Page 21 of Death Comes for Her
∞∞∞
The next time Simon appeared in my room to feed, he remained stubbornly silent. But he’d held my eyes, staring up at me with molten fire in the pale blue depths as he sealed his mouth to my thigh and fed from me, slender fingers reaching wickedly close to my soaked underwear.
And after he left my room, I found a fifth edition copy ofAmor Immortalisby Antonin Rowan on my bedside table.
Chapter 7
A haunted howl frighteningly near the manor jolted me from sweat inducing, heart racing nightmares. Torn from tormented slumber, I groaned from the agony gnawing at the marrow of my bones. The growing rot within my chest seethed, clawing and twisting against my ribcage like a feral, trapped creature. I wailed, echoing the bruised grief of the wolves lurking under the blood-red moon.
In the middle of the night, when darkness shrouded the world, no one lived to hear the symphony of my suffering. I swiped sweat from my brow, rolled off my silk sheets, and stumbled to the bathroom. My fingers curled over cold porcelain and I heaved up rivers of bile that burned my throat as they spewed forth.
Trapped in the throes of dreams, writhing on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, I screamed and screamed and screamed until my throat constricted and refused another bout of disturbed yowling. Tears tracked down my face, blurring my vision. I gasped for breath, so starved for air that I clawed at my chest until red welts blossomed over the hem of my lace nightgown.
I tore myself free from the constricting fabric, leaving the nightgown as a slip of shredded lace on the tile. Blubbering and whimpering, I fumbled with the knobs for the bath. When I didn’t instantly succeed, I shrieked at the top of my lungs andtore through my hair, ripping it at the ends and hurting my scalp. Madness curdled my insides as I pawed at the handles until freezing water exploded from the faucet.
I dunked my head under the frigid spray. The rest of my body followed, slipping into the tub. Once fully submerged in the glacial waters, the raw, biting power of it penetrated through the night terrors clinging to my skin like layers of gore and viscera.
The near freezing water pierced through my body and mind, numbing the burning fear wrapped around my conscience. I held my breath, staring through the water at the rippling surface until my lungs stung from the extended effort. I exploded upwards, gasping for breath and sending waves over the lip of the tub that splashed across the tile.
I hugged myself, rubbing the goosebumps away from my naked skin. Sufficiently shocked out of my dreams, I blinked, taking in my surroundings.
I wasn’t lying on golden, palatial floors with a blade to my back and blood cascading down my skin. No, I was at the Ambrose manor, shivering in the bath in the middle of the night. Not currently bleeding, but wasn’t that shaping up to be my purpose in life?
All I did was bleed and bleed and bleed, but my ichor was gold, and to bleed was to be divine. Granted immortal life and honeyed veins, maybe I’d descended from gods as the Elders claimed the Monarchs were. But hadn’t I given enough?
I wallowed in my thoughts until the water turned tepid. Dragging myself from the tub on shaking limbs, I wrung out my tangled hair, then dressed in a maroon silk robe. From there I coasted like a shade, a delusion of wrung out gold, through the endless unlit corridors of an eerily silent manor.
The soft pad of my bare feet on the rugs, the stuttered rasp of my breath, the pounding of my heart in my ears were my only companions in the night. Ever since visits to the library joinedmy routine, so had haunted walks through the gloomy corridors following my night terrors. I ambled through bleak halls and dreary lounges, wandered down grim stairways, and discovered dismal passageways hidden from sight.
Undead creatures used to thrive at night when the threat of the sun forbade them from the light of day. With the sun consumed and days bleeding red, their compulsions seemed to have evolved. I only saw the masters of the manor and the fangless servants during what our world now deemed the day. Darkness brought silence, loneliness, and the return of the dead—at least the ones in my memories—but no vampires.
Deep in thought over the undead, a blur of bright orange darting through the shadows snapped me from my morbid musings. An undignified startled yelp flew into the darkness, and I promptly slapped a hand over my mouth. My heart fluttered against my breastbone where I placed a soothing palm to settle it.
“What the hells?”
I hadn’t explored much of the first floor, yet I found myself following random flashes of orange skirting the shadows. Twice I’d visited the kitchens with Imani, and it seemed I was heading in that direction. I turned a corner and caught a fluffy tail vanishing under a sideboard, holding a vase of seasonal flowers.
I dropped to my hands and knees, peering into the darkness. A smile cracked across my lips as two yellow eyes blinked back at me. I put my hand out, palm up, trying to appear friendly and approachable.
“Come on out. I won’t bite you.” The ball of orange fluff inched closer. “Can you make the same promise?”
A fabulously atrocious fat cat with a shock of orange fur crawled out. I settled back onto my knees, gaping at the two yellow eyes pointing in opposite directions. He was a fluffy,wonky eyed orange cat that reminded me of the ridiculous barn cats at the farm over the years.
He purred, butting his head against my outstretched palm. After a few moments of the majestic beast letting me pet him, I assumed our friendship was sealed. Without pause, I rose to my feet and scooped him into my arms.
The orange ball of fluff made a brief, disgruntled noise. Once I returned to ambling through the halls, he’d settled into my arms like a little lord on a throne. I scratched his head as I aimed for the kitchens in search of cream or milk for my new friend.
I pushed through the kitchen door, surprised that the electric lights were on and the enormous hearth housing the cauldron roared with a bright flame. The door swung shut behind me and the lone figure stirring the cauldron straightened. Imani whirled around, wide eyed and cheeks flushed. Her features smoothed when she recognized me standing frozen in the doorway.
“Oh, Sierra, it’s you! If you needed something, you could have rung the bell,” she trailed off as she noticed the contented animal bundled in my arms. And she shook her head. “I can’t believe that beast is letting you hold him.”
I glanced down at the little fellow. “This cat? He’s been quite friendly since we met.”
“Ghastly orange creature.” She shook her head and braced her fists on her hips.
“I have a weakness for dumb looking orange cats. They’re my favorite.” I scratched under his chin. “Does he have a name?”
“His name was supposed to be Crooked for his wonky eyes, but most of us call him Crim.”
