The Scent Of Blood

Sasha

“Is His Grace angry with me?” I asked Ariel, who was trying to fix my dress on the bed behind my chair, while another woman was trying to help me with my makeup and hair.

“Oh, don’t worry. He is always like that. It has nothing to do with you.” She waves it off as nothing, but something is wrong. He didn’t seem happy to see me; there’s no way a person can also be so angry.

“Really? I am just nervous. I can’t…” I paused, sighing heavily.

“Don’t worry. You will be fine.”

“I don’t even know what is expected of me. All I know is I am going to this event,” I complained. I don’t like going to places without knowing what to expect. It never ends well for me.

“I’m sorry, Sasha. I wish I knew, but I have never attended one,” Ariel apologized, coming closer to me, and placing her hands on my shoulders.

“You will be fine. Don’t worry,” she assures me when a message comes on my phone. I frown, trying to make sense of what’s written.

“What does it say?” I lift it to Ariel so she can read it for me.

“He wants you to go to his office once you are done here,” she throws over her shoulder, lifting the dress for me. I stare at the sleeveless light blue dress.

“Is there something I can put on top? Like a sweater or something?” I ask, and she raises her brows in question. I can’t tell her it’s because of the scars I carry on my back. I need to think of something.

Fast.

“I get cold fast, so I would like to be prepared,” I lie, and she nods, going to get me a white sweater.

“I will get changed, then be back.” I quickly take the dress and sweater from her and then quickly rush into the bathroom. I don’t waste getting dressed, and once I am done, the ladies help me finish up everything before I head to His Grace’s office, which is on the first floor.

As I stride there, I keep thinking about what could go wrong. I hated being called to the office. It never ends well for me. As I pass through the corridors heading to his office, I can’t help but notice people giving me pitiful looks.

Taking a deep breath, I stand in front of the door. For my freedom, I am going to do this. He promised to let me go after I gave him that, so I am going to do that. I knock twice and then wait for a moment to pass before pushing the door open.

I stride into the office, my eyes peering around the room. “Your Grace?” I call him when I find him standing by the window, staring into space, like I found him the other night.

I slowly stride towards him, my steps slow and deliberate. “Your Grace?”

No response.

I lifted my hand hesitantly, wanting to tap his shoulder. His words replay in my mind, thinking of what he said the day he brought me here. ‘Never touch me first’

My hand hovers over his shoulder, my chest tightens, and something twists in me.

“Your Grace—” Before I could finish my sentence, he spun on his heel, grabbing my wrist. My heart thumps so hard, making me want to jump, but I hold his gaze. His eyes have darkened, and his lower lip is trembling.

“Your Grace”

“You,” A throaty, low growl comes. My heart races so fast, my lips twitching as I stare into his eyes. He tightens his grip on my wrist. He bares his teeth at me, his canines have elongated, and his claws are slowly coming out. It’s like I am looking into an empty soul.

His eyes are empty.

“Your Grace, it’s me… Sasha… Please…” I stuttered, tears filling my eyes. He closes the gap between us, and I step back.

 I will not die.

Not today.

I didn’t survive all these years to be killed by a man who just promised me freedom. I refuse it.

“You don’t want to hurt me. I know.” I whisper to him, my voice cracking when I say that. I don’t know where my courage came from.

He groans.

“Please…” I plead,

His claws dig into my wrist, and tears fall from my eyes.

I knew it. Nothing good ever comes from being called into offices. He grunts. Grabbing my sweater, then pulling me into him.

“Please,” my voice finally breaks, heart racing so fast. The room feels so cold, and my chest tightens. Closing my eyes, I let the tears roll down my cheeks.

At least I finally wore a pretty dress that complemented my eyes. I smile at myself at the ridiculous thought.

“Your blood…” he growls, eyes fixed on the crimson line across my wrist. He lifts my hand to his nose, inhaling sharply. A low, almost primal moan escapes his lips as his eyes darken with an intense, predatory hunger.

It sent a shiver down my spine, my heart racing as the room suddenly felt unbearably hot. The air thickens, and I struggle to breathe, every nerve on edge.