Noctuary: Noc"tu*a*ry\ (?; 135), n. [L. noctu by night.] A record of what passes in the night
Thank you to all the reviewers, as always! I love each and every one of them! Keep reading, hope you enjoy this chapter.
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The hallway leading down to the library was littered with paintings of people from a different time, a more elegant time. Eva traced her hand over one painting in particular depicting Eric and another man. The two were posed neatly, their stances natural and easy. The unknown man sat casually in a chair, his arm bent at the elbow and hand propped up on his knee. His irises were a deep, timeless brown that was almost indistinguishable from the pupil. Eric loomed behind him, standing so much taller with one large hand on the man's shoulder. Eric's other hand was tucked lazily behind his back. His hair was longer, almost to his shoulders and on his pretty bowed lips was a small smirk.
The painting made Eric out to be someone who was more than just a bloodthirsty shadow of the night. It made him a man with a past and a man with memories that stretched back further than several generations of her own family. She removed her hand from the smooth frame, letting only her eyes trace over the sweeping, lifelike brush strokes. It was hard to believe that Eric's face, his chiseled face, had remained so perfect for so long but the proof was right before her eyes. Here he was, staring back at her from an era long gone, forgotten by many because no human now lived who remember it.
Sighing and finally taking her eyes away from the painting, Eva resumed her walk down the hallway to the library. Even before she pulled the large double doors open, she could smell the musty, aged scent of the pages and she smiled with anticipation. As the doors fell shut behind her and the light from the chandelier spilled into the room like a golden river, Eva's mouth popped open in awe. The library was even grander than anything she had ever imagined and she had bee letting her imagination run wild on a pretty large scale.
The room was two stories, a balcony of finely crafted wooden spindles separating the floors. Books lined the walls in a complete circle that went from the right of threshold she stood in to the left. Cracked, aged leather couches and wing-backed chairs were spread throughout the lower level, over the slightly faded Persian rug that protected the beautiful wooden floors. There was a cozy sitting area arranged in front of a huge fireplace, framed in ornately hand carved wood. Chiseled carefully into the wood were dozens upon dozens of perfectly sculpted roses, frozen in their highly polished mahogany prison, beautiful and bloomed for all time.
As she ran her fingers over the spines of works by Thoreau, Dickenson, Hemmingway, and Shakespeare, she thought there was no place she'd rather be. Finally deciding on Interview with the Vampire, she curled up in a leather chair next to the fireplace, content.
The only way she knew that time had come and gone was by the sound of the gonging of an old grandfather clock across the room. It was now six in the evening, a half an hour before Eric woke up. Grudgingly, she uncurled herself from her position in the leather chair and set the book aside on the table next to the chair. Her joints popped at the sudden movement but warmed quickly as she strode over to the door. Before she left, she turned her head back toward the library and ran her eyes over the shelves and shelves of books, fearing she'd never have the pleasure of being lost in its wonder again.
Reluctantly, Eva pulled the doors shut and headed toward a flight of stairs to her left. She wasn't sure where she was going, but up seemed as good a direction as any. Like everything in Eric's palace, the staircase was fine and beautiful. This staircase was different than the main staircase in that it was dark and dimly lit by small lights hanging underneath the paintings.
The rooms at the top of the flight of stairs were open but darkening due to the sun disappearing beneath the horizon and Eva noticed all the doors were open except for one.
Two, large double doors shut off the room at the end of the hall. They weren't as grand or tall as the library doors, but they stood out from the other, plainer doors in the narrow hall. Eva couldn't stop herself; it was like a magnetic pull toward the doors. Her feet travelled forward without her consent and soon, she had pushed open one of the doors and slipped inside.
As she shut the door silently behind her, she was entombed by a bluish darkness that was surprisingly easy to see through. She had expected a darker room, but she seemed to be having no trouble seeing through the darkness. As she turned around slowly, her nose picked up on a strangely familiar scent that hung heavily in the air around her. The smell on the clothes alone was manageable because it was contained and eventually faded to the point where it was no longer distracting. The smell in this room was concentrated, not diluted by any other outside smell and it filled her with lust and contentment.
Fully turning around so that her back was to the door, Eva looked around, her eyes coming to rest on the expensive bureau, carelessly left open exposing a neat line of finely tailored clothes. To the right of the bureau was a couch and a couple of chairs, all leather and dark in color. The windows were concealed by heavy chocolate curtains, drawn tightly together to prevent any light from entering and suddenly, Eva knew exactly where she had wandered. Her eyes shot over to the giant bed, coming to rest on Eric's silent, sleeping form.
He looked so oddly human, so still and silent. He slept on his stomach; the covers low slung on his hips, revealing his strong, alabaster back. The darkness of the room made his skin shimmer in a strange but mesmerizing way and the muscles that lay dormant underneath that skin were clearly defined. His sleeping face was turned toward Eva and he breathed evenly. His long, toned arms were bent at the elbow, framing his face like a picture of how a God would look in slumber.
She felt a pang of guilt shoot through her for watching him sleep. He was so open and susceptible to danger, so unaware of her eyes roaming over his body. Her cheeks reddened with quilt as she turned away toward the door to leave. When she did, instead of seeing the dark wood of the door, she saw a white, marble chest. A small cry of surprise escaped her lips as two strong hands came down on her upper arms. His fingers were firm as they dug into her skin in a way that would definitely leave bruises. Still guilty, she kept her eyes downcast, focusing on both his and her own matching bare feet. Eric stayed quiet for a moment and the only noise in the room was the irregular thumping of her racing heart and her quick breathing. She could feel his ice blue eyes on her with exactly the same pressure as his fingers were digging into her arms. It was almost enough to drive her insane.
"Look at me, Evalina," Eric murmured, his voice smooth and silken as he willed her eyes up to his. Eventually Eva raised her head to look up, way up, at him. Her head was almost all the way back on her neck and he seemed amused that she was so small. His eyes were even more stunning than she remembered from last night. They were pale; a stark contrast against his blacker than night pupils, and there was no ring around his irises so the light blue seemed to leak into the whites of his eyes. "What are you doing in my room, Evalina?" Eric asked, his tone playful and purring seductively. Eva found herself at a loss for words until pain bloomed across her upper arms where Eric's fingertips still reigned supreme over her circulation.
"You're hurting me," Eva pointed out, her voice stubbornly firm and Eric's amusement only heightened, but he loosened his grip just slightly. "Thank you," Eva sniffed, nodding her head once for effect. She kept her mouth shut, hoping he would forget he ever asked her a question, but the look in his eyes told her he was searching for the answer. She looked away and apparently down was her go to direction because she dropped her eyes downward faster than he could speak again. When she did, a lovely sight greeted her eyes. Eric wore nothing but a pair of black briefs- of course- and his muscles literally rippled against the elastic band.
"Evalina." Eric's smooth voice snapped her back from her appreciation of his newly awakened form. When their eyes met, he looked so playful she thought his next move was tackling her to the bed and tickling her until she cried. "I won't ask you again," Eric cooed, bringing his face so close to Eva's that their noses almost touched. So much for personal space. She opened her mouth to say something but closed it again. What was she going to say? 'I was just wandering around your house and poking my head into rooms I shouldn't.'
"You're door was shut." It sounded more like a question and Eric's lips actually lifted into a smile. He released her arms and Eva breathed again, reaching up to rub the spot where his fingers had been as Eric walked across the room.
"There's a reason doors are shut," Eric purred, looking back over his bare shoulder at her and pushing his rumpled blonde hair out of his eyes. Eva pivoted near the door and faced him. He glided over to his bureau and pulled out a pair of dark jeans and a black v-neck shirt. Before she could see what happened, the lights flicked on and Eric was fully dressed, in front of her once again. He stood still and stared into her eyes for a long, silent moment before stepping forward. He was pleasantly surprised when she firmly stood her ground, unbothered by the physical proximity.
"What's making you so sad, Evalina?" Because she hadn't been expecting such a personal, blunt question, her mind immediately jumped to the core of her sadness, the heart of her sorrow, and all the dams she had secured crumbled in her surprise. Eric didn't miss the way her face went from hesitant fascination to unbridled agony and at that moment, he felt her rush of emotion. Thanks to the bond they now shared, her every feeling was thrust upon him, something he had always been able to easily ignore with others. But her emotion was simply unlike anything he'd ever felt, or something he hadn't felt in hundreds of years. It momentarily incapacitated him, causing him to stumble forward very subtly. Then, as her emotions crossed over from consuming sadness to concern for him, he felt nothing.
Her hands on his arms were warm, soothingly so, and she wrapped her dainty fingers around what part of his bicep they could manage. His head was bent down so close to her head that his stray blonde hairs got lost under her ebony mane. Her curls spilled over her shoulders and onto his arms and hands. The sensation against his skin was distracting to say the very least.
His brief episode had allowed her to push all her emotions back behind a makeshift wall for the time being. There was still a lump in her throat that always preceded a storm of tears, but she ignored it.
"Eric," she whispered and his ice blue eyes connected with hers, intense and prodding like he was reading her mind.
"Tell me," he breathed, his voice slightly accented from an unknown culture. His face was so close to hers that she could feel his breath on her cheeks, blowing back rogue strands of hair. He watched intently as her black eyebrows pulled together and felt her small hands tighten around his biceps. He was excited to see the embodiment of her building anger and she didn't disappoint.
Her flawless cheeks flushed a pretty pink color that reminded him of a freshly bloomed carnation and her plush, bowed lips pursed into a harsh line. The strange, pewter color of her eyes hardened into a stony fury and she narrowed them so she was staring at him through dark slits lined by two rows of thick, black lashes. Her face was even more beautiful in anger, if that was at all possible.
"Why does it matter to you? Why do you care?" she hissed, her voice low and acidic. Eric watched her, trying to control his urge to smile at her anger as she worked herself up. "Why would it matter to you that my parents, my brothers, my sister, are dead? Why do you care?" The words tumbled from her mouth like a gush of water through a crack. The pressure was released in one quick rush that left her eyes watering and her body slack. Eric reached out to grab her before her body hit the ground. She looked down at his chest, putting her palm where his heart rested, still and silent. He felt the softness of her touch and the all consuming, heaviness of her deep-rooted sorrow, but this time he was prepared to bear the burden.
"You don't understand," she whispered, her eyes rising to look into his. His arms were wrapped securely around her and she was curled into the left side of him, her hand still gentle on his chest. "You don't understand how it feels to have your heart break, but how could you? It's still and lifeless," she said, her tone slightly envious of his stone heart.
Eric stayed quiet as Eva pulled herself together. Little did she know that Eric could feel every pang of jealousy she felt, every moment of endless worry or fear. It was all there for him to explore as e chose. Had she known, she would have done a better job reining her emotions in.
Eventually, Eva's small hand slid away from Eric's heart, leaving the sweetest warm sensation in its wake. He was almost sorry to lose the source of heat. Eva took a shaky breath, closing her eyes. Eric could almost feel her stitching up the ripped seams inside of her.
"I'm…so sorry." He heard Eva whisper her apology very slowly, as if the realization of her sentence had just registered. Her eyes remained glued on his sturdy chest, wide and unseeing. "I didn't mean to sound so cruel," she hummed, her voice heavy with remorse. She glanced up at his eyes and felt relief when he stared down at her with that same amusement he always looked at her with.
Slowly, so as not to disturb the calm that had finally settled over her, Eric righted her tiny body so she was standing on her own. She took a step backwards as he set her down gently and smoothed out her shirt. Eric watched and smiled down at her.
"My clothes become you," he purred seductively, as if the only thing he thought about the clothes was how much better they would look on the ground. Eva ran her hands slowly over the front of the shirt, watching as his eyes followed the trail and smiled.
"Thank you, by the way," Eva said, her gratefulness extending beyond just the clothes. She knew Eric understood because he nodded his head slightly, running his eyes up and down her exposed legs.
"You'll have to come with me tonight," Eric told her suddenly, his glacial blue eyes rising to hers. She didn't know if he was being deliberately vague or not, but she had no idea what he wanted. Her confusion was clear on her face. "To the bar. I have business to tend to," Eric clarified. A sickening fear gripped her stomach painfully as she remembered last night's events at the bar. Her emotions translated quickly to him and he cracked an arrogant smile. "Don't worry, my little teacup human, as long as you're with me, you're safe," Eric soothed in a velvet voice. Her fear died down at the logic behind his words and she saw him lean closer, bending over a great deal to bring his face level with hers. "I hope that one unfortunate experience won't put you off vampires forever," he breathed, his ice blue eyes melting into hers and she felt her heart stutter in her chest. She narrowed her dusty pewter eyes at him and brought her face as close to his as she could without actually kissing him.
"We'll see," she murmured and one of Eric's blonde eyebrows rose in interest. Eric's smile was almost paralyzing as it flashed across his face like the most stunning white-hot bolt of lightening. He jerked his head slowly at the door, a motion telling her to go and make herself presentable. He didn't have to say it; she knew what he wanted.
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-Kate