with life. Once invited inside, she saw at least a dozen young women her own age, mulling around a table looking at magazines. Shiloh wondered at the necessity of the advert, but then she had managed to convince herself that maybe they didn’t have any medical knowledge.

  Upon her arrival, she was shown into a small study just off a large hallway. She was interviewed in a slightly strange manner. The questions were more personal than she was used to, but she thought it was probably because she was from out of town. Quaint little villages like this o
ne always had strange people, but she accepted the job anyway. She was taken to a room upstairs and was told that she would be taken to greet her charge, Laurence, in a short while. Then, they left her to settle in.

  Shiloh immediately began unpacking her things and getting acquainted with her room in the old mansion. She was, therefore, only mildly surprised when there was a knock on her door an hour later, followed by the entrance of a very handsome looking man, who she gauged to be around twenty-five. “Good evening, Shiloh. I am Laurence,” he explained, extending his hand to her.

  She had been so stunned that she held her hand out to shake his before his words really registered. She laughed, at first. “Laurence? Is that a family name?” She asked politely, as the young man gave her wrist an adoring stroke with his thumb.

  “Not especially. My father had the same name many years ago, but he’s no longer with us, you see,” he mentioned with a smile, gently lifting her hand to his lips. Just when she thought he was going to be gentlemanly and kiss it, he didn’t. He took the tip of her finger into his mouth as if to taste her skin, and then smiled at her as she attempted to remove her hand.

  She hadn’t been sure what was happening, but even back then she had an inclination that it wasn’t good. As she sat in a rocking chair by a window reading her book, she knew that it was her only chance to get away. But that had been years ago—two years to be exact. So, when her bedroom door creaked open behind her, she didn’t give it a second glance. Not even when Laurence sat himself at her feet and smiled at her for the hundredth millionth time. He ran a caressing hand over her ankle, up the calf of her leg and pushed up the skirt she wore. Shiloh became far too used to it, but she paid him no mind. Yet, the moment his sharp fangs pierced the skin on the inside of her thigh, her head lolled back against the seat and she closed her eyes. The feeling was still delectable … even now. Laurence was hungry and he had no patience. Instead of asking her to move onto the bed, or feeding from another wound, he gently lifted her leg from the floor and positioned himself between her knees. His back touched her left thigh only partially, while he gorged himself on the blood from her veins. Shiloh gasped as his fingers dug into her leg and he impatiently removed his fangs from the wounds he had made and pierced her skin two inches higher, where the blood was fresh.

  Shiloh’s mind went back to the first time Laurence had fed from her. Another Valentine’s Day spent alone, but at least back then, she had had some hope. He had left their first meeting unsatisfied, telling her to rest and that they would discuss her duties the next day. She began to wonder if perhaps his father had died and he didn’t want to break the news to her that, just moments after getting the job, she was without work. It struck her how silly the human mind was, making up excuses for something that should have been so obvious. So, she read and unpacked for the remainder of the day.

  It was only that night, dreaming forbidden dreams of Laurence and the clear attraction he had already displayed toward her, that the dream was disturbed. She woke to pain, her eyes and mouth flashing open in a wordless scream as two strong fangs pierced her neck. A body lay across hers, warm and strong as she felt the life being sucked from her. The moment he knew she was awake, Laurence pulled back and smiled at her with a bloody grin. “You are mine now, Shiloh. You may never leave this house until the day I die,” he warned her, planting a tormenting kiss on her lips before resuming his feed. She had been so weak then, so unable to fight back from shock and surprise and loss of blood. All she could think about for a long moment was that he had kissed her, and placed the taste of her own blood on her lips. But she knew his words were true, and she knew what he was.

  Laurence had visited her almost daily after that first feed. He would taunt her with small words of belonging and ownership, and always fed from her when she had no chance of refusing him. She only fought back once, a week into her stay at the mansion. Shiloh remembered it clearly, even as Laurence made a third wound in her thigh to feed from. She had discovered his secret, that he only bit her when she was least prepared, and she had rearranged the room to suit her needs. She made it impossible for him to creep up on her—from the door or window—and laid traps down at night, so that if he came in while she was sleeping, she would wake. She had been sitting by the window that day, facing the door, ready for him. When he walked in silently, she noted his immediate surprise.

  Laurence had squared his shoulders and advanced toward her, then casually lifted her wrist to his mouth. When she retracted her touch, he glared at her in confusion and tried a second attempt. Again he failed and his anger didn’t go unnoticed. He spun around and left the room. She didn’t see him again for two weeks, in which time she was denied food or water and was left to starve in her room. Shiloh would gladly have allowed herself to die then, refusing him his blood supply except for two things. Her strong fighting sense had kicked in, telling her not to give him the satisfaction of killing her out of frustration because he couldn’t have his way with her. The second was the knowledge that if she did die, he would only get another girl to take her place, and she couldn’t allow that. Then, Shiloh did the one thing she hadn’t yet had the strength to do. She had got dressed up into the nicest outfit she had, struggled to the door and threw it open. It had been difficult going down the stairs in the state she was in, but once there, she managed to compose herself and make her way toward Laurence’s office.

  He was surprised to see her. So were his ten companions, each one staring at her as if she were some disgusting creature they abhorred. “Laurence, I wish to speak with you … alone.” She managed to make the words sound strong rather than weak, and the other men appreciated her a little more for it. They rose without a word and left the room, leaving her alone with her tormentor. She had been careful about it, walking across until she was right beside his seat, and allowed him to take her hand and kiss it. Then, as casually as she could, she had asked him if he was hungry. The glitter in his eyes when he finally looked up at her was triumphant, and he wasted no time in dragging her wrist to his mouth and feeding from her. But after only a few seconds he pulled away, obviously dissatisfied as he frown at her. To Shiloh’s surprise, a hand had appeared on her forehead, she was ushered into a seat and Laurence had called a young woman into the room. “She is dying, sire. She must eat and rest for many days before she is herself again,” the young woman explained with a small curtsey before leaving the room.

  She had known he was angry, both with her and with himself, for allowing her to get into such a state. For a full week Laurence didn’t visit to feed from her, but had her constantly watched by a young woman who cared for her. It seemed strange at the time, but she had recovered, and Laurence had resumed his feeding from her on a daily basis.

  When he pulled back from the third wound and looked at her hungrily, Shiloh had no idea what he was thinking. He had never been so hungry for her blood before; he had never fed from her more than once a day. Something had happened and now he looked almost guilty with an unquenchable thirst in his eyes. She met his gaze out of curiosity, for the first time in a long time, and found that he looked away far too quickly. She thought for a moment that it was out of shame, but to her surprise, he rose. It was only when she heard the squeak of the door as he opened it that she ventured to speak. “What is wrong?” she wondered, unsure whether he would tell her. But the door didn’t close. Shiloh fixed her clothing back into place and stood up, rather unsteady on her feet. When she found herself wavering as she stepped toward him, she almost let out a sigh of relief when his strong arms caught her.

  Laurence lifted Shiloh into his arms and carried her across the room to the bed. They had shared the room for a year and six months, but they had never shared anything remotely intimate together, not conversation, not feelings and certainly nothing physical. Again, she asked him what was wrong, and this time, he chose to answer her. “You are sick,” he replied and were not the words she was expecting. Shiloh frowned and shook her head, not understanding what he was talking abo
ut. But she didn’t think she wanted to know, so she didn’t ask. Instead she tried to tell herself that he was tricking her somehow, but his eyes were filled with fear. “It is sudden, yes? But not to me. I, who have tasted your blood, know the truth. There is a sickness in your blood … a doctor told me to continue feeding from you, that it would remove the sickness, but each time you recover from a feeding, so does the sickness in your blood. I could only hope that if I fed too much ... if I took more than was mine to take …” he began again, but Shiloh was shocked to see that emotion choked him. She was stunned to hear that he thought he had a rightful claim to a certain amount of her blood, but she had to push that aside for now. He looked away and cleared his throat. “You must go away. The doctor will care for you and you must never return.” He spoke without looking at her and then rose from the bed and left the room, but she couldn’t understand what was happening. What did he mean? Why was he sending her away? He once told her that she would never leave the house until he died.

  Shiloh spent the rest of the day alone, contemplating Laurence’s words. They just didn’t make any sense. But, for some reason, when the doctor arrived and examined her, tsking to himself and telling her nothing, she refused to go. The porters came with the strong vampire guard she had seen downstairs upon many occasion, ready to carry her to the waiting ambulance, but she just found that she didn’t want to go. She sent them off with the foulest language she had ever used, then barked orders at the vampire guard to bring her Laurence. She had never known herself to be in such a state before.

  But Laurence wouldn’t come. The guard gave his excuses verbatim, or so they said. “He says he does not need a goodbye from you, miss, as you were only a source of nourishment. You do not mean enough to him for goodbyes.”

  That made Shiloh’s blood boil. “Go away and … guard something,” she snapped back, forcing herself out of bed and stalling in her room only long enough to lift the silk dressing gown from the back of a chair. She was really quite undressed for company, in her opinion. She wore only a silk negligee that a young nurse had changed her into, with her hair down, but it was enough for what she planned to do. Slipping on her dressing gown as she walked out of her room, Shiloh made her way unsteadily down the stairs and found Laurence standing in his office, talking to one of his friends. The moment he saw her, he tried to feign indifference and look away, but it was at that moment that she lost her footing on the bottom step. Before she hit the floor, Laurence raced across the room and caught her within his arms with a distinct look of panic on his face.

 

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