Again, as though acting with choreographed timing, Mary approached with two tumblers mixed quite full with their drinks. To the Grand Duchess, she handed a sparklingly clear and fizzing soda, tinged slightly blue by the added gin. To Raina, she gave a rum n’ cola that was mixed so stiffly that the drink’s very name seemed to be made in order of the quantity of its ingredients – a glass of cola-flavored rum, essentially.
The Grand Duchess paused for a moment before taking a step back and saying to Raina, “I must say, you are dressed quite nicely. Both of you are, actually. However … it is not your clothes in which I am interested. I will need to see more of you than this.”
Raina hesitated, perhaps for a bit too long. She considered the idea of pretending that she had not heard the Grand Duchess correctly, but the way she was holding her stare so directly gave her good cause to believe that delaying with that could possibly provoke her. She was, after all, vampiric royalty as well as her Maker-by-descent. The Grand Duchess was perhaps spoiled, accustomed to always getting her way, and “no” was a word that was rarely spoken to her by those below her, if ever. Besides, it had perhaps been foolish of her to have hoped that the Grand Duchess would have simply skipped over this event for the sake of sparing Raina a bit of embarrassment. She simply wished that this part didn’t necessitate having an audience of sorts.
With a reluctant, silent nod of compliance, Raina began to shrug out of her blazer with a sigh. She froze as the Grand Duchess abruptly raised a hand to stop her, pausing to take a sip of her drink before speaking.
“Not here,” she said, gesturing for Raina to follow. “I would not expect you to have an audience for such a thing. Bring your drink.” To Brenna, she said with a polite smile, “Feel free to make yourself comfortable, Lady Brenna. Mary and Jen will see to your needs.”
“Thank you, your grace,” Brenna responded softly, though her eyes were upon Raina as she walked past. Clearly, she was concerned for her. Raina did her best to convey to her, as best she could with a glance, that she was okay with this, that she would be fine.
The Grand Duchess turned to wait in the doorway as Raina followed to enter the large, largely unlit bedroom, illuminated only by the ambient light of daybreak that seeped in from around drawn blinds and heavy curtains. The king-sized bed that dominated the room was fitted with rather plain but quality-looking, thick, comfortable linens, and framed with a half-canopy brass frame with four posts that stood at least eight feet in height. The far end of the room was host to a fairly large private spa, big enough for three people, perhaps four, with natural-looking semi-rough stone tile flooring covering half of the floor of the room. There was a large window near the spa that would normally offer a very pleasant view of one of the many mountains surrounding the Valley, but the shades had been drawn and the faint glow of the early dawn glowed faintly at its edges. On the opposite end of the room was another fireplace like the one she had seen in the den – it had to be gas or electric, surely. Crazily, her first thought was that she wished that she had brought marshmallows and hot dogs to roast over it.
The doorway to a large bathroom was visible to the right of the spa, and while the door was ajar and the light on, she could not see enough of the room to know that it was empty. Perhaps still a bit paranoid, she wondered if there was anyone hiding within there – another of the Grand Duchess’s guards or servants, perhaps someone from housekeeping or the hotel staff, or perhaps even Countess Wilhelmina. This hotel room most certainly had to be the honeymoon suite, or the Presidential suite, as the rest of the hotel rooms surely could not be as elaborately luxurious as this.
“Nice pad,” Raina murmured under her breath.
Gently closing the door behind her with a soft click, the Grand Duchess said, “It’s a bit small for my liking, and the amenities are lacking. This was the best suite that William was able to find in the area on short notice. I would have much preferred something in Flagstaff or Sedona, of course, but of course that would have been a bit of a distance from here. I wished to meet you as soon as possible, so … this will have to suffice.”
The Grand Duchess glided away from where Raina stood near the door, walking with an impossibly fluid sort of elegance that surely came deliberately with practice, even as she took a rather long sip from her glass. Though she was rather tall, she was not proportioned voluptuously like Brenna. Her waist was very small, though rather obscured by the loose design of her white silk gown, but her hips were not broad enough to give her the kind of dramatic hourglass figure with which Brenna … or rather, Lady Brenna had been blessed. As she turned to face Raina with a warm, genuine smile, she noted that her breasts were actually quite small – even more so than her own, which was perhaps reassuring in a selfish way – and Duvessa’s arms, wrists, and hands were so thin as to appear delicate. Again, much of the Grand Duchess’s beauty was not simply in her features, but rather her stature, the way she carried and presented herself, and the aura of sophistication, wisdom, and nobility that she seemed to radiate.
“Come this way, dear,” she said with a casual gesture. “You’ve no need to be shy. We are alone here, and I mean you no harm.”
Trying her best to force a smile to pretend that she was okay with this, Raina could not help but to take a greedy pull from her own drink. As she had expected, but momentarily forgotten until then, Mary had mixed her drink so stiffly that it was almost too much to bear. She managed not to gag upon the mouthful of rum (and some cola), but choking it down nearly brought tears to her eyes. Exhaling slightly and then taking in too quick of a breath was akin to doing so after downing a shot of straight liquor, ice-cold upon her throat but hot in her lungs. She could not help but to cough slightly in reaction. The Grand Duchess chuckled softly.
“It was to my understanding that you were no stranger to spirits,” she mused. “Would you like Mary to mix something less strong for you?”
“No, no,” Raina said, holding up her glass carefully as she cleared her throat, “I’m fine. This is good, actually. I’m just … not used to having this much rum in there.”
“Alcohol is one of the world’s oldest social lubricants. For centuries, it has greased the wheels of conversation between people that would otherwise be too uptight to speak at all,” she explained. “I have no intentions of compromising your sobriety, of course, but in lieu of giving you a dose of tranquilizers, I felt that this was the easiest way to help you relax.”
Watching her take yet another drink from her already half-emptied glass of gin, Raina hesitated before speaking. “May I ask a question, your grace?”
She smiled, shook her head, and waved a hand at her as she paused to swallow before saying, “There is no need for formalities when we are in private. You may call me Duvessa.”
That was a certainly a relief to her, although a small one compared to the stress of everything else about the situation.
“I, ah … I hope you don’t mind me asking … Duvessa,” Raina began shyly, “but earlier, you said that my being nervous was making you nervous … and…”
“You’re wondering if I am drinking because I am as nervous as you,” Duvessa said for her with a knowing smile. She nodded. “Perhaps to a slight degree, yes, I am. Like you, I am also afflicted with the ability to sense others’ emotions … although it is more often a curse than a blessing, to be quite honest. It is a less than perfect form of telepathy. If you can learn to control it, to prevent it from overruling your own emotions, then it can be a very powerful asset in many ways. However, even with years of experience, one cannot help but to feel a bit influenced by the emotions of others. You have already begun to feel this to some degree, have you not?”
“Oh, definitely,” Raina replied with a nod, relieved that someone finally understood what she was going through. “For awhile, I thought that maybe my hormones were completely out of control because of, like … well, everything.”
As she turned and elegantly lowered herself to half-kneel beside the spa, working its controls, Duv
essa said, “You can never truly ignore it. For two hundred years, I have lived with this ability of so-called emotional empathy, and I have never been able to completely shield myself from it. At best, you can only learn to identify your own emotions separately from those outside your own, but I fear it is impossible to completely prevent one from influencing the other.”
Duvessa switched on the jets of the spa and adjusted the digital setting of the water temperature, apparently quite familiar with how to use some modern technological devices in spite of her two centuries of age. The water churned and bubbled with a low gurgling, humming sound, and Duvessa smiled at the sight of it, as though amused by the novelty of a private spa in what she apparently perceived to be a less-than-ideal hotel. She stood and casually stepped over to stand before Raina, taking another sip of her drink.
“It is because of this ability that I can feel exactly how nervous you are right now,” she said as she approached. “You’re very uncomfortable with the idea of what I’ve proposed.”
There was a moment of silence between them, as she seemed to be expecting an answer. Guessing, Raina replied, “You mean … my getting naked?”
“More than that,” Duvessa replied. “It is not merely the act of being nude before a stranger that unsettles you, but rather the question of what I intend to do once you have bared yourself to me.”
She did have a point. If Raina had truly been given every indication that Duvessa’s motivation for seeing her unclothed were strictly clinical, so to speak, then she would have had no more reservations about the idea than a visit to the doctor’s office … although, admittedly, she had never been very thrilled about the idea of that, either. However, given the manner by which the Grand Duchess’s reputation had so preceded her, both publicly and privately, and her awareness of her own drastic swing in libido and intimate motivations since her Change, Raina knew better. At best, to think that Duvessa was merely interested in sizing her up with a quick visual was probably foolhardy. At worst, she was being set up for something uncomfortable, unpleasant … and perhaps unsafe. Countess Wilhelmina’s prior warnings danced about in the back of Raina’s mind like a little imp with a pitchfork, ready to poke at her heart the moment it had a chance to say “I told you so.”
Raina’s only consolation was the sword that she still held at her side. As futile as it would surely be to try to defend herself with swordplay against the likes of the Grand Duchess, whom had been in the business of ruling an entire race of vampires at the end of a blade, it was better than nothing, at all. She had been used once this week already, because she had been a fool to let her guard down around a vampire. That mistake had cost her job, her dignity, and her humanity. Duvessa certainly seemed sincere enough … but then again, so had Duke Sebastian. Perhaps the High Court’s ability to sense others’ emotions made them more adept at lying. What would it cost her this time if she once again proved to be a terrible judge of character?
“I do not believe that there is anything I could promise you, within reason, that would sufficiently reassure you that my intentions are genuine,” Duvessa admitted with a nod. “Of course, while I am sure this is of little or no comfort to you in any way, I also am under no true obligation whatsoever to make this a perfectly comfortable thing. This is simply a matter of necessity, solely because I wish it to be. It is by my own request that you are being asked to do this. I am only going to such lengths to make you comfortable because I understand your situation, and I do not wish to treat you with disrespect.”
Raina considered this for a moment, and then nodded. There was a moment of silence between them, and Raina could not help but to break their shared stare to look aside as she took another long drink from her glass. The rum no longer seemed even half as potent as it had upon first taste. Suddenly, she almost found herself wishing for something stronger.
Additionally, Duvessa said, “For whatever good it will do for me to say, if I truly did have any nefarious intentions towards you, dear, I would have already acted upon them by now, and with impunity. You are, after all, my bloodspawn. By the Code, and by human law, your life is truly mine to do with as I see fit. Unlike others of the High Court, however, I am not so selfish or so sadistic as to abuse that right. As I have said, respect and trust are vital. Do you understand?”
Again, Raina nodded silently, meeting her startlingly clear blue eyes once more.
The Grand Duchess seemed to read her gaze, or perhaps more, for a moment longer before gesturing lightly to Raina’s right. “You may place your effects upon the bed as you remove them.”
And so this was it. Raina surrendered her drink to Duvessa upon her silent request before stepping over to stand beside the bed. The Grand Duchess set her own drink upon a nearby table as she watched Raina begin by laying her sword upon the bed and slipping off her shoes. Curiously, she seemed to sniff at Raina’s drink as though it contained some subtle clue, even eyeing the smear of lipstick upon its edge carefully for a few seconds. She took a sip from the glass before setting it aside, and her eyes widened a bit at its taste.
“My word, that is strong,” she said softly as she folded her arms and leaned back against the nearby wall, next to a large mirror. Noting Raina’s hesitation at this, she made a subtle gesture of encouragement to continue.
Resigning herself to whatever inevitability that she was about to embrace, Raina began to disrobe, laying her items out carefully upon the bed in a neat and orderly fashion. Over and over, she continually assured herself that she was making far more of an issue of this than it was worth, certain that Duvessa was not about to commit any terrible act(s) against her. Just as well, she also offered herself the bitter consolation that even if the Grand Duchess did have unsavory intentions, there was little or nothing she could do so stop her. What, would she really be foolish enough to even attempt to raise a sword against the Grand Duchess, her Maker by ancestry? Even if she did successfully defend herself against her, the consequences of doing so would make whatever she might soon endure seem absurdly petty by comparison. The killing of one’s Maker was a cardinal sin of the Code, and to kill or even wound the Grand Duchess would not only be an act of suicide but the issuance of a death warrant for Brenna, as well.
She could do this. She had to do this. And if this was the worst of her trials, then perhaps she was even more of a fool to make such ado over nothing rather than to have allowed herself to be fooled twice. She had consented to being along with Duke Sebastian and, thus, she had resigned herself to the consequences of that decision. So, too, would she resign herself to the consequences of surrendering herself completely to Duvessa … although, at least, the risks now were much more clear in this instance than they had been before.
The Grand Duchess watched from across the room with great interest, but she was not smiling. This was not titillating for her, not some cheap thrill. She seemed to be more interested in studying Raina’s every movement as she removed her clothes than the bare flesh that she was revealing. She remained almost completely motionless while she stood and watched, like a beautiful ivory statue with blazingly red hair, frozen in a pose of deep contemplation. Raina was forced to watch herself, as well, for the large mirror upon the wall next to the Grand Duchess reflected her every action. To that effect, she felt it necessary to make the process as graceful as possible, rather than yanking off clothes and simply tossing them aside as though she resented the whole incident. While she was not aiming to perform a strip tease, she felt as though that were exactly what she was doing, albeit with far less flair and enthusiasm than Brenna might have exhibited during her usual stage antics.
It was only when Raina had managed to reduce herself to her underwear, bra, and stockings that Duvessa suddenly seemed to come to life, pushing away from the wall she had been leaning against. She took two broad steps ahead before halting and holding up a hand as Raina reached back to unhook her bra.
“Stop,” she said softly. Curling a finger at her, she directed her to come closer and then to turn
about. “Feet together, arms at your sides, back straight, chin up, and eyes ahead.”
Obediently, Raina did as she was instructed, again finding herself more or less standing at attention before the Grand Duchess, although now with her back turned to her. Her pulse quickened as she approached, and turning around before her required not only a measure of trust in Duvessa but in herself, as well. She had made the right decision in consenting to this. This would be for the better of things. The alternative to this was far worse. And, most importantly, this would all be over soon … presumably.
However, when Raina felt Duvessa’s soft, warm fingertips settle upon both of her shoulders, she could not help but to jump slightly and gasp aloud. The Grand Duchess’s fingernails were very long, manicured to perfection, and they dug into her flesh ever so slightly as she more or less held Raina in place. She suddenly had a terrible idea as to what was going to happen. However, again, there was nothing she could truly do about it. She steeled herself deep within for what was to come by closing her eyes and loosening every other muscle she could afford to while still standing. If fangs were about to pierce her neck, it would only hurt that much worse if she remained tense.
“Relax, my dear,” Duvessa told her quite softly, “I do not intend to harm you. Now, be still.”
Instead of pulling her back into a violent embrace for feeding, Duvessa spread apart her hands and gently slid them across her shoulders so that her thumbs rested upon her spine and her nails drug lightly down her shoulder blades. At first, the gesture was light enough to be ticklish, but Duvessa pressed down more firmly as Raina fought the urge to reflexively lean away from her touch any more. Very, very slowly, Duvessa ran her thumbs down Raina’s spine, gently scratching those neatly white-polished nails across the back of her ribs and her sides.
The Darkest Colors Page 37