Of Blood and Desire

Chapter Three

“My Lady,” said Nikolas. I frowned, noticing him standing to the side of the steps, offering his hand to me.

I glared at him and walked down on my own. He laughed at that shortly, a sound I tried to ignore. As Nikolas walked forward to unlock the gates, I took in the property further. It seemed like there were stables off to the side, a vague shape resting in the distance. It was on the road facing that shape to which the coachman suddenly began to travel down. There was a path behind us, one I assumed we’d entered from and which led to the main roads. I filed that information away for later, quickly taking in the wooded vegetation that grew carefully and trimmed.

My gaze went back to Nikolas as his broad arms threw the iron gate doors open. I strode forward, summoning confidence. “Couldn’t have had the servants prepare the manor?” I said.

He glanced down at me, a lidded half-smile on his face. “You are mouthy for a princess.”

“Well, princesses do have mouths,” I replied.

Nikolas raised his brows. “I’ve never considered that.” He stepped to the side, ushering for me to enter the property. “This way, Clara. It wouldn’t be wise to run now.”

I walked forward with a sour expression. “Was it ever wise to run?” I asked.

“No,” he said as the two of us slowly made our way towards the entryway of his home. “And I don’t have servants.”

That stopped me short. “What?” I said.

“I have a woman named Nadia who oversees the manor,” he said. “She gardens, cleans, and helps wherever she’s needed. Though she works for me, I consider her to be a lady of the house.”

“She does all of that work herself?” I asked dubiously, then hesitated, considering. It was hard to imagine. “Is she human?”

“No,” Nikolas said without looking my way.

I swallowed. Our world was divided very certainly into two groups: humans and those of an unnatural sort. I’d only ever come across a vampire at an execution and a dignitary witch, a woman who seemed quite normal and polite, though allegedly there were creatures out there that were both man and wolf. These beings could do things humans could not. Some believed that made them better than humans, but that wasn’t true.

Yes, of course, they worked faster and harder, and one vampire maid would equal twenty human workers, but humans couldn’t be discounted so easily.

I shook my head lightly. “Is she… like you?” I asked.

“She is a pure vampire,” he said, which caught me for a moment. Was there such a thing as impure vampires…? Before I could ask, he went on to say, “She won’t harm you. She sticks to the Collected blood supply.” He sighed. “She even finds some of it appetizing.”

We’d reached the front door, one oaken and carved. Nikolas was about to enter when I said, “And, opposed to her, what is your blood supply? Me, now? Indefinitely?”

He paused with his hand on the doorknob. “We’ll talk about that later,” he said stiffly.

I blinked as Nikolas walked inside, wondering where his lackadaisical attitude had gone. The thought quickly left as I caught sight of the interior. I’d been to different palaces and kingdoms, seen many artifacts on display and walked over marble floors that were scrubbed thrice daily. Those were all beautiful, of course they were beautiful, but this was different. There was an atmosphere here that triggered something in me.

The floors were made of dark wood, the walls painted red and the furniture in the Victorian fashion. It was something one would certainly expect from a classy Child of the Night--an air of darkness and intrigue, elegance and history. Those feelings combined in such a way surprised me. It was new and… interesting. No banners, no portraits of great-grandfathers, no medallion stands. Rather, it felt like I had gone back in time a few decades, back to when my mother was first born and large petticoats were all the rage.

Before I’d stepped on Nikolas’ carriage, I’d been expecting to be chained, to be greeted with a cellar or a dungeon, but here, I found a home. I barely heard Nikolas quietly shut the door behind me as I strode further inside, glancing around. My eyes landed on a painting of a face--a male, who looked full of rage. The feeling was shown not in pushed eyebrows or a deep scowl but his eyes alone. It was the only expressive part of him; his face was devoid of all emotion, reminding me much of my brother.

I stepped closer to the painting, almost in a trance. The eyes were red like Nikolas’ but seemed genuinely infuriated and bloodthirsty. It was terrifying but awe-inspiring at the same time. How could someone convey this? How could there be an artist so talented? This was what Genevieve wished she could do, but not enough lessons in the world could teach someone this skill.

Nikolas followed my gaze. “My father,” he said offhandedly.

Eyes wide, I turned to him. “Did you paint that?”

He nodded. “You like it?” he asked, head tilting to the side.

I quickly composed myself. “It’s okay,” I said, not wanting to give him a compliment.

If he could tell I was lying, he didn’t comment. “Shall I show you to your quarters?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said with great reluctance, images of chains once again filling my head. Still, I forced a smile, unwilling to show him my fear.

Nikolas brushed past with a demure, “Follow me.”

He led me through rooms that resembled the foyer, though they each held an obviously different purpose. I paid careful attention, not sure what would be important in terms of a possible escape, and made a mental map of everything: Den, library, kitchen, bathing chamber, lounge. I impressed myself by keeping track of them all. There were just as many rooms here as the castle I’d had years to get to know and sometimes I still mixed up the green room, red room, tea room, and fourth guest room. Here, I was almost certain about where things were located. Maybe it was self-preservation kicking in.

Finally, on the third floor, in a side hall, we stopped. “This is your room,” he told me and stepped to the side.

I stared at him for a moment before gripping the doorknob and turning it. A room close to the size of my old one greeted me, and I could begrudgingly admit that it was a splendid sight. The bed in the corner was cream and large with beautifully carved posts hoisting a patterned canopy, and the chaise looked comfortable with plump, silk pillows. Old and ornate objects, such as the golden clock by the entryway, were littered strategically on antique mahogany tables, giving me the feeling that I’d traveled somewhere foreign. Some of these things I’d never seen before.

Nikolas stepped in behind me, and I turned. He flicked on the lights. “We have electricity,” he said, his familiar smirk forming. “Though you might have thought I live in the dark.”

I considered this. For an old being, he sure did have a lot of modern inventions. Maybe I could find an automobile situated next to his carriage! Those were Genevieve’s favorite toys. My joy dimmed at the thought.

Nikolas walked further, pointing to a door in the corner. “Your bathing chamber is there. Everything you could need will be inside, but,” he glanced back at me, “there won’t be any maids washing you. Afraid you’ll have to do that yourself.”

“I do not have my maids wash me!” I said, annoyed. Yes, they prepared my baths with oils and salts and did my hair when I was done, but I could take baths on my own!

“Of course,” he said, bowing, hiding the smile I knew was on his face, “princess.”

Unwillingly, I made a quick, dissatisfied noise out of my nose and strode further into the wide space, looking for something to criticize. “So this is my cage?” I demanded, whirling to glare at Nikolas.

“Does this look like a cage?” he asked, perking a brow.

“You can wrap as many ribbons as you want around the bars, but it is what it is,” I said.

Nikolas met my gaze, and I quickly looked away. No way was he hypnotizing me again… or doing whatever it was he could do. “No, this is not your cage,” he said finally, which I hadn’t expected. It was polite to look at someone while they spoke, but I resisted the urge and instead did another sweep of my living quarters. “You are free to roam.”

“I don’t understand,” I said, striding towards a window. It overlooked the backyard, revealing another garden and a beautiful lake in the background. A cage with a golden cage is still a cage, I reminded myself. “I’m free?”

“Of course,” said Nikolas.

I turned, unable to help myself. “So I can leave ?” I asked, staring at him.

He paused for a moment, as if searching for the right words. He finally said, “If Nadia, Greer, or I are with you, then you can leave, yes.”

“Greer?” I said.

“He works in the stables,” said Nikolas, and I figured that had to be the coachman.

I nodded, my mouth set in a harsh line. “What you’re saying, then, is that I can leave only if I have my prison guards or my captor with me. That doesn’t feel like freedom.”

“You’re free to roam the grounds,” Nikolas replied, red eyes narrowing, “but no more than that.”

My mouth opened, and I wasn’t sure what I was going to say. Something to antagonize him, some sort of protest, but before any words could come out, he suddenly flashed in front of me. I jumped and went to back up, but one of his hands came to my right shoulder, holding me in place. His other hand, then, lifted my chin up to ensure I would look at him.

“Let me make something clear,” he said. His voice was a purr, and I was once again reminded of a cave cat. “I own you.” Nikolas leaned down, his breath infiltrating, and my traitorous body calmed at the smell. “You are mine. Do you understand?”

His grip was loose enough on my chin that I was allowed a short nod. I stared up at him with wide eyes. “You say what’s on your mind. You’re a fighter. I like that,” he said, a small smirk forming. It disappeared almost as soon as it arrived. “But don’t make the mistake of fighting me. Because I will win. Every time.”

My breath caught in my throat. He was absolutely certain. This was a man who knew what he wanted and would, apparently, never give it up.

“I told you,” Nikolas said, finally letting go of my chin, but I didn’t move it. My eyes refused to lower or look away from his own. And, despite our proximity, I wasn’t entirely lost in him. I still had rational thought. I knew that I could walk away, knew that I should, but I chose not to. Instead, I stared, watching his magnificently carved face contort into all hard lines, his jaw popping. “I have waited for you for a very long time. And I am not letting you go, Clara.”