Red Is The Color Of Desire

Prologue

*Inspired by Johanna Lindsey (Without her I would never have fallen in love with historical romance!)  Keep in mind that she was writing romances in the 80s, the men in those novels were terrible, I modeled this story and the whole Hugh family after Historical Romances written in the 70s, 80, and early 90s. Explains a lot, huh?*

"Run, Emile, run!" His mother shouted at him as she pushed him forward. "Allez, mon chéri! Hide!"

His heart was pounding in his young adolescent ears as he sprinted forward, the sounds of screams and fire crackling pushing him along. He was breathing heavily, every breath he took seemed to echo around him. His feet hit the pavement hard as he moved past dead bodies and wounded carcasses. His small village was a war zone. The looters laughing merrily as they raped women in the streets and slaughter men with no remorse.

A scream echoed past him and he froze. He knew that voice. He turned around, his adrenaline pumping through his veins a mile a minute. As the raging fire throughout the village grew his heart dropped. His mother dangled from the grasp of a salt and pepper haired man. He laughed evilly as Emile's mother fought.

"Well, aren't you feisty, chéri..."

His mother kicked at the man's horse and the horse whined before jumping back. Something in Emile snapped and he ran toward his mother just as she was released from the looters grasp. She hit the ground with a loud thud, her head hitting the pavement hard. Emile fell to his knees at her side. Sweat cascading down his color stained cheeks.

He grabbed his mother and shook her. She didn't respond. Her body was still. He ran a hand across her cheeks and cradled her head in his hands. Her long sandy brown hair, which was identical to his, was soft to the touch, framing her doll like face. His heart was beating louder than the chaos around him as he shook her again. "Mère...Maman! Mom? Maman!"

He hugged her lifeless body against him and buried his face in her hair. He suddenly felt something wet against his fingers and he pulled back, his eyes growing wide as he stared at the blood that covered the palm of his hands. His hazel eyes shot up and he gently turned his mother's head to the side. Anger and hatred coursed through him at the blood that soaked the back of her head. He stood, hatred glowing in his eyes.

His chest was heaving as he dragged in oxygen. He turned around, staring into the chaos that was once his peaceful home. As his eyes travelled through the madness he stopped as he found the man who had done this to his mother. He ran toward the man, pulling at his boot clad leg.

The man merely raised a brow at him before kicking him away.

"You killed ma mère!" He shouted as he continued to attack the man's leg. The looter laughed before hopping off of his horse, towering over Emile. He grabbed a hand full of Emile's sandy brown hair and yanked his head up.

He turned Emile toward the fallen remains of his once quiet village and chuckled, "Which one is your maman? Huh?"

Emile didn't answer, he merely grunted as the man pulled his hair. It felt as if his hair was being ripped from his head.

"Be happy I haven't killed you." The man sneered, throwing Emile forward. He stumbled and hit the ground face forward. His bottom lip busted open as it collided with his teeth from the impact. He ignored the pain and stood, wiping his mouth. He glared at the man and ran toward him again, this time knocking the man forward a bit. The man scowled.

He grabbed Emile's hair again and pulled him along beside him. The man shouted for one of the other looters to come here. The man galloped over and in one of his hands was a torch. The man tugged Emile forward and snatched the torch from the other man.

He then proceeded to lean down and set fire to the dead bodies that cluttered the streets. Emile's eyes widened and he shouted a protest. The man dragged him along as he set fire to countless bodies. He suddenly stopped at his mother's bodies and Emile began to protest in earnest. "No! No! Don't!"

The man chuckled coldly before dropping the torch, his mothers body engulfed in the flame. Her burning flesh wafted into the air. Tears pricked his eyes as he turned on the man and latched his teeth into his arm. The man howled in pain before slapping Emile across the face, knocking him onto his bottom. He reached into his boot and pulled out a knife. Emile glared at the man as he leaned down, the knife gleaming.

"I'll let you live." He said as he slashed the knife across Emile's left eye and throwing the knife at his feet. Emile screamed and lurched forward, both his hands covering his bloody eye.

The man hopped onto his horse and whipped the reins, the rest of the looters following behind him. Leaving Emile on his knees in the middle of the blood soaked street. Alone.

*I'm sooooo excited to be writing this story! Stay tuned! Comment, like and share!*