A Tale Of Twilight: The Dawn Of Dark Ages

TOO SKILLED FOR A HUMAN

The world tilted. The familiar sounds of the night, the distant highway hum, the rustle of leaves, faded into a dull roar in her ears. Yvonne staggered back, her heels digging into the soft earth, her balance deserting her. Wide-eyed, she stared at the massive figure that had materialized from the shadows as if woven from the very darkness itself.

Never in her long, violent life had anything unsettled her so profoundly. Not the execution of traitors, not the ferocity of rival werewolf alphas, not even the cold fury of her own father. This was different. This was a primal, gut-deep terror that turned her bones to water and her blood to ice. Here was a presence that made her vampire flesh creep with the instinctual fear of a mouse before a stoic, unblinking owl.

He stood immovable, a monolith of silent power. When he spoke, his voice was a low, resonant rumble that seemed to vibrate through the ground beneath her feet, layered with a formality so crisp it was itself a weapon.

“Your father’s orders were to keep you safe within the estate’s boundaries, Madame. You are, of course, free to… scamper about the woods.” The word ‘scamper’ was a deliberate, gentle insult, highlighting her failed attempt at a grand escape. “But these woods are your limits. Should you wish to venture beyond them, my presence becomes non-negotiable.”

His coffee-brown eyes, usually warm, were now the dark, impenetrable brown of ancient forest soil, holding no light, no warmth, only an unnerving depth of resolve. He was a mountain that had decided to stand in her path, and she felt infinitesimally small and utterly helpless before him.

Then, the most terrifying thing happened. His severe frown loosened. The hard line of his mouth softened, and slowly, infuriatingly, it turned into a smile. It wasn't a cruel smile, nor a mocking one. It was a smile of pure, unadulterated amusement, as if he were watching a kitten attempt to intimidate a wolf. He watched her, this terrifyingly powerful vampire princess, almost shivering on the bare forest floor.

“What the hell are you smiling about?” Yvonne’s voice came out at a embarrassingly high pitch, the fear curdling rapidly into hot, shameful anger. The sound of his voice had confirmed it was Matt, shattering the brief illusion of a true monster and replacing it with the infuriating reality of her jailer.

“Nothing, ma’am,” he said, the smile tugging harder at his lips. He bit his lower lip, a strangely human gesture as he tried to hold back a full-blown laugh. “It’s just… you look like a drowned cat that’s been tossed out into the cold.”

“Hey! What’s so funny?” she snarled, the anger giving her the strength to push herself upright. Dignity was a lost cause, but she could still wield authority. “You don’t get cocky with me! You don’t! I am still your mistress, you know!” The words felt hollow even as she said them.

“Let me,” Matt said, his amusement fading as he extended a hand to help her up.

She slapped it away with a violence that cracked through the night. “Get your filthy human hands away from me! How did you get here so fast? Why didn’t I sense you? I didn’t hear a sound! I hate it! Damn it, I hate you! What in the name of all that’s dark does my father see in you?” The questions tumbled out of her in a breathless, furious torrent as she finally found her footing.

“Take it easy, ma’am,” he said, all traces of the smile gone now, replaced by a patient, professional mask. His tone became frank, matter-of-fact. “As for how I got here, I didn’t ‘get here’ fast. I never left. I’ve been following you since the moment you slipped out your window. I was ten paces behind you the entire time.”

Her mind reeled. The flush of anger on her cheeks deepened with a wave of violation. “And how could you possibly have done that? Is there a camera in my room now? Is this some sick game you and my father planned? A secret surveillance?” The thought was a new and potent kind of fury.

“You know your father better than that. He values your privacy, even as he seeks to protect it. No,” Matt shook his head, his gaze unwavering. “I have trained my senses to a point where I can maintain a passive awareness of my immediate environment—the shift of air currents, the subtlest vibrations, the change in energy. I sensed your movements in your chamber. I knew your intent the moment you decided to leave. Following you was a simple matter of moving without sound and masking my presence.”

Her face burned. Different, horrifying thoughts crashed through her mind, one rising above the others with terrifying clarity. “Wait… you can sense *everything* going on in my room?” she snapped, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “Does that mean you know when I’m… when I’m taking a bath?”

For the first time, his impeccable composure cracked. A faint blush tinged his neck. “No—well, yes, the capability is there, but I don’t—I wouldn’t… I don’t do it *on purpose*.” He stumbled over the words, a flicker of genuine discomfort in his dark eyes.

“*‘On purpose’?*” she hissed, the word a venomous dart.

“Stop it,” he commanded, his voice regaining its steel as he visibly banished the flustered thoughts. “I am not a pervert. I do not ‘sneak a peek,’ as you so crudely put it. My focus is on threat assessment, not… voyeurism.” He took a steadying breath. “And as for your sense of smell, it’s a simple balm. A specialized, potent deodorant that neutralizes my scent signature entirely. It’s one of the reasons your father hired me. My resume is quite unique.” He said it without arrogance, a simple statement of fact, watching her process this new information about the tools that made a human her effective warden.

Seeing her seething silence, he gestured back toward the distant lights of the highway, his tone shifting to dry practicality. “Don’t you have somewhere to be right now?”

The reminder was a splash of cold water. Her grand escape, her hunt—it was all forgotten in the blinding rage of this confrontation. “Oh, crap,” she muttered, the fight draining out of her, replaced by sullen defeat. “I’d totally forgotten.” With a huff of utter frustration, she made a sharp U-turn, stomping back toward the dark line of the woods.

“Can you stop following me?” she threw over her shoulder without looking back. “I know my way to the castle, don’t I?” Then, without waiting for an answer, she dissolved into a burst of preternatural speed, fleeing not just him, but the humiliation he represented.

Matt stood alone in the clearing, watching the space where she had vanished. The silence she left behind was heavier than before. He was no stranger to abuse. A previous employer, a paranoid tech billionaire, had once locked him in a soundproofed panic room for a week as a “test of loyalty,” providing only minimal sustenance. Another, a powerful socialite with dangerous obsessions, had attempted to frame him for assault when he repeatedly rejected her advances. Only the swift, brilliant work of his friend Nancy, a lawyer with a knack for navigating the world of the powerful and corrupt, had saved him.

Insults were part of the job description. They were background noise. But something about Yvonne’s barbs, the pure, undiluted vitriol laced with a strange, electric charge, managed to slip past his professional armor and prick at the man beneath. He stood there for a long time, not thirty minutes, but a full hour, listening to the forest, ensuring she was truly gone, and wrestling with a feeling he couldn’t quite name.

When he finally returned to the castle, moving with the same silent grace, he found her not brooding in her room, but standing before her full-length mirror, a vision of devastating beauty and simmering fury. She was adorned in a gown of deepest midnight blue, its fabric seeming to swallow the light and glitter with captured starlight. It was cut to accentuate her every curve, a weapon of seduction and power.

She didn’t acknowledge his presence at the door.

“Hey, Yvonne, I hope you haven’t forgotten about the Equinox Ball?” Arne’s voice preceded him as he pushed her chamber door open and strode in without ceremony.

“Father! The door is there for a reason!” she snapped, her reflection glaring at him in the mirror. “If you’re going to keep barging in, you might as well have it removed from the wall!” There was no playfulness in her tone, only raw irritation.

Arne, the master of sarcasm, merely offered a thin smile. “Alright, dear, I’ll take that under advisement. But right now, you need to be at that ball. And you will be going with Matt.”

“Nope. No. Absolutely not. I don’t need your bird-brained bodyguard following me around there. Do you know he can *sense my every move*?” she seethed, finally turning to face him, her eyes flashing crimson. “Even when I’m about to take a bath!”

Arne’s eyebrows shot up. He placed a hand over his heart in a gesture of half-hearted shock. “Oh no! He does that?”

“You’re not going to do anything about it, are you?” she accused, seeing right through his performance.

“Nope,” he said cheerfully, dropping the act. “That’s the very reason I hired him. Well, not *that* specific reason,” he added with a dismissive wave. “And Matt would never violate your trust in such a way. He’s the perfect gentleman.”

“Well then,” Yvonne said, her voice dripping with icy finality, turning back to the mirror. “I’m off.”

“That’s okay. Let me get the driver and Matt,” Arne said smoothly.

“I won’t be needing a driver. I’ll fly,” she stated, avoiding his eyes in the reflection.

“My damsel, my jewel,” he crooned, stepping closer, his voice a masterclass in paternal persuasion. “You can’t fly in this beautiful dress. Do you want to ruin it? It’s a masterpiece.”

She remained stubbornly silent, but he could see her resolve wavering. He played his final card, his voice softening into something genuine and wistful. “You know… you look exactly like her. I mean Valerie. In that dress.”

The blow landed perfectly. It was true, the gown, the styling, it echoed portraits of her mother. She felt the ghost of Valerie in the fabric. She knew he was manipulating her, but the hook was set too deep. Her shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Fine,” she whispered, the word tasting like ash. “I will go with him.” She wanted to say more, to hurl another insult, but a movement at the periphery of her vision stopped her. Matt stood framed in the doorway, having never left his post. He was watching the exchange, his expression unreadable.

“Yes! There he is!” Arne said, clapping his hands together as if it were a wonderful coincidence. He swept past Matt with a conspiratorial glance. “Have fun, peanut.” The endearment hung in the air, a clear and clumsy attempt at setting a tone that made Yvonne’s skin crawl.

As her father’s footsteps faded, the room fell into a thick, uncomfortable silence. Yvonne refused to look at Matt directly. She swept past him, the train of her exquisite dress whispering against the stone floor, heading for the grand staircase that spiraled down into the heart of the castle. She paused at the top step, not turning around, her voice cold and clear, carrying the full weight of her noble birth and simmering hatred.

“Well? Aren’t you coming?”