Dinner With a Vampire (The Dark Heroine #1)(15)
Author: Abigail Gibbs

‘How dare you tell me how to treat my own sister?’ He only needed to whisper as his voice travelled across the empty room. ‘You know nothing of my family! Nothing!’ he hissed, as he clenched and unclenched his fist.

‘I know enough.’

He narrowed his eyes and the dark circles below them became even darker and the area between his nose and the corner of his eyes became shadowy too. He stared and something began to feel out of place in my mind. I searched through, feeling restless all of a sudden. I thought he might say something, but he just kept staring and as the bugging sensation increased, it hit me. He is in my mind.

I realized he could see every memory and struggled to focus on one thing. Thoughts seemed to slip through my grasp like water and, giving up, I settled on the word jerk. I screamed it in my head and pretty quickly, I felt him withdraw.

‘Jerk? I suppose Fabian told you how to guard your mind. Pity.’ He placed a hand on the wall beside my head and I went to sidestep away, but he placed his other hand on the other side of my head, trapping me. ‘No. You know nothing of my family.’ His body pressed up against mine and my nose wrinkled in disgust as I tried to fold into the wall, away from him. He bent to my ear and spoke. ‘Do you fear me, Violet Lee? Do you know what I could do to you?’

I could smell blood on his breath, copper and iron, mixed in with the heavy musk of cologne that smelt identical to the one that hung in the air of the bedroom with the painting.

‘I know what you can do.’ The tip of my tongue ran over my lips and I could taste salt. ‘But I’m not scared of you.’

He hummed a low, disbelieving note, which I could feel rumbling in his chest, pressed to mine. ‘Do you lust for me, Violet?’ He might have said something else, his voice was so low, but there was no mistaking that smirk as he drew away to enjoy my reaction, allowing his lips to brush my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

I forced myself to keep my voice steady. ‘No.’

‘Then why is your heart beating at twice the rate it should be?’ I bit my lip, realizing he was right. It was pounding against my ribs like there was no tomorrow. ‘And why are you flushing?’ My cheeks were hot like I had stood in the sun for hours. ‘And why,’ he said, roughly grabbing one of my wrists and pulling it up to my eye level, ‘are your palms sweaty?’ I didn’t want to look, but I stole a glance. Right again. I averted my eyes.

He hummed again, satisfied this time. ‘Humans. You hide nothing.’ I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he let go of my wrist and ran a hand through his hair, pushing his fringe back, which just flopped right back into place. ‘Don’t be ashamed of it though, Girly. I’m royalty, I’m rich and I’m damned good looking. I’m designed to be attractive to humans. But you’re resisting.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘Why is that?’

Oh, where to begin? ‘Because you are a bloodsucker and a murderer. And a jerk. The list goes on.’ My body might betray me, but I wasn’t truly attracted to him: I was repulsed.

His head snapped up, and his eyes, a dark, forest green around his large pupils, met mine. ‘Is that so? Well I will get to you, Violet Lee,’ he lingered on my name, drawing his sentence out. ‘You will give in to me; I will make sure of it.’

‘No. You really won’t get me.’ I made to move to the side, away from him, but he placed his hands either side of my head again, dragging his nails down the wood, making a horrendous screeching sound, like chalk on a blackboard. He ran his hands all the way down, until they reached my waist. His hands moved around to my back, pulling me into him, and he began to close his fist around my waist, pinching the skin just below my ribs.

‘Get off me! You have whores for this!’ I shrieked. His eyes found mine in an instant and I saw recognition in them.

His irises became as black as his pupils. They lost all shade and tone – they were black, just black. ‘You will pay for that one, Girly,’ he said, his voice trembling.

In one swift movement, he had brushed away the hair from my neck and pushed my head away. In the corner of my eye, I could see him lowering his jaw to my neck and I began to duck away. But he grabbed a fistful of my hair and tugged. I yelped, seeing him bare his fangs as he forced me onto my tiptoes.

‘Don’t!’ I begged, cowering away from him.

‘I will teach you to fear me,’ he growled, taking no notice of my pleas for mercy. ‘And I will make you regret the day you ever stood in Trafalgar Square.’ With his taunting words, I felt pain as his fangs pierced my skin. They drove deep into my flesh, ripping my skin. I cried out in pain, unable to stop curses spewing from my mouth as stars flickered in front of my eyes. But every time a word formed my jaw moved and the skin on my neck stretched taut over his fangs, releasing a dribble of something warm, which trickled down to the round collar of my T-shirt.

He extracted his fangs and his tongue chased the drip, leaving a trail of saliva. He sucked at it, his lips forming words against my skin. ‘Sweet,’ I thought he said.

He rubbed his thumb across the material of my collar and brought his eyes up to meet mine once more, but my eyes flicked to his lips, which I saw were coated in blood. My blood.

I felt weak and my knees began to buckle. Only the force of him pushing me into the door kept me upright. ‘The Princes of this Kingdom always get what they want,’ he breathed and drew away from me, leaving me to crumple to the floor, pale and sickened. He watched me slide to the ground and, unable to bear the smirk on his lips, I buried my head in my arms, drawing my knees close to my chest.

‘Keep denying me and you could make your time here very unpleasant. And believe me, Violet Lee: your time here shall be long.’

With that, the door slammed, leaving me whimpering on the floor, very quickly learning how to fear him.

NINE

Violet

‘How about this?’ Lyla jabbered, pulling clothes down from the racks of her gigantic wardrobe and passing them into the arms of a waiting maid – Annie. ‘Seems like your style.’

She held up a black skirt – more like a belt – and pressed it against her stomach, modelling it. It was short, to say the least.

‘I think the dress I was wearing the other day was a one-off.’

She hummed with an obvious tone of disbelief and added the skirt to the growing pile in Annie’s arms. I shifted, uncomfortable, leaning up against one of the mirrors. ‘Listen, Lyla, you really don’t have to lend me all this, I—’