My eyes flew open as I jerked straight up, had it been me screaming? My lungs pounded against my ribs, my heartbeat rushing in my ears as I struggled to catch my breath once more.
It was a nightmare I thought, relieved, as I exhaled a sharp gust. A pain so strong I nearly began to cry pierced my shoulder, slowly appearing in my legs, my chest and my hips. It hurt so badly I had begun to cry, my hand fumbling for my bedside lamp.
When I finally did reach it, I could hardly keep the moans down, the screech forming in the depths of my stomach longing to be free. The dull lamp gave light to my cluttered room, shining on me from where I sat in bed.
Gasping I lifted my gown, up over thighs and underwear, higher above my waist, until I held it just below my chest. Dark purple and blue bruises had formed under my skin, the discolouration causing me to gag.
Had I been punched? Well, yes, but not recently nor had I been kicked in the past few days. Especially not in my shoulder or chest, I would recall such a horrid assault. Then what? What could have done this?
"Analeigh." It was a male voice; I yelped dropping my gown as a blush flooded my cheeks. If it was James I was going to give him hell for not knocking first.
There was a chuckle, my eyes flickering hysterically around the room. "Wh-who's there?" I'd meant to sound less terrified and more angry but I couldn't bring myself to the tone.
"How could you not know?" It was humorous, the person clearly amused by my fright and confusion. That's when it hit me; it could not be James, for we were Transylvanian. This man spoke within British, his tone much more like silk than James' aggressive bass.
Without so much so as the slightest warning he just popped up. Dropping from my high ceiling to sit hardly a breath away from me, I found myself recoiled against my headboard, my hands in quivering fists.
Dorian laughed, a full-throated hold-your-gut chortle, his unnaturally green eyes widening as he took in my appearance. "Did you mean to strike me princess?" His tone was a light banter, though I couldn't remove the fear I felt so I could get around to join him.
He sighed, reaching out warm pale hands to take mine in his, unfurling my taut fingers with ease. Now, his face became one of distress, a single hand lifting to run through my red hair. "When did your preference make this shift? I rather favoured your old lengths."
I shook my head, hoping to loose all my frozen bewilderment. "I-I didn't do this, it was-" He cut me off, Dorian's eyes blazed with fury, a flame igniting a red tint within them.
His fangs descended, pearly flawlessly white teeth finished by long, slender points. "Who did this?" His English vanished, as it always was when he was angry. The Transylvanian so thickly blanketed his words, it almost made my accent seem weak.
I winced, pressing myself harder against the stiff wooden board. So it wasn't a nightmare, I realized, feeling the heat in my cheeks slither to my eyes. "Girls," I sniffled. "From school, they p-pinned me down in the locker room." Already his gorgeous face had begun to take on that of a gargoyle.
Dorian's outrage became tangible; I could feel it slashing my skin open, digging underneath to awaken fears much more overwhelming. He knew I didn't like this, knew how easily scared I was-which I wasn't proud to admit-and yet he could never refrain from getting this way.
Closing my eyes, I tried to picture him the way he was before. I clung to that image in my mind, to his large deviant green eyes, so bright they shone like the sun. Enclosed by dark lashes, all of which cast even shadows across his cheeks.
To his wide smile, the smile that bore such perfectly straight teeth, with and without his fangs. His dark brown hair lengthily windblown, few strands still daring to drape around his forehead.
With his impeccable features, so seamlessly symmetrical and unsullied. His evident cheekbones and soft ashen skin, his square jaw and long neck.
To his broad shoulders, his muscular arms and chest, chiselled like the statue of Adonis. The strength latent but unquestionably there, hidden beneath his diamond skin.
Slumbering quaintly under the black sweater that, still, gave a steady outline of his unmatchable structure. And the dark ebony dress pants he wore, covering shapely legs, capable of crushing a man's bones in a single blow.
With this image I could continue, the memory however, of this incident was certainly not much-loved. Though it wasn't the worst thing that's been done or will be done to me, as consequence for my actions.
"The six of them held me down and they-" My stammering was something that Dorian's beauty could not silence, unfortunately "-they started cutting it-all of it-to here." My hand rose to my chin, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip to keep my attention on the pain that hurt less, than the one in my arms and chest.
Dorian didn't answer me; slowly I began to open my eyes. Praying that when I looked once again, his wrath would not set free my shriek. He was standing, his fists held tightly at his sides, his back to me as he began to pace towards my bedroom door.
A weight, a grief dropped heavily on my shoulders, despite the fear and sleepiness, I felt sadness. I turned to look out my window; the glass was greatly shrouded in filth.
Outside, I heard the rain's pitter-pattering on the stone of my house, and saw the bleary blotches on the glass. But the sun had not risen, he hadn't a need to leave me yet, and I had not been offered to go to the fortress.
Gasping I realized what exactly he was planning. Kicking hastily out of my sheets, I stepped down on to the bitter floor, chills taking hold of my legs.
At my chattering teeth Dorian paused to glance over his shoulder. "Go back to sleep." He ordered, it wasn't kind but I knew he could get much, much more volatile if he pleased.
"No." I snapped back, the reflex was to give him attitude, based on the way I spoke to everyone else. But not Dorian, never to Dorian, I valued life too much to get him that livid.
We both knew he could make me regret those words. He could kill me with a simple wave of his hand. He could burn my entire house down if he wished it.
Dorian had a temper; although, he'd never gotten that mad at me. I'd heard the stories and he'd told me multiple times, that it wasn't his bite that made humans fear him.
And it wasn't just because he was Royalty that his own kind respected him. Dorian once burnt an entire village down single-handedly; he'd sat in the Father's chair inside of a church to watch and was not burned once. He'd told me that story himself, been proud of it as well.
It was these things, these terrible deeds he'd committed, that many in Sighisoara named him The Devil Himself. But these were the people that knew little of Dorian's father, Octavianus. Even still, my being accepted by the Royal Dragon Order as a consort and not a snack, dubbed me as Lucifer's Bride.
It was all this, the titles and actions, that made everyone question my sanity. Made me the outcast, the traitor, the cause of all our village's struggles-especially the problems where The Undying were involved.
This also made me the most feared and hated person in the majority of Transylvania. Because if I was ever harmed it would anger Dorian. And you definitely didn't want to tick off the Prince of The Undying-as Dorian prefers-unless you wanted all hell to be set loose on your village, quite literally.
All this in mind, the fear and hate that I endured every second, why was it that we couldn't be apart? How could an Undying truly love a human? I'm sure, Dorian has said it to thousands if not millions of other girls to get what he wants, whether they were Undying or not. But it's different-as he reminds me everyday-when he says it to me.
"What was that?" He asked, his eyes meeting mine over his shoulder. Dorian flexed his fingers, colourless claws extending from his unfolding hand.
He didn't sound mad, his velvet voice more frustrated than anything else. "You're going after them." I added, scrubbing tears out of my eyes with the backs of my hands.
"Without question." He nodded, eyes narrowing with impatience. "Do you really think it will make a difference? My mother's hurt me more than Eliani; I don't see you sucking her dry." I challenged, I wouldn't miss mother, and James could take care of me. Or maybe I could stay in the castle permanently.
Dorian smirked raising a fist, to spread his fingers, long nails stretched out as his veins began to force out from under his skin. In his palm he revived an excited blue flame, the fire coiling about his jagged claws and ashy flesh.
That flame alone was enough to light the attic, the boxes, my mirror, armoire, desk and, the old bureau holding most of my things became visible. The darkness retreating at it's master's command. "Who said anything about sucking anyone dry?" His tone was darkly pleased, hungering destruction.
"Dorian." I sighed, "You have no reason to do that." I ran my fingers through the haystack that was my hair. I'd been so used to feeling the soft locks, hanging around my lower back, that I was almost startled to feel it end just below my jaw.
His fist closed around the flame, ending it on contact. "They have caused you sorrow, your suffering is my suffering-and I will not be portrayed as weak." The end bit came out as a vicious snarl, Dorian's eyes gleaming red. He took another step, at this my apprehension leapt off the charts. "Please don't!" I begged my voice cracking worriedly as I reached out for him.
"Please, Dorian." My accent wasn't exactly as afraid as I was, but something had caught his eye. He turned fully on the balls of his feet, his eyes fading back into the lustrous green, narrowing intriguingly. Before I'd had the time to ask, he was already an inch away from me.
My knees buckled in surprise as I whimpered, falling back down on to the bed. "Shh." He cautioned, tilting his head to the side as if listening for something special.
Dorian nodded a fraction his hands moving like lightening over me. My gown was at my chest by the time I could comprehend what was going on.
I pulled on the thin fabric but his grasp was anything but breakable. "What are you-" Again before I could finish he'd interrupted. "Relax." He grunted, never once looking at me, the next thing I knew, he'd dropped my gown and was pushing up the sleeves.
His gaze grew into one of scrutiny, his hands moving centimetre by centimetre up my arm. Dorian growled my skin icing over with panic at the menacing thunder.
"Ow." The words were unstoppable, as I yanked my arm out of his hands. "Did that hurt?" He asked, had he not reminded himself of the things he did that caused me pain?
"Of course it did!" I hissed, rubbing my smouldering, bruise written arm. His lips twitched slightly to restrain a grin, yes, he did overlook the things he did to wound me. At that thought I remembered where exactly I'd required all these aches and pains.
I was quickly brought back to my nightmare "Sleeping with The Devil Himself! Ugh! You disgust me!" was what mother had said. No, I hadn't forgotten the other night, it was just one of the many nights that had gotten lost in the fold.
How could I be with an Undying and still be cursed with a weak stomach, bruise like a peach and be unstably emotional? This had to be one of the dozens of punishments of the Lord.
"Stop it." Shuffling into the center of my bed, I slapped his hand away as it moved in for another onslaught. The Undying couldn't bruise and they didn't feel pain, so of course Dorian wouldn't know what it's like to have a fresh bruise prodded.
"Why don't you stay?" I asked my femininity just had to barge in on us with that one. Dorian smiled weakly, a new more contented shimmer in his eyes as he looked down at me. "Your mother means to kill me and you're wanting me to stay, Analeigh?"
I nodded eagerly; if he stayed here then he'd couldn't go set Eliani and the other five girls' houses on fire. I would not have to be dragged over the coals for the murder of more people. And the rest of me, the 99 percent of me, that was the seventeen-year-old girl never wanted him to leave.
Dorian raked his fingers through his hair, sighing as he sat back down on the edge of my bed. "Now sleep." His tone was gentler, thwarted, but pleased. I smiled leaning over my legs to wrap my arms around him, Dorian following me back down into the sheets without a moment of hesitation.