Chosen

Chapter 12- Coronation P.2

A/N: The photoshoot that Elliot Liss did is so gorgeous. Danielle looks amazing, she's so beautiful

After maybe twenty minutes of actually thinking, I've decided not to get revenge on Daniel. He doesn't deserve it; everything he has done has been for me. He tried to save me, even if it meant that I'd hate him. It's... Heartwarming to have someone care that much about you.

An annoying voice takes me out of my thoughts.

"Move your hips a little more, what are you, a robot?" I glare at my dance instructor, who seems to not care that ripping her heart out is as easy as singing my abc's. Okay, maybe not that easy, I still have trouble remembering some letters. I know, it's disappointing. After 600 years I still don't know.

"I'm something a little similar to that. A blood-thirsty killing machine that doesn't think twice about murdering anyone I don't like. You're on my hit list, I'd be careful if I were you." I hiss. She gulps audibly, but continues anyways. This time though, her commands are respectful.

"Start again please?" I smirk.

"Of course!" I'll do anything to end dance lessons.

-

I wipe my sweaty hands onto my thighs. Why am I nervous? It's just doing a five minute dance that looks very sensual in front of the kingdom, wearing clothes that restrict all circulation. It's all okay, everything's okay.

Screw you Daniel, you're actually making me nervous. I wasn't even nervous when I was delivered to my death! You're making me feel all these emotions that just... Suck.

Someone calls me up to the stage, announcing that I'll be doing the ritual dance. All of the sudden, I try to find every fault in my outfit. It's too short, too fluffy, too tight. It doesn't flatter my body. Panic overwhelmes my body, and I just want to jump off a cliff. A very high cliff, that is. So high that when I fall, all my body parts are ripped off and fly into nothingness. Yes, I'd like that.

Wait, what am I doing? I'm Avalina Smith, the vampire that is feared by many. My confidence level surpasses many, and my ego is bigger than any royal's. So what am I still doing here?

I lift my chin up and proudly walk onto the stage, greeting the thousands of blood-suckers that were waiting for their new queen.

They stayed quiet, silently scrutinizing me while I stand on stage. Their lack of applause confuses me, but I assume it's because they know about my act. Well, if it's an act they want, it's an act they'll get.

The music starts. I stay still until the part where I start comes up. It begins when the first line of the song is starting. But right now, the weird noise is on. Kind of sound like a drunk opera singer, if you ask me.

Beyoncé's voice comes out, and I begin slowly moving my hips. My hands rest on my thighs as I move them upwards, steadily throwing them in the air. My eyes meet Daniel's, and I resist the urge to smirk. His hands are gripping the throne like his life depends on it. It's obvious to see that he's aching to touch me.

I don't let my eyes wonder off and continue to stare at him. I place my hands on my hair and squat down a bit, not stopping my hips from swaying in a circular motion. The pace picks up, and I twist my body around. Sweat dribbles down onto my eyelid, but I don't stop.

Bending down, I put my hand on the floor and quickly flip myself over, careful not to show off my underwear. I land perfectly on the ground, doing a split. A few gasps erupt, thinking that I got hurt, but they're wrong. This is synonymous to a scratch for humans. The pain either can't be felt or is only a little sting.