Blood Rose (The Undying Love Collection Book 1)

by A. D. Brazeau

  My heart skipped a beat as I thought about Hawthorne. He was down the hall, separated from this room by only thirty feet. In his new, heightened state, he would scent the fresh blood. He would come, and it would be soon. I better come up with a plan and quick.

  Instead of moving toward Edward, I backed away toward the bedroom door. Before I could get there, the door was flung open with such violent force that the handle stuck into the plaster of the wall behind it, pictures shaking on their hooks. My heart threatened to stop beating in my chest, sputtering into a dangerous rhythm. My world had gone from hellish to heavenly and back again in minutes. “Hawthorne don’t move. Stay right where you are. If you approach this man, he’ll kill you.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Life swarms with innocent monsters.

  Charles Baudelaire

  Hawthorne

  I think a part of me never bought the whole vampire thing. I believed Annabelle to a point, but there was something, practicality maybe, that kept me from grasping what she told me. That was, until I woke up.

  The first thing that hit me was a thirst so powerful I worried I might die. The dry, burning pain behind my tongue was almost unbearable. I swallowed, feeling no relief. Annabelle had to live with this for two centuries. She was stronger than I’d ever imagined.

  I wanted, correction, needed to drink as soon as I opened my eyes on this new existence. Instead, the sight of Annabelle restored, awed me into forgetfulness. She was beautiful, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

  She stood alongside me with those eyes that glowed like fire. They hadn’t changed. What had changed was everything else. Her hair, limp and lifeless before, now flowed around her shoulders as if a living thing in deep, chestnut brown waves. I imagined burying my face in that hair, inhaling her new scent. She didn’t smell like much before. Now, there was a soft, fresh perfume that reminded me of an ocean breeze. An ocean I wanted to drown in. The creaminess of her skin was something I had to touch.

  And, when I did touch that satin smooth skin, a desire to do much more rose within me. To kiss her was better than anything I had ever dreamed. I couldn’t wait to take care of my business with my parents then kiss her more. I never believed in fate until now. Annabelle was my fate, the universe meant us for each other the same as any fairytale couple. I would do whatever it took to make her happy from now until the end of time.

  It was strange to think of time as infinite. But, that’s now what it was. Questions about what we were and what abilities we possessed swirled through my head. Did Annabelle have the answers? Or would we be learning all this together? I hoped a little of both.

  My parents weren’t as difficult as I figured. I told them my car was still out on the road, the GPS had been wrong. I would retrieve it in the morning with a friend, whose house I was staying at for the night. My dad told me to keep the car for a few more days if I needed it, they had another and nowhere much to go. They didn’t question me. In fact, I’m sure my dad thought I meant a girl when I’d said a friend. I would sort everything else out later. They would be fine, of this, I was confident. I had already grown and gone off to school. They expected me to fly further from the nest.

  It was when I hung up with my parents, I heard a man’s voice coming from down the hallway. At first, I assumed the man was Alain, so I remained where I was to give, he and Annabelle space to talk. They had things to work out. I decided to concentrate on anything other than how thirsty I was. Annabelle said she would feed me, so it was just a matter of patience. I walked around the little room, picking up knick-knacks, turning them over, then setting them down, again.

  As I held a blue and white porcelain figure of a dog in my hands, I smelled it. Somehow, I knew what I smelled. It was blood, and it was calling. The fragile dog slipped from my fingers, shattering as it hit the wood floor. I worked to breathe through it, to tell myself to relax, but there was no stopping. I tore through the room. My feet pounded down the hall like a wild animal, then crashed through a closed door. The bittersweet aroma obliterated all other sense. Deep red drops hit the carpet and pooled there, begging me to lap them up and setting my mouth to watering. Annabelle lost me.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Being deeply loved by someone

  gives you strength,

  while loving someone deeply gives you courage.

  Lao Tzu

  Annabelle

  The sight of the blood glazed Hawthorne’s eyes over, his tongue darted between his lips, wetting them as he anticipated his meal. I knew the thirst that consumed him, and he couldn’t hear me. The only thing Hawthorne heard, saw, and smelled was the spurting of the blood from Edwards’ wound. I had to act but how? Worthlessness against Edward’s power sent waves of despair rolling through me. He inflicted such cruel suffering.

  “Hawthorne look at me. I’m begging you. Please don’t move any further.” It was useless, he couldn’t hear my plea. Hawthorne readied himself for attack, he was a panther about to strike.

  From the angle of my eye I saw Edward move a step closer. He was positioning himself for whatever spell he was about to cast. This also put him closer to me. I wasn’t sure if he’d curse Hawthorne as he’d cursed me or if he would end Hawthorne where he stood—I wouldn’t allow either outcome.

  Time sped up. In the blink of an eye, Hawthorne sprung forward. Edward waved his hand in the air, a spell beginning to fall from his lips like so much acid burning an irreparable hole through my life. I would no longer play the docile victim; I would act. With only the thought of Hawthorne’s safety in my mind, I pounced. If Hawthorne was a panther, I was a lioness. Strength and power surged from my core throughout my limbs. Edward was my prey.

  He saw me coming a fraction of a second too late. Edward turned toward me, ready to hurl his spell in my direction, but I caught him off guard. He didn’t think I was strong enough to act. Little me had always stood back, disappearing into the crowd, hidden behind her books. Not anymore.

  “Surprise,” I whispered.

  I overtook him, my arms wrapped around Edward’s midsection, pinning his arms to his sides. He pushed back, flailing against me with all his might, but his might was no match for mine. My momentum was like that of a freight train. I fought to pull to a stop, but my bare heels could find no purchase on the smooth wood of the floor.

  To let go of Edward wasn’t an option, so I gave in, allowing us both to stumble over the window seat and smash through the glass. The window shattered, the blast of it ringing out like a gunshot. Sharp pains ran along my arms and down the sides of my body as the jagged shards cut my skin into ribbons. Still, I refused to let go.

  Edward pierced my eardrum with his scream. His wail died as we fell. In reaction to this, he sucked in a breath so deep he inhaled my hair, choking and sputtering as we dove toward the hard ground below. His body went rigid in my arms. He was sweating; the fear pouring out through his glands.

  Before I could brace myself for the impact, we hit the dirt. Edward’s body, beneath mine, took the brunt of the fall. Edward had somehow been alive this whole time. I did not understand how. I also did not know if the fall would kill him.

  The ground knocked Edward’s breath out of him the second we made the impact in a great whoosh. Bones snapped underneath me, and he gasped for air in a desperate, frightening way. I scrambled off, sitting up on my knees and bending over him. I still held down his hands, not able to let my guard down until I knew this was over.

  “Annabelle!” Hawthorne yelled my name from the room above.

  “Everything’s okay,” I called back, not daring to take my eyes off the heap of man at my feet.

  “I’m coming down. Don’t move.” The noise of running footfalls echoed as Hawthorne made his way through the house.

  Edward slid his gaze toward me, his breathing ragged and irregular. “Finish me,” he croaked.

  I swallowed, my anger and hatred for what he did dissipating in the hot Southern night. “I’m sorry,” I said, right before I sank my teet
h into the tender flesh of his throat. He couldn’t speak, my bite ending him.

  With Edward unconscious, I sat back on my heels for Hawthorne to drink. He was newly born to the dark and needed the sustenance.

  We dug the grave with garden spades. Lucky for us, we had our preternatural strength to help us move the earth. My wounds were closed and although sore, would be fine in a couple of hours. My love and I hadn’t spoken since he yelled down at me from the window. There didn’t seem to be adequate words.

  I worried for Hawthorne. Taking a life is never easy, even when the life is evil. I pulled the spade from his hand and looked up into his eyes. More than anything, I didn’t want him to have regrets. Our existence was enough of a challenge. “Are you all right? I know how hard it is.”

  His gaze locked with mine. “I think so. I feel a little out of it, to be honest. Maybe I’m in shock.”

  “You are. It takes time.”

  Hawthorne’s eyes lit up with his smile. “I guess we have plenty of that.”

  When my constant companions returned from their night on the town, there was only an hour until sunrise. Hawthorne and I had finished cleaning up most of our mess and were on our way to get washed up.

  I walked ahead of Hawthorne, down the hall, after burying Edward out back. We had moved deep into the woods, the first time I did so since being released. I preferred him far away from the house, deceased or not.

  Swann was peeling off her jacket by the front door. “Annabelle, what happened?” She rushed toward me, fear contorting her face. Alain popped out of the salon, stunned into freezing in his tracks.

  I wasn’t sure how I looked but imagined the fight and digging left me covered in blood and dirt. I held up my hands. “It’s okay, Swann. You won’t believe what happened. But, we’re both fine. It was Edward all along. He was the witch who cursed me, and he came back to finish the job. I’ll tell you the rest later, right now, all I want to do is take a bath.”

  “Shower for me.” Hawthorne moved up behind me in the hall, spinning me around to face him. I didn’t have the heart to tell him we did not have showers, only baths with water we had to heat ourselves. “After we clean up, how about I meet you for another dance in the library?”

  My heart leaped in my chest. “It’s a date.”

  “Before you do that. Have you seen the blood rose?” Alain asked, still standing near the salon.

  My blood turned to ice water. Without speaking, I rushed past my friends and out onto the porch. Steeling myself to be ready for anything. I walked, my bare and dirty feet padding along the boards. What fresh Hell awaited me now? Had Edward managed to get off one last curse before he perished?

  “Where is it?” The space outside the library was just that, space. The single flower, sitting on its enchanted vine was gone. A lightness enveloped me; this nightmare was over. It seemed too good to be true, and yet; I knew it was. The only question that remained was Hawthorne. Our date in the library should put my mind at ease.

  I retreated to my room, happy to wash off the grime and blood of the past. After I cleaned away all the muck, it was time to select a gown for my private ball. The flowing white gown was impossible to resist. I stepped into it, holding the fitted bodice in place while Swann zipped the back. The strapless dress wrapped around me like a glove, holding my now healthy curves in place. The full bell-like skirt was formal, perfect for dancing.

  “Do you think we will find others like us as we move through the world?” Swann picked up the hairbrush, twirling it around in her hand.

  “Maybe. I think the bigger question is will we have cause to fear them?”

  Swann shuddered, moving behind me to help me with my preparation. “I hope not. Let’s talk of more pleasant things. Will you stay here, Annabelle? In this house?” Swann brushed my hair, arranging the strands into soft curls. I didn’t need her to do this and told her so, but she insisted. Old habits were hard to break.

  Her question was an interesting one. This house was the only home I’d ever known. The hominess of what I felt here died away with my mortality on that gruesome night. Still, I’d remained before the curse held me in place. I suppose the house sheltered us somewhat like a sanctuary in those early days. These walls, these rooms, they were all I knew. And, they afforded the three of us privacy to settle into what we’d become. Then, Edward Rose came along and turned my sanctuary into a prison. I found I was more and more eager to move on. This house, though spectacular, held memories far too painful.

  “No. It’s time to go onto new adventures, Swann. There is so much to see and do beyond the sad walls of this house.” I fastened my mother’s triple strand pearl choker around my throat.

  “I feel this, too. Alain and I would like to see France, again. We will begin our new lives there. It is right to do so. You and Hawthorne are always welcome with us, my sweet.” Swann’s hand came to rest on my shoulders as we looked at each other through the vanity mirror. I reached up, placing my hand over hers.

  “I know. We will see you, soon, I promise. For now, I think it’s important for you and Alain to be alone. You have given me enough of yourselves. It’s time you two made your own memories. I for one would like some alone time with Hawthorne.” The rouge applied to my cheeks hid the blush that was no doubt glowing beneath.

  “I admit, I’m looking forward to our new life, to no longer being ruled by fear.” Swann dropped me a sweet kiss. “Speaking of Hawthorne. He is waiting for you.”

  The excitement brewing inside me tingled throughout my limbs like static electricity. I stumbled on the stairs, catching myself on the railing. This was my first real date with a man. The first that mattered, anyway.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Her delight in the smallest things

  was like that of a child.

  There were days when she ran in the garden,

  like a child of ten,

  after a butterfly or a dragon-fly.

  Alexandre Dumas fils, La Dame aux Camelias

  Hawthorne

  Annabelle took my breath away as she swept into the library. She looked like an angel, the white dress a perfect color to emphasize the richness of her hair and eyes. Rather than light the chandelier, Alain helped me fill the edges of the room with candles. The light was softer, more intimate. The flames flickered, casting romantic shadows on the walls and books. This was the perfect spot to begin our new life together.

  I stood in the middle of the library; the furniture moved out to give us space. I wore a tuxedo, provided by Alain on a moment’s notice. The black suit was a little snug around my thighs but fit well everywhere else. Annabelle resembled a bride and I, her groom. This was as it should be. Annabelle was mine, and I was hers for eternity. I would never ensnare her as Edward did. She was as free with me as she was on her own. It was important she understand this.

  Without speaking, I crossed the room overcome with love, my heart hammering away. Annabelle met me halfway, passion burning in her brown and amber eyes. I scooped her up, pressing my mouth to hers. This was life, this was love, and I would never let it go.

  We spent our first night together spinning around the library. Annabelle’s strength matched my own and it was almost dawn before we stopped.

  “Guess what we will do tomorrow night?” I breathed the words in her ear, delighted to feel her shiver in my arms.

  Annabelle’s head dropped back, the sparkle of her eyes brighter than a thousand suns. “I’ll do whatever you like, tonight, tomorrow, and always.”

  Such a sweet answer called for a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. “Always. For now, let’s think about tomorrow. We’ll see a movie.”

  Annabelle stopped moving, a wide smile stretching across her face. “A movie? I’ve wanted to see one for so long.”

  “I know, my love.”

  It was important to pick the best film out there for our date on the town. This was Annabelle’s first time in a movie theater. I wanted it to be special. As I flipped through the current films, I was
disappointed. None of the showings thrilled me. Nothing seemed special enough for Annabelle’s first time. I was about to give up and pick what I hoped to be the best of the lot, when I came across a surprise. The local theater hosted a classic movie night once a week. It so happened that tonight, the theater would screen an 80s classic—The Goonies.

  Annabelle

  Swann spent over an hour preparing me for what I would see in the city. Most of what she told me, I already knew from her previous reports, but I was thankful for the refresher.

  The cinema was nothing like I imagined. I suppose I expected the grandeur of the old opera house with glittering chandeliers, plush red velvet seats and men and women dressed in their finest. Instead, I saw a slight disappointment.

  The lobby was awash in artificial light so bright it was blinding. A few kernels of spilled popcorn littered the floor, the air so pungent with oil and butter that if I were human, I would have been nauseous. Most shocking of all was the way people were dressed. The level of casual comfort astounded me. A few individuals even wore slippers and pajamas.

  Swann made me dress down for the evening in a knee-length sun dress and strappy sandals. Even in what was a casual outfit, I felt overdressed.

  Once we found our seats, I relaxed into the comfort of the chairs. The seats were large with plenty of room between rows to stretch our legs. Hawthorne held my hand. When the lights dimmed, and the giant screen came to life before us—I couldn’t breathe for the beauty of it.

  Hawthorne brought my hand to his lips, brushing the sweetest of kisses across my skin. I looked toward him, our gaze finding each other despite the dark.