Blood Lust
Wren
Red flashes through my vision. Again and again. I can almost see it through the fog. I can almost taste it. The blood, it’s splattered everywhere. Dropping from my face, the crimson drops rolling over my lips until I’m fully aware of the taste of iron.
The hilt of the cursed dagger pulses with life under my touch. Each finger carefully wraps around it, pulling the blade from her flesh.
The shock on her features. Green eyes ablaze like lightning. Anger then sorrow quickly flashes through them. My attention drifts over the soft laugh lines that are etched along her weathered skin. Her hair unbound, falls straight down her back, now sprayed with her own blood.
I step back. So does she. With shaking hands the blade falls, clattering against tile below. Guilt runs rampant in my veins.
The woman clutches her chest with one hand, the other reaches for the dagger. Light shines off of the blue gem decorating its handle; perhaps a warning that I should run. It speaks to me as it always seems to do.
Before I can tense my muscles to dash away, she has the dagger, the tip digging against the skin in my chest. With a shuddering breath it sinks in. Right to my heart.
With a sharp flinch, I’m awake. But my eyes just won’t open. The sound of someone shuffling near me, stirs me. My eyelids heavy as if weighed down.
With a grunt, my muscles strain, a dull ache pulsing through them as I sit up. Blinking, I shield my watering eyes with my hand. The light in the room burns my gaze. I try to see through it but pain fills my head. Why does it feel like my face weighs one hundred pounds? A wave of nausea laps over me like the ocean against the beach.
“Oh good you’re up!” A familiar voice greets me. Hazel chews a generous bite of ripe strawberry, most likely left for my breakfast.
“Hazel, you shouldn’t be here. I’m sick.” Moaning I roll on the bed, pulling the silk sheets up over my shoulders. The smooth bedding gives me some comfort despite the protests of my turning stomach.
Sputtering a laugh, she rips the blanket off of me. “You aren’t ill. You're hungover.” She slowly speaks, attempting to spell it out to me. “I can still smell the alcohol on you. Get up, drink some water, have some breakfast, and pretend you're okay. Eventually you will be.”
“No … I … well, I guess that’s what I get. Hand over my breakfast.”
“I ate most of it waiting for you to get up. I’ll call for more.” Hazel bounces to the door, her steps light against the glossy floor.
I try to think over the night, my thoughts seem foggy. I’ve never been drunk. Why would someone put themselves through that to end up like this the next day?
“Hey, how did I get home?” I ask, my palms sweat while my heart resounds in my ears.
“You, my lovely cousin, are one lucky lady. Miss Sparrow was on her way back to check and see if you needed a ride home and she found you walking down the street with some ruffian. Who knows what his plans were for you!”
“Ledian. Shoot,” I whisper mostly to myself.
“Ledian?”
Hazel sits on the edge of my bed leaning close to me. “Is this Ledian character the reason you’ve been going to nasty bars? Is he a fling?”
Her lips curl partly with disgust and partly with excitement. She’s a terrible influence.
“Yes. No. Wait, what?” My ebony hair falls forward into my face as I shake my head. “Just never mind.”
Her perfect eyebrows shoot up as she gives me a quizzical look. “So you're moving on from the band of brothers?” She pouts, “That’s a shame. I was getting quite fond of that quiet one. The quiet ones are the ones that get you. They save the use of their tongue.”
A wicked smile kisses her lips as she looks into the distance as if lost in a fond memory.
“Ledian is nothing. I’m still interested …” Interested in what? The brothers? All three of them? They’re gone, though. Because of me. At least until I can figure this out. “I still like the band of brothers.” I sigh.
What is wrong with me? Something must be wrong with me to feel this way about more than one person. At one time.
Roughly I run my palm down my face, trying to wake myself up and push away my confused thoughts.
“Hmm. You know, not everyone has their life together, right?” We hold eyes for a moment. We’re the same age. I’m more responsible and yet, somehow she always seems to know more than I do. “Life is confusion and anxiety and love and lust and pain. If life was simple they’d call it something different; if it were simple it’d be called death.” Her warm palm skims across my knuckles. I stare at her, not knowing what to say to her profound outburst. She nods to herself, gathering her heavy skirts, “Well, eat quickly. Your father sent over a wedding planner. We have a wedding to plan in less than three weeks.”
Fantastic.
Hazel puckers her lips as she exits the room, blowing a kiss my direction. That’s the Hazel I’m used to. The light and fun cousin I’ve known all my life.
I have to get up.
With the weight of my limbs, I rip the covers off my legs.
I take my time dressing. Not an ounce of my body or soul wishes for this wedding.
As I finally make my way to the small dining room, all eyes fall on me. The room has been filled with bouquets arranged for my choosing. Dishes and cutlery lay out across the table in different shades of gold and silver.
The wedding planner is a large woman whose blonde hair is piled in endless curls upon her head. She watches me intently as my attention drifts over the supplies.
“Only the finest for you, Princess.” Her red pointed nails pull at her fine gown as she bows low.
To steady myself, I take a deep breath before I slightly nod at her. “I suppose I should say thank you.”
The planner’s burgundy lips shutter into a frown before she catches herself and steps back with a fake smile.
“Yes, thank you, Matilda,” Hazel drawls as she stands from the table where she looks over beautiful wedding invitations.
Matilda ushers me to a seat at the head of the table, an honor. The seat where my father would be sitting. She pulls the wooden chair away from the table allowing me to sit as she pushes it in behind me.
My shoulders stiffen uncomfortably. Tension fills my entire body.
My view of Hazel is now lost behind endless bunches of flowers. One vase is filled with overflowing crimson roses. Small pieces of baby’s breath peek out within the arrangement.
They aren’t soft petals, or pretty arrangements.
They’re red.
Blood red.
“I’m thinking, roses. Everywhere!” Matilda fans her arms excitedly. “Everything else white. To represent your innocence, dear Princess.”
A soft knock on the door draws our attention away from the planner who’s laying out different cloth napkins for my approval. Bala’s normally smiling face appears flat and reserved behind the oak of the open door.
Clearing her throat, Bala speaks, “Princess Wren, you have a guest. May I announce them?”
“Yes,” I reply in a vacant tone.
“Lord Nash Turningten.” Bala opens the door allowing my future husband to enter the room.
His long legs step through the doorway and my stomach sinks at the sight of him. As if he might insist we marry here and now.
Today he wears a loose fitting white top neatly tucked into tan pants. A black shine hits his boots as if he’s never worn them outside for even a second. It’s the most casual clothes I’ve ever seen him in, but I don’t tend to spend time with him outside of the castle, either.
Nash’s cheeks flush as if he is embarrassed to interrupt our meeting. “Good morning, ladies.” He bows at Hazel and Matilda. “I was hoping to seek the company of Ms. Wren.”
“She’s busy planning your wedding,” Hazel snaps at him, her arms promptly folding across her chest.
Your wedding. Not my wedding, or the wedding.
It isn’t mine at all.
I can see Nash’s muscles fan across his features as he tightens his sharp jaw.
“It will only take a minute, promise.” A forced smile crosses his lips. He extends his hand to me.
Standing, I make a show of fixing any wrinkles out of my skirt, wasting as much time as possible, before I raise my gaze to meet his. Channeling every ounce of confidence, I reach him and take his grasp.
He leads me out of the room and into the next where the metal box that we found in his room sits, a blue ribbon nearly tied over it. The dagger that was once hidden within it sends a startling sting into my ankle. I grimace from the pain.
Oh my God.
To hide the tremble of a child caught in the act and bound for punishment, I clasp my hands in front of me. “What is this?”
“This, my dear, this is your engagement gift.” He moves closer, gesturing to open it. “Go ahead.”
Gulping down my nerves and fear, I pull the smooth ribbon loose. My eyes run over the metal box again and again before I have the strength to open it.
Reaching in, I don’t feel that same draw I did to the weapon now hidden within my boot. The box is entirely ordinary. There’s no appeal to it. It’s just harsh edges and a simple exterior.
Just like my betrothed.
I might be sick.
With one hand, I hold my stomach trying to calm the storm within, the other hand pulls free a necklace from the metal box.
A modest necklace with four small silver beads. A larger blue stone pendant lies in the middle. Instantly, I relax. A genuine smile breaking my lips. Relief floods me.
“Nash, thank you. It’s very pretty.” I try to meet his eyes, try to push kindness into my voice. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Soon you will be my wife, of course I should have.” My heart stumbles from the way he possessively says the word my. He smiles. “Let me help you put it on.”
I hand off the necklace and stand before him facing away. With steady hands, he brings the necklace to my collar bones. It skims across my flesh. His breath tickles along my cheek. Nash runs his nose up my neck, into my hair, pausing at my ear.
Tightly, my teeth clench together, my fists shaking at my sides.
“This has been in my family a long, long time. I’m told the pendants represent the great loves of your life. One for your father, surely, the other three for ... Well, I think you know who they may be … and the last largest pendant for your husband.”
Nash pulls the necklace behind me to clasp the chain. It digs tightly into my skin. For a second, I choke as my air is cut off, my hands rising to my neck. But he clasps the jewelry and drops it.
Horror spreads through me, fear and other feelings all different shades of terror. I turn to face him. My hand rises and snaps across his cheek. He doesn’t even flinch.
Instead he chuckles, a pleasant smile forming along his lips as he leans forward. His mouth presses hard to mine, my teeth smashing against my flesh.
His eyes gleam like emeralds as a sneer fills his features.
“Have a wonderful day, my Princess. Enjoy the wedding planning.”
My palms meet his slight shoulders, shoving him back from me.
He doesn’t give me a second glance as he strides from the room. I see him smile politely to Hazel as he leaves. She looks to me and I can’t bring myself to move from this spot.
I’ll save the Ryken brothers. I know I will. But along the way, I need to save myself.