The Knight Of The Rose (37 page)

woken from a nightmare. “Jason,” I cried through deep, breathless sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

All I could see was her face as she tri ed to beg David, heartless, merciless and unrelenting

David, for her life.

On my knees, I rolled forward, my trembling hands rooting to the moist grass to hold me up,

while my soft curls stuck to the tears along my jaw. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t beli eve what I’d

just seen. How could he? How could that have been my David?

“Why? Why didn’t she change?” I asked.

Jason wrapped his arms around his knees and crossed his ankles wher e he sat on the grass

beside me. “She carried another soul inside her.”

“The baby?”

He nodded once. “You can only immortalise one soul, or they will both die.”

“He didn’t know—he didn’t know she was pregnant?”

“He
claims
he didn’t know the dif ference in the scent, since he’d never met Rochell e

before.”

“You loved her?”

His grip around his knees tightened. “She was
everything
to me; fifty years has passed, and

that has not changed.”

“But…now you’re planning to do the same thing to David. Don’t you know what I am t o

him?” He studied my face with repugnance. “Yes, and I will take that from him.”

My head rocked from side to side in astonished, intensely maddening disbelief. My David.

He did that? I can’t believe he’s capable of such horror. “I know it means nothing to you, Jason,

but…I am so,
so
sorry,” I whispered with a focused, watery stare.

Jason opened his mouth to speak, then st opped, clenching his teeth and twis ting his mouth

up into a contorted grimace. “It changes nothing. Now you know why you must die, and I shall not

make it as quick for you as it was for her. I will hurt him, by hurting you. It’s the only way.”

“Ara?”

I looked up to the sound of that voice; Mike—he was close—so close that if I dared to

scream, he’d find me.

Without warning, Jason lifted me from the wet grass. All the bl ood rushed into a tight pulse

in my cheeks as he threw me over his shoulder, leaving only the whipping breeze as evidence to the

ground moving beneath us. I didn’t care if he took me away. I couldn’t feel anything anymore. All I

could see were Rochelle’s eyes in her last moments—the fear, the loss, the desperation for her life,

and that of her unborn child. I hung limply over my captor—all fight within me lost to the pain of

truth. David? How could you?

We broke through into a clearing, and a dens e, shadowy dark-ness overtook. The only light

around was a thousand twinkling stars in the sky, and the distant glow of the Masquerade, pink, like

the last drop of sunlight on the horizon.

Jason set me down on the long grass, and my bare toes sunk into t he dewy soil. My shoes

must have fallen off somewhere while we were running—I didn’t even no tice. The voices of the

hunters—the ones searching for me—were as faint behind the height of the towering trees around us

as the soft, magical music of the ball.

They’ll never find me.

“They
will
find you.” Jason’s voice came fr om beside me in the darkness. “Do not worry,

Ara, I will make sure that he finds you. However, it will not be in the fine state of which he lost

you.”

“Please, Jason. Don’t do this,” I pleaded, stepping away from him with one hand over my

chest where my silver locket used to fall, and the other held out straight—warding him away. “Just

think about it for a second.”

He laughed lightly. “Ara-Rose. I
have
thought about it—for a very long time.” He appeared

in front of me. “I know exactly what I’m going to do to you.”

I swallowed, feeling grateful that the dark had stolen my s ight. If I’d been able to see the

intent behind the smile I heard in his voice, I was afraid my skin might have fallen from my limbs.

“Why do you say things like that, and then do nothing to hurt me? You could’ve killed me by

now—what are you playing at?”

He stepped forward, and even though I could see nothing but the very tops of the trees, miles

high into the sky, I could just make out the shadows around his cheekbones, making his eyes seem

like hollow, yawning caves. “Because, that’s just the point, Ara,” he said, “I’m a vampire—we like

to play with our food.”

Unsure if I should protect my face or curl into a ball, I twitched like a person wearing a

blindfold when he grabbed my arm and pulled me closer. Suddenly, the shadows of his eyes became

more menacing—proving the existence of nightmares, while the scent of his orange-chocolat e

cologne—just like David’s—made my heart skip out of the dream it had once put me in. “I—I can’t

see you properly.” I reached a cautious hand out, trying to gauge the proximity. “Don’t grab me like

that when I can’t see you.”

“Brave little thing, aren’t you? To speak to your reaper with such contempt.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“Oh, my dear,” his voice held all the malice of his intentions. “If you only knew the things I

have planned for you—the tortures I’ve deliberated for
fifty
years—the deranged cruelties I’ve been

dreaming up every time I had to look at my brother, every time I had to watch him with you—being

happy with you. He never deserved happiness, and I’m going to take my time stealing it from him.”

“Then I’ll make sure I don’t show any fear—just to ruin all your fun.”

“You can try.”

Something exchanged between us then, a kind of knowing that came from being familiar; it

was as if I could see every thought beyond the darkness of his eyes. He wanted to do something t o

me then, what, I didn’t know, but it made me suddenly not so sure of myself.

I wanted to pull away from his cold, moist breath when he moved cl oser and spoke against

my brow, but I didn’t feel I had the right. “ Your skin is so soft—like a rose petal.” But the softness

turned to tight bumps when he slid his unwelcome fingers down the side of my throat, then pushed

me away, leaving me breathless, covering my chest as he walked behind me. I stayed sti ll, so still.

“And your hair is as warm as the trees in the hot summer sun.” I felt the soft tickle of my hair on my

back as the vampire lifted it and took a deep breath through his nose. “You smell so pretty, did you

know that?”

I nodded, closing my eyes, feeling my shaky breath brush warmly across my tear-st ained

lips. When I licked them, the salty flavour of fear made my mouth water.

“This is easier than I thought,” he said.

“What is?”

“Killing you.”

My crossed arms tightened over my chest.

“I was sure your beautiful face would for ce compassion within me, but—” he shook his

head, appearing by my side again, “I feel nothing for you—as if you were merely a dog who

had bitten a child. I just want to see you dead—in the worst way possible.”

Like a lover allowed to embrace his girl, he moved into me, leaving a gap only enough for

heat to travel between our bodies as his stiff, cold fingers—so like David’s touch, but not gentle—

ran over my bare arms and slowly onto my lower back, resting there against the corset backing of

my dress.

I closed my eyes and silently pleaded to the heavens.

“You are but an exceptional beauty, and you should be pr eserved as such. However, ther e

will be no glass coffin for you, my pretty.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” he said, “you won’t look so pretty once I’m done with you.”

“Oh, God.” A gust of air burst from my lips. I folded over slightly, straightening when my

cheek hit his chest. “Please—just kill me? Don’t do worse. Please?”

“Come now, we mustn’t pity ourselves. Have to be strong, now, okay?” He lifted my chin; I

nodded, sniffling softly. “Say,
Yes, Master
.”

With my eyes closed tightly, I repeated the words he ordered me to.

“Now, before I kill you, I wis h to enjoy you. Will you be good and let me have you?” His

trance-like voice filled my mind, consuming the cl arity of thought; I nodded again, screaming at

myself from somewhere deep inside. He lifted my left hand and placed it on his shoulder, pressing

his palm to my lower back as he pulled my hips closer; “Dance with me, my fair, sweet, Ara-Rose.”

My body moved with his, close, circling like two birds falling mid-flight. The feel of his suit

jacket against the skin above my dress, and the softness of his palms against mine made me wish

only that I was his—
his
girl, for
him
to touch, to love, to hold. I wanted to be a part of him—as I

once was with David.

He spun me out from his body gracefully, and I twir led back into his chest—completely

intoxicated by his spell—and complet ely aware of it, too. We swayed together in the co ol breeze,

surrounded by the trees, where no one could see us, and no one would ever find us—not until he

was finished with me.

“Beg me not to kill you,” he whispered the warmth of his breath onto the cusp of my fringe.

“Beg me, and I will show you mercy.”

“I—” My throat tightened and my eyes spilled with tears as I looked into his; he’s just like

David. But he’s going to kill me, no mat ter how much I beg, and the worst part is...it matters

none—because, as if a thread of finely-woven silk has bound us together, I am unable to resist him.

My mind was going crazy, screaming deranged thoughts; he could take me away from here,

and I would go. I wouldn’t cry or protest; I’d follow him, and I’d never be seen again.

He could kill me, and I’d be grateful to die at his hands.

“That’s not a very convincing plea for your life, Ara,” he said.

The faint blue sparkle surrounding my thoughts and clouding my eyes persisted like a

delirium that consumes an otherwis e rational mind. I smiled up at Jason, wishing we would dance

this way together, forever. “What are you doing to me, Jason? Why does nothing make sense?”

“Hush now, sweet girl. I am making this easier by allowing you to feel safe with me. It is

one of
my
many talents.”

“But I—”

“Uh-uh. I will not gift this to you if you do not hold your tongue.”

My throat fought hard for its own vocabulary—for common sense. But he smelled just like

David, and I wanted him to be David—to imagine for one last moment that I was in his arms—that I

still mattered to him.

“Close your eyes and you s hall believe it.” Jason stole the thought from my mind, just as

David used to.

“You can never be him. And you’ ll just be closer to becoming the monster he is by killing

me—” I looked deep into hi s hollow, shadowed ey es, “—but you will never have a heart like his,

and I will never give you mine.”

His eyes flashed with hatred, and the cloud of my confusio n tore away—leaving behind a

sudden rush of terror as the monster I provoked in him rose to the surface. “I don’t want your heart,

you stupid girl.” He shoved me out from his body. The air touched my feet for a second, and my

hands flailed out as I fell back, stopping with a surge of wind bl asting from my lungs. A high-

pitched shriek launched itself from my lips, and before I could even find the source of the sudden

pain I felt, I looked down and saw a smudge of blood over my fingertip.

“Ooh.” Jason shook his head, wincing. “That looks nasty.”

I pinched the bleeding tip of my finger—shaking as the pain of my detached nail pulsed with

each beat of my heart. It hurts. Oh, God, it folded all the way back.

Jason towered over me, watching on while my hand trembled like glass in an earthquake. I

tried to use my thumb to fold it back over, but every time I touched it, the nail shifted and the pain

intensified, closing in around me as if I were in a red room.

“Settle down.” Jason took my hand, straight ened my arm out to the si de—away from my

line of sight—and..

“Ah!” I screamed once, but it reduced to a tiny whimper as the pain receded. When Jason

released me, I folded over, weeping breathlessly into the grass as I looked down at the nail—back in

place. I just want to go home. I don’t want to die like this—not like this.

I struggled to push mysel f up to my knees, falling on my elbows each ti me. Jason just

watched. I couldn’t even look at his face to see if he was enjoying it. I felt pathetic and helpless, and

humiliated at my own whimpering. But I couldn’t stop it. It j ust kept coming out in bursts of self-

pity.

“Why are you crying like that?” Jason asked, grabbing my arm to help me onto my knees.

I looked at him to speak, but just couldn’t get the words out. Before, my fear had turned to

anger, but the anger t urned to devastation when r ealisation set in. He wasn’ t playing games. He

really is going to kill me. This is real. This i s no book or movie where the heroi ne is rescued. I’m

going to die here.

But the distant sound of voices gave me strength again—made my tears halt on the outskirts

of freedom as something like hope became mine . The hunt ers had gr own in number and wer e

getting closer. Maybe there will be enough of them. Maybe they’ll come in time—maybe they’ll

scare him away. I have to run to them—call to them. “Please just let me go, Jason,” I gasped

through my tears. “Please. I had nothing to do with her death—”

“But your lover did.”

“No.” Suddenly my hope ma de the fear become anger again. “David’s not to bl ame, either.

It’s
you
. If you weren’t a vampire, Rochelle would still be here.”