Chapter 6: Sweet and bitter

 “I assume that the plastic stationary bag you’re keeping so close to you contains the writings of the novel you’re working on?” Nicholas asked after about an hour of silence in the car.

I gazed at the bag and then nodded.

“Let me guess…” he said before leaning in a little closer towards me, his lips so close to mine all I could do was stare at them as he spoke, “you write horror?”

I gazed up at him and searched his eyes for a moment as I contemplated whether to answer or not. Behind his nonchalance, I could sense some sort of subtle playfulness. It was refreshing and for a moment I lost myself in it.

“Why would you assume that? Does something about me scream ‘horror novelist’?” I asked before folding my arms.

He stayed silent for a moment and just stared at me, the beautiful grey of his eyes drawing me into their intensity.

“No… not at all. If I look at you, truly look at you, you seem like the type of person to write about something you’re passionate about,” he then leaned back a little and I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. “So, Ariya, what are you passionate about?”

The words began to leave my mouth before I could hold them back, “When I was younger, I used to fantasize about what my life would be like if humans were free and left to make their own decisions and be in control of their own lives. So, I’d write about it. Eventually the fairly vivid fantasy turned into a seven-hundred-page novel about a girl’s adventurous journey of self-discovery and growth based off of what she experiences, observes and learns throughout the various outrageous situations she faces throughout her lifetime. It has everything you could hope for, adventures beyond your wildest imagination, horrors, mysteries, riddles, cursed and rare artifacts and even romance. Although it was a book written based off of my imagination of freedom and adventure out there in the world, it’s a book for anyone and everyone to read and experience. All I’ve ever wanted was for people to take the words that I write and turn it into something that’s completely theirs based off of their imagination. I want my novel to be an escape from reality. It should unlock a place in the reader’s mind that’s completely theirs, a world of their own.” By the time I’d finished speaking, I realised that I’d spoken more than I had planned to and so I became a little self- conscious and cleared my throat nervously.

“I’ve never heard someone so passionate before. I’ve come across many dreamers in my lifetime… but none as full of determination and purpose as you are,” he said. It was at this point that I made the grave mistake of looking up into his eyes. The look within them had my breath caught in my throat. They were still grey and deathly calm, but now they had a glint of something strange behind them. Admiration.

“Could I perhaps read what you’ve written? I know you and Ophelia agreed that she would publish the novel under a penname since the works of humans are seldom published and sold… but I’d like to read it before then. I believe it would give me a better understanding of you.”

And if I thought I was caught off guard by the look in his eyes, his words almost sent me into a state of shock. I hadn’t expected him to want to read my book and so I struggled to come up with an answer. There was no harm in letting him read what I’d written, but there was something about it that made me feel a little uncomfortable. I had no trouble in telling him what my novel was about but letting him read it himself was something else entirely. And so, the only answer I could come up with was an uncertain and insincere, “maybe”.

***

The funniest part of our journey was our arrival at the golden gates of Zestonia. The guards didn’t stop us and ask us for our papers. Instead, they let us drive right through.

Zestonia was much bigger than it had seemed earlier on, and the deeper within it we went, the more beautiful it became. There were large, modern houses, even larger vintage themed mansions with the most beautiful gardens I’d ever seen. Expensive cars were parked in lavish driveways over which hung canopies made of vines and flowers and fruit. Even the people were different. They were dressed up in the latest fashion, decorated in some of the most expressive jewels. The entire place just oozed with an almost suffocating sense of opulence and expensive extravagance. I was enthralled and in awe of each house, person and car we passed by on the road.

After about an hour and a half of driving through Zestonia, we finally made it to Nicholas’ home. It was much grander than I’d ever imagined it to be and when I saw it, a shocked gasp left my lips. The property was fenced off with intricately woven fences of what seemed to be long, rounded strips of gold. Even the gate, which had beautiful swirls of circular patterns, was made entirely of gold. On each side of the gate stood a guard. The one on the left had bright red hair wound up in tight curls and his intense green eyes searched the car as we came to a stop before the grand gates. He then turned towards the other guard, a young woman with long, dark hair which hung in her face, framing her sharp and petite features. He gave a thumbs up and then she began to open the gates. Once they were open, both she and the other guard returned to their posts, patiently waiting for us to pass. Inside the gates to Nicholas’ home was a beautiful stone path upon which we drove.  On either side of this stone path, luscious green lawn spanned for as far as my eyes could see. Placed on large white pedestals were massive, grand statues. I counted a total of four. There were two on the left and two on the right. There was a brass statue of a tree which was decorated with leaves made of thin pieces of steel, each painted in a colour of either red, orange or yellow. Then, right behind it was a brass tree with nothing on it at all. Its branches were naked and twisted sharply. Across from it was another brass tree, this one had its branches decorated with pieces of metal fashioned and folded into small pink and white blossoms. Then across from it, the final brass tree. This one had all of its metallic leaves coloured in bright green and here and there hung heavy ripened fruit. The four seasons, I concluded.  Surrounding all of these statues were hedges of rose bushes which had been trimmed neatly to form a border surrounding the pedestals of these statues. All of the roses were a pale pinkish colour. Then, in the far distance I could make out a small body of water, a pond perhaps. It was surrounded by reeds, within which birds had formed their little nests. I even imagined that there were fish and tadpoles swimming around in the water as well.

The car stopped near the entrance of Nicholas’ house, and I could now take a closer look at it. The walls were painted in a soft shade of grey and towards the black stone roof tiles, it was bordered with intricate stone patterns. Blue-grey marble steps led to the front door which was made of mahogany. The top of the door curved into a crescent shape, into which small glass panels were fitted, each covered in black steel pieces which twisted into floral shapes. On either side of the doors grew neat wisteria vines which spanned across most of the walls as well.

When we exited the car, I was greeted by a strong, pleasant floral scent. It was a mix of the faint scent of wisteria, jasmine, rose and other sweet, flowery scents I couldn’t quite pinpoint. I assumed that there was still more plant life to be discovered on Nicholas’ property and wondered if I’d have the time to explore more of his yard later. I silently relished in the thought of being away from him- though my body protested against it- and losing myself in the greenery and flowers that I was surrounded by.

Lovita and Floran began to unpack my bags from the car while Nicholas led me to the front door. He didn’t even have to knock for it to be opened for him. Standing to the side of the door was a middle-aged man dressed neatly in a black suit. His dark hair was slicked back, and he had a bright smile on his face and a friendly, welcoming look in his blue eyes.

“Welcome back Master,” he said. Then his eyes landed on me. “I see you’ve brought a guest?”

Nicholas nodded. “This young woman is Ariya…” he then paused and glanced down at me, “I don’t believe I got your last name.”

“My brother and I both took Ophelia’s surname,” I said.

“So that would make you Ariya Raine.”

I nodded.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Raine. My name is Jasper Yule. Will you be staying here for a short period of time, or should I organise you a room with the rest of the servants?” he asked politely, already well aware that I was nowhere near lycan-kind. It was a sort of sixth sense humans had, one which allowed us to tell the difference between us and them. I was about to answer him and tell him that I’d like nothing more than to stay with the rest of the servants, especially if it meant being far away from Nicholas. Nicholas, however, felt the need to answer for me.

“No, she will not be staying with the servants. Prepare the guest bedroom for her, the one next to mine,” he said sternly.

Jasper tried his best to mask his confusion and shock, but unfortunately, he wasn’t too good at hiding what he felt. Then again, neither was I.

“I think I’d prefer to stay with the servants, King Nicholas!” I exclaimed loudly, only startling Jasper even more.

Nicholas tried his best to keep his composure as he turned towards me and said, “No, you will stay as close to me as possible. Jasper set up the guestroom!”

With that the King sent Jasper away to set the room up. Despite this, I continued to argue.

“Over my dead body! Can’t you see how much I can’t stand you? Being close to you is suffocating.”

And this was where his composure slipped. But unlike the small slip ups he’d had previously; this one was something entirely different.

He let out a low growl and clenched his fists. Then he swiftly took a hold of my hands and moved me towards the wall, pinning my hands up against them. He wasn’t harsh or violent, dare I say he was careful not to hurt me at all. It was the strangest mixture of gentle and forceful that I’d ever experienced. I couldn’t say that I was afraid. Startled, perhaps, but not afraid. In fact, my body practically relaxed in his touch as though it knew that I was not in danger. My mind, however approached and analysed the situation more cautiously. I stared up into his eyes as I tried to decipher the emotion filling them. He was upset and clearly annoyed, but there was something else as well, something that almost overpowered his frustration.

Excitement?

It was hard for me to believe, but that was exactly what glinted in his eyes. It was a sense of untapped, unfamiliar and curious excitement which swirled in his grey eyes. I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t used to the feeling either… or rather that he wasn’t used to feeling much in general because amongst his excitement I could sense the subtlety of confusion and uncertainty.

“Why can’t you play nice for once in your life? This is my first day of knowing you and you’ve done nothing but defy me every step of the way while all I’m trying to do is not let you get killed. Do you enjoy tormenting me?” As he spoke, I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin. It made me shiver as a surge of strange excitement pulsed through me. I could even feel the intense heat radiating from his body and an almost tingling sensation beginning to emit from where he was touching me. Although my body blindly fell into the trap of enjoying every moment of our close proximity my mind still stood its ground.  But his question did make me think. Tormenting him was an absolute pleasure for me I unashamedly enjoyed defying him. But I now wondered if I was not the only one who enjoyed my acts of defiance. Though it would be strange to think that he actually liked arguing with me and so I chose to dismiss the thought, but I did so half-heartedly.

His eyes soon began to take in more of my face and then they landed on my lips. I had no idea why, but when they did, my heart began to beat faster in my chest and a feeling of sweet and bitter anticipation began to grab a hold of me. But what was I expecting from him? I didn’t have the answer to this question until my eyes found his lips too. It was a dangerous answer and one which I was much too afraid to acknowledge or act on. But it seemed Nicholas was not, because in the next moment, he began to lean in. And as he did, his breath felt hotter against my skin and his lips were so close to mine that they could have been pressed against his with one quick movement.  He moved in, even closer, his breath even warmer. I closed my eyes, practically shaking in anticipation, waiting for his lips to touch mine.