Carmine

Two: Honeysuckles (newly edited)

Early the next morning, there's a knock at my door. Expecting Kieran, I skip toward it as I pull my leggings over my waist, but the door opens before my hand reaches for the brass-colored handle. It wasn't Kieran who stood on the other side, but Kai. Today, he wore a plain black tee shirt that over accentuated his muscles and dark blue jeans; he paired the simple outfit with the same boots from the night before. His hands were not empty, nor stuffed into his pockets. Instead, they busied themselves by carrying a tray filled with food. A ceramic bowl packed with fresh pineapple, kiwi, honey dew melon and bright red strawberries, a matching plate with French toast (butter and syrup on the side,) a cup of coffee and a glass of orange juice. In one small corner, beside the breakfast food was a delicate dahlia, tucked inside of a small crystal vase. I raise my brows at him, staring between him and the tray with suspicion. He gives me that stupid crooked smile of his and walks over to my window. Does he think that's charming? He takes a metal stand that was tucked between the armoire and the wall and unfolds it to place the silver tray on it.

I keep my distance, watching him carefully as he drops a small dollop of butter on the toast before drizzling it with the sweet syrup. Finally, he turns to me, his eyes moving from mine, down to my body again. I was dressed in charcoal gray leggings and a striped crop long sleeve top that bared a sliver of my waist. I tug at the shirt, covering the exposed skin and cross my arms over my chest, cursing its size. My feeble attempt to shield myself makes him chuckle in amusement. He takes the flower between his fingers, plucking it out of the vase and comes toward me. Like a frightened animal, I cautiously step backwards until my spine collides with the pillar of the canopy bed. I gasp, dread spreading through my chest again and causing my pulse to race. "Don't worry, Little Thing. I'm not going to hurt you," he says taking my hand and placing the flower in it. "Hmm...not yet anyway," he adds, showing his teeth. His breath smells like honeysuckles. My gaze moves to his mouth when he speaks, watching his teeth and expecting long fangs to appear. His fingers move to my neck, and I freeze, feeling them graze my skin as he touches the necklace around me. He narrows his eyes to it, pulling the clasp up to the back of my neck as he holds the pendant between his thumb and index finger.

I exhale after watching him exit the room, not realizing that I had been holding my breath that entire time. I grunt feeling annoyed by his actions and drop my head back hitting it against the pillar. He was toying with me, and I wasn't sure why. There was a feeling inside me that said it was because he blamed me for his father's abandonment. He had left his own children for us, after all. Or at least that's what it seemed like. I head toward the window, where the food tray sat and return the dahlia to the vase. Maybe this was supposed to be an apology? I pinch a strawberry and put it to my lips as I stare out through the glass. It was too dark to see anything last night, but now that the sun was up, I could see part of the immense garden. Blood red roses and dahlias lined a cobblestone path that led to a gazebo with its pillars covered in lush green ivy. More paths, turning in different directions, leading to different parts of the garden. It was as if the Red Queen herself had designed it.

When I'm finished with breakfast, I pick up the empty tray and take it downstairs. I turn the corner entering the kitchen and I'm startled by the tall man standing near the coffee pot. Kieran seemed to appear out of nowhere. I could have sworn there was no one there a second ago. "Good morning, Aurora," he says with a soft smile. He holds a cup of coffee in one hand as he places the newspaper he was holding with the other, on the counter. Aurora...I hated that name. The name sounded as if it belonged to a grandmother. I mean it was my grandmother's name and she was a horrible woman. Yet, he insisted on calling me that. But I'm insistent too.

"Just Rory," I say fighting the urge to roll my eyes at him.

"Rory," he confirms with an apologetic nod. "You did not need to bring that down yourself. The maid would have taken care of it." I look down at my tray and shrug. The maid... I wasn't used to anyone doing anything for me and I doubt that would change overnight.