Call Of The Dark

Emma's face paled when his sharp and piercing red eyes that promised murder, fell on her face. He was so tall that she had to crane her neck up to see him. He exuded a powerful aura that instinctively made people around him submit to him.

He was wearing a black silk shirt with black leather pants. A black fur cape was thrown across his shoulders. His pale blond hair was pulled in a bun at the back highlighting his features. His high cheekbones were so sharp that they could cut glass. His bow shaped lips were full and red. She couldn't help noticing his square jaw that eased into the thick column of his neck. A muscle feathered in his jaw when she stared at him without blinking. Gold speckles flickered in his irises, mesmerizing her.

Heat coiled up in her belly and her toes curled. Her lips parted and instead of feeling fear, she felt… attracted.

Immediately shoving those strange feelings away, she bowed to him, ending their staring contest.

"Prince Lazarus, this is my daughter, Emmelyn," her father introduced her.

Emma's eyes widened. Goddess! Prince Lazarus?

Lore's most ruthless vampire.

True heir to the throne of Wilyra.

Emma shivered under his gaze. Her fight and flight instincts took over and flight dominated it. She wanted to pick up her gown and run as far away as possible from him because he was known to show no mercy to his foes. And Emma was the daughter of the biggest foe of Wilyra, Drogo, the head of the rebels.

As Prince Lazarus continued to stare at her, his men who had filled the room finalized the deal. From the corner of her eye, she saw that they took her father's thumb print on a scroll. Her father was handed a few bags of coins that jingled her doom. "The deal is done, my lord," said the man who seemed closest to him.

"Get her to the carriage," said Lazarus in a deep voice and turned on his heels to go back.

Emma couldn't budge from her place, feeling as if her feet had grown roots. Her mother kissed her and poked her elbow for her to move. "Go Emma," she said. When she didn't move, Avice held her hand and dragged her out of the house.

"Thank God, she is leaving," her father said and didn't even come out to see her off.

​ A royal carriage was waiting for her in which Lazarus was already sitting. There were several horses standing along with soldiers, one of whom was carrying the royal flag. Vampires. They all had pale faces and most had dull-red eyes.

Emma noticed the same coachman who had warned her yesterday, was holding the door open. So she had encountered the prince yesterday?

The coachman gave her an encouraging smile to sit inside but Emma looked back again at her mother and peered towards the door of the house to see if her father came back, but he hadn't. "Please mother—"

"Enough, Emma!" Avice hissed and pushed her towards the carriage. "Don't be so selfish!"

Stomach gnawing inside, Emma stepped inside the carriage. The palace was a long ride from here being located on the north of the kingdom amongst the vampire's stronghold where not a bird breached, where everywhere one could only see snow.

The coachman shut the door, sealing her fate. She sat on the black leather cushioned bench opposite to the vampire prince. So close to him, fear gripped her heart like a vise. Emma clutched her gown in her lap when the carriage started, moving to the farthest corner. When she looked up, she saw the prince had reclined back, his eyes closed. Tense silence descended.

As the carriage rolled, silence engulfed the space. She had many questions but Emma couldn't muster enough courage to give voice to her questions.

She didn't know how long the carriage drove, but the man in front of her was dead quiet, perhaps sleeping. She shivered as icy fingers of dread scraped at the back of her neck.

Soon the cold became unbearable. She crossed her arms to stop her teeth from chattering. She gazed at him, examining him, when suddenly, he opened his eyes and caught her studying him. She blushed and lowered her gaze.

Untying the strings of his fur cape, he handed it to her. "Wear it," he said and closed his eyes again. Though surprised by his gesture, Emma couldn't help the temptation to stay warm. She wrapped the fur and its warmth around her.

She must have slept in its warmth because she woke up with a jolt. The carriage had stopped. There was a commotion outside, as if metal clanking against metal. "Have we reached?" she asked him, but he placed his finger on his lips, motioning her to stay quiet.

Lazarus leaned towards her and turned his face left to her ear. Emma's blood rushed to her cheeks when his hot breath fell on her neck and his intoxicating cedar and spicy scent surrounded her. "Stay inside the carriage. Don't step out."

"W—why?" she asked.

"I think my bastard brothers have attacked. I will be back in a few minutes." Lazarus withdrew, inhaling sharply next to her and then in one swift motion, opened the door of the carriage and disappeared into night. The carriage moved with a jerk and halted again.

In the distance, a scream rang out. "What is going on?" she asked someone, anyone. An agonized yell sounded and she jumped in her seat. A jarring sound of blast fueled her fears. She heard a guttural bellow, "Where is he? I can't see him!" A while later, she heard a bloodcurdling scream. Someone in the close vicinity of the carriage begged, "Please spare me Prince Lazarus. Have merc—!" But his pleas were cut off by a gurgling sound.

Left in the dark carriage, Emma started to hyperventilate. She clutched the front of the fur cape with one hand. Cold sweat broke on her face.

This was her chance to get away from her impending fate and disappear.