Bite Me Royal... (Mature Vampire Romance 18+)

Chapter Four

I could barely fall to slumber in the night hour. The sleep hardly came to me, it evaded me so faithfully, so persistently. My head hurt like a million drums thrummed inside it. So agonizing. Then, there were the memories so painfully echoing, so painfully playing at the front of my mind. Those kept me wake too.

Now, all we remaining survivors of the war have been assembled before a large sailing ship. They ready us -they seek to have our skins branded before they sail us away from the lives we formerly held. Yes, a plethora of queries cross my mind whilst the chilling winds of the morning gnaw on my bones so harshly. I feel as though I were a shell. Empty. The hope drained from my spirit.

I have no knowledge of whether baba has fallen victim of death and her malice, and I am far too shook to even ponder over mama’s and Yusuf’s whereabouts. Too engulfed in an endless pit of anguish to let myself contemplate whether or not they are still breathing, living.

A sudden tear-jerking shriek draws me back to the present. I blink once, blink severally as my eyes finally realize that which unfolds. Red-hot metal sinks into the flesh of a man no more than thirty winters. The steel leaves behind a tiny cloud of grey smoke and he clutches at the grass that carpets the earth in raw torment. So firm is his grip that his knuckles turn a white hue.

I cup my mouth. I swallow the lump that threatens to suffocate. A tear rolls down my cheek as the captor who holds onto the scalding metal laughs so maniacally. The man is whisked away into the large sailing boat all cries and whimpers like an injured child.

Have they not wrecked enough havoc as is? Are they no more human? Do they not feel?
The captor turns his focus, burrows the glowing metal into a blue flame, presses it into the flesh of a young woman no more than seventeen winters.  And she too screams out into the earth as two more soldiers grip her arms and pin her to the grounds. She wriggles, she jerks, she wails so horribly. And I nearly choke on the vomit.

I have no idea from where the courage sprouts. Still, I rise from the crowd of fellow slaves, find my feet moving on their own accord. Before long, I am stood before the brander who now gazes down upon me in contempt. I shove him hard, shove him with all my might. Man hardly budges.

And the tears continue to trickle as I do. All falls eerily quiet, a sign that I have indeed acted witlessly. Hefty blow lands upon my cheek and my arse kisses the grassy floors with an ungracious thud. I can taste the metal in my mouth, can feel the warmness that dribbles down my nostril. And the pounding in my temples heightens a tad bit.

Have I really acted foolishly? Are we all not human? Do we all not possess the same color blood? I have been marked before, yes. On the eve of my fourteenth winter my skin was burnt and bruised. They used hot iron on the small of my back, I remember. And now? Now, they seek to do the same!

“Why do you do this to us?” I croak, throwing caution to the wind.

They cannot strip me of any more than they already have and so I care less. Death -at this point- may be wishful thinking, I dare say.

“You brand us as though we are some anim…”

My speech is effectively cut short by the brander. He lowers himself into a squatting position so that he glares me right in the eye. Then, his fingers thread through my hairs and he grips so harshly as if to yank them off my head. He reeks of a stench so unfathomable. A scar runs down his cheek -from ear down. If hatred and loathing were a person, then he should be the embodiment.

“Pretty mouth, vile words. Wouldn’t you agree?”

And whilst he speaks, his browning teeth come into view, his grip tightening by the minute. I whimper then swallow at the bile that corrodes my throat.

“Havil, heat the steel. Pretty Mouth should be next,” he continues.

All too suddenly, his mouth crashes onto mine and I can taste the morning breath and ginger ale. The memories unlock, those dark ones that I keep buried in the deepest pits of my memory. I battle, struggle to push him off with all my might. But my efforts prove futile. They always did, always do. Fresh tears tumble. I choke. He releases his hold on my hairs and staggers back to his full length with a cackle. I turn away from all the eyes that scrutinize, I look upon the grassy earth whilst the strings of hairs fall before my face, obscuring. I take in large gulps of air, I battle against the urge to burst into a pool of tears, I wipe furiously at my mouth until the skin there aches.

Then, scalding metal makes contact with the skin of my back -right upon my right shoulder blade. And as it kisses the flesh their, it hisses too. I scream a scream foreign even to my own ears. A deep throaty shriek. I recoil, I curl my body into a tight ball of bones and muscle.

“Drag her into the ship!”

More maniacally pearls of laughter.
Then, all falls silent, too silent. I lift my head even as the sweat rolls down my temples and backside and dips into the fleshy wound, even as my breathing grows more labored. I see him. Our eyes meet, they hold for long minutes before I avert my own. A new loathing brews inside my chest.

It burns its way to the surface. If I could I would execute him with my bare hands. The peculiar man on the blackly mare. He emerges from the shadows of the ship and into the light of the windy morning. How long should he have stood there, observing, analyzing.

I look upon him once more. He treads in the direction of the branding man. His steps are calculated, with purpose. His face is a mask of stoicism. His jaws are clenched. His brows are knitted. His arms are clasped behind his back and his hairs are tied on the backside of his head. He stands right before the lad who brands, looks down upon him. And the tension tightens, it heightens.

“Paran, on your knees.”

But the lad hesitates, he nearly questions his master. And master lacks patience. The peculiar man -Amir- shoots out an arm, grips the buff figure of the startled man by the neck and lifts so casually so that his feet dangle inches above the grass.

“I tell you to kneel and yet you falter.”

The man Paran begins to purple in his face. The veins of his temple bulge and become more prominent. And yet Amir pays no heed to all these. If anything, his grip grows firm. And the queries begin to build up again. How should one man be so inhumanly strong as to lift another without much effort? How so?

He sets Paran upon his feet and the lad thuds onto his knees whilst he coughs. Then all too suddenly, Amir grabs hold of his arm and snaps twice -at the wrist and elbow. I gasp, the puke burns at my chest. Man’s bones stick through flesh so grotesquely. The redness dribbles so horrendously.

“You have been assigned one commission only. Brand them and nothing more, Paran. You are not above authority. Are we clear on the matter?” He speaks in a voice so tranquil.
“Clean yourself up and resume your task,” he speaks with finality, turns to return to ship.

All too suddenly, he halts dead in his tracks, turns to face in my direction, makes his way towards were I lay. Two sandaled feet stand rooted before me and I gaze upon owner.

“Get up, slave,” as he speaks, he stretches out a palm for me to take.

I contemplate harshly, ponder hotly, and just as I lift arm to reach for his, he folds his behind his back as he did prior.

“And what did you expect, pray tell? On your own, stand on your own,” serene is the voice he employs, but I know better than to fall for that trap.

The rejection butchers my soul. It stings more than it should. And yet I draw the strength to stagger to my feet. My chest heaves, my head pounds, my breathes are heavy, my body feels like lead, my heart hurts. The resentment and rage fuel me now. He spares me a few seconds worth a glance and another tear slips -much to my disappointment.

He reaches a finger at the little rivulet, feels the cool liquid between his thumb and index as though in perplexity. He lifts his eyes from his fingers to my face and scrutinizes some more. Then without a word, he turns and treads towards ship…

                  
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