Nothing to do with Twilight. My story, My characters, My plot.
Vampire rules are different.
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"So are you coming in or what?" asked Margaret from further up the steps.
"No," I answered. "He's coming so I suggest you get inside."
"Oh," was her response. There was a few seconds of silence and I could still feel her behind me. "Well, I wanted to introduce you to some people," she said.
'Some people' meant vampires. I was content to sit outside on the step and wait for one big, angry, possibly violent Tristan. There was no reason for me to be an even bigger idiot and introduce myself to a coven. I took Margaret somewhere she might be relatively safe and that's as far as I was willing to go. Maybe I should even wait in the car? I thought. No, I'm not going submissive and waiting in the passenger's seat, and I don't want to piss him off more and take the driver's seat.
"Oh, come on," Margaret said and I looked up the steps for her. She wasn't there. I turned around and her face was inches from mine. I gasped. "Good, you have some sense of fear. I was starting to think you weren't knowledgeable on our abilities."
"I know what you can do," I answered simply.
"Than you know I can make you go in that house," she said, nodding at the dark manor behind me.
I glared at her. "You wouldn't," I stated, telling her that I would not enjoy it if she did.
"Yes I think I would," she said with a small smile. "Actually the odds are rather good I will. You can either walk in there on your own or I can give you a helping hand."
I stood up and walked through the large old door that the paint was peeling off of. I could feel Margaret beside me and turned to look at her. She gave me a wicked grin so I turned away. She stepped in front of me and started leading the way. I looked around the house I was in.
We walked through the door into a small hallway and Margaret started walking down it. The house was dusty and looked even older on the inside than the crumbling outside. Paintings were on the walls but most were crooked with a layer of dirt on them. This was what I had imagined a vampire house to look like. Not like Tristan's with his dark wood and leather furniture. We turned left and entered a smaller room the hallway seemed to run right through. In this room my eyes got very wide.
On the walls and spread throughout the entire room were guns and swords. In this room nothing was dusty and it looked like things were actually used. That wasn't a comforting thought.
"Margaret?" I asked. She turned around and saw that I had stopped walking.
"This is the weapons room," she said, waving her hand as if displaying it. "Of course, the guns don't actually kill us but they can be used to stall attackers. The swords can harm but not kill. Only a vampire's teeth and hands can take one of us down." She didn't elaborate on that and started walking across the room again. This time I followed.
I heard the sound of laughter up ahead and my feet nearly stopped moving. Margaret reached back without a word or even turning to look at me and took my hand. We entered a large room with large fluffy couches and chairs and in these seats were beautiful pale vampire. I fought not to throw up.
The laughter stopped abruptly when we entered, though they weren't all facing us. The ones who weren't slowly turned around with their heads positioned strangely. I swallowed when I realized they were smelling the air. There were both women and men and I would estimate about 30 of them. They were all spread out throughout the room in little groups or some individuals sat by themselves. I noticed there were quite a few couples. Men sitting back with women on their laps seemed to be a popular theme.
The silence was broken by a man who appeared in his early twenties who had two vampire women on his lap. "Margaret!" he called. "I thought you were interested in men only. But if you choose to turn to women bring more of them home, it seems you have a talent." He stared at me and I felt like hiding behind Margaret. There was a familiar hunger in his eyes.
Laughter filled the room and Margaret joined in. My mind was telling me to run and my heart and legs were fully agreeing.
"I love men still, Victor," Margaret answered him with a devilish smile. "But as you can see, she isn't mine."
She lifted our hands and the bracelet slid down my thin wrist and rested halfway down my forearm. All laughter died away. Victor's eyes widened as well as many others'.
"So this is the girl Tristan destroyed my statue for," he said, pushing the two vampires off his lap and standing up. He started walking over to us and I forced my legs to stay still.
He reached out for my hand and Margaret gave it to him, she almost had to pry my hand off hers but I reluctantly let go.
He was more attractive than most, even as a vampire. He had dark brown hair that was long and curly. He was tall but probably about 6'2" and he was well muscled.
"Tristan has never kept a human before," he said, examining the bracelet. "He definitely chose well." He looked back up at my face.
He reached up a hand and his thumb brushed along my cheekbone as he rested the cool palm against my cheek. His eyes were the same crimson as Tristan's. There was something about them though that wasn't in Tristan's eyes at all. There was a deeper hunger there beyond the glimmer I had seen before and it made me shudder. I stepped back from him and he let my hand go and dropped his own from my cheek.
There were a few seconds of silence before Margaret took my hand and pulled me around Victor. I could still feel his eyes on me as we walked around the room. I looked around me and realized most eyes were following me. Margaret led me over to a circle of vampire women. I couldn't wait until Tristan got here.
"This is Aurora," Margaret introduced me after we sat down. "Aurora this is Emily, Veronica, Eleanor, Constance, Phoebe, Jasmine, and Anne." The women all nodded towards me as their names were called out.
"She hasn't slept with him, has she?" Veronica asked Margaret. How do they know? Am I wearing a sign?
"Nope," answered Margaret with a smile in my direction.
"He can't be that good," I stated, looking around at all of them wanting someone to agree with me.
"He is," said Jasmine and the others nodded. Lovely, all of them have slept with him.
I was just going to have to come to terms with his past. There was nothing he could do to take it back. Somehow that didn't stop me from getting a little angry. Well, more than a little, but I wasn't sure if I was exactly angry with him or these women…or the situation altogether.
"Aurora," someone growled from behind me and my heart almost froze over. I knew who that someone was.
I stood up and turned around to see Tristan a few feet from me looking murderous and absolutely terrifying. I could feel the waves of anger rolling off him. I saw that most vampires had moved from their chairs to safe places beside the wall, giving him a lot of space. That did little for my confidence. I felt Margaret stand up beside me she shoved something into my hand and I didn't look away from Tristan to see what it was.
Tristan normally had the face of an earthbound angel. Now he looked as though anything that got close enough would die from his anger alone. I couldn't help but glare back at him. All the news I had received today came back to the front of my mind.
I continued to glare as I stepped around the couch I had been sitting on and walked past him. I heard him snarl behind me and I saw several vampires jump in my peripheral vision and turned around to glare at him again. He was taken aback but still enraged and he returned my glare.
"Impossible," I muttered darkly.
"I'm impossible?" he said and barked a humorless laugh. "You are the definition of impossible Aurora," he said between gritted teeth.
I scowled at him, knowing it would bother him if I didn't say anything at all.
I turned on my heel and walked out of the main room, without a word to him. I practically jogged the entire hallway. I couldn't feel Tristan behind me; he must have stayed in the room after I left. I ran out the front door and had the Mustang's key out already. I finally looked in my hand at what Margaret had put in it. It was a piece of paper with a French phone number on it. Her number I assumed.
I hopped over the door and into the driver's seat. I turned on the car and peeled out of the driveway. I knew I could find my way back to Tristan's from here and it was probably a good idea if I went straight there.
I pulled up into the driveway and turned the car off. I hoped Tristan had to get a cab. It would serve him right, I thought. I walked up the front steps and reached out for the handle. I swung the door open and slammed it shut with all my built-up frustration and turned and locked the dead bolt. I walked into the kitchen to get all the food I had bought. I was going to have a little campout in any room with a big enough lock and hopefully a door Tristan wouldn't break down. I marched into the dining room to grab a glass and dropped all the food I was holding.
Tristan was sitting in a chair he had obviously moved into the room and he had his feet propped up on the table. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was looking straight at me. I could almost see the anger boiling underneath the seemingly casual expression.
"How did you get in?" I asked in a voice that didn't give away any of my surprise and was virtually emotionless.
"I got here first," he said.
I looked him over and was half tempted to let my anger go and forgive him for lying. I loved him; it was hopeless, that only served to make me angrier at my weakness I had developed for him. I forced my feet to go over to the china cupboard. I grabbed one of the blue glasses out of it and walked back over to the food on the floor. I gathered it up in my arms and stomped off towards the stairs. There was a breeze that went by me and made my hair fly up. Tristan was at the top of the stairs.
"What are you doing?" he asked, still angry.
"Nothing," I answered.
"It is obvious you are doing something," he stated.
"Really?" I asked with mock curiosity. I reached the top of the steps. "Move."
He didn't move and I could tell he had no intention to. He was always tall but now he was even more-so standing on a step above me, it helped his intimidation factor.
"Why did you go out?" he asked.
That was a question I was hoping to avoid. The answer was something that would be classified as a stupid blonde thing; I loved my hair but I didn't need anything I did to be categorized. Besides, it was something that meant a lot more to me than my nails, it was Vic's and my cure, our tradition almost, when things weren't going right. He wouldn't understand. I turned around and headed back down the stairs. Another breeze went by and I knew when I looked up he would be at the bottom of the stairs. He was.
"Why did you go out?" he asked again.
I set all the food on the steps; it was unlikely he was going to allow me to get to a room. I was going to get by him though, not be stuck on these step until I answered. It seemed almost impossible but I checked both sides of him. He had his hand on the wall and the other hand on the banister. There was just enough room for a scrawny girl like me to duck through. I did.
Tristan had inhuman reflexes though and he turned around quickly and grabbed my ankle. I went sprawling on the floor and flipped over on my back and saw he was on his knees. I pulled my leg away hard but it really did me no good. I wasn't one to give up though and pulled harder.
"Let me go," I practically growled through my clenched jaw.
"I don't think so," he said calmly and that only fueled my anger.
He pulled me towards him and I put my palms on the floor, trying to stay far away from him, even if he had hold of my ankle. He wasn't phased at all by my attempts and soon I was pinned under him on the cold hard floor.
"I know why I'm angry but you're being irrational," he growled. "I didn't even know you existed until a couple days ago and yet you are begrudging me for two hundred years of relationships."
I attempted to knee his groin. His shifted his weight so his legs pinned mine down as well.
"That's not even the point. I shouldn't even have to explain this to you," he said, sounding exasperated. "You need to explain things to me; why did you leave the house?"
I moved my wrist around in his vice-like hand and flipped him off. He rolled his eyes.
"Do you think I'm some sort of animal?" I asked him quietly but with a lot of spite. I could be feeling hurt but no one besides myself was ever going to know that. "Do you think I'm going to sit here and rot away in this house? I have been making my own decisions and living by my own rules since I was 12 years old, Tristan. No one is going to change that."
"What do you mean? Making your own decisions since you were 12?" he asked, curiosity matching his anger.
I turned my face to the side, letting the cool smooth wood cool my cheek. I didn't want to discuss the finer points of my past with him. If he didn't feel like confiding his own life I felt no obligation to show him that trust. Even Victoria got an edited version when she asked about my childhood.
What I felt for Tristan was strong raw feelings. They could be developed but that would take time to earn trust and respect for each other. We couldn't develop that bond with one person pinning the other to the floor. I knew we were both short tempered, that was obvious. When I looked at him I saw the same undisciplined fire I knew resided in me.
I sighed. "Why did you lie?" I let the anger go, there was no point to yell and scream at him.
He didn't say anything so I turned my head so I could look up at him. He wasn't looking at me now; he had turned his attention to the graining of the wood floor.
"Maybe we should talk," he suggested.
"You're going to have to get off me first, I'm not talking to you like this," I said, pushing my wrists up against his hands and showing him I couldn't move.
His devilish grin returned and I figured it was probably the first time he had smiled since I called him on Margaret's phone. I felt a little bad about that.
"I like this position," he whispered, looking at my lips.
"I thought we were going to talk," I said helplessly, biting my bottom lip to dissuade him.
He sighed and his grin faded. He did a push up and was instantly standing over me, holding out his hand. He pulled me to my feet and led me into a room with more leather chairs. He sat down in one and pulled me into his lap.
I sighed as well. Today was mentally exhausting; I was ready to sleep and it was only early afternoon. We sat there in silence for a couple minutes; my head resting on his chest and his hand moving up and down my arm softly.
"How many people have you told you loved them?" Tristan asked quietly.
"Are we including my parents and friends?" I asked.
"No, Aurora," he said slowly and paused before continuing. "I want to know how many men you have told you loved them."
"One so far," I said with a small smile and then my tone went serious. "It's isn't something you say unless you mean it."
This seemed to be the answer he wanted because he briefly held me tighter. "So I am the only man you have ever loved?" he asked.
"Yes," I sighed.
"Thank you," he whispered in my ear, his cold breath making me shiver. He laughed softly, his arms coming around my stomach and pulling me tight.
"How many have you told?" I asked, prepping myself for disappointment.
"You," he kissed my neck. "and only you."
The smile spread across my lips slowly and I couldn't have stopped it if I had wanted to.
"Are your parents worried about you?" he asked and there was pain in his voice.
"No," I answered softly, smile fading.
He stiffened behind me. "Why would they not be worried?" he asked, confusion obvious.
"They died in a car accident when I was 11," I answered, closing my eyes. My practiced tone was impassive.
"Do you miss them?" he asked.
I sat up straight and pushed his hands away. I started to stand up but he pulled me back down. His hand grabbed my chin and he turned my head and body around to face him. His brow was furrowed in confusion and his eyes concerned. I jerked my face out of his hand and started to stand up again only to be denied.
I was too vulnerable around him to talk about my parents. I had not really cried since the day after I heard the news from my aunt and that wasn't about to change. I had shed tears but no self-pitying noise would ever again escape my lips. I had grown used to the hell that was my mind and he would have me spilling my guts and releasing the emotional flood.
"You don't have to answer that," he said quickly.
I took a few deep breaths through my nose and stopped my struggle. I nodded, keeping my eyes away from his questioning ones.
"What happened after they died?" he asked tentatively. He was still holding my hips firmly, prepared for another escape attempt.
I shrugged. "I went to live with my aunt and in a year she shipped me off to Maryland. I went to Berkley Boarding School, made some friends, had a few laughs and came to Paris," I said simply. The extremely edited version, devoid of any details.
"What did you do for fun?" he asked, oddly interested.
That was another question I didn't want to answer, but not because it would cause an emotional upheaval on my part. I glanced at him nervously. Should I mention there was a neighboring all-boys school—considering that was the source of most of my 'fun'? He noticed my glance.
"What?" he asked with an evil smile. "You can't have done something bad now could you?" He gave me a look that clearly stated he thought I had but was amused by it.
"I drank a bit of course…" I started but left it hanging.
"Is that all?" he asked after awhile. He looked a tad bit disappointed in me.
"Yep," I said, too quickly.
"You're lying," he stated, his face going blank.
"Like you haven't lied to me?" I asked, desperate to turn the conversation. He recognized what I was trying to do and decided to persist.
"Did you do drugs?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.
"Yes," I sighed. No.
"Had you done anything with men," he asked. Shit…
I tried to stand up again. That didn't work. After a few moments of pointless struggling on my part and mounting suspicion on his face, I stopped. I opened my mouth to change the subject but he cut me off.
"Don't lie," he said with a hard look on his angelic features. "I'll know."
"I doubt it. I'm very good," I said with a wicked grin of my own. He's going to ask me what I've done with boys anyway, might as well correct him, I thought. "I lied to you about doing drugs. I've never done them, there are different types of highs I find more enjoyable." I winked at him.
He looked at me for a few seconds before nodding. "So, what had you done with men?" he asked again. He looked a little more serious this time.
"Camion Boys Academy was a neighboring school and my best friend Victoria and I were very good at sneaking out," I started, smiling at memories. It felt like those times were a completely different world. We were so young and wild. Victoria was wilder but I was only a step or two behind her in everything she did. She never pressured me into anything; I was always willingly beside her…always.
"Which one was Victoria?" he asked softly, rubbing my back briefly.
I turned to him with a smile. Remember the good times, I told myself. It only hurts if you remember the end of the fairytale.
I laughed shakily as my own saying come to mind: 'There are no happy endings. The stories with happy endings haven't truly ended yet'.
Somebody always dies first. Who died first in Snow White Was it the Prince or Snow White? Did Snow White watch the one she loved die or was it her who left the Prince to suffer?
"She was the one with pink hair," I said in hollow tones. My smile was still in place like it should be but I knew there was no warmth to it.
"You snuck out often?" he asked, not commenting on my behavior.
"Since the day Vic turned 13," I said, a true smile coming now. "That was a fun night."
"What did you do?" he asked as I rested my head back on his chest. His arms encircled me around the middle and I felt safe there. Although, one more question about my feelings and I was going to punch him.
"That was the first night I got completely drunk," I said. "Whiskey… it burned and made a fizzing noise in your mouth. It was terrible, but we kept drinking it for some god-forsaken reason. And, well, that was a night for a lot of firsts. Victoria slept with Miles and I kissed Johny."
I felt him stiffen but he relaxed quickly.
"Your best friend had sex when she was 13?" he asked slowly, every word coming out between pauses.
"Yeah," I said another smile coming to my face. "She was reckless and carefree in every way. She didn't think after she did something and never considered consequences… that was because I was always there to get her out. I wasn't kidding when I said I was a good liar. I could come up with alibis on the spot and the best ways to pretend you're sober. You couldn't find two people in the dean's office more than us."
"I find it hard to believe you haven't had sex," he stated, grumbling as if he was annoyed. "You're very… attractive and if I was anywhere near you when you were intoxicated…well most men would…" he trailed off, flustered.
"I'm a tease," I said seriously. I was always in denial about any danger I could be in as Vic often told me. "You're not speaking with Miss Innocent, most boys are satisfied and don't try to go for the whole thing after I'm done. There are certain idiots who try but Vic was like a bodyguard for me. One wrong move and she almost insured them they wouldn't have children," I laughed.
He flipped me around and looked me in the eye. He was angry again; he looked very beautiful, even when he was mad. His dark blonde hair was falling into his eyes that were set in the young 19 year old face. Damn…
"What exactly have you done?" he was serious this time, no round-about stories.
"Making out, hand jobs, up the shirt, down the pants," I said quickly. "I respected my body enough not to have sex like all my friends."
"Barely," he said.
He glared at me and I could tell he was getting jealous. His quick temper was going to kick in any second.
"You have had sex with an entire coven of women so you can't hold that against me," I said, my eyes daring him to deny it.
"Aurora," he growled. "I'm over two hundred years old, I can do that. You're only sixteen, you're just a…" He stopped himself but I could tell what he was going to say.
"I am not a child," I said, I stood up too fast for him to stop me. I was backing away from him. "I have raised myself since I was 12 years old and I have sat through my parent's funerals." I screamed the last part, pointing in the air. "I watched my best friends, the only people I had left, get murdered."
The tears were flowing now and I couldn't stop them. Tristan was looking at me and he realized his mistake, he stood up and I backed farther away motioning that I didn't want him anywhere near me. "Do not ever call me a child," I whispered and walked out the room.
I stormed out of the room and walked into a different one. When I looked up my throat closed and I couldn't breathe. This was the room. My back slammed up against the wall and I slid down it silently. My eyes were wide and fixed on the couch. The tears had stopped and my body had started shaking. My chest felt constricted and when I finally drew in a breath it was gasped and strained.
"No," I gasped.
"Aurora, I…" Tristan said as he walked into the room.
His eyes were wide and they darted to me. He dropped down and scooped me up in his arms and ran out of the room.
The image of Victoria dieing was fixed in my mind. It broke the part of me that was fighting to keep it out. When I looked up I saw that couch, but no Victoria. My friends perished in a room of the house I was living in…
Please Review! I know this was kind of a depressing chapter and there wont be anymore of these I don't think. Well, Aurora finally is dealing with the emotions she has repressed for awhile. She is going to have to learn to cope and when she does the relationship with her and Tristan will get much stronger.
Syd
