I feel that this chapter might be kind of horrible or boring. Bare with me. This is the longest story I wrote. Honestly it's the best compared to my other attempts. They say the first book is usually our worst, lol.
MYLA POV:
I groggily open my eyes and peer around me. Where the the hell am I? The light coming in from the window is blinding and I shift my arm over my eyes. I'm starving.
How long have I've been out. My hunger is clouding my memory, so I'm unable to remember much. I scanned the room that is away from the window.
I'm laying on a bed that has to be the softest thing I ever felt in my life. I feel like I'm laying on clouds. The dark blue comforter is silky smooth and the ends is trimmed in gold. Fancy.
My stomach growls and I curse. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and drop about four feet to the floor. I curse vigorously.
Who idea was it to put a bed that high up in the air? I try to stand on my feet only to find that their wobbling so bad I looking like a toddler walking.
"Good you're up," says Asher. He gazes at me and carefully guides me and helps me to walk back to the bed. I'm to weak to refuse his help and he scoops me up and places me on the bed.
"How are you feeling," he ask. He's being suspiciously gentle with me. Originally I would be weary of it, but my hunger has clouded my judgement at the moment.
"I'm hungry and I feel weak," I said. I didn't mention that my head was busting open from a headache.
He places a hand gingerly on my temper and I feel a odd sense of calm come over me. It's like my pain is fading. The only thing I can feel is my stomach twisting from hunger.
My throat feels dry and my lips are parched.
"I figured you would be thirsty. You were out for three days. I brought you something to drink," he said.
I took the glass from him slowly and sniffed it for a moment. Where I decided it was safe to drink I downed it in seconds. What is this stuff?
I lick the corners of my mouth to get the remaining blood off and lay back on the pillow for a minute. I can physically feel the strength returning to my body at a fast speed.
My memory that was so hazy earlier, is now coming at me full swing. The only thing I can seem to remember at the moment is a stunning redhead leaning over me.
I also remember the fact that my father is dead and Asher claimed my best-friend was dead.
"Asher," I said carefully. "Where am I?"
He looks at me sheepishly and taps his finger in his leg. "We are in Italy in my home."
My shoulders tense up and I close my eyes and lay back down. So despite everything he still brought you here. "Is she really dead?"
"I'm so sorry Myla," he says. He gets up and walks over to grab my hand to console me.
It's too late, I'm already zoning out and going numb. It's like the grieving process has dulled every sense I have. I'm aware of him talking and can hear what he said.
My brain refuses to fully comprehend everything that is going on around me. I'm not longer here mentally, still physically I eat and wash up. I don't leave the room.
Nothing he says can make me come out of my spiraling vortex of depression. I lost two people I cared about in less than a week. If you count my boyfriend too, at least he's breathing.
That does nothing to console me though. I wake up in cold sweats each night from recurring nightmares. In the night mares, I see every horrible way my father and Angel could have been killed. I'm helpless as I watch her cry and the blood pooling from her chest .
This is all my fault..
ASHER POV:
I didn't expect hugs and kisses from my father upon my return. My mother greeted me happily. I could barely get myself out of my mothers maternal caressing grasp if it wasn't for my father.
"Oh good heavens Clemente," said my father angrily. "You act like the boy is going to disappear again."
In the little time I been back he has refused to show any affection towards me. Other than a few well spoken words.
The one person who I have truly missed was my little sister. Alessia is nowhere to be found.
"Your sister has taking over some of your duties since you been gone," my father said. He's accusing me of abandoning my position. He doesn't have to say it directly, his tone says it all.
"When will she be back?" I choose to ignore his accusing voice.
"Late tonight," he said sternly. My mother chews her food slowly and remains silent. The silence is uncomfortable and it's almost strange being in the presence of my own father.
I'm unable to stand it anymore and stand to leave.
"Where are you going?" My fathers asks. He's looking for a fight and I'm not giving him one. My skin prickles with irritation; deep down in my chest I can feel a slight growl and I fight to suppress it.
"I'm going to check on Myla."
He raises and eyebrow and takes a bite out of his steak and chews slowly. He doesn't break eye contact and I don't either.
Usually I would have withered underneath his gaze. Not this time and not ever again.
"You go away from a century and than come back with a half breed," he says menacingly.
It rubs me the wrong way and I fight to keep my eyes from thinning. "I didn't think you was prejudice father."
He laughs his deep confident lauugh. It rings throughout the dining hall and my mother watches. The human servants press farther against the wall. I clench my fist at my sides.
"Of course I'm not prejudice. If you would have brought any girl home, I would expect a something a little more," he said.
I stare at my father as his words sink in, "it's nothing like that. She's different in genetics."
He pauses his knife and gives me a long calculating look. "What do you mean different genetics."
"She's a daughter of a mother vampire and human father," I said. My mother gasps and my father leans forward rather eagerly.
"Bring her to me," he said.
"Tomorrow, she's still to weak," I said half reluctantly.
He nods and goes back eating. "Tomorrow morning."
I stand there a few minutes later.
"You can go."
I hurry out the dining hall and let out a deep breath. He loves to get underneath my skin and I'm half regretting bringing her here. What will happen to her?
YOU ARE READING
The Vampire Princess
Science Fiction"Who is your creator?" He growls out the question and never looks away from my face. I keep struggling to get out of his grasp, but I fail. This is it, I think bitterly. This is how I will die.
