บท 7: Exquisite
LUCIAN
Lucian cursed under his breath, fury seething through his veins as he stormed through the castle's corridors. The confrontation with his father still lingered, the Alpha's words cutting deep.
He burst into the stables, the darkness within a reflection of his mood. The only sound was the soft rustling of horses in their stalls.
Lucian's eyes adjusted slowly, and he made his way to Nyx's stall. His horse, sensing his approach, nickered softly.
"Don't make a fuss, I'm really not in the mood" He whispered, saddling Nyx with practiced ease.
As they left the stables, the night air enveloped them, crisp and cool. Crickets provided the only soundtrack.
Instead of heading toward the slums, where the vampire's last victim was found, Lucian guided Nyx toward the outskirts of Eastwood. A place he had discovered three years ago, a sanctuary from the kingdom's demands. The garden of poppies.
Before getting there , Lucian already knew what he'd see. The vibrant red poppies, swaying gently in the breeze, would greet him like old friends.
CARMILLA
Carmilla prepared for her night out. She leaned over Alya, who lay sleeping on their bed.
"Sleep well A, I'll be back soon" Carmilla whispered.
Alya mumbled something incoherent, her voice barely audible.
"I know, I know, chickens can't fly," Carmilla said with a soft chuckle.
Alya's eyes fluttered open, her gaze unfocused.
"C-Carmilla?" Alya stammered.
"Shh, go back to sleep. I'll be back soon," Carmilla replied.
Alya's eyes drifted shut, and Carmilla kissed her forehead.
"Be careful," Alya whispered.
"Don't wait up for me," Carmilla whispered back.
Carmilla slipped out of the house, closing the door gently behind her. As she walked, memories of her father resurfaced. His warm smile, his guiding hands. The pain of his loss still haunted her.
The streets were empty so she walked alone, her boots echoing through the empty streets. The night air was cold, a welcome change from the warmth of her home. She wrapped her hair in a messy bun, securing stray strands. Leathers replaced her usual gown, a practical choice for the freezing night.
The streets were deserted, save for the occasional tavern or inn. Carmilla navigated the alleys, her eyes adjusting to the darkness.
Suddenly, a man stumbled out of a nearby bar, his eyes locking onto Carmilla.
"Hey, sweetheart. How much for a night?" he slurred, his voice dripping with alcohol.
Carmilla snorted, continuing her walk. "More than your wife pays you to stay away from her, I'm sure," she tossed over her shoulder.
The man's face reddened, and he stumbled after her.
"Come on, whore . Name your price!" he shouted.
Carmilla turned back, her eyes flashing with annoyance.
"Tell me, does your wife know you're out here trying to buy affection? Or are you just desperate for anyone to touch you?"
The man's face darkened, and he lunged at Carmilla, grasping her left wrist.
"You think you're too good for me?" he snarled.
Carmilla twisted, her right hand connecting with his face in a sharp slap.
"Good? I'm exquisite. You're just... regrettable."
The man stumbled back, releasing her wrist.
Carmilla continued walking.
Enraged, the man chased after her, grabbing her arm and spinning her around.
"You think you can just walk away from me?" he growled.
Carmilla's knee connected with his dick, and he doubled over, gasping.
"Poor woman, marrying someone like you. She must have been blindfolded and gagged."
With a swift kick to the head, Carmilla sent the man crashing to the ground.
"And another thing, dear husband," she whispered, "your breath reeks of cheap gin and disappointment."
Carmilla stood over him, her foot pressed against his throat.
"I hope your wife enjoys the little you have to offer. Because no one else will."
She searched his pockets, retrieving a handful of silver coins.
"Thanks for the donation," she said, pocketing the coins. "You should really work on your manners... and your breath... and your entire existence."
With a final glance, Carmilla left the man groaning on the ground.
LUCIAN
Lucian arrived at the garden, the blood red poppies swaying gently in the moonlight. He slid down from Nyx. He stood quietly, inhaling the sweet fragrance of flowers and nostalgia.
Memories flooded his mind as he gazed upon the flowers. He used to come here with his mother when he was a child. She'd hold his hand, and they'd wander through the garden, laughing and playing among the flowers. The poppies were her favorite, and Lucian's too, by association.
But after he became the Zeta, Lucian stopped coming. He feared that the blood he shed would corrupt this beautiful sanctuary. The weight of his responsibilities, the lives lost, and the darkness he faced would taint the garden's purity.
Tonight, however, Lucian needed solace. The confrontation with his father had left him reeling, open...vulnerable.
He sat on the ground, the soft earth beneath him a comforting sensation. Tilting his head to the sky, he counted the stars twinkling above. Late September brought the constellation of Sagittarius, the Archer, into view.
Lucian's eyes traced the pattern of stars, his mind calming as he focused on the pattern. Memories of his mother's starry tales resurfaced. She'd lie beside him on nights like this, pointing out constellations and sharing cookies.
But that was before. Before she became the Luna, the queen, and her duties confined her to the castle.
Now, the stars remained his sole connection to those carefree nights.
He was tracing the Archer's bow when he heard rustling.
His gaze snapped to the direction of the noise. Before he could rise to his feet, he saw her.
Hands, slender and strong, emerged from the shadows. Legs, long and lithe, stepped into the moonlight.
That face, a map of elegance , tilted upward. Those lips...
Lucian's vision blurred, his senses overwhelmed. Blood roared in his ears, drowning out every other sound he had ever heard.
His heart stumbled, skipping a beat. The world narrowed, her presence suffocating and exhilarating.
Lucian's fingers dug into the earth, anchoring himself as the world tilted.
"Snowflake."
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