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Chapter 11: Transformation

Beaux nearly pummeled through the doors of his chateau when he arrived, not stopping to throw off his overcoat or wipe the soles of his mud-stained shoes. Upon slamming the wall, the doors and their frail, crystal, sunburst windows complained with a loud bang! The marble tiles squeaked with discomfort as his filthy footprints impressed a grimy image on their spotless surfaces.

Beaux, however, was only concerned with locating Meliah. What had he done to her? Beaux thought angrily as he followed a familiar scent down the corridor toward the dining hall.

A high, sparkling laughter rang through the corridor, and Beaux broke into a run. Meliah!

The doors leading to the dining hall were ajar, but Beaux stopped. He could hear every word as though he was sitting right next to her.

"You can not possibly be!" Meliah exclaimed incredulously to a handsome gentleman sitting directly across from her at a formal table. Clearly, he was not a day over thirty. Her voice was melodious as she continued, "You are far too young! "

Beaux's heart fluttered when he say her – eyes bright with curiosity and hands clapped together as though she had just heard the brunt of some wonderful joke. Meliah tossed her head, allowing her long curls to swing back. They caught the light of the chandelier and glowed lavishly against her peachy skin. Had Beaux been human, he would have suffocated; she knocked him breathless – even from such a distance.

The man sitting with Meliah smiled, his eyes becoming crescents behind a set of dark lashes. He traced the edge of his teacup with a smooth, white finger. He answered softy, "I was young when I married his mother. She was younger, of course."

"Is that so?" Meliah asked cautiously. There was an edge in her tone that indicated her discomfort; the man had seemed somewhat offended by her comment. She instantly withdrew from the conversation and pulled upright in her seat – her body rigid. Beaux's frustration increased when he saw her eyes turn stoic and a small frown crease her brow.

But the man's smile only grew wider. He stopped toying with his teacup and placed his beautiful head, which had somewhat of a sharp aspect, on the palm of his propped hand, cupping his right jaw. He playfully cocked his head to the side, letting his long, straight, white-blonde hair slide from his shoulders and unto the varnished plane of tabletop. Meliah did not make eye contact with him, although his piercing green ones appraised her.

"Why is he so infatuated with you?" the gentleman asked with a strange mixture of amazement and amusement.

"Excuse me?" Meliah asked with a small jump of surprise. Her irises expanded to capture the confusion permeating her small face. The man chuckled softly as he got out of his chair. Tucking a feathery strand of hair behind his left ear, he began walking around the table towards her.

"I wondered for the longest time, you know," he began softly as though in deep thought, "why my son was so obsessed with this girl. Yes, and I mean obsessed. You should have heard some of his pathetic soliloquies! It was extremely unhealthy for him to be pining over some child. But imagine, a simple, normal, average girl at that!"

Meliah looked down and blushed crimson with shame. Beaux could her eyes forming cataracts with a watery film of tears. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply to stop herself, but Beaux saw a strand of transparent liquid slip from beneath her pink eyelids. Despite his desire to comfort her, his feet remained immobile.

The other man reached Meliah's side. With a fluid motion, he stooped to her eye level and gently brushed away the tear stain. She looked at him, bewildered by his passive touch.

"But now I think I know," the man breathed, "There is something very alluring about you. I cannot identify it -" He paused to stroke her hair. "-But it's there."

The man flashed a dazzling smile, and Beaux watched her fall captive to his searing gaze.

Meliah's mouth opened in a futile attempt to speak. But the man seemed preoccupied; he looked suspiciously at the open door, and Beaux stepped back instinctively.

"Beaux," the man called, "Come say 'hello.'"

Meliah's head jerked in the same direction, and Beaux found little choice but to go inside.

"Hello," Beaux said sheepishly with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Beaux," Meliah murmured. Her unveiled relief to see him brought Beaux to his senses. He glowered at the man relentlessly.

"Wonderful timing," the man said with a content nod, "I was just telling Miss Meliah here-"

"Vincent," Beaux cut in dangerously, "What are you doing here?"

The man's smile did not falter for a moment, but it had become a malicious sneer. "I thought we were over formalities," Vincent commented, "It's been a while. Why hold grudges? They're petty, trivial, and meaningless! No matter what happens I'm still your father."

Beaux's face was devoid of any emotion. His lips barely moved when he spoke, "Please leave."

"Is that any way to treat your father?" Vincent cried in sarcastic shock.

"I'm not in the mood to play your games!" Beaux snapped.

Vincent rolled his eyes and leaned over to Meliah in mock pout. "And we were having such a nice chat," he started. He tenderly pulled Meliah's hand toward his lips and gave her a courteous peck on the palm. Meliah blushed and bit her lower lip in uncertainty.

"Don't touch her!" Beaux bellowed at Vincent, and he regretted it instantly. Meliah's eyes darted toward Beaux in alarm; she had never heard him raise his voice before.

Vincent backed off, but he did not appear intimidated in any way.

"Oh come, we were just talking," Vincent said nonchalantly.

"Just leave," Beaux said firmly. He closed his eyes and tried to force a breath through his clenched teeth.

"I'm afraid I can't do that son. I have something important to…discuss."

Beaux ignored him and rushed to Meliah, obsequiously checking her temperature and pulse.

"Are you all right?" Beaux inquired. He searched her face with the acidic green eyes he had so evidently inherited from his father.

"I'm fine," Meliah answered while trying to hide the fact that she was trembling unnaturally.

"What's wrong?" Beaux asked. Panic crept into his voice upon seeing her. Meliah's face had a strange tinge – like a pale, ghastly green.

It happened so rapidly and unexpectedly. After a shuddering breath, Meliah gasped terribly with her eyes wild with pain and suddenly lost consciousness. She fell forward before Beaux could stop her, and her head hit the table with a thud.

Beaux was taken aback in terror. Even in his desperation, it took him a minute to recover and move her carefully to a sofa in the parlor. She draped across the sofa's curvy form like a blanket – heavy and resigned.

"That worked out better than I expected," Vincent said lightheartedly from behind him.

Without a second thought, Beaux spun around and viciously attempted to attack Vincent, but it to no avail. Vincent was simply too fast and too experienced to be hindered by the assaults of a young vampire like Beaux. After two minutes, Beaux forfeited reluctantly.

"What did you do?!" Beaux choked through a frustrated cry.

"She has only fainted," Vincent assured, "But whether she remains alive is strictly up to you." He walked toward Meliah's unconscious form and delicately touched her neck. Beaux's body was seized by presentiment. There was something destructively pernicious in Vincent's smoldering gaze.

And his confirmations were confirmed. Vincent swiftly tore her skin with his sharp nails – so deeply that blood began to pour from the wound like a bubbling spring.

Beaux was petrified at the sight. He had not eaten for weeks. The smell of blood was already overpowering him and drowning his other senses. And it was Meliah's smell. So sweet. So irresistible…

Beaux found himself shaking with desire and he licked his lips impulsively (a reaction he sickened at the thought of). Not her! His soul screamed. But what good was his soul when it was the body that controlled him?

Before he could lose his sanity, Beaux flew to the door.

"My nails were coated with venom," Vincent said quietly, "If you are quick you could draw it out."

Beaux came to an abrupt stop. "Venom?" he repeated stupidly. He fell to knees in horror; his body was beyond his control. His nails and fangs were elongating.

I cannot do it! He thought hopelessly. I will kill her. I will not stop. I will not be able to stop. And she will die!

"A human," Vincent murmured in disgust as he indifferently pulled a lock of dark brown hair forward from behind her ear; he let it drop unceremoniously in the sticky blood. "Like mother like child."

But Beaux could not hear anything for his own heart was pounding like a mad drum in his chest. He looked at Meliah's neck - ripped open and streaming red. The blood soiled her beautiful grey dress, spreading through the fabric like blossoming petals.

He could not do it, but if he did not… The second prospect frightened him even more.

He crawled to her side, trying not to breathe in the scent. But it was as though his pores were inhaling. His skin was on fire.

With a pair of trembling hands, Beaux held Meliah's paling face. He closed his eyes, inwardly quailing at the sight of her marred body.

Slowly, he pressed his puckered lips to her neck. He could not trust himself to draw the damaged blood any other way. Perhaps if he just sucked out the poison, he could leave her unscathed.

But when he tasted the blood, his self control was dissipated. He automatically bit into her neck and began satiating his thirst like a monster.

The thick liquid, brilliantly scarlet against Meliah's white skin, slid down Beaux's throat easily – more easily than he would have preferred. The sensation was amazing, wonderful, incredible; it was unlike any feeding Beaux had ever experienced. Perhaps it was because Meliah's blood meant so much to him. Each drop he tasted was a thrust of ecstasy in his body.

Vampire lovers often exchanged blood to confirm their passions. Beaux had to admit this was nothing short of a romantic encounter. His body was writhing and twisting uncontrollably as he became increasingly aggressive, pulling her limp body closer and adjusting his stranglehold.

His frantic heartbeats were replaced by perturbed growls as the blood flow became strained. It was so delicious! It was pure, sweet, free of extraneous substances, and… free of extraneous substances. The thought revolved like a marquee in his mind.

There was no venom.

Beaux choked on the latest gulp of blood, but his mouth refused to spit it out. His eyes were leaking with tears; he was disgusted with himself. By failing to protect the girl he loved, by allowing his physical need supercede his reason… He had proved he was not in the least human.

The revelation had broken his thirst, which would have otherwise been unstoppable. His hands pulled away from Meliah tremulously. He could not bear to look at her.

Unfortunately, he caught a glimpse of her drained body – gaunt and white – as he turned away. He collapsed on the floor, sobbing brokenly and panting for oxygen.

He was too exhausted to fulminate at Vincent, who watched him amusedly from beginning to end without blinking.

"She's still alive," Vincent finally broke the silence.

The thought drew Beaux out of his self-pity. Indeed, Meliah's breathing was shallow but certainly existent. His relief could not be explained in words.

He pulled her gently into his arms, quietly apologizing to her sleeping form, and placed her body in his bed upstairs.