Vampire Queen's Soulmate

Dante

Esme flashed back to her home. She couldn't waste time now. What the f**k.

She appeared on the terrace, her cloak flaring dramatically. Arlan, the priest, who had come out for a moment, startled as the queen suddenly materialized in front of him.

"My queen!" he gasped, his hand fluttering about his chest, automatically reaching for a rosary that was no longer there.

"Priest," Esme said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," the corners of her mouth twitched as she tried not to laugh. Arlan had been with her for two hundred years, and he still got spooked when she did vampy stuff.

"Ah..you didn't..." Arlan stammered, "I was just out here, and then you appeared and..." he trailed off.

"I scared you," Esme finished, and couldn't hold back a grin. Arlan stomped his foot.

"Will I ever not be scared, my queen? I mean, I have been with you for a long time now. You'd think I'd be used to this," Arlan lamented. Esme reached out and touched his shoulder soothingly.

"It takes time, Priest. Some take longer than others. Some never get used to it. Those that don't, don't grow. They stay stuck in their ways, trying to still be a human in a vamp's world. You're not like that, and I know that you have been learning all you can. Dont beat yourself up over it," Esme reassured him, giving him a friendly smile. Arlan returned the smile.

"Thank you, reina. I appreciate your honesty," he replied, truly grateful that she was a kind one.

"You're welcome. Now, come with me. I actually have something I want to discuss with you, and I don't think you're going to like this," Esme beckoned him to come with her into the house. She needed to get to her office. The two went through the door on the terrace and were inside a long hallway.

"What's going on?" Arlan asked, a feeling of dread washing over him.

"Do you remember Dante?" Esme asked, walking quickly. Arlan stopped in his tracks in shock.

"D-Dante?" his voice trembled, as he jogged to keep up with Esme.

"Yes, Arlan. Dante," Esme sounded exasperated, as she came to the end of the hallway and turned the corner.

"How could I forget him? Asshole that he was," Arlan said, the last part forcefully. Esme laughed.

"Its so funny to hear a priest curse," she commented, knowing that would rile him up. She liked to poke at him sometimes, and he knew it, and took it in stride, for the most part.

"We're people, just like everyone else. We aren't on our knees praying 24/7, Esme," Arlan snapped, not calling her by her title. Esme didn't care at this point, she just wanted to get to her files.

"You're not a people now, Priest. You're a vamp," Esme retorted, now slightly out of breath. Why didn't she just teleport to her damn office? She needed to get back to the gym. She'd skipped the past couple days because of Caul's death, but she knew better. A few days off, and she'd be back to square one.

"I am aware, my queen," Arlan said blandly. Esme snorted, as they reached the door to her office. She opened the door and went in, Arlan following and closing the door behind them. Esme immediately began searching her file cabinet for the right one.

"Why are you asking me if I remember that scum? You got rid of him years ago," Arlan asked, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Because," Esme replied, pulling a thick file out of the drawer, "I think he's back, and he's f*****g with me."

Arlan's eyes grew even wider. "No." Esme nodded. "Yes."

She sat at her desk and opened the file. Arlan took a chair from in front of her desk and sat next to her. They pored over the paperwork in the file. Pictures, mostly small paintings, of a man with a shock of thick black hair and piercing blue eyes staring back at them. A couple of old black and white photos were mixed in among the paintings. The starkness of the photos added to the dramatics of the man, the look on his chiseled face seemed to taunt them, as if challenging them to ask if he was back from the nether world.

The paperwork told more of his story. A vampire turned during the early Middle Ages, he had come across Esme's radar at a party in the 16th century. She had been Queen for quite some time at that point, and Dante was part of an ancient kiss who had been her rivals for years before she rose to the throne. They knew of each other, but Esme hadn't met him in person until that night at that party.

It was a boring party, many of them were. Everyone had fed, and now were just milling around, waiting for the dancing to begin. Esme had been walking about the ballroom, talking with some friends, and hearing others' bids for advancement in the realm. So many of them wanted more, more power, more land, more money, and were not willing to do the work that came with that advancement. She shook her head, thinking how funny it was that they should think a favor from her would be free, just because she was a woman and queen.

The musicians were tuning their instruments, and Esme had looked about the room, wondering who would be her partner for the first dance. She turned when she heard a deep voice say her name.

"My Queen Esmeline." Esme looked into this young man's serious face. He was tall, well-built, not a scrawny thing as some tall men were, but not overly muscled either. He filled his black suit out to perfection, however, and his buckled shoes shone beautifully. His black hair was combed perfectly, his features were strong, the jawline and cheekbones looked as if they'd been carved from rock. His eyes, an aquamarine blue, were a striking feature. Esme nearly lost herself in those eyes, but recovered before he could notice.

"Hello, Dante," she murmured softly, holding her hand out to him. Dante took it, and placed a kiss on the back of it. Even through her glove, she could feel the electricity tingle her skin.

"You know my name," he stated, smiling. Esme smiled back.

"It is my job to know such things," she retorted regally, noting that he still held her hand. At this moment, the band struck up a tune, signaling the first dance of the night.

"My queen, may I have the honor of dancing first with you?" Dante asked gallantly, bowing deeply. Esme stepped back, and dipped a curtsy, her dress flowing out prettily, her breasts threatening to spill out of the low cut bodice.

"The pleasure would be mine," Esme replied, rising up on Dante's hand.

The two would dance this, and many others that night. The night ended on a passionate note, and the two became a couple. Over time, it became apparent that Dante was attempting to use Esme to increase his powers. He indeed became a force to be reckoned with. He became emboldened, turning people into vampires at an alarming rate, and was responsible for at least 3 child vamps, which was a serious charge in the vampire world. The consensus was that one did not turn a child, as they had not had a chance to really live their life yet. They would be stuck at that age they were turned for eternity. It was not fair to turn a child.

Esme excused a lot of his behavior, for she loved him dearly, and she wanted to see his powers grow. He left his kiss publicly, the one who Esme was not a fan of, preferring to be with his queen, and he had hopes that she would make him king. Unfortunately for him, Esme was not going to do that for just anyone. Though she loved Dante, he was not ruler material. He was careless, reckless, outright rude and unnecessarily cruel at times. She told him this one night, and his wrath spilled over, his blue eyes flashing angrily.

"And why am I not fit to be king, then, majesty? Are you afraid that I will be better than you at the job?" he sneered, stalking towards her. Esme stood perfectly still as he circled her.

"Of course not, my love. No one is better than I at my job. That's why it's my job, and no one else," she retorted.

"But you have no king! A queen is meant to have a king! That has been the way of things since the beginning of time!" he exclaimed.

"A queen does not necessarily need a king, and that is a fact shown all throughout history. I am one of them. You are not ready to be a king anyway. See how you throw a fit when you do not get your way? Is that how you would behave if you were to have a place beside me?" Esme inquired calmly. Dante let out a frustrated scream, and flung a vase filled with new roses across the room. It smashed against the wall, water, glass, and red petals falling to the floor. Esme turned a now angry face to him.

"Clean it up," she commanded, the anger tracing in her voice. Dante crossed his arms in front of him in a defiant move.

"No." he said, preparing to have his way. Esme raised an eyebrow. In a flash, Dante was thrown in the same direction that the vase went, landing in front of the mess that he'd made.

"I said. Clean. It. Up." Esme gritted out, beginning to lose her patience with this immature boy. Dante groaned.

"No. You can't make me," he said painfully. Without moving a muscle, Esme forced his face inches from the broken glass.

"I think it best you rethink what you've said, Dante. I most certainly can make you. I'd rather you did it on your own, without me having to play this game with you. The choice is, of course, yours," Esme was deadly quiet as she gave him the chance to redeem himself.

Dante weighed his options. She could kill him right now. He didn't want that, since he planned to take her out when she least expected it. His powers were growing, and with the practice he was getting from some friends, he was almost ready. He smiled above the glass, knowing that his plans were perfect. He would be King! Just a little while longer....

"I am sorry, my queen. I got away from myself. Please find it in your beautiful heart to forgive me," he apologized prettily, knowing she would let him up immediately. He stayed where he was, however, unable to move. "My queen? Esmeline? Did you hear me?"

"I heard you. Did you hear yourself? Not the most sincere apology I've ever heard," Esme remarked. Bastard. I know what you're about.

"Your Highness, I humble myself at your feet," Dante began. Esme snorted. "I apologize from the bottom of my heart. I let my emotions and my temper get the best of me. I swear to you that I will not let it happen again." Dante suddenly was on his feet, swaying a bit with the abruptness of the movement.

"That's more like it," Esme said softly, stepping in close to her lover. She smoothed his shirt, plucking at the ruffled collar. Then she spoke again, in a quiet, strength-filled voice.