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

Chapter Eighteen

The harsh beams of the afternoon sun beat down upon my body so mercilessly. The beads of perspiration roll down my temples and trickle down my scalp and dribble down my neck to the valley of my breasts. My knees buckle from all the hours of morning spent scrubbing marble floors.

My arms burn from all the mopping and dusting of high shelves and windows. And yet, in the midst of fellow dancing servants, I continue to shimmer beaded hips with all the enthusiasm I should possibly sermon. The little scarlet anklets and golden bracelets by my ankles and forearms leap along with me.

I lift head to look upon those with whom I gyrate waists and shake arses in perfect unison, how they move with such grace, such gloriousness as though there bodies were trained for this very thing.

Bongo drums and maracas and triangles and tambourines play as we leap into the air and spin lightly upon our feet. And the crowds about us erupt into cheers and song and jubilation and bouts of ululations and hefty clapping. I find myself searching amidst the crowd to where the royal family sits upon their individual thrones in all their gracefulness -there attires flamboyant as a field of wonderfully blooming blossoms.

My gaze wanders to where Amir remains perched and instantaneously, memories from the early morning begin to gather. Never has a man made me feel so…peculiar. Never have I been touched and tended to so gently, so tenderly. He, the prince of his people, a creature of the night, brought upon me pleasures unfathomable, pleasures I should have never possibly imagined. I felt safe as he held me to him, felt reluctant to leave his presence, to detach from his hold upon me once the slumber came to him.

He let me take rest atop his bed. He let himself fall to sleep in my presence, trusted me enough. Grace, what are all these emotions that swirl around my head and swim around my chest? I blink once, I leap, I spin, I twist hips. Again, I find that I look to him as he looks to the people below -an expression of stoicism plastered upon his facial features. He gazes upon a thing then leans in to whisper to his twin whose expression of jolly morphs.

I follow there eyes and from a great distance to my left, a lovely carriage and numerous chariots continue to ride in our direction. I have not the knowledge why, but my heart sinks to my knees then to my sandaled feet. The royal family of the Quarim Kingdom. Mares gallop, stallions neigh as the royals draw nearer and nearer. The crowd grows far more wild, we leap into the air, land smoothly upon our feet, the instruments sound louder.

I look back to Amir then to his kin as they rise to their feet. The queen mother is first to descend down a flight of wide steps. The train of her silken gowns drag behind her as she moves. Her eyes twinkle with excitement. A genuine smile curves onto her scarlet lips. The carriage of the Quarim royalty drag to a slow halt right before the last step upon which the queen mother stands tall and proud.

Behind the first carriage parks the ten chariots all laden with baskets upon baskets of fine wines and silk fabric and glimmering coin and glistening precious stones and diamond. One soldier dressed in amber regalia draws to one side of the first carriage, swings the door open, takes a gloved palm in his. Then comes a sandaled foot then another , both coated in floral henna patterns.

A young lass rises from the carriage, her gowns of a soft velvet shimmering under the rays of sun. Her hairs pour down to her hips in smooth tides. Her eyes are coated in Kajal as they look to the people before turning to look to the queen. Her cheeks glimmer with gold powder.

Her lips paint in lapis lazuli. She struts around the fancy vehicle, stands before the queen and bows to touch her knees before straightening her back and pressing her palms together to signify her respects. The queen appears delighted as she cups her face and speaks a thing incoherent.