Her Maiden

Chapter Five: Spider

When you awaken it is morning. Sunlight streams into the bedroom. You have hazy memories from last night.

That intense eye contact, her hands, roaming all over your body and the bliss.

Oh god, the bliss.

Then you remember the bite.

You raise your hand to you neck and touch it tenderly. It's sore, but not wet to the touch. You haven't been left to bleed out, as far as you can tell.

You realise then that you're in Lady Dimitrescu's bed, tucked under satin sheets, cocooned in their opulence.

She must have put me here after I passed out, you think.

You struggle to imagine that. Then again, she was a mother of three.

She could be caring, nurturing, surely?

Then you remember how feral her daughters were and scoffed.

"Something funny, pet?"

You jolt.

You hadn't realised you weren't alone.

Your heart skips as you sit up and see that she's sitting at her writing desk, with her back to you, making notes.

You swallow thickly. You can't help but take in her shapely form.

"Not speaking today? Strange. You were pretty vocal last night, sweet thing."

Your cheeks feel like a furnace. You pull the sheets around you awkwardly, feeling all of a sudden very foolish and vulnerable.

Lady Dimitrescu hadn't even bothered to look around at you. She seemed intensely focused on whatever it was she was writing.

Silence, except for the scribbling of her pen.

You seriously want the ground to swallow you up.

Then you saw the door to the en suite open and reveal Andrea, who shoots you a strange dark smirk before walking swiftly from the room and closing the door just a little too hard behind her.

What was that about? You wonder.

"She's drawn a bath for you. Better go and take it before it gets cold."

She still hadn't looked around to you. Her pen nib continued to scratch on aged parchment as she scrawled whatever notes she was taking.

You wondered if she was really focusing on her writing or if there could be another reason she wasn't looking at you.

Had you displeased her?

Stop.

What did you care about that?

You stumble out of the bed, hitting the floor hard.

You forget there's a bit of a drop.

You right yourself, supporting yourself by clinging to the sheets.

You feel dizzy and faint, but after a moment you are able to walk freely to the en suite.

You glance back to see if she's watching you, with concern, or maybe for amusement, but she still hasn't moved.

Whatever.

You enter the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

A full, inviting bubble bath awaits you. Smells of roses and lavender permeate the air and you find yourself soothed by it.

You catch yourself in the reflection of an ornately framed mirror and jump.

You look deathly pale. Well, save for the two crimson wounds on your neck that glitter like rubies under the golden chandelier light. You trace them lightly with your finger, wincing as you make contact. They feel hot and achey.