Chapter 5

Blythe looked up at him, stunned. Her mouth hung open to speak, but no words came out.

“Feeder?” he asked in disbelief, while inching away from Blythe. “Y-your highness. There wasn’t a mark. I didn’t know she was–”

“Well, now, you know.” Ronan cut him off, looking down at him with a cold stare. 

He turned to the guards, his authority compelling them forward.

“And which one of you put her in chains?” he inquired, looking between the two.

“It was I.” The taller guard admitted.

Ronan’s face contorted into that of rage, his eyebrows pulled together and fist clenched before speaking up.

“Release her this instant.”

The culprit pulled out a key from his pocket, and unlocked the padlock that bound Blythe’s arms and legs. The metal chains clattered to the ground with a loud thud, giving Blythe the chance to access her wrists which were now bruised by the heavy chains.

She rubbed it to soothe the ache, while looking up at Ronan with fear and gratitude. 

After all, she had found herself in a den of lions, surrounded by creatures that could end her in a swift strike.

What Ronan did next, even Blythe herself didn’t expect.

His eyes were on Blythe the whole time. 

“Trust me,” he whispered loud enough for only her to hear.

 He walked behind her, standing in the same position the other man had stood in, then leaned forward with speed, sinking his teeth into the side of her neck.

A gasp escaped her lips as her body tensed.

Murmurs and gasps rippled through the halls like a wave as guests spoke in hushed tones amongst themselves.

The bite came in a swift motion, like a predator’s kiss upon the skin. At first, it felt like two jarring needles plunging into her flesh by a great force, before dissolving into an uncomfortable pressure. 

Blood pooled in Ronan’s mouth, dripping down from the corner of his lips. It carried a heavy metallic aroma, mixed with something sweet. The smell of copper became sharp as fear buried at the pit of her stomach seeped into her blood.

Slowly, Ronan retracted his fangs, pulling out a white handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the bloodstains away.

A burning sensation spread across her neck, causing her to clutch her neck, hissing in pain as her knees hit the ground. 

Her vision blurred as tears pooled at the corners of her eyes.

“Make it stop.”  She sobbed, clutching her neck harder. “It hurts so bad, please just make it stop. I don’t want to be part of this.”

Ronan went back in front of her, crouching down on one knee before tilting her head upwards to face him.

His eyes carried a certain softness—a type that should not be shown to one whom he had branded as a meal in his head. Her face was writhing in pain—nose scrunched and eyebrows pressed together.  

Ronan leaned forward, bringing his face close to hers. She froze with her palm still on the side of her neck, eyes wide. Her breath caught, torn between panic and a strange pull she can’t explain.

Her body remembered the pain, the sharp sting of his fangs, yet the nearness of him now felt different. 

 He didn’t stop till his lips brushed past her ears, stopping right above her arm. 

“Drop your arm,” he murmured as his cold breath fanned against her skin. “I’ll make it stop.”

At first, she clutched round it tighter, but the unbearable pain made her falter, her fingers prying off one by one till her bare skin was exposed.

Her breath hitched as he found the curve of her neck, The sudden press of his lips sent shivers down her spine as heat flushed her cheeks. His tongue glided across the pierced areas causing the surface to sting before a cooling sensation washed over her neck.

Ronan felt her shoulder sag, easing the tension. He let his lips linger there for a bit before pulling away.

Her finger reached up to graze the spot where his lips had been, before meeting his eyes. The rapid rising and falling of her chest betrayed fear and something much more. 

Heat rushed up to her cheeks, the moment she realized he hadn’t looked away. Not once.

It was then her mind registered all that had occurred, and in front of a crowd.

She turned her gaze to the ground, hoping she’d close her eyes, open them and wake up from this terrible nightmare she had found herself in.

Ronan stood to his feet, putting an outstretched arm out to Blythe, which after a second of reluctance, she took.

“As everyone knows, the king’s feeder carries the mark of a bleeding rose,” he started, his voice booming through the hall, carrying a wave of authority. “Which she now has.”

“I what?!” Blythe yelled. 

Ronan shot her a warning glare. Her eyes widened in realization before clamping her palm down on her lips.

She made a mental note to check it out in the mirror of the room she had been in.

“No excuses will be made for anyone who dares to feed on her.”

His eyes racked across the room, like he was searching for something till it landed on a maid standing in the corner with a tray of wine.

“You,” he called out, signalling for her to come forward. “Come forward.”

She placed the tray on a long dining table,keeping her eyes trained on the ground as she made her way towards him.

“Take her to the room on the east wing that has been prepared for her.” He said, nodding his head at me.

Blythe looked down at the maid who had her head bowed down the whole time she was being spoken to.  She was a younger girl who looked like she was in her early twenties.

Her eyes surveyed  the young lady’s small frame, trying to figure out if she was human or one of them till her gaze fell on her neck. A mark that resembled a bat wing was grafted at the corner. It was faint, but noticeable.

The maid looked up, catching Blythe’s eyes, before speaking.

“This way, ma’am.” she gestured with an outstretched arm.

A hand fell on Blythe’s shoulder before she could take a step forward.

It was Ronan.

He leaned over her shoulder, his hot breath fanning her ear.

“Don’t step out of your room. I can’t keep saving your ass every single second.”

She nodded her head in affirmation. He was right. She had managed to put her life in danger faster than an unmonitored baby in one night. 

“And also,” he said, his voice a tempo lower, “Don’t go about asking questions you won't like the answer to.”

This time, she didn’t say anything. A tight lipped smile was given in return, before she turned around to follow the maid.

With every step she took, the redness of her cheeks brightened as the walk to the door felt like of a humiliation ritual. All eyes were on her like a prey that was easy to read through. 

Once they were out of sight, and into the quiet hall that had a few guards watching their every move, Blythe finally asked the one question that had been on her mind.

“Um,  can phones be charged here?”

The maid stopped in her tracks, turning around and looked at Blythe like she just grew a second head.

“Well, yes and no. But mostly no.”  Her voice was sharp, bolder than it was in front of Ronan.  She continued walking, taking them towards the hallway that led to the room Blthye was locked in. “The force of magic protecting this realm is way too strong for electricity or connection to the internet. I mean, look at this place.  Coal gas for chandeliers?”

She wanted to laugh at her tone of disbelief till a word caught her attention.

“Realm? What do you mean?”

The maid paused with her fingers working the door knob. 

“Let’s not ask questions we may not like the answer to…shall we?” She said, referring to Ronan’s words earlier.

Blythe’s mouth clamped shut, following her into the room.

It was simple, but better than what Blythe had grown accustomed to in the city.

The gasolier hung heavy and unlit, catching in rays of the moonlight that filtered in. A taper holder held a single candle that stood unlit with a matchbox by its side. A single chair sat beside the bed, as if inviting her to sit and take in the view. 

She walked in and  paused at the threshold, the air carrying that crisp scent of vinegar and lavender, her pulse quickening at the thought of what this space might become. 

“If you need anything, just ring the handbell by the table.” she said, breaking her from her line of thoughts while pointing to the little golden bell that sat neatly behind a stack of books on the table. “A fresh set of pajamas are in the closet, and if you need to have your bath, quickly run to the rush room down the hall.”

“Thanks,” Blythe muttered, her eyes tarrying on the bell knowing she didn’t ever plan on using it except in cases of emergencies. “I’m Blythe by the way. You are?”

“Selene.”

She didn’t break eye contact, forcing out the question that had stayed on the tip of her tongue.

“Are you a vampire?” she blurted out, shifting uncomfortably in her spot.

“No.” Selene responded. “Goodnight, Blythe.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper, before she stepped out, shutting the door quietly behind her.

All the tension finally eased off Blythe’s shoulders the moment she was alone. 

A cold shower would do, but the events left her exhausted. She flopped onto the bed with her back, rubbing her temples every now and then.

Her mind kept drifting off to her brother every now and then, but hours later, the muffled sounds from the ceremony were drowned out the moment her eyelids became droopy.

Until…

The air shattered with a blood curling scream.

Blythe’s eyes tore open to meet the curtains held back the dawn, leaving the room steeped in shadow. Only the faint outline of the dresser and the curve of the bed broke the darkness. 

The screaming didn’t stop. Instead, another voice joined in voicing out the anguish.

Now, she had more reason to feel like something had definitely gone wrong.