SCENTLESS
1389 Words
The forest had been a disappointment.
The hunt, an insult to her.
The mortal had collapsed to his knees and begged before she'd even tasted him. His blood had gone thin with terror, cheap wine instead of the vintage she craved. It left her restless, vicious, prowling.
Yvonne Arne ghosted through the pre-dawn mist like living smoke, boots silent on the gravel vein that led from the ancient woods to the only place she was ever allowed to call home. Castle Ventrue rose ahead of her, blacker than the sky, a jagged crown of stone and malice. It wasn't a house. It was a warning.
The sensor gate recognized the rhythm of her heartbeat and sighed open. She didn't slow.
Restlessness clawed at her ribs. She needed height, needed distance from the ground that felt too small tonight. Fingers and toes found purchase in stone older than nations; she climbed the main keep, the way a thought climbs a skull, swift, inevitable. She landed on the lead-lined mansard roof, her private altar to the dying night.
From up here the world and sky was a beauty, stretched out across the horizon was darkness so pure. The horizon was amazing until the blurry yellow light, dawn, began pushing the darkness away from the top of the sea
She hated it.
But watched it anyway.
And, as always when the dark began to lose, her thoughts turned to the only creature stronger than the dark.
Father.
Arne Anton had been… wrong since the police took her. Wrong in ways that frightened even her. He left the castle for nights at a time, returning with sunrise in his hair and storms in his eyes. He spoke less, touched her more, brief, fierce brushes of knuckles across her cheek, as if reassuring himself she was still real, still his.
When he had started talking about bodyguards, she had laughed in his face.
The growl of an electric engine, almost silent, pulled her from her brooding. She leaned over the edge.
The near-silent hum of an electric engine drifted through the courtyard.
Yvonne looked down from the rooftop.
A black Porsche Macan glided through the castle gates, its headlights cutting pale ribbons through the lingering mist before fading into darkness. It rolled to a stop beneath the stone steps.
Henry climbed out first, immaculate as always, smoothing an invisible crease from his jacket before opening the rear door.
Arne Anton emerged.
The moment Yvonne saw him, some of the irritation she'd carried back from the hunt eased. He looked...lighter. Not happier—Father had forgotten how to be happy centuries ago—but there was something almost triumphant in the way he carried himself.
Then the opposite door opened.
Another figure stepped out.
He was enormous.
Six-foot-eight, easily, built like someone had mistaken a battering ram for a human being. Broad shoulders filled a fitted black tactical jacket without looking strained. His movements were relaxed, economical, every step deliberate without appearing rehearsed.
Black hair was tied neatly behind his head.
Light brown eyes wandered lazily across the courtyard.
Gate,windows. North tower. The roofline.
He looked away.
Then he paused.
"Oh."
His eyes lifted back to the rooftop.
"There you are."
He smiled.
Not the practiced smile of politicians.
Not the predatory smile of vampires.
Just...a friendly one.
As though he'd finally found the person he'd been looking for.
Yvonne frowned.
Most people, vampires and otherwise, spent several seconds searching before spotting her.
He'd found her in less than one.
Interesting.
She dropped.
The fall should have shattered bone.
Instead she landed soundlessly between her father and the stranger, cloak settling around her like spilled ink.
She embraced Arne.
He hugged her tightly.
Too tightly.
When he let go, she looked up.
"You're early."
"I had business."
"So I see."
Her eyes drifted toward the stranger.
"What is this?"
The man raised one finger.
" Uhh...I have a name." His voice low and husky. He was met with silence
Yvonne looked at him.
"...Excuse me?"
"You asked what I am."
He nodded politely.
"I'd prefer who."
Henry closed his eyes.
"Oh no..."
Yvonne blinked.
Nobody... Nobody ever interrupts her.
Arne sighed the sigh of a man who had already lived through the next week's headache.
"Yvonne."
He rested a hand on her shoulder.
"This is Matthew Garrett."
Matthew inclined his head slightly
"A pleasure Madame."
Yvonne looked him up and down.
Human. Obviously. Ridiculously so.
No scent of vampire.
No supernatural aura.His most intriguing traits, no fear. Not even a little and it so annoyed her.
"What are you supposed to be?"
Matthew looked down at himself.
"I usually go with 'handsome.'"
Henry made a suspicious choking noise.
Yvonne stared.
"...Father."
"Yes?" Arne was uneasily excited. He even smiled.
"Why is it talking like this?"
Arne actually laughed.
A genuine laugh.
Rare enough that even Henry looked surprised.
"Matthew," Arne said, amusement still lingering in his voice, "is your new bodyguard."
Silence.
Then—
"No." Yvonne was taken back by her father's words.
"No?" Arne's eyebrows furrowed.
"No."
"You haven't heard—"
"I don't need to."
She pointed at Matthew.
"I refuse."
Matthew raised a hand.
"For the record..."
Everyone looked at him.
"I wasn't asked either."
Yvonne turned slowly.
"What?"
"I was told."
"You accepted."
"I like getting paid."
"You could've declined."
" yeah... I could've."
Another easy smile.
" But I didn't. And now we're here."
Yvonne stepped closer.
Slowly.
Like predator approaching prey.
Most humans broke eye contact by now.
Matthew didn't.
She stopped inches away.
Nothing. No racing pulse. No trembling. No scent of fear.
In fact...
She couldn't smell him.
At all.
Her expression changed. That was impossible. She leaned in another inch.
Still nothing.
Matthew watched her curiously.
"Everything alright?"
She ignored him.
Impossible. Every living thing had a scent. Blood. Sweat. Hormones. Life. But this man... He had nothing.
It was like standing beside an empty space pretending to be human.
"What..."
she whispered.
"...are you?"
Matthew smiled.
"I was hoping you'd know."
They entered the sitting room.
The heavy doors shut behind them.
Yvonne rounded on her father.
"This is insulting Father."
"You've said that." Arne said, paying her the littlest attention.
" You know I don't need protection."
"You've also said that."
"I've survived perfectly well."
Matthew quietly raised a finger.
"Technically..."
Everyone looked at him.
"You've survived because he keeps rescuing you... Or so I heard."
Silence.
Yvonne's head turned with painful slowness.
"I'm sorry?"
Matthew shrugged.
"Fifty-two rescue reports."
"You've been reading files?"
"They gave me a homework."
Henry coughed into his fist.
It sounded suspiciously like laughter.
"I am over two hundred years old."
Matthew nodded.
"And yet."
"What does that mean?"
"It means your father still worries."
"I do not need his worrying."
"I've met parents."
He looked toward Arne.
"They're strange."
"I am standing right here," Arne muttered.
"I know your highness."
Yvonne's eyes narrowed.
"Clan?"
Before Arne answered—
"Costco."
Dead silence.
Henry looked at the ceiling.
Arne pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Matthew."
"Sir?"
"You promised." Arne said. Something about this man made it impossible to get angry at.
"I promised I'd behave Sir."
"You've been here barely three minutes." Arne said feigning a frown.
"I have... And...I think that's a personal record."
Even Arne failed to hide another smile.
Yvonne looked between the two men.
"...Is he serious right now?"
Arne rubbed his temple.
"Unfortunately Yvonne... this is him behaving."
"I know exactly what you are, Miss Arne."
Matthew's voice lost none of its warmth.
"But I'm not here to hunt you."
He met her crimson eyes.
"I'm here to make sure nobody else gets the chance."
For the first time...
The smile didn't reach his eyes.
There it was.
Just for a heartbeat.
Cold.
Focused.
Professional.
Like a soldier remembering a battlefield nobody else could see.
Then it vanished.
"So..."
he said lightly,
"Are we done glaring at each other?...I skipped dinner... If we're going to keep staring, I'd at least appreciate a sandwich."
Yvonne didn't know whether to laugh...
...or rip his head off.
The fact that she couldn't decide irritated her more than anything else.
She hates everything about the concept of a bodyguard. But something about this man was so wrong but yet he brought an energy that the castle desperately needed.
- Writer
