A Royal Pain in the Ball ✓

Chapter 12 - Rose on her Chest

The rose stared her. She looked at.

It was large. Huge. Maybe not to her liking, but it was gorgeous to look at. One she would put inside a vase and water it everyday.

"Wait. You don't have to water roses if it's in a vase.." She muttered quietly under her breath. Her mind trailed off.

She didn't want to wake up. As she let the rose lay on her chest. As she reached up and held the branch of it, she realized it didn't have any thorns. Or else it would prick her.

The night..

Went away. She thought. Last night was a blast. It was too long and tiring to add to her daily schedule. She thought of.

As the night flashed away. The past events, the night of the ball to the auction flashed through her mind. The red substance she drank. She wanted more. But she knew there were no more. She blinked. She wondered if it was real. If anything meant anything. She woke up to the sense of feeling complete. Like she was a single branch of a twin branch. Suddenly. In one night. Which she hadn't felt ever in her life, felt awkwardly like she never felt before, and it felt good.

She kept wondering to what the man said. She felt comfortable in her bed, as he thought of her. She hoped he wouldn't smile like that anymore. Whether being bought meant anything, or what fate could have waited for her if she chose the man to her left.

He looked kind. Well enough. But he kinded looked like Jacob from that vampire movie she used to watch. Looked so endearing and manly. She wouldn't get near enough to be with him. So she described. He reminded her of a shining white knight, awaiting for her rescue.

Or was it the other way around, she wondered. Sitting up in a jolt, thinking, as she glanced up at the ceiling.

The memory came back. A fact of whether she belonged to anyone, or a moving scene where he smiled in satisfactory against her as he held her hand throughout the whole auction as she stood beside her, or the fact that he said she belonged to her legally. Which in her right mind, she would respond to illegally. She hoped, not, that she happens to be some maid, an adopted child or a wife. And that it was all real. And don't even get started on the question to whom she belonged to.

"My own." He sputtered. A man to whom Avery dreaded suddenly said from the corner of her door.

Suddenly, whom she perceived to appear his head first into her room, looking excited, with an open vibe, she could see. And the warmth of a welcoming breakfast, she hoped inside of her guts. And a moment later, Ave perceived him as a man who was smiling crazily at her, as if she was the one who brought him home.

"Did you sleep well?" He smiled widely.

She sniffed suddenly, one that wasn't of oxygen. One that of a weird scent. It smelled good. It wasn't hers. But it smelled divine, one that she would light up everyday before she went to sleep.
She searched to see just across her a candle just ashed out, the black smoke flying away. She swore she wouldn't light up any candles anymore.

Not with that man around.

The man. Through her line of perception, was wearing a denim clothing which might probably be his most casual attire. Colored so bright and seemingly in high quality that she wouldn't bother to borrow if she was a man of her own. The material seemed to be one she couldn't describe.

Averithe forgot for a moment that he was royalty, smiled back.

Well, until a whole 3 days.

Her smile died down. Feeling too heavy to hold on her lips, "What's this," She made a motion with her hand, asked, lifting the rose in her hand.