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

Chapter Seveteen

Amir's P.O.V

‘Tis been a little over a fortnight since I sent soldiers and mines’ men to the Kingdom of Raiz to extract the copper ores. And yet, I am still to receive word on the progress of the retrieval. Should they fail to send in a messenger in a week’s time, then I shalt be coerced to play the part and send in one to keep my father from pestering me any longer on the matter.

I mount upon step, mount upon another then another until I come upon my chamber doors. I slip past wooden barriers, glide them shut behind me. ‘Tis still in the wee hours of morning. The darkness dilutes under little twinkling illuminations of a thousand lit candles. I rest bow and arrow upon the hooked walls by the doors.

The chamber rings with a comfortable quietness as I look to the chaise where Yalifa is lain, a single book resting upon the floors beneath her, open. My feet move on their own accord softly upon carpet floors and I stand before her as she lays so serenely. Her chest heaves whilst she breathes. Her heart thrums ever so silently. The red rushes down venations. I blink, I swallow, I battle animalistic urges.

Before her, I squat, I drink in the features of her tranquility. Her thread-like hairs cascade all about her head. The saliva dribbles down one corner of her mouth. She mutters a thing incoherently, sighs, mumbles some more. What does she dream of? What are the deadly visions that devour her peace? Should I be a part of those awful nightmares? The guilt creeps in. It leaks into every bone inside my body and begins to set my dead heart ablaze.

I reach out a finger to feel for a single lock that snakes down her head and onto floors. Course. Her face scrunches up in displeasure and the curiosity within blooms some more. Then comes the pungent smells of horror and anguish so powerful I nearly choke. She stirs in her sleep and I debate on whether I should wake her or perhaps let her take the much needed slumber. She simmers down, quietens.

I rise upon my feet. A lump clings to the walls of my throat. I dread these foreign feelings. I dread that for the first time in nearly a century, I should feel emotion for someone other than my twin. I tread lightly towards the bath, strip from the single slack that clings to my body with sweat.

I rest head, neck and out-stretched arms by the edge of marble tub, relax my tensed muscles under warm scented waters. Still, my gaze fixates upon Yalifa who now wakes. She looks upon me and her eyes widen a tad bit. She sits up, wipes on the dribble, pushes strands of hairs out of her face so frantically.

“My prince, should I aid you with a thing, perhaps?”
“Yalifa, good rising. Calm yourself. I seek nothing in the moment.”

She gazes upon me, nods head tentatively. She has been accustomed to the life of hurry -never taking a moment to simply live, be, exist. A pang jabs at my chest at the thought. She appears restless as though she tries to find some sort of commission or chore. She fiddles with her fingers, intertwines then detaches them before intertwining once more. I choose to dissolve some of that tension best as I can.

“Yalifa, what is the name of the book you read?”

Upon my inquiry, she looks to the floors and takes hold of book. She gazes upon leathery cover written in golden italics.

“Ben-Ammi which translates to…”
“Son of my people,” I conclude and a ghost of a smile curves on the lass’s mouth.

There is a glint to her eyes as though she burns to share her findings.

“How do you fancy it thus far, pray
tell?”

She peruses through thick pages, comes upon a single page where her eyes glide upon words. Her brows are knit in concentration and I cannot help the small smile that curves.