Inflaming the Vampire's Stone Heart

Chapter Three

The sight of the deer’s body as she fell to her side and a last breath escapes her nostrils makes my soul want to cry out. She is not far from me. I can even make out the dilation of her eyes as she passes. As her speckled brown with white chest is not moving at all I know that she is dead. What kind of monster could have shot such a beautiful creature with an arrow in such a brutal and barbaric way?

I bolted my gaze up to the direction that arrow came from above. A man was atop the rock I was leaning against. He was tall and muscular dressed in a long black leather robe lined with grey fur at the neck. I noted a white silk shirt was loosely tucked into a pair of black pants beneath it. Those pants were then tucked into calf high black leather boots. His hair was short black and waved back with a long-clean shaven and defined jawline.

He carried a bow in his hand which only confirmed he was the killer of the deer. He is attractive. The mere sight of his daunting and impressive frame confirms the friction that I feel in my stomach with a pinch of wild lust. I quickly brush that s****l desire away. All I want to feel is anger at the poor deer he just shot unbeknownst to the danger she was in. That deer was an innocent life of the forest murdered by a savage heartless hunter.

With my anger searing I turned to look at a second figure that stepped forward next to him. A woman, his accomplice no doubt, approached him looking down to the deceased deer. She was just as statuesque dressed in a tight red dress with a sparkling black trim that fell down to her ancles and set of opulent high-heels. Her hair was long black and tied back into an impeccable wave with a red and gold clasp. I could not take my eyes off the pair. I thought that my presence was unknown but then this dark mysterious hunter’s eyes fell to my own. 

I could not breathe as he looked down at me. My vital need for air was stripped from my mouth and lungs when our eyes met. His eyes were not blue, they were grey or silver. I have never seen eyes like those before. My lips fell open with a shudder of fear in the way that he looked down at me and I took a step back from the massive rock knowing my watch was now discovered. I heard a stick break under the heal of my left foot and thought it might be the sound of my neck. Was he about to shoot me with a bow and arrow as well? With his look of murderous intent, I think it might be possible. 

The hunter handed the bow to a third figure, a servant who took them with a bow. His eyes were only off of mine for a second as he descended the rock on the other side and began to stalk towards me. 

As he made his climb down, I eyed the servant. He was older with silver hair tied black in a slick and thick long braid. He had a thin, yet capable build. He was dressed in a similar black vest suit as the other waiters at the festival. Yet, he held himself with a different way from them. He was superior, or even in charge of the rest of the servants at this event. While all the others had red and gold vests, his was woven only with grey. I noted a sharp hunting blade was visible in his brown leather belt line and was roughly the size of my forearm.  

I willed myself to step back further and move towards the village I could hear the music of. I have a feeling that whoever this hunter is, he is dangerous. There is another part of me that is furious with him. He just killed that beautiful deer. How cruel. 

He climbed down from the rock face with ease in that second of time. The quick moves of his steps over the dangerous uneven surface from the huge rock were experienced, almost as if he did not think he could fall. 

“You are not from the village.” He demanded of me in a low firm tone in English over his thick European accent.

I wanted to say that his accent was the same is Nicolae, being Romanian. However, it did not sound the same at all. I have no idea of its origin but it almost sounded Irish. His tone sounded angry, like I was an intruder or a voyeur to a crime he just committed. I think he was in fact irate that I had watched him hunt. I did not mean to witness this at all. In truth, I wish with all my being that I had not. 

“No… I…” I started to form something to say, but I could come up with nothing. 

“London.” He lifted his gaze studying me in my pause to explain why I was here. 

He then looked at the village to our side and back at me. His gaze lowered to my breasts, tightly bound in the gold and black corset. It was clear that he liked what he saw. I took a step back, and that step was not something that he seemed to like as he darted his gaze back up once more. Almost that he was insulted I did not want to allow him the view of my features. Like he was entitled to look at me that way or something. My heart and stomach are sending signals to me. I needed to move away from him, and as soon as possible. His grey stare back at my eyes made me shudder. How could he tell by just two single words, No and I, that I was from London? 

I had taken that step back and now he followed with one of his own entering my own space as if I had invited him closer. He is not only tall. His build was broad with intimidation. And I don’t believe I have ever met someone more attractive as a few strands of his black hair fall loose against his jaw. A feeling of fear is continuing to scratch up my back. 

“You do not attend the festival. The dance, drink and music?” He asked me formally. 

“The stream… I thought it sounded peaceful.” I found myself explaining, but I shouldn’t have to explain my thoughts or desire to see the stream to him. 

I looked away from him and I think I saw his jaw tilt from the corner of my eye as my attention shifted to the deer. 

He turned like the cut of a knife and followed my gaze. 

“For the feast tonight. It is tradition that a male from my family brings a deer from the forest to the feast.” He answered my stare.

His tone was no longer angry. It was calm and desolate without a care in the world. Did he actually see that I felt sorrow for the creature he just hunted? 

The hunter killed that deer to feed the village. I am not a vegetarian. No, I like meat. But I had never hunted, nor seen an animal killed before. I guess it was too harsh for me to be upset with this man. He killed that animal for some old tradition to feed this village. It was not just for a trophy on the wall like some indifferent huntsman. Nicolae had informed me that they grew their own food and butchered their own meat, but I had not thought about what that would really be like. I should not judge this stranger over it, but I still felt for the deer. 

“Oh…” I found I was only whispering. 

“You should not have come into the forest.” He interrupted me again. “You may well have gotten in the way of my shot.” His voice returned even lower if that was at all possible and with a sense of indignation towards me. 

I looked down from his gaze and found that my eyes fell to his muscular chest. The cross of grey fur at the collar of his robe was almost the same shade of his eyes. The white silk shirt was loose against his skin. Black buttons as dark as raw obsidian lowered against it. But two were unclasped at the top and I could make out the detailed lines of his neck. I was surprised to see a large woven yellow and rose gold necklace on a bulky chain. At the end of that chain was the visible top of some Celtic looking knot I could not fully see the shape of. He took a breath in, noticing my intrigued appreciation of his appearance and enjoying it. 

I heard Julia’s sequel of laughter eradiate from the village music. For the briefest moments I turned in the direction of the sound. They must be dancing. I looked back towards the hunter.

He had already turned to leave without another word. His broad back twisted with what I could only imagine was a multitude of muscles as he headed back in the direction of the raven-haired woman. I did not notice how or even when she had come down from the rock face. She looked down at me as he returned to her. Her hair was as black as night. Her skin was as white as the moon only echoed by the darkest shade of red lip-stick I think that I have ever seen. She was magnificently beautiful, just like he was. She only blinked, like I wasn’t even there and followed after him. 

The servant that took the bow and arrow went down to take care of the deer’s carcass and that was not something that I wanted to stay and watch. He said nothing in my direction intent to treat me like I wasn’t there at all. 

The sun was now setting completely and it was growing dark. I decided to turn back and find my friends.

I have never had an interaction with someone like that before, I thought to myself as I caught my breath and stillness thankfully returned to me. There was something very strange about that hunter. He held himself with such an aloof air of cold superiority. It was not arrogance in his stance, well somewhat perhaps. He was beyond what I would consider good-looking and that had to come with a level of arrogance to anyone, but there was something else that made him stand out above other men. He seemed to carry with him a dark weight of intelligence that demanded respect. 

I suppose I will not likely see him again. We are only here for tonight and tomorrow before returning home to London. The village is old yes, but it is also distinctly large having only experienced even a glimpse of it. I believe it could contain a population of a few hundred. There is probably not much of a chance that I will run into him again. 

And, what if I did run into his mysterious self once more? I remembered looking at the white silk shirt he was wearing which revealed a single braided necklace of some old Celtic looking woven design in a mixture of gold and rose-gold. I found myself desiring to meet him again. I wonder what a kiss from someone as strong and savage as him would be like, if only for the briefest of moments. Stop that, Laura! I slapped myself internally. I am not here for romance. I am just a spectator and that is exactly what he made me feel like. That is all and that is it. He was seductively gorgeous, but he must have been with the just as alluring raven-haired woman and thus spoken for. She was perhaps the most beautiful woman I have ever met. I could not compete with her. He was not available even for the speculation of desire. 

I brushed the feeling away of meeting him. Intent that will always be an interesting memory to ponder and nothing more. I turned to the violin music, as a very lively Romanian tune; Melodii Morosenesti began. I headed back towards its source intent to enjoy the night.