Infinite

Chapter 7

Our silent interactions were becoming less of a conundrum and more of a comfort. It was odd... whenever I thought too much on us I realized that there was two different laws appeasing us: one of master and servant, and one of demon and prey. Just as I was set to own him until he took my soul, he was also set to hunt for me until I became his prey. It was an unwavering war of dominance, and I was afraid that I was playing the role of the rabbit far too well. I did not know why I was so afraid of losing whatever power he let me have (for he did, indeed let me have it), especially when it felt so overwhelmingly good.

I was watching him tend to the roses.

Through the window, I could see him trimming the leaves and branches of the bushes he had seemed to grow overnight. The tails of his coat fluttered through the chilly winter air; the sky clouded with grey and white. It looked as if it would snow, yet he wore no protection from the cold. It was the little things like this in which reminded me that he was a being begot from something otherworldly and profound. He summoned forth a bucket of water, and began to bathe their petals with frost. I watched them as they turned from the bloodiest red to the faintest, purest white. I gasped, placing a palm across the window pane. An outline of fog came as a halo around my fingers, and spread across the clean glass; the skin of my hand warming the surface as it met with it.

He turned towards me, and bowed; eyes flashing faintly in the dim air. I nodded, hiding the smile that threatened to pour from my lips, for he was the one to flash his own smirk. Our eyes locked, and he plucked a rose as delicate as ash and hewn from mist. Holding it out to me, he beckoned me softly with a graceful stroke of a white gloved finger. I turned from him to glance behind, only to be sure that the servants were out of sight and mind. No one could know of the relationship blossoming between us... for if anyone were to discover it, I would surely be pushed beyond the ledge of reason. My pride would shatter along with anything else I possessed that was frangible.

I swiftly crossed to the door; feet scampering as a mouse beneath roofs and behind walls. It creaked slightly on its hinges, and I was met with a burst of fresh, cold air. I did not bother to return to the sanctuary of the mansion to retrieve my coat. I did not wish to be bothered by the impatience I was sure to feel, and so I braved the chill and stepped outside. The heels of my boots crunched on the thick gravel underfoot as I made my way to the garden where he was still standing... grasping the flower with such richness that I could almost feel his hand upon my skin. He stepped towards me, his hand reaching for mine the way the tide reaches for the moon each night. He spun me on my toes, and I fell into him begot from my utter imbalance and lack of skills.

My nose and forehead hit his chest as he pulled me into his warmth. He smelled so strongly of cinnamon and clove, and I pushed myself into his coat to feel more of him around me. I stumbled further into him, and he held me fast by my waist. Diluted sunlight danced across the chilled air and over our skin; slightly ruffling my hair with its breezes. I looked up to him... at his handsome jaw and piercing eyes that glared and prodded and were so, so soft when they looked at me. Without breaking whatever trance he had set me in, he placed the thornless rose into the palm of my hand, which was pale with cold and with stagnation. I clenched it within my fingers and against his chest, holding his lapel with the other. An arm snaked around my trembling waist, and the other was summoned over the chilled flesh of my cheek; which instantly warmed under his gaze that still would not leave me.

He leaned down until his mouth hovered over mine, and our breath mingled as a tangible vapor between us.

"You must be cold, young master."

"I am not."

I whispered as soft as the petals of the rose I held over his lips.

"Your hands are like ice."