The Undeserving Mate

Wayne

Croaks and subtle howls trail the echoing jingles of Temple bells as I sit on the chilly ground, under the canopy of shady trees in Lucerne’s wintry Garden.

I hug my knees to my chest and stare up at the dull, starless sky, a large furry coat draping over my shoulders with charge to shield me from the hands of an arctic night, though it does not perform its best since I am still shivering beneath its thickness.

Is it the wee hours? I never know. Yet, I am certain about the Goosebumps that creep upon my skin when a dark, sharp-eyed feline leaps, out of nowhere, into the space before me.

I stiffen and stare wide-eyed at the animal for closely twelve seconds, my mind registering what is about to transpire in the next tick. It hisses, and then growls, tail lashing as pupils dilate in preparation for its ensuing attack.

I dare not move even when the Cat’s fiery eyes burn on my figure, and I give no further reaction despite the fact that I may not escape this fiery furry thing uninjured. Yet, when it hops from its position, posing to land on me, a single deafening shriek rips out of my mouth, echoing in the strident night as I whack the air, my feet stomping the innocent ground. It takes me a few more frenzy seconds to realize what an illusion really is.

For nearly ten days, I have been in virtual hell when I am to deal with dreams that hold cruel artifice. The last one had a masked caramel-skinned maiden in form fitting jumpsuit standing closely in front and muttering words that seemed irrelevant.

‘Bear this warning or come with me,’ her low, potent, and accentuated voice reverberated as she stretched her right hand to me, and I slowly shook my head, my brows puckering at the strange feeling I had about me.

When she took her hand down, my gaze settled on her exposed eyes—a pair of upturned, flaring orbs and gray irises that gave me the feeling of staring into the eyes of a reborn mythical being. Her aura left me stiff to my bones. It was cold and intoxicating, slowly choking the very life out through my lungs.

‘You mayn’t hold the capacity to impede fate, yet you never want to be the end of loved ones,’ she rumbled before I sensed her strong grip on my left shoulder. Sharp ache spread through my guts when I felt a cold blade pierce my flesh, and I jerked, the maiden earning a throaty gasp as she let me descend to my knees.

‘You even dare not to evade a woman, talk more of a man as you are. It just proves how deep weakness has sunk in your vessels but you fail to realize.’ She forced those words through gritting teeth, golden loops flashing around her steely irises as she gradually moved backwards.

In the next blink, my sealing eyes saw the woman no more. She had disappeared from my sight and then it felt like I encountered no one at all. Even when I looked down at my panging stomach, there was no blade or sign of a wound in the least. Yet, I had woken with a twinge that morning, just the same as I awake with perspiration pooling over my forehead now.

I sense a presence and my eyes turn toward the entrance to see Damien leaning against the closed door, his hands folded across his stomach as he watches me with an uncertain expression.

Often, I imagine that an audacious Damien has more height than a furious one. The fellow is either of these two sides from time to time. Yet now, he looks tall, lean and maintaining hard facial features—a look fit for an impulsive Vampire. His silver, shoulder-length hair stays swept in a neat ponytail, his muscular figure entirely buried within a floor-favoring, ultramarine robe.

He pushes himself from the door, his hands still crossed as he saunters toward the shelf at the foot of my bed, perching on the study table beside it. “Can’t sleep?” He mumbles after a moment of calm, his voice deep and indifferent, and his accent dull.

I shove the duvet aside and sit up, my feet sliding down the bed to touch the porcelain floor. I feel my mane brush to the side of my face. Tousled damp strands nearly block my sight and I pull at them, deep in thought.

Even as it seems as an illusion, I can still feel the prickles from the Cat’s clawing on my flesh, my lungs sore and my heart pounding heavily from the swift moment of fright.

Damien draws my attention with a cough. He has a wonky smile as his gaze steadies on me. This is his usual expression when the words that would pass his lips turn out as thorns to my eardrums, and I hope that they will stay sealed. “I can’t help but relish your look of vulnerability,” he states as he shifts his weight to a leg.

He seems to hate me, maybe for my weak flaws. One minute he poses to care, but his next action often makes me feel dreadful. I have no way of defending myself either. I am never the talking type, and I surely know better than to engage him in a fight. Still, I always have Lucerne, the firstborn of our father. He is the kind sort of person, the only one who shields me from the talons of my Vampire brother.