Captive Of The Count

8

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Amara's pov

I had broken a lot of rules. A lot of them were broken while growing up, Amara, don't step out of the castle without your guard, I broke this rule the week Liam was employed.

Amara, always let us know what's happening with you, I broke this rule on my sixteenth birthday.

Amara don't read up about vamps, I broke this when I was tall and strong enough to climb library ladders.

Amara don't cross the borders, It was a known fact that this might have been the first rule I had ever broken.

Amara think before acting, This was a rule I have never thought of acting on in my life and it might evolve into a flaw. Amongst every trait I picked from my mother's younger self, this was one of them.

Amara don't wander off when in a strange place, A new rule which was issued while I left for New York and which I broke tonight.

Amara, do not talk to strangers! This rule was annoying, not every stranger was bad.

Amara don't get yourself into sticky situations, Rose and Cora owned this rule but then again I had a talent for getting myself in awkward situations like this one.

I didn't move from my spot as I should have.

Instead, I watched and became a peeping Thomas, don't ever become a peeping Thomas should have been a rule, Not like I would have followed it.

And then the last and final one, Amara! Don't associate yourself with a vampire if you ever come across one, I was going to break it right now cause I didn't think the rule applied to beautiful silver-eyed, dark-haired vampires that looked like they had an admirable talent in hanky panky.

I watched as they both finished, the silent moans of a very well-satisfied lady and the grunts of a man were all I heard. He detached his tattooed hands from her waist and let go of her and then his fingers moved so incredibly fast in fixing his pants as the worn-out woman slid down the wall.

He still hadn't turned directly towards me.

My eyes trailed on his side profile, I could see his well-sculpted nose and blood staining the corner of his lips. His hands moved to his pocket and he fished out a wallet. He leaned on his haunches in front of the woman who looked like she was passed out front intense pleasure and I wondered if she was dead.

His fingers brought out some notes and for the first time I noticed some rings on them and then he tucked the money into the woman's shirt, She's a hooker, I thought to myself as he stood up. He reached into his pockets and pulled out a handkerchief. It was a checkered hankie. He swiped it across his face cleaning any traces of blood that indicated that he just fed from her.

And then he turned to me and I had never been more bedazzled in my life.

His looks were a total knockout. He looked like he belonged in a fantasy book and his gaze was the most intimidating one I had ever held. He watched me just as I watched him.

A blank look on his face portrayed no single emotion, even his orbs that seemed to catch my fancy were empty and void of fervor.

His poise was extraordinary.

That poise you see in a person and you'd instantly know that they had a big ego, they walked with a stick up their arse, they knew that the world could crumble at their feet and they were powerful.