Page 5 of The Pureblood Princess
She removes her plum cloak and hastily checks the mirror to ensure there are no leaves or twigs tangled up in her loose hair. As it happens, one small leaf did indeed hitch a ride back to the estate, and she quickly plucks it out and tosses it from the open window a moment before a light knock sounds on the door.
Impeccable timing, she thinks, schooling her expression before turning toward the door.
“Come in.”
Her lady’s maid, Amélie, enters the room, her curly hair pulled up and off her neck, her pink lips tipped into a smile.
“Good morning, miss. You’re up bright and early.” Amélie curtsies low, then moves toward the bed to begin her morning chores, chatting all the while. “Clan Kazamir has arrived. They’re getting settled now and will join the family for brunch in the dining room. I’m sure they’re very much looking forward to meeting you.”
“And I them,” Nadia says, trying and failing to communicate enthusiasm. The only thing she can scrounge up excitement for is watching Honora walk out the door and never come back.
Though Nadia knows she shouldn’t stare, she can’t help but to watch Amélie as she works, thinking all the while of Rose. She thought the young woman was her friend, even her confidante, but her cruel words in the Gray foyer still ring in Nadia’s head.
“Lord Gray wouldn’t trust just anyone with a vampire child. Someone had to keep an eye on you.”
The disdain in Rose’s voice—thedisgust—still cuts deep, opening a wound that has yet to heal. Her whole life was a lie, and most of the people around her knew it. It’s a betrayal that has dug in its claws and refuses to let go.
Once Amélie has finished making up the bed, she turns to Nadia, and her face shifts, her nose wrinkling delicately as a cool breeze dances through the open window.
“Oh my,” she says, her cheeks flushing pink as her gaze sweeps up and down Nadia’s body.
Nadia reaches for her hair, hoping she didn’t miss anything. “What is it?”
“I don’t wish to overstep, miss.” She turns her gaze away shyly and begins busying herself tidying Nadia’s vanity.
Nadia draws herself up. “You must tell me. Come now, Amélie. What’s the matter?”
The lady’s maid seems to struggle for a moment longer, then finally lets loose with it. “I may only be a half blood, but even I can smell the lovemaking on you, miss.”
Nadia’s cheeks flare with heat, and she’s struck momentarily speechless. She never even thought to worry about the smell, concerned as she was with navigating the halls unseen, expecting Honora to appear at any moment with her smirking lips and cruel blue eyes.
Curse these vampire senses.
“Thank you for telling me,” she says, trying to keep the embarrassment from her tone. “Perhaps I should bathe before taking brunch with the Kazamirs.”
“A wise choice, miss,” Amélie says with a smile. “I’ll have a tub brought up at once. Before bathing, would you like to drink?”
Every morning, Amélie offers her blood to Nadia, and every morning, Nadia turns her down. The family has assured her it is nothing to be ashamed of; on the contrary, half bloods take great pride in serving pureblood families, both with their skillsandtheir blood. Theodore is the only one she’s yet drunk from, but she’s parched from their early ride and subsequent activities, and perhaps it would be wise to sate herself before she’ll be expected to greet the Kazamirs with a congenial smile.
“Are you quite sure?” Nadia says quietly, almost bashfully, her gaze going to Amélie’s throat. The breeze caresses the downy hairs at the nape of the maid’s neck, beckoning Nadia from across the room. She licks her lips, allowing herself to imagine what Amélie’s blood might taste like. It would be delicately sweet, surely, and perhaps lighter than Theodore’s. She has no way of knowing for sure, but the more she considers it, the harder the temptation becomes to resist.
Amélie beams with excitement and quickly abandons tidying the vanity to take a seat on the bed. “Of course, miss. I’d be honored. My blood is yours.” A rosy blush touches her cheeks, and she folds her hands in her lap as peacefully as if she were enjoying a sunny spot in a quiet garden.
Still unsure of herself, Nadia takes one hesitant step forward. Amélie’s sweet scent—so unlike Theodore’s—swirls in the air, but now there’s something more potent in it. Excitement? Desire? She’s not yet learned how to distinguish such scents from one another.
Before Nadia can get control of herself, she’s moved across the room in the blink of an eye and takes a seat beside her maid.It’s the first time she’s moved at such speed without meaning to. Theodore has been trying to teach her, but having spent such time in a weakened body, her natural tendencies haven’t returned to her as quickly as he may have hoped.
“Well done,” Amélie says, seeming surprised at Nadia’s sudden speed. “You’re coming into yourself more each day, miss.”
Nadia can’t bring herself to say anything, transfixed as she’s become by the fluttering pulse in Amélie’s neck.
The maid reaches up and unbuttons the top few clasps on her dress, then slips the collar and sleeve down, exposing her throat, clavicle, and shoulder. Her skin is sandy brown, and a constellation of silvery scars stretches across her neck. Nadia can’t count the number of marks there, and as she reaches out to trace a finger across Amélie’s skin, an aching begins in her gums.
Amélie shivers beneath Nadia’s light touch, and the response—so vulnerable, sohelpless—awakens Nadia’s inner predator. Her fingers, previously trailing delicately across Amélie’s neck, wrap around one side of her throat, and she tips the maid’s head back. Leaning forward, Nadia inhales Amélie’s delicious scent, and then she plunges her fangs into her neck.
The maid lets out a small squeak, and her muscles go rigid, but as Nadia starts to drink, Amélie relaxes beneath her touch. Her body becomes softer, suppler. It’s as if she melts into Nadia’s arms, becoming heavy with languor.
Nadia wraps her free arm around Amélie’s body and holds her firmly as she drinks, keeping the maid from falling to the bed.
