Rosalind - Beauty and the Beast meets Dracula retelling

63- Where Dark Things Are Placed And Loved

"The Van Voreen girl." Rosalind's heart lurched to her throat. She touched the letters on the box, felt the skin of her finger fall into the crevices. Ivar came to her thoughts in an unwelcomed manner, telling her to find the vorpal blade and saying that she saw things, saw death. How did he know? Rosalind's thoughts and dreams draped over Ivar's words like a black veil. She knew the dreams she had before meeting Caspian were of the lord. They had been destined to meet. But was she destined to kill him?

Shielding a tiny cry with her palm, Rosalind grabbed the box and tucked it under her arms. She could not know what lay beneath the wooden lid. Not yet.

Carefully down the stairs, she made her way through the hush of the house towards her room. Under the bed skirts, Rosalind hid the small box. Whatever secrets it held it could hold onto a bit longer.

Through her window, zig-zags of peculiar light scraped at the twilight sky. She heard her father and brothers come through the front door and Harlan calling for her. Rosalind began to pace the floor, her eyes darting from the underskirt of her bed to the sound of her father's voice. Her anxiety and curiosity would have to wait.

Wiping whatever stray bits of dust clung onto her skirt, Rosalind opened the door and called to her father that she was on her way down.

When night spread over Transylvania, and the Hershel men had settled for a brandy in the reading room, Rosalind excused herself and hurried back upstairs. The soup she had for supper warmed her insides. It reminded her of Agnes' and it was the first time in weeks she had eaten everything in her bowl. Though she declined bread and fruit alike, no one commented that she was not eating like her old self.

But she was not her old self. She was someone else now. A wolf's lover and a woman whose heart bled for the monster of Transylvania.

Thoughts of Troy made her as warm as the soup had. As she undressed, her mind wandered. She regretted nothing. Even though he had not been able to erase her feelings for the lord, having Troy had been beautiful. But Rosalind knew that having Caspian would be better for she desired him like some savage beast. Standing in her room in nothing but her nightdress, Rosalind's gaze wandered to the lonesome darkness outside and her thoughts lingered on Caspian.

When she found herself by the window, she placed her hand on the coolness of the pane and breathed his name against the glass, "Caspian." Her breath fogged up the glass. As she had in the manor not too long ago, she wrote his name among the mist. "Come to me," she begged yet the mournful night gave no indication of life outside. There was nothing but a faint fall of snow.

Heading towards her bed, Rosalind stopped when she heard a tapping coming from her window. Turning, she saw a dark shadow looming before her, his wings spread before him and his glacier-blue eyes burned into hers.

Her bare feet barely made a sound as she rushed to the window and threw it open.

Caspian entered her room bringing a gust of icy wind with him. Wordlessly, he brought his hands to her face and pulled her in for a kiss.

Rosalind grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer to her as she sought his tongue. Needy sounds escaped her lips when he pushed her up against a wall and slowly began to grind against her.

"I cannot bear this unlife without you," Caspian moaned pulling back.

When Rosalind looked at his face, she saw that there was nothing else in the world but him.

"Your kin," he whispered as she slipped her hand to his stomach.

Rosalind stepped out of his embrace long enough to lock her bedroom door and shut the window. "They will fall into a drunken sleep soon, dead until dawn," she uttered returning back into his arms. "I cannot believe you are here."

Caspian leaned into her neck. Taking her wrists in his hands, he pinned them against her sides and bit down upon her flesh.

In his grasp, she offered herself to him. Were he to drain her of blood, she would have let him.

Caspian licked over the wound then found her lips again. He let go of her wrists and slid his arms around her waist.

"I want you," Rosalind whispered breaking the kiss. Looking at his icy stare she spoke again. "Take off your clothes."

Caspian pulled back, never breaking eye contact. The purple flower she had pinned on his lapel rested there as fresh as the day she had cut it from its stem. He worked the buttons of his black shirt, the frills of the cuffs fell over long fingers. Pulling the material apart, he slid it easily off and over his torso and wings. Next were the strings on his trousers which undid with a flick of his index finger. Stepping out of them and his boots he stood before her bare as the day he was made, pale with scaly skin. Horrific yet exquisite. "Do you still see a man as you stated you had before or do you see the monster now?"

Rosalind's eyes moved from his face to his feet then up again. Every inch of him called to her. "I see the man I love," she said reaching out to trail her fingers along his bare chest. "All I see is beauty. You are no beast."

Hooking a finger under her chin, Caspian raised her face to his. "Undress, Rosalind. I cannot take this anymore."

She hooked her thumbs over the wide collar of her nightdress and slid it down. When it touched the floor, she stepped out of it and moved closer to him. "I want you in my bed."

"You are divine." Caspian lifted Rosalind and walked the length of her room to lay her on the bed. He settled next to her then ran his fingers through her hair.

"This is not my first time," she told him with a touch of worry in her voice.

"I do not care what you have done before me. I want to be your last and you to be mine." Caspian leaned in to kiss her then moved down the length of her neck, lower and lower until his lips found places never before explored.

When he nestled between her legs, Rosalind cupped her hand over her mouth to keep the sounds escaping her lips from finding their way out the door. She tensed as tiny bolts of bliss ran from her pelvis to the rest of her body. What he was doing with his tongue and mouth was foreign yet she soon felt as if she did not care if her screams shattered the silence. "Caspian," she cried as she dug her hands into the sheets and felt her body convulse.

When he inched back up, Rosalind was breathless. Her heart beat so swiftly she thought she was going to die.

Running one hand along her side, Caspian looked at her with an impish smile.

"I think I died," Rosalind whispered.

"It is a little death some say."

"What was it?"

"An orgasm."

Rosalind brought her hand to her eyes, wiping away strange little tears. "I want to give you one." She pushed Caspian on his back and straddled him. Hovering inches from his erection, she bowed her head, long strands of dark hair curtaining them. She felt slippery and needy as she allowed Caspian inside her. As she moved along him, she watched the lord arch his head back and heard him begging her not to stop. "You are in my heart, where dark things are placed and loved."

Underneath the bed, where the two lovers writhed, the wooden box lay silently. Little did they know that what it held within could destroy them both.