CHAPTER 3
Aria shifted uncomfortably as she tugged at the collar of the sweater she wore. It was the softest material she had ever experienced, it felt wonderful against her skin, but she could not get used to it. Her clothes were always rough, ragged, and nowhere near as warm as this gentle cloth. She tugged at the scooped collar again, unnerved and frightened by how much of her skin it exposed. Even in the summer she wore long sleeves and collars to avoid bug bites, scratches, and other hazards amongst the woods, and within the caves.
But the sweater was not as bad as the skirt they had put her in. It fell to just above her knees in gentle black waves that swayed and flowed as she walked. She could not get used to the feel of it, or to having her legs exposed like this. She even slept fully clothed, just in case there was a raid; she always needed to be quick on her feet and moving swiftly. Wearing this though, she would not be able to move fast, and would almost surely be caught as the sweater was a bright red homing beacon to her location. They had scrubbed her clean, had even removed the hair from her legs with a razor, but they could not take away the bruises and scratches that marred her skin. She looked ridiculous in the skirt, with her battered lower limbs and knobby knees, but it was the clothes that had been brought to her.
The women fluttered around her, brushing her hair out as they talked softly. They had not said another word to her, nor had she spoken to them for the past few hours. They exchanged gossip, talked of men they liked, and spoke in whispered reverence of the prince. From all of their excited chatter, Aria learned that the blond fancied herself amongst one of the prince’s favorites and often spent time with him here, in his apartment.
Aria tried not to think about the discomfort and confusion that revelation caused her. She should be relieved the prince had other women to keep his attention; maybe he would simply just want blood from her, and nothing more. The thought was repulsive enough, but until she could escape, she felt that she might be able to bear it. Aria winced; flinching away as the blond, Lauren, brushed her hair just a little too roughly nearly tearing it out at the roots. Aria glowered at her, but the woman hardly noticed as she continued her assault on Aria’s hair.
“When was the last time you brushed this mess?” Lauren muttered.
Aria clenched her jaw and her hands, refusing to answer the vapid woman. The brunette, Maggie, gave Aria a sympathetic glance as she finished applying some kind of strange color to Aria’s nails. She stared at them in confusion, not understanding why anyone would want to do that to their nails, but apparently it was popular as all three of the girls had it on. Julia, the redhead, brought forth a pair of shoes that Aria was certain had been designed to kill her. Who walked on such a long and pointy shoe anyway? Whose ankles could take those things?
Aria remained unmoving as they applied their final touches and stepped back to examine her more closely. Aria’s gaze slid away from them, hating the sight of the bite marks that marred their necks and inner wrists. It was apparent that they willingly, and apparently from the way they were talking, eagerly gave their blood away. She wondered if it was just the prince that they gave it to as they appeared very much at ease in his place, and seemed to know where everything was located, or if they gave it away to any vampire that asked.
“Why do you think he choose her?” Julia inquired, tilting her head to study Aria more intently.
“I don’t know; she’s most certainly not anything to look at. The prince must have decided that it would be good to have a blood slave available to him whenever he was hungry,” Lauren replied. “Though we’re always available.”
Julia giggled, her eyes sparkling brightly as she covered her mouth with her hand. “Yes, we are.”
Aria managed to keep her face impassive, she wanted to smack the insipid women, but she forced herself not to react to any of their vindictive words. Though Aria felt that she was no competition for the voluptuous women, it was more than apparent that Lauren felt threatened by her for some reason. Aria was not going to reassure her that she did not have to fear Aria’s competition; she wanted nothing to do with this place.
“Bony little thing,” Lauren muttered.
Aria rolled her eyes, biting back her sharp retort. Julia knelt before her, thrusting the tortuous shoes onto Aria’s feet. She winced as her foot was twisted and crammed into the awful, painful things. When Julia was done, she grasped hold of Aria’s arms and pulled her to her feet. Aria cringed, hating the uncomfortable things strapped to her. She stood, wobbling and uncertain, and trying hard not to grimace in pain.
“You will get used to them,” Maggie said softly, patting her arm reassuringly. Julia and Lauren rolled their eyes, but decided to keep their snarky comments to themselves this time. “The prince is waiting.”
Aria moved forward, trying to get used to the new shoes, but barely able to move in them as she crept forward at an annoyingly slow pace. There would be no fleeing in these awful contraptions, and she found herself cursing whoever the idiot was that had invented them. Maggie took pity on her and grasped hold of her arm, helping her along. Aria did not jerk away from the girl this time, mainly because she needed the help, but also because no matter how much she did not agree with Maggie’s choices, she found she almost tolerated her.
She was led back into the main entrance room. The prince was lying on the sofa, his arm tossed over his eyes, and one leg planted firmly on the floor. The wolf lay on the floor before him; the animal lifted its head to watch as they entered the room. The prince must have sensed them, or heard them, as he dropped his arm and sat up. He was still wearing his glasses, but Aria knew instantly when his eyes landed upon her.
Her heart flipped in her chest, a strange sensation trickled through her as he stared silently at her. “Leave us.”
The three girls nodded briskly before slipping quietly from the room. Aria stood uncertainly, her hands folded before her, frightened by what was going to happen next. They were all alone in this room, and she was at his complete and utter mercy. “Much better,” he said softly. Aria swallowed heavily, biting on her bottom lip as she met his gaze again. “Come here.” She froze, her eyes widening and her heart hammering wildly in her chest. She did not want to get any closer to him, she was terrified of him, and the strange way that he made her feel so frightened, and yet so nervous and strangely excited. “I won’t hurt you.”
She didn’t know if she should believe him or not, but she felt that she could. She stood uncertainly for a moment more before attempting to totter forward on the death traps now strapped to her feet. A small cry escaped as her ankle twisted out, her legs buckled beneath her. He was beside her instantly, catching hold of her before she could hit the ground.
Aria’s eyes widened, she stared up at him in shocked wonder as he lifted her slowly. She began to shake, unable to understand this strange creature before her. Vampires were monsters, they destroyed humans, used them and abused them before tossing them away, but this creature was an enigma that she could not even begin to understand. One moment he was overbearing, intimidating, and threatening. The next he was like this, almost kind and gentle as he held her gingerly in his grasp.
Was this part of his game? Did he want to try and gain her trust before tormenting, torturing, and destroying her? That explanation seemed far more likely than the one that suggested that this creature, one of the leaders of the monsters, might actually be kind.
“I don’t think those shoes are for you.”
Aria blinked at him, her mouth parted slightly as he settled her onto the sofa he had abandoned. “Most definitely not,” she agreed.
Aria watched in stunned disbelief as he knelt before her. Her breath froze in her chest; her heart lumbered heavily in her chest as the prince of the vampires very slowly, and gently, slipped the awful things from her feet. His hands were soft upon her; his touch caused an odd thrill to race up her spine. She found herself wanting to trust him, wanting to like him even.
And she knew that was a very dangerous thing to do.
***
Braith stared up at the young girl before him. Her eyes were wide, unblinking, completely bewildered as she gazed silently at him. His hand lingered on her leg, brushing briefly against her soft skin. The dark bruises, and scratches upon her, were vivid against her pale skin. He didn’t know what had caused the obvious abuse that she had withstood, but he found that he didn’t like it. Not one bit. He didn’t know what it was about this girl, but she fascinated him, intrigued him, and captivated him in a way that no one ever had before.
She was a pretty enough thing now that the layers of dirt had been removed from her. She smelled better now that the smoke, blood, and stench of body odor had been scrubbed from her. He detected a faint hint of strawberries clinging to her, even though they had washed her in some flowery scent he found didn’t suit her. She was not one to be wreathed in gentle flowers; she appeared anything but delicate as she watched him out of narrowed, weary eyes. He sensed that beneath her docile demeanor there was something far more intense, and far stronger than the way she was trying to appear now. Her powerful scent, fighting to overcome the floral clinging to her, was a great indicator of that fact.
Her features were soft, delicate even, and as youthful as the innocence she radiated. Her parted mouth was full, her teeth straight and even, and surprisingly white for the lack of hygiene she had displayed upon arrival. Her crystalline blue eyes were wide upon him, full of disbelief, fear, and uncertainty. Yet, they also appeared intrigued and curious as she tilted her head slightly to study him. Her hair, scrubbed free of the dirt coating it, was a glossy dark auburn. It gleamed in the light of the room, the red within it shiny and bright. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen a shade quite like it.
He didn’t understand what it was about her that intrigued him so. He had seen women far more beautiful than her in his long lifetime. She was too skinny, her collarbones stuck sharply out, the bones in her hands were clearly visible. He preferred his women with more meat on them, but from the look of her upon arrival, it was more than apparent that her life was not one of abundance and pleasure like the women he was used to.
But from the moment he had seen her, actually seen her, he had been captivated and stricken. There had been nothing spectacular about the stage setup, or the people upon it. In fact, he had not seen a single person on it, until she had been brought forth. He had not even intended to stop at the auction as he had moved by the proceedings. He had no use for blood slaves, there were enough willing people in the world without the need for unwilling ones, but when she had been led forth he had stopped dead in his tracks.
She had been unremarkable, filthy, disgusting, and bold. Defiance and pride had radiated from her. They were a beacon calling out to him, snagging hold of his attention as nothing in years had. At first he had barely seen her, but the longer he stared at her, the clearer she had become to him.
He sat back now, tilting his head as he watched her. She studied him with the same intensity with which he studied her, but they studied each other for completely different reasons. She wondered about her fate, what he was going to do with her, and what he wanted from her. He studied her because he could actually see her. It was amazing to him, fantastic and wonderful and slightly disconcerting.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked softly, her forehead furrowing slightly as her gaze ran over him.
Braith sighed softly, tossing the heels aside before he rose slowly to his feet. Her mouth parted, her head tipped back to stare at him. “What is your name?” he inquired.
She licked her lips nervously, her small hands pulled at the sleeves of the sweater as she fidgeted anxiously. There were small nicks and cuts on her long fingers, calluses marred her tanned hands. “Arianna,” she said softly.
He lifted an eyebrow, quirking his head to study her. “Is that your real name?”
A small smile flitted over the edges of her full mouth, for the first time he saw real humor in her eyes. “Yes.”
He found that he believed her as he settled onto the sofa beside her. “I am Braith.”
She nodded slowly, her eyes weary again. “Yes, I know. What do you want with me Braith?”
“I don’t know yet Arianna.”
Fear flashed through her eyes, she recoiled slightly before straightening her shoulders, clenching her jaw, and narrowing her eyes on him. “Everything you do to me will be done by force.”
Her defiance should annoy him (she had already defied him more today than anyone ever had in his life), but he found himself slightly amused by it right now. As long as no one was around he found he did not mind her show of courage. “You think so?” he asked softly.
She looked slightly surprised, but it was quickly covered up. “I know so!” she retorted sharply.
He shrugged indifferently. He didn’t know what he wanted with her, what he intended to do with her. He may decide tomorrow that he didn’t want her here at all; he didn’t believe he would, but he was known for his whims of fancy, especially when it came to women. He was captivated by her, and his ability to see her, but he didn’t know what he was going to do with her.
One thing was for sure, he wasn’t going to force himself on her. He had done a lot of things in his long life, many of them not good, but he had never forced himself on an unwilling woman. There was no need to; there were so many willing ones out there.
“We shall see,” he said simply.
Her eyes narrowed in fury, her delicate nostrils flared. He didn’t know why he was baiting her, but it was amusing to watch her when she was irritated with him. Her jaw clenched harder, she turned slowly away from him, her hands fisting upon her slender legs.
“Where are you from Arianna?”
Her chin rose slightly, but though she was still holding the appearance of defiance, he could sense the pain that shimmered through her. “Around,” she said simply.
“You live in the woods?”
“Yes.”
“Are you a member of the resistance?”
She hesitated, her knuckles turning white with the force of her clenched fists. “That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? Resistance members are punished for their disobedience by becoming blood slaves, or being bled dry. It’s a way to discourage our fighting, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so,” he agreed softly. “You think that is wrong?”
“Don’t you?” she snapped.
He sat back as he studied her. The bright blue of her eyes was ablaze with indignation and righteousness as she glared at him. “If your kind would simply just agree to work with us, then there would be no need for punishment.”
“Agree to be your slaves in other ways you mean?”
He shrugged again, without thinking he reached out to take hold of her hand. He heard her breath freeze as he tried to soothe the tight pressure within her fists. Her head tilted slightly to the side, those wide innocent eyes were surprisingly earnest as she watched him. “It is the law of the world that the strongest will prevail.”
“And you are the strongest?” she demanded.
“Of course.”
Her eyes narrowed, her gaze was intense and questioning. Finally, she nodded slowly, biting nervously on her bottom lip as she turned away from him. She shook her head slightly, her head bowed as she fidgeted with the sleeves of her sweater again.
“You do not agree?” he asked.
“You did succeed in driving us out of our homes, forcing us to run and hide. You do feed off of us, so yes I suppose that makes you stronger. In your own minds at least. It does not give you a right to do what you have done to us though.”
“Most people returned to their homes when the war was over. Most people picked up the lives that they had left behind. It is only The Resistance that has remained hiding and fighting and dying within the woods for the past hundred years.”
She turned slowly back toward him, her defiance melted away as fury blazed forth. “Is that what you believe? That they simply picked their lives back up? That they returned to something good? That they have been thriving since the war ended!? Even within the woods, with no walls and no homes, we have more than the ones that returned to their lives. They are starving, with little clothing and no money. There were no jobs to return to that did not involve being some sort of servant to your kind. That does not involve being beneath you! There was nothing for most of them as your kind took over the better jobs, and forced us into menial roles that would keep us stupid and weak while building your people and your world to ever higher levels.
“I have heard that there was a time when there were schools, when we were taught things, and educated. They do not exist anymore; they are things of legend, whispered about in awe, as so many other things are. Things that we used to have, and used to enjoy, but will never again know as long as your kind has anything to do with it! There is survival of the fittest, and then there is cruelty. I may be paying the price now for my role in the resistance, but I would not change a thing. I stood up for what I believe in, I have pride in what I believe in, and no matter what you do to me, you cannot take that fact away!”
There was true rage in her voice by the time she was done speaking. Her hand was trembling within his, but she had unknowingly seized hold of his hand with both of hers. The fervor in her voice, the true conviction with which she spoke, was almost enough to make him want to understand her plea, her cause. But he knew the way of the world, and the way of the world was that only the strong survived. He found it unfortunate that her people had been relegated to such roles, but it had been necessary in order to insure that the humans did not attempt to rise up against his kind.
Vampires had spent far too much time hiding and slinking within the shadows, fearful of the mob mentality of humans. It was where the myth had come from that vampires could not walk about in the day. It was completely wrong, they could move about in the day, they had simply preferred to hunt at night when there were less people around and the people at night were usually easier prey. But as their numbers had grown, so had their desire to be free of the shadows. He had helped his father lead the attack, taking them all into battle and securing the world for their own means. The war had been long and brutal, but in the end they had come out the victors and Braith had every intention of making sure it stayed that way. He was not going back to the shadows, and he was not going to let the inferior humans regulate him to such a role again. No matter how much she believed in her words.
Although, most humans had little fight in them anymore. They were too weakened, too frightened and beat down to offer much resistance to the vampire rule anymore. Except for a small number of humans that hid within the woods, plotting against them, and causing more death and trouble to his kind than Braith would have liked. A small number that this girl was a part of.
A kernel of anger curled through him as he studied her. She represented everything that he had been fighting against, everything that he hated so much, and yet he was holding the hands clinging so tightly to him. She seemed to realize her grasp upon him as a look of shame crossed her face moments before she released his hand completely.
“I see.” She did not speak again, but simply turned away, her head bowing down. “I will show you to your room.”
Her eyes darted rapidly around the room, he sensed her desire to flee, but they both knew that there was nowhere for her to go. “My room?” she croaked.
“Unless you would prefer to spend the night in my room.”
Her mouth dropped in horror, her gaze flew wildly back to his. He could hear the frantic beat of her heart pounding crazily in her chest as she made a small sound of terror. “No!”
Braith found himself slightly insulted by her vehement cry. He quirked an eyebrow, wondering why this frail slip of a girl aggravated, intrigued, and caused such a strange reaction within him. She was nothing special; she most certainly was not the kind of woman he preferred, the curvy, graceful, beautiful, and eager kind. No this girl was hard, pointy, skinny, average, and anything but willing as she gazed at him in horror.
“I didn’t think so,” he told her.
He rose swiftly, ignoring her as he moved across the room. He only turned back at the doorway of the side apartment. She had risen, but remained unmoving by the sofa, her hands folded before her. He was surprised to realize that with the light filtering in from the windows, her hair was the color of a dark flame burning brightly within the room. The light was soft on her hard angles, making her appear gentler and prettier. He froze as he gazed at her, soaking the sight of her in. She may not be beautiful, but she was the most wonderful thing he had seen in years.