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

Chapter Ten

Days fleet into weeks and still, the health of my mind continues to deteriorate. I have no knowledge on whether my family is breathing, whether baba made it past the city gates or whether mama and Yusuf are still amongst the living. Oh, the agony that shreds my soul every moment I ponder. The turmoil that burns my spirit, one I have to endure at the memories we shared in our past lives together.

I draw back to harsh reality. Inside Amir's vast libraries I scrub marble floors harder and harder till my knees ache. Ever since he commissioned me as his personal maiden, I have had the time to sit and peruse through pages of book. Of course, none shalt know about this, none.

Growing up, my baba did not wish that I become an illiterate woman. Being born into a life of servitude was already enough a sanction for unknown transgressions. And thus, every eve after a hard day's work, he'd gather my brother and I by the fireplace, teach us a thing or another about spelling words, pronouncing them too.

That was until Zafar went out one eve to spear a boar, never returned to us. He was only nineteen winters the lad. My older brother. I still mourn him, I do. And from then, baba refuted to teach me. So, I took it upon myself to learn and learn until I was sharp enough a tool. I swallow the lump that threatens to wring the life from my lungs. I blink away the wells that somewhat blind my vision and wet my lashes. I clear my throat, sigh.

Rising from the floors, I make to exit the libraries. That is until the sight of leathery-covered book by the top shelves entices me. I halt in my movements, rest cleaning equipment by the clean grounds, tread lightly towards destination. I reach for old book, swipe at the coating of dust that enfolds it, lean against closest wall. Whilst perusing through tattered browning pages, my brows knit.

"Mythical creatures. Werewolves. Originated from a place known as Europe. Also known as lycanthropes. Are human shape shifters. Possess healing abilities, immortality, night vision and superhuman agility," I read out so lowly it should be a whisper, fingertips tracing and grazing over each word.

I thought witches to be the only supernatural creatures. I thought our kind to be the last from the paranormal realm. How should this be? How should this be a truth! I begin to process this revelation, to contemplate so very harshly, to recall past encounters with...with Amir. Truth, the lad is a thing far from human. But what should he be, surely? I blink to discard thought, flip onto next page where I read again.

"Vampires. Undead creatures that originated from a place known as Eastern Europe. Immortal. Hold a strong blood-lust. The mere touch of light will cause them combust. Fall into death-like slumbers during the hours of day and resurrect at nightfall. Incapable of copulating with humans to breed offsprings. Possess a hyper acute sense of smell and hearing and vision and speed. Hold healing abilities too."

Undead creatures. Should that explain the paleness of his skin? And if at all what I discover is a truth, if at all he is a man dead but living, ought he not be cold too? I ponder deeply. In the past, when he'd pinned me to heal my backside of the branding, his skin was of an odd coldness. As though he ailed from something. Still, my mind was too shook to properly register his bodily temperatures. And yet, he still healed me. Somehow, somehow he did...

"Yalifa."

Time seems to have halted for long minutes. The book drops from my sweaty grip with a hefty thud. My heart pounds in my temples and the blood rushes inside my ears. I turn slowly, tentatively to face upon caller. Man stands a few steps away, just a few.

"You read?" He questions.

There it is. That hint of surprise, that sprinkle of perplexity at the discovery. I swallow, I work to control how my heart thuds in my throat. They repetitively tell us that submission is key and so I lower my head to look to the grounds that glimmer under the illuminations of dangling candelabras.