VIOLET DAWN

Chapter 39

Violet sighed as she followed Patrick through the hallway to his study. The silent ride home had been uncomfortable at best, and just when she thought it was over, he had used that cold tone of his to command her to follow him into the study. 

He was like ice. There was not a trace of the gentle, caring man she had come to know.

Patrick closed the door behind her, and she sighed again as she sat in the seat by the window that she had come to think of as hers. This was her fault. This whole mess was her fault. Agitated, she brushed at the folds of her dress.

"There are some things you need to be told," Patrick said as he moved past her to where she knew his desk would be. "But first I need to know what you actually know about us."

When he said us, she knew he meant blood drinkers. Vampires, she corrected herself. Over the past couple of days, Angelica had told her a little bit about Vampires and the Blessed and her story with Alexander. The Princess and her brother had also assured her that they understood what she had done, and that they cared about her still.

Although she was grateful for their affection and for trying to convince her that she too was a victim, Violet knew better.  No matter which way they tried to explain, it didn't change the fact that she had stabbed Patrick. Violet was the villain in this story. 

"I do not know much about your people," she admitted after another moment passed. "What I know, I learned from the Seer and the Princess."

"This Seer, she is a gypsy with sight?" Patrick asked.

Violet did not know what he meant with sight, but she guessed it was accurate enough a description. "The Seer is a gypsy, yes. She took me in, gave me a roof over my head and food. She also knew things, but I never questioned how. She knew where to find me, she knew how to help me. One day she told me I had to leave with the circus and that they would lead me to Ismail. So I left, and I am here."

"I see." Patrick said. Violet waited for him to speak again. Was he watching her? Was he frowning? Did he still hate her so much?

"You know already that we drink animal blood, and that we can read minds," he said at last. Violet followed his voice and he moved across the room. "We are also faster and stronger than you humans and live several hundred years longer." The scent of blood drifted across the room as the sound of liquid being poured into a glass filled her ears. Several hundred years longer. The idea was at once unnerving and made her realise  she knew next to nothing about Patrick.

"How old are you?" she asked hesitantly.

"I'm approaching my six hundredth year."

Six hundred years. She thought of her short life and everything that had happened within it. How many places had he seen in all that time? How many women had he loved? "I see," she said slowly.

He moved back to his desk and the scent of blood grew stronger. Strangely, it did disturb her.

"You may think that living for such a long time is a blessing, but it is not without its problems. Many, if not most of my people suffer from an ailment that we call the loss of passion. Like humans we find pursuits that we centre our lives around. Whether it is politics, or art, or working the land... sooner or later it all grows stale and stops being pleasurable. Only the strongest of mind survive past their five hundredth year and that leads to another big problem."

Violet tried to imagine what it would be like to play her violin for hundred's of years. When would it stop giving her pleasure? Had Patrick suffered the loss of passion? The thought made her sad.

"Another problem?" she asked.

"Yes. You see, Vampires and humans are not compatible, not in terms of procreation."

A sudden ache shot through her heart. She could not bear Patrick's children? And just as suddenly she wanted to laugh. What right did she have to even think about bearing this man children? 

"Why does that cause a problem?" Violet asked.

"Because we can not procreate until we reach our sixth century, and most of our people take their lives long before that."

Violet didn't know what to say. She had always imagined blood drinkers, rather Vampires, to be a strong race. And now, it seemed to her, that they were fragile, just as fragile as humans.

"Our race is dying out," Patrick continued, "For centuries we have waited for the Blessed one; a human carrying a unique bloodline, one that is compatible with ours. We have been waiting for a human who can bear the children of a Vampire and give birth to a new race; one that carries our abilities, but has no need for blood. A race that is capable of procreating with Vampires and humans alike, a race that can unite us all."

Understanding dawned as Patrick's words sunk in. "Princess Belanov, her baby's father is a vampire?"

"Yes. That is why these True Vampires as they call themselves, want her dead. She is the future, the one who can change everything. But it seems Daniel and his followers have grand dreams of ruling the world." Patrick's voice filled with anger, "They want to start a war, one that would last for centuries and end, in their way of thinking, with vampires ruling over humans. But we will stop them."

Violet had no doubt that he would do just as he said. "I will try to help as much as I can." 

He didn't respond for a long time, and then his voice was soft.

"I hate putting you in harms way."

She tried not to let her surprise show. "I have to help."

Patrick's scent came from a closer proximity. Was he moving towards her? She couldn't hear, not with her heart beating wildly in her ears.

"Was it all fake, Violet?"

His quiet words brought tears to her eyes and her voice stuck in her throat. She could feel the heat from his body as he came to stand in front of her. She shook her head, no.

"I thought I knew how you felt." he hesitated. "Now, I don't know anything anymore."

Violet pushed out of her chair, her legs unsteady as she reached out with her hands and touched his face. Her eyes filled with tears as she remembered the last time she had touched him. She had stabbed him, almost killed him.

It didn't matter if he rejected her. It didn't matter if he continued to hate her. He deserved to know how she felt, even if it exposed her heart to more pain.

A tear escaped, rolled down the side of her nose, passed the crook of her mouth and dangled at her chin before dropping away. She leaned forward, pressing her lips against his cheek. He was still, his shoulders stiff, but she did not stop. Her fingers slid into his hair as her lips found his.

He did not respond for several moments more, then a sigh escaped his mouth and his hands came around her, pulling her close. The scent of blood surrounded her as his tongue slipped into her mouth. She moved closer, wanting to give him everything she had and more.

"I want you to see," she whispered between kisses. "Come into my head."

Violet felt his presence pushing against her mind and opened herself. She wanted him to know her excitement, to experience her pleasure and to feel her love.

I love you, she thought, I am so sorry I hurt you.

Patrick broke their kiss and lifted her in his arms, carrying her up the stairs and to his bedroom. And there, in the darkness, he showed her that he loved her too.