Call Of The Dark

Emma got up from her place with her limbs shaking. She couldn't believe what the prince just confirmed. She had fallen from a valley into an abyss. If her life at home with her stepmother was bad, her remaining life in the Wilyra Palace was going to be horrible. She didn't know if fate could be so cruel to her. She mumbled something incoherent and then swayed, as blackness engulfed her. She heard a loud grunt and before she hit the ground, strong arms held her. Before she succumbed to the darkness, she saw those red eyes again.

"I am cursed…" she murmured. "I am cursed…" She peeled open her gummy eyes and saw a crimson canopy overhead. It was all too dark. Cold hands pressed on her forehead.

"Emma?" a deep and soothing voice came. She was lifted from the pillows and someone pressed cool metal of glass against her lips. She drank sweet liquid, probably fresh orange juice. She was again helped to lie back on her pillows.

"Father…" she muttered. "Come back… Red eyes…" And blackness surrounded her again.

Several hours later, a noise stirred her from her sleep. She was on her side, wrapped in silk blankets. The fire in the hearth cast a soft buttery glow around the room. It was pitch dark beyond the windows. A dull headache had formed and she was about to place her hand on her forehead when she saw a dark silhouette against the glow of fire. She narrowed her eyes to see who that was only to find her prince Lazarus sitting on a chair.

His hair was disheveled and there were purple circles beneath his eyes. His tunic was open from the front, revealing his broad chest that had a fine dusting of pale blond hair in the center. One hand was on the armrest while the other was holding a glass of amber liquid. And he was staring at her. With a scowl on his face.

She should have felt fear, but all she felt was anger.

He growled, "Being the prince of Wilyra, I have a lot of work to do rather than babysit a mortal. You must take care of yourself!" He sipped whiskey and muttered, "Bloody weak hearted mortals!"

"Work? You mean you have to get your kingdom back? With Maeve's help?" She tried to deny the fact that when he kissed Maeve, she felt… jealous. No. It couldn't be. She felt disgusted.

"Do you ask useless questions all the time?"

"Don't you ever answer questions?" she snapped and that made him growl at her. "If Maeve is so important to you, why are you here and why not with her?"

"To make sure that you don't fall down every time you walk."

"Why are you so concerned about me?"

He sipped his whiskey. He had no answer as to why he was concerned about her. When she swayed and was about to fall on the ground, his instincts made him trace to her in that instant and he grabbed her in his arms. He clenched his jaws to stop the panic that was radiating in his body. He leaned forward and growled, "I am not concerned about you. I am only concerned that you don't injure yourself till the ritual. Which means that I have to look after your body."

"My body?" Emma couldn't help feeling that he was just like other men.

"Besides, this palace is full of my enemies. They would happily harm you or Maeve just to get back at me."

"You mean they would harm me or Maeve?"

"Both of you!" he grunted. "But Maeve is a goddess. She can take care of her easily. And you?" he sneered. "You are a mortal who can be easily snapped into two by any of them. So you better stay in here only."

Emma looked away from him exhaling loudly, hoping to reduce her anger. She would have formed a plan to run away from the palace easily, maybe even hoodwink the vampires but how was she going to take care of the wall that Maeve had created around the palace so that she couldn't escape. "I don't have anything with me. What about my clothes?"

He pointed to a door. "That leads to your closet. I have ensured that you are fully clothed and every one of your necessities is taken care of."

Her eyes widened. He had thought so much about her. "I hope everything fits me."

Lazarus smirked at her. "Well, I think it would be a nice level up for you, peasant. Everything inside that closet is according to royal standards."

Emma narrowed her eyes at him for the way he was insulting her. "Maybe, you should also find a tailor to sew your head according to royal standards!" she snapped.

Lazarus was on her in a second. He placed both his hands beside her head as he glowered at her from his vantage point. Grasping her jaw, he said, "You speak too much, Emma. Behave." In the next moment just to show what he had done and how much he had bought, he grabbed her waist, yanked her up and he traced her to the closet that he was pointing at earlier.

Emma coughed as the mist around her dissipated. She kept her head buried in his shoulders to avoid the rise of bile she had experienced the last time. She took a deep breath of his cedar and spicy smell as she clutched his neck with her hands. Something funny happened. Delightful electric shivers ran down her body and she stifled a gasp. She stared into his red eyes and didn't say anything for a long time, feeling… mesmerized. The golden speckles behind the irises danced like stars. She swallowed her saliva.

"Will you stop it?" she said hoarsely. "I hate this!"

After he felt that she was fine, he set her on her feet but didn't leave her waist, lest she would fall. "Look at all this," he grated, not liking how his body was responding to his mate. His muscles strained under her touch. He wanted to protect her but—