Sweet Like Poison...(Mature Paranormal Romance 18+)

Chapter Fifteen

The building has been a beehive of activities, with servants and maidens moving from the kitchen to the dining arena, preparing foods and brewing drinks in preparation for the forthcoming visitors of tonight. Pharell's sister, in the company of her wizard fiance and his parents, should be coming in a matter of hours.

According to what they've told me; both Zala and Rabbath, the man is one of the most powerful wizards in his realm, son of Delilah, the gypsy witch queen. But the only difference between his betrothal to Pharell's sister -her name is Phaiqwan- and Pharell's engagement to Devikah, is that in their case, love is a very prominent emotion between the two.

Oh well, what am I even saying? Last night, stumbling upon the couple clinging to each other for dear life, has me now rethinking all what I thought I knew.

Life inside these walls cannot grow anymore interesting than this.

I sigh to myself, changing and spreading blood-red sheets in Phaiqwan's room. I have been trapped within these four walls since the time after breakfast, and now, the hour is late afternoon, around four thirty. Which also means, that all vampires are in their slumbers of death. I fluff pillows, rest them against each other on the headboard, then move to grab the scrubbing brush and soapy waters in the bucket, getting on knees.

It takes a lot of energy, long hours, to rid these marble floors of their murkiness, but I finally do, rising on numb feet. As soon as I place a dozen fiery-red roses into the alabaster vase, I pick up the cleaning equipment, and exit the chambers in quietness. Next up, Pharell's room. Hopefully he'll be in sleep. Oh how I pray that he will, because the man is unpredictable.

I climb down to the floors beneath, tread down halls, until I am now in front of his chamber doors. Slipping in, I find the curtains drawn completely, chandelier off, and the flames at the fire place dying down. I shouldn't feel it, but worry begins to creep in, and I find myself shutting the doors, placing the equipment against carpet, and padding towards the king size bed.

Ah, the man is still asleep, and so is his pet, thank grace.

I draw the curtains only to a certain extent, allowing enough light in for me to see. Turning, I eye the room, taking notice that it hardly needs any cleansing. Still, the roses need to be watered, and so, I match over to the cabinet, retrieve the bioluminescent liquid, and walk over to where the little garden lays, spraying the glowing neon onto the petals.

Done with that chore, I move to sweep the little willow leaves shed by the three large trees, before finally calling it a day. Now, the shadows of objects within the room begin to lengthen by the minute, signalling the presence of the setting sun. I return to the cabinet, set the bottle of green back inside, then work to make my way out of the chambers.

But, instead of leaving the room, exiting past the doors, I find myself
moving in Pharell's direction, sitting myself on the seat that faces him, and leaning foward to get a better glimpse of the man.

How does it feel to die, to resurrect, to posses so much might in ones body, to walk the earth for so long? He's lived for over two millennia, so how was the world then? Were there wars, did he too lose people he cared for, in the two millennia, was he ever in love with another?

I see it, how his face contorts into one of agony, as he breathes in new life. Gradually, his eyes flutter open, locking with mine.
"Your presence woke me, Zenaida."
"Oh, forgive me, I didn't mean to," I reply, moving to stand.
"Don't leave, not just yet. You have questions, I see. Ask."

I find myself resuming my position on the sofa, just as he does on the bed, pressing his back against the headboard, and crossing his feet. He eyes me with anticipation, so I shoot the first question.

"Uh, does holy water affect your kind, as they say?"
He falls mumm, smiles a subtle smile.
"I bathe using any kind of water, sanctified and holy or not, lukewarm or ice-cold, distilled or with minerals, I will still use to cleanse myself."

I stifle a chuckle, clearing my throat.
"Okay, okay. What about garlic?"
"What about garlic?"
"Does it bring adverse effects when you consume?"
"Yes, only because I am allergic to the vegetable."
I feel a smile tagging on my lips at his smooth responses.

"Okay, another one. Why were you placed as the sigma? I mean, do not misjudge the question, but, you do have a sibling, Phaiqwan. Is it about you being the male son of the royal family."
He leans forward, rests his elbow against his thigh, and his chin in his palm, steel eyes still on me.

"Sigmas are, in all cases, hybrids, if not trybrids. My sibling is purely siren. You see, hybrids are hard to come by, especially between a vampire and a creature of another kind. Trybrids, even far less. It has nothing to do with gender. Sigmas could be male or female, provided they are a blend of two or more supernaturals."
"And the one that was head before you, what was he or she?"

"She was half dragon, half vampire. Gave up her sit when I turned three centuries old."
"Ah, I see, I see. This world, your world, paranormals, they all fascinate me. And what of Dario?"
"What about him?"
"I know that he is two hundred years old. Was he born or made a vampire?"

"He was a victim of rogue vampires one night, in the human faction," is his simple reply, and I respect that.
"One last question, please."
"Ask."
"Outside waters, can you still switch your body form? I mean, aside from the gleaming irises, and the tribal moon crest?"

He stares at me long and hard, and I have to battle to keep a straight face.
"Only a fraction of my body, yes."
With his chin still sat atop his palm, he lifts the other arm into the air, and gradually, his nails elongate into talons, the skin from them, all the way up to his elbow, turning into scales of glaring gold, and the flesh between each finger, growing webbed.

Looking up at him, I notice that his ears, are now pointy at the edges, with even more scales of golden, embedding the skin on the sides of his face. With grace, he shifts back into his usual self, a stoic expression plastering on his face, and I am left to digest what I just witnessed seconds ago.
"I have to feed, now that I am awake, also prepare myself for my sister's and her groom-to-be's arrival."

I rise from the seat, and pad down carpet, until I am now next to the fridge. I retrieve a blood bag, take hold of a flute sat above the fridge, a line napkin too, and make my way back to the leather couch. I pour him the drink, hand it over, watch him shut eyes and pray, before he proceeds to drink.

I have learnt to accept that this is how they survive, it is not a matter of choice, it never was, and condemning him on the basis of a natural habit is only hypocritical. Who judges me for drinking water, eating fruits and foods?
"Zenaida, do you fancy Dario."
I almost scoff, choosing to knit brows instead, lean in my seat, and fold arms once again.
"Why would you ask me that?"

"I base the inquiry off of observations."
"Wrong observations, clearly. Do I love Dario? Yes. As a woman does a man? Not quite."
"Not yet," he speaks, tone dropping a few octaves, as he sips from the flute.
Then, taking liberties with him, I decide to plunge further.
"Even if that was a truth, you shouldn't be going green with envy, now should you?"

"Who said I was? Mere observation, Zenaida. Do not get ahead of yourself, lest you grow heartbroken. If you do decide to form a courtship with him, take care not to wound his heart. The man is like a brother to me, has lost far too much. He gets hurt, your follow suit."
And I know his words hold promise.
"Breaking him is a thing I'd never do, even if a dagger was held against my throat."

"And I trust you to keep to your word. If you do wish to speak with your family, I will let you do so after the night's activities are over."
He chugs the remnants of the scarlet, hands me the flute, and I hand him a linen napkin in return. He gets off the bed, makes his way towards the walk-in closet in silence, not sparing another glance in my direction. And with nothing left for me to do, I stand, and exit the room in muteness...

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