Adelade

The very first time I laid my eyes on him, he held me like a dream. My feet were cemented in place as I watched them, and the thrum of my heart, which had quickened to a maddening pace, sounded loudly in my ears. He led Betty from the bar into the dark alley and pushed her against the wall. She smiled at him, and I imagined myself in her place, staring up at his handsome face. He probably smelled like sawdust and sweat, and I would breathe it in deeply, wanting him to rub himself all over me so that when I walked away, I’d smell exactly like him.

He leaned over her, nuzzling her neck. Heat rushed through my body as he fell to his knees, his finger pulling down the top of her dress. My breasts aren’t as big as Betty’s, but holy hell, what I wouldn’t give to have him admire mine the way he looked at hers. It was as if he wanted to eat her. He fondled them softly, and I touched my own in response. Then he leaned in to taste her and she inclined her head back, moaning in delight.

I wanted to walk away, to leave them to their lovemaking and forget about the mysterious man who’d turned my world upside down in an instant, but I could not force my will over my feet. In that moment, I’d become the silent stalker who watched his every move. And in my moment of madness, I envisioned my new life in the shadows, always watching him, always desiring that which I was too lowly to be given, the eye of the new gentleman in town.

And then I realized that Betty was screaming and trying to hit him. It took me a second to react, to realize that her screams were of agony and not of delight. I searched the ground, looking for anything that could aid me in my rescue. I grabbed a wooden plank discarded on the street and ran headlong into the fray.

As I closed in on them, my throat swelled up, choking off my air. My eyes couldn’t stop staring at her breast and the way that the man held it so tight, his teeth clamped down on it.

I knew what he was.

I’d never once spoken the word, the one that my father whispered in dark rooms as I went to bed. The one that my mother cried out while she slept, tears streaming down her cheeks. But my mind screamed the word now and it threatened to bust from my lips. But even then, my instincts clamped my teeth down on my tongue, causing it to bleed. I was never to speak the word, for it meant certain death. Strigoi.

* * *

My senses were on high alert and I continued towards the lion’s den, determined to save Betty from certain death. He didn’t notice my approach, such was his intense focus on his blood lust, and I was able to put all of my power into my blow. It didn’t affect him, except to break him from his lust.

Even though I knew exactly what he was, it didn’t stop my body from reacting to the smell of his body. It was exactly as I imagined. My blood raced to my face as his eyes shot toward me and I almost dropped the plank, but my hands were already in the air, aiming at his face again. He grabbed the plank, throwing it to the side, and his power flew into me, vibrating with such a deep intensity that it flowed through my whole body.

“Look what you made me do.” His face was angry, and it made my breath quicken.

I turned towards the ground so he wouldn’t see the way he affected me, searching for something that I could use to defend Betty. Broken glass and excrement littered the street: not much use for me. The glass would only make things worse for me if I cut myself. A rusty nail caught my attention and I grabbed it. “Let her go.” I looked at Betty, noting the blood running down her dress, wishing that it was my body his hands were on, my blood running down my breast, ruining my dress. I held my breath for a second, trying to gain control over my faculties. “Or I’ll cut you with this.”

Betty screamed. Stupid woman. She tried to run, but the man held her fast, and she fell onto the street.

I held the nail up, feeling completely ridiculous, but determined. “I swear, I’ll shove this into your neck if you hurt her again.” His body called to me; I could feel his power and it hummed through me and it forced me to step closer.

“If it hadn’t been for your intervention, she would be happily on her way by now.”

He leaned over Betty, performing some kind of magic on her, incensing me. Who does he think he is? He can’t just prey on the innocent. Not that I would generally consider Betty innocent. “What are you doing to her?”

When she got up, I tried to help her but his magic had already taken effect. As soon as she was gone, I realized that he and I were alone in the alley and I bathed in the fear that my father instilled in me. Never be alone with the strigoi.

He stepped towards me, and my whole body vibrated. I wanted him to touch me, I wanted his hands all over me.

“I wasn’t done with her yet.”

And then his hands were gripping me and I fell into him. I tried to remember what I was doing but my mind was so muddled, as fear and desire wove through my body. The nail in my fingers was a cold reminder. “Don’t you dare hurt me.” He was silent for a moment and his eyes glowed a dark red. Then he was trembling under me and I was holding him up. “What’s going on?” I didn’t know if I should be very afraid or give in to my desires to ravish him.

Suddenly, I was against the wall, my hands over my head, my breasts pressing into him, my fears melting into the night. His breath was on my neck and I waited in dark anticipation for his touch. For him to touch me the way he touched Betty, to give me the desires of my heart.

Goosebumps rose up my arms, traveling through my body as I shivered. I didn’t care what he was. If only I could have him in my arms for one night, I would not care if he killed me if he so desired.

I pushed my chest into him, rubbing my chin against his face, purring like a cat, willing and pliable in his hands. But he did not give in, he did not sink his teeth against my neck or fondle my aching breasts but stared at the back wall, his eyes black and cold. I sighed. I was not worthy enough.

Then he was down the street and I fell to the ground. The pain in my chest crushed me, causing me to call out to him but he flew to the main street and disappeared.

* * *

It took me a while to gain my senses, and to accept that he would not come back to me. I stumbled to my home, my errand forgotten as the night grew cold. My father already slept in his bed, the fire burned low in his room. I stirred it, trying not to wake him, thinking of the man of the night.

His body, tight against mine. HIs breath, a tickle on my neck. His smell, a flame to my desire. If I was lucky, I would never see him again. His presence was a dark omen.

I turned to my father and studied his face. He was pale, and sweat ran down his forehead, even in his sleep. He moaned, and a flash of pain crossed his face. I pulled his hair from his face, sticky and wet, and ran my hand over the top of his head, wiping the sweat from it. I ached with the thought that there was nothing I could do to alleviate his pain or the fact that I was at the center.

It was the only thing keeping him alive, the uncertainty of my future. There was a curse over my house, as rumors spread like wildfire the night my mother almost died, and it dampened any chance I had of a proper proposal of marriage. If my father had been a banker or a merchant, then the rumors would’ve meant nothing. But he was a dockworker, and I, a dockworker’s daughter.

I left him, praying for his pain to pass, and picked up his dirty clothes casually thrown over his chair. I would clean them in the morning.

* * *

Luck never took hold of me, and in the night I dreamed.

He sat on the bottom of the bed, his back to me. The room was stuffy; light filled the room from the window, heating it. He sat in the middle of the rays, watching it play off his fingers. It danced to and fro, then traveled up his arm to his face. He closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of the sun and then he took a deep breath in. He turned to me, his face a blur he moved so quickly. His eyes were red, betraying his lust, and they wandered up the bed towards me.

I swallowed hard, watching him as he prowled closer, my senses alight. His hand was on my leg, and it sent tingles up it as he raised my dress to my thighs. He bent over me, his nose to my skin, smelling my want and need as I cried out, unable to stand the torment. His hand slowly moved up to my hips and then he straddled me.

My hands were over my head, tied to the bed post and I struggled to tear them from their ropes. His fingers clasped the buttons of my dress, and he nimbly undid them. He moved lower, his hands close to my breasts and my back arched forward, driven by the need to feel his touch. Sweat ran down my underarms, staining my dress, as his fingers undid all of my buttons.

He leaned in and I trembled as his breath touched the top of my chest, his face so close I could almost feel it. A moan escaped my mouth as his fangs slid from his mouth. He bent down and I cried out, ready for his sting but suddenly he was gone; he’d disappeared in a flash. Before me a crow sat on the bottom of the bed staring down at me. It cawed and then flew towards the window, breaking the glass as it flew into the daylight, and was gone.

* * *

The next day passed slowly, such was my sudden appetite to feel this man in my arms, that I could think of nothing else. I had loved another man once, the fever having taken him from me, and I knew that this ridiculous obsession for a man I’d only seen once was a dream and nothing else. Noticing my distractedness, my father sent me to bed early that night, worried that I had caught a sickness and I went willingly, determined to rid myself of this senseless desire for the man of my dreams.

The next morning when I awoke, my bed was soaked with my sweat and I shivered in the cool air; I had dreamed of him again. Angry, I got up and dumped cold water over myself, soaking me to the bone. Then I threw off my shift and put on a practical blouse and shirt, tucking it in tightly. This way was madness, and I hadn’t the luxury for it. I quickly ate a cold breakfast, my father having already left for the day, and I went to the market.

Words whispered through the streets of the mayor’s death, a bloody one. They said that his body was cut into pieces so that only his wife recognized him. I crossed my hands over my chest, chanting the words that would keep the evil at bay and prayed for the mayor’s soul.

I spent the day cleaning the house, keeping my hands busy. Any time my thoughts drifted to the man, I clamped down on them. He would only bring death to my door. I scrubbed the hearth with determination; I would win a man suitable for me and bring peace to my father. Even if he was older than me, or ugly to the eye. As long as I had a roof over my head, I would be content with whatever my lot. And I would wait no longer, the choice would be mine, I would will it.

I threw the brush down and wiped at my forehead. Then I gathered the stained clothing and went into the yard, a bucket and soap in hand. I thought of the eligible men in the town as I scrubbed. Derek, the town’s butcher. He was ugly and missing two front teeth, and he was cruel to his mother, who was widowed. But he lived on his own since his fiancé ran off, so he may be willing to take me. Then there was Edward, who was about eighty years old. His wife died two years ago, leaving him with eleven children. Some of them were adults, but he still had two in his home because he started a family late in life. Every time I was around him, he stared at me in such a way that put a sickening pit in my stomach. He’d offered to bring me in, in exchange for helping with his children, but I’d declined. That was before my father fell ill. I hung the newly cleaned set of clothing and poured the dirty water into the street.

There was also Landon, and my heart fluttered at the thought of him. His shoulders were wide and his arms were strong. He grinned readily and was kind to the elderly women who lived on the streets, having lost their homes when their husband’s died. I met him there one day, as I sometimes bring them the rotten food from the market. He was offering them blankets, ones that he’d woven himself but couldn’t sell because of one thing or another. His eyes twinkled as they met mine, but they saw right though me when Stefano, the merchant who ran the docks, passed by and then they followed him up the street.

Desperation welled in my throat and a sob threatened to escape. I clasped my hand to my mouth, pushing my feelings down and I watched the sun as it waned in the sky. I would be content with Landon’s choices, if they allowed me to take the burden off of my father.

And then… there was always the hope that… I turned towards the house, determined to push those thoughts aside, even though I was already breathless at the mere thought of the man of my dreams. The lights were lit in the house and my father stood in the doorway, framed in the soft glow of the candles.

“Hello,” I called to him, feeling better already.

He nodded his head towards me, calling me into the house. He looked different somehow; he stood up straight like he wasn’t in any pain, and he was holding a large chest.

I sped up my pace, took the chest from him and carried it into the house.

“Adelade, you cannot know the weight that lifts off my chest when I see you.”

I grinned. “As you bring light to a darkened home.”

His face lit up, his lips turned into a smile and then he looked up at the darkening sky and his smile evaporated like the descending sun. “Come in.” He shut the door. “We have to speak.”

* * *

I put the chest on the floor and watched as he paced the floor. I sat next to it, wondering why he had taken my mother’s trunk from her room. The seconds ticked by and an anxious feeling began to worm its way into the pit of my stomach. He must have found me a suitor. He seemed distressed, and I had no hope of a happy future. I took in a deep breath. “Just tell me, Father. I will be content, no matter who it is.”

He stopped and turned towards me, then he sat next to me and put his hand under my chin. “I have found someone to take you in.” He looked away for a moment, swallowing, then looked back in my eyes. “He can be kind, if you do not anger him. He’s not to be your husband but you are to work for him. And I…” His eyes drifted to the chest. “I don’t know for how long.”

I blew out my breath. “Is that all?”

His head jerked towards me. “It is not something I chose lightly, because it is the very thing I feared all your life.”

I gripped his hand, afraid of the words he would speak. “Tell me.”

His face darkened. “I am ill, and don’t know how much longer I will live. I regret the curse I brought upon your head.” His face fell, giving in to the sadness he felt. “I am a poor father and I wish that I could’ve lived the kind of life that would make you proud of me.”

“You have lived in kindness, and I couldn’t ask for anything more. I’ve always been sheltered and bathed in your love and affection, that many others with riches and treasures cannot say as much.” I pulled his hand so it was in my lap, still gripping it tight. “Tell me, Father, before I go mad.”

“Your mother was so proud of you,” he stared off into the light reflected from the window. It was dark outside now. “And on her dying breath, she made me promise to take care of you.”

I was afraid now, my father never spoke of my mother, although I often caught him staring off, a smile on his face and I knew that he was thinking of her. They had been happy, we had been happy.

I pulled my hands away and stood up; I was so afraid that I was tempted to run from the room.

My father finally spoke. “It is Detrand.”

“No.” My voice was a whisper. I had never met him, but I knew how he saved my mother. And I also knew that he was another one of those. A strigoi. “I will not be safe. What if I do something wrong? Will he hurt me?” I gasped. “Will he turn me?”

My father pulled at my legs, trying to get me to sit with him on the floor but I would not.

“He will not turn you. He has great control over his lust, and he will protect you from all the other beasts of this city. You will be safe with him and he will take care that you are provided for.”

I shook in anger. “You have sold me to the devil.”

He sighed, his body bent over again in weariness. “I have, and for that I have nothing to atone. But I must make payment for the life that he gave your mother, and you have need of shelter and so, we must accept our lot in life.”

The agony in his voice made me fall to his side and I held him. “You are right.” I was silent as his breath labored.

“You are to go to him tonight.” He sat up and took my face in his roughened hands. His voice shook as he spoke to me. “Keep your head down and do your work quickly and efficiently. If you do not stand out, he will keep you and you will have no fear.” He shoved something into my hand; it was a small, but deadly, wooden stake.

I slipped it into my pocket and nodded but my heart beat madly. The apprehension flowed through my body and I thought that I would die of fright. Only a night before, I was in the arms of a strigoi, unafraid and so filled with lust that I was unable to control myself. But my father’s revelations opened my eyes to the danger and my face reddened in shame at the position I dared put myself in. I wondered if I would see him more often now, the man of my dreams, and I shuddered. As long as I stayed to the day, I need not fear seeing him again. I would work myself to the bone during the daylight and exhaust myself so vigorously that I would sleep like the dead in the night.

My father looked away, staring off. “But he can be kind, and may grow fond of you.”

I stood up and held out my hand to my father. “Don’t worry about me, I shan’t be afraid. Come and sit, put your legs on the table, and I will rub out the knots one last time. And then I will go to him.”

* * *

The man we hired to take my belongings in the carriage helped me bring it to the door of the mansion, and after I paid him, he left me standing on the doorway. The whole way over, I shook in my seat, tears streaming down my face. I would visit my father when I could, but I would miss him dearly. He’d held me in his arms as we said our farewells and I tried to be brave so I didn’t cry in front of him. He had been a good father and I knew that from now on, I wouldn’t be so blessed to have someone so kind to watch over me. I took in a shaky breath, trying to gather my courage.

I brought my hand to the door but before I could knock, it opened quickly, slamming against the inner wall. And in the door, stood the man from my dreams. My breath caught in my throat and I stared at him with wide eyes.

He stared back at me saying nothing, his eyes wide, and the glass in his hands broke. I was both petrified and filled with fervent longing that I knew not what to do.

Finally, he opened his mouth. “What do you want?” He was extremely angry and my shoulders jerked at his question in anticipation that he would pounce on me. I had barely met him and he was already outraged; I had no hope for my future. Despair threatened to choke me but I managed to answer him.

“I’m Adelade. My father sent me.”

He growled at me. “I know of no such thing. Go home.”

He gripped the knob of the door to shut it, but I took a step closer, determined and desperate at the same time. “My father is Bennett. He said I was to serve you.”

He stilled, and was so motionless that he seemed as a statue. Then he slammed the door in my face.

I jerked back, and now my despair was at my full disposal. I fell to my knees as my sobs shook me. I didn’t know where to go, or who would take me in. I would not go back to my father, I could not do that to him. Then the door opened and the man walked out, his jacket and hat on. He said nothing, but glided briskly past me. Then there was another set of feet and I looked up to the face of another strigoi. A shudder ran down my spine, how many were in this city?

“Come.” His voice wasn’t unkind and I sprung to my feet. He picked up my belongings and I grabbed my mother’s chest, pulling it behind me. “I’ll show you to your room.”