Vampire at 14 Penrose Lane (re-write)

11. Dying For Love

CHAPTER 11

Nikolai

A red rose.

A red fucking rose!

Am I supposed to be grateful it isn't a dead one. Withered and decayed!

They dare to place it on her doorstep. The Red Rose coven. They dare to send their member to threaten Isla. This was all because of me, or was it for her blood? Either way, they know now that she's my donor.

The red rose is their symbol. A sign of their recognition. A gesture that she is noticed. A dead rose is a warning — that you're a threat to their coven, and a black rose... well, that you didn't want landing on your doorstep. It meant that you are marked. The biggest threat you can get from the Red Rose coven.

How did they know I'm here? Was this a message to me? Are they still chasing?

Nevertheless, they know about her. They know about Isla. The damn vampire even tried to take her blood; he probably couldn't resist. The fucker! Did my warning the first evening not threaten him to stay the fuck away from her! He was the one that placed the rose on her doorstep, but he couldn't control his damn thirst.

Imbecile!

I shake my angry and annoyed thoughts out of my head. Luckily, Isla is nothing more to them but a blood donor. Hopefully that will be enough if I play my cards right. To keep Isla at a safe distance that she or the coven won't catch on anything.

I march to my house and snarl. The familiar angst filling me up. My acquainted anger and rage, I try to keep down, buried deep. I killed tonight after four years. Oddly, it felt good. Felt easy. Something I was accustomed to daily in my past.

But not anymore. Tonight was just a fluke.

Reaching my house, I walk swiftly up the steps of the creaky deck and opened the door, vanishing inside my dark space. I'm in a fucking bad mood. This was the Red Rose coven. They can be ruthless in their vengeance.

"You're back..." an even voice grumbles with a lazy tone inside the lounge.

I scowl even harder. I had company. I hated company, especially in my house.

Moving slowly to the grand lounge, flickering firelight dances across the walls. The air is thick with the rich aroma of burning oak. A vampire sits in my favorite leather armchair, gazing into the heart of the roaring fireplace. He sips from a crystal tumbler, the dark red liquid within, reflecting the fire's flames. I sniff in its metallic scent.

Blood.

A female.

Twenty-nine years old.

"Who said you can sit in my seat?" I say dryly. Walking to the fire. The flames cast a soft glow on the mahogany walls, revealing the intricate details of the hand-carved wooden panels.

"Ah! Nikolai, always the uninviting. The forever prude." He lazily laughs. The embers of the fire flickering in his green eyes.

"Triston, why are you still here." I stand in front of him. My cousin. My hand leaning on the wooden panel above the fireplace. Gripping tightly. The rage is still simmering in me that I might break the wood in half. The fire's warm but its heat does nothing to me.

I look at my cousin. That impish smirk grows on his face. A feature that annoys me since he barged into my house unwanted.

I told him not to come over here. But does he ever listen to me? No. His mischievous ways always get him into trouble, thinking his sly charm can rescue him out of the mistakes he makes, but somehow it always lands on me to rectify it. To clean up his fucking messes. No doubt he's running from one now... or a few.