Lair of Beasts [Book I in the Curse Of Blood Saga]

Chapter XXXII - Confessions

I trailed my fingers delicately along the carmine petals of a musk rose, the rest of it's body stark and bare amidst the snowy backdrop. It seemed to me that this little, steadfast bloom, though crusted in frost, was determined to bloom in spite of wintery adversity. I took solace in it's vivid presence. All the world was hued in hoary shades — white, grey and black — and yet here was a colorful blemish to spoil nature's achromatic gloominess.

There was a forsaken hush about the garden, the cold having dissuaded all from venturing outside, and even the birds were silent today; but I was not alone.

"Must you watch me like that!" I could feel my hackles stirring in unease.

"How then shall I watch you?" Lucian drawled quietly from behind me, where he leaned against a barren pear tree.

"Not as though you... wish to eat me!" I finished feebly, hoping to insult him by hinting at his monstrous proclivities.

"But I am hungry, Aria," he countered. I could hear the smile on his lips, without turning to look, and I bristled at the licentious innuendo.

"Bah! I hate you!" I seethed, blasting him with the full force of a loathing that I did not really feel.

I did not mean it — had wished only to snuff the smirk from his face, but instead I had behaved perversely. I instantly regretted the words as soon as they leapt off my tongue and turned to apologize, but instead I found myself retreating some small measure when he pushed himself off the tree and stormed towards me.

"I would rather have your hate than your horror!" he fumed, but restrained his hands at his side and curled his fists into his mantle as opposed to shaking me as I assumed he longed to do.

"They are one and the same!"

"Nay, they are not," he countered. "The former merely vexes me and can be overcome with time-"

Think that if it pleases you, Lucian.

"But the other," he commenced, unaware of my thoughts, "is an insuperable terminus. I would sooner be a mindless creature all the rest of my days than suffer your revulsion an instant longer-"

"My Lord," a servant chimed unexpectedly from behind us.

We had neither seen nor heard his approach, too engrossed in our battle of words to notice the crush of Gerald's boots upon the snow. We turned now to pin him with relieved stares — nay, mine held relief; Lucian's eyes, conversely, sustained only his growing displeasure.

"Speak, man!" he growled.

"Y-your father b-bade me fetch you to him," Gerald faltered.

When Gerald remained in the garden, Lucian grew impatient. "Well?" he fumed, when Gerald merely stood waiting awkwardly for further instruction. "You have delivered your message, now begone!"

"Aye, My Lord." Gerald replied directly, swiftly picking his way back whence he'd come along the path he'd forged through the ice. I made to follow, but Lucian halted my progress with a steely grasp upon my upper arm.

"We are not finished here," said he.

"You are hurting me," I seethed. "Let go!"

"Where do you hurt besides your arm, Aria?" he persisted as he watched his fingers turn bloodless where they gripped me fiercely. "Have I affected you no place else? Your heart, perhaps?"

"By God, Lucian, if you don't-"

"Or have I sorely misjudged my significance? Tell me, do I affect you so little, that you care not-"