Page 21 of Crimson Devotion
Her long, slender fingers splay all over my lower stomach, her nose buried in the crook of my neck, right where the mark from her teeth is. She inhales deeply, her other hand moving to my wrist. She doesn’t speak, nor move. Instead, she simply smells me, her chest moving up and down against my back.
Then, a small click breaks the cloud of haze, and I’m returned to reality when Ophelia steps back. I glance down, noticing the golden bracelet wrapped around my wrist. I lift myhand toward the sunlight again, and nothing happens. It doesn’t burn.
“You’ve had one of these all along?”
I turn to face her, and she’s leaning against the wall. She’s wearing a deep navy-blue suit. The pants are tailored to her size, yet not too tight on her body. She has a white dress shirt on, buttoned up to her neck, with a matching blue vest on top. A pair of gold earrings dangle from her earlobes, and a few matching rings adorn her fingers.
Her beautiful dark hair is pulled into a low ponytail, two strands framing her face perfectly. A coat of light pink blush is blended onto her cheeks, bringing back warmth, a perfect contrast to her pale skin.
“It’s not mine,’’ she responds.
Her eyes dip down to my chest, to the dress as a whole, and I suddenly feel self-conscious. She’s looking at me like I’m her next prey, which is so ironic, given that I’m the hunter here. Well, was.
For a while, all she does is stare at my chest. She barely blinks, soaking in the sight. If I could blush, I think I’d be the same shade as her eyes, and it only now hits me how provocative the dress might seem.
“You look good in my clothes, little hunter,’’ she murmurs, voice lowering. I have to close my eyes for a moment before I do something irrational, and by the time I’ve opened them, she’s standing right in front of me. “Although, next time, feel free to take a pair of shoes, too.’’
I swallow thickly, the tension around us palpable. With a deep breath, I decide to redirect the conversation, because I’m getting too close to doing something I might regret.
“If you’ve had the bracelet all this time, why haven’t you used it while yours was lost?”
Ophelia chuckles at the topic change, but doesn’t comment on it. “I didn’t have any reason to. No human dares to setfoot in here. Well, they rarely do. Valerio always brings me blood, and living in nature, away from all the chaos, is rather liberating.’’
“Didn’t you ever, like…get bored?”
“Sure I did, but you cannot tell me you also didn’t get bored from time to time while living in the big city.’’
That clamps my mouth shut. I step back and, surprisingly, Ophelia keeps the distance between us.
“Fine,’’ I sigh.
Without another word, I turn on my heel and continue walking down the corridor. The sound of her heels echoes, bouncing off the walls loudly, and she’s not shy at trying to follow me. In fact, she’s slowly speeding up, getting closer.
“Where are you going?”
“Just exploring,’’ I say. “Why? Is it forbidden?”
She chuckles. “No, but there’s nothing over there.’’
“What?”
“It’s a dead end. The castle is filled with them. I’ll give you a proper tour.’’
I pause, debating whether to take her up on the offer. Eventually, the desire to explore these ancient walls wins, and now, I’m the one silently trailing behind her. She’s leading me through a mass of corridors, down a flight of stairs, until we reach a pair of double wooden doors.
They resemble the ones of the library, but the design is what separates the two. Where the ones of the library have a maze carved out all around, these just have a lot of initials engraved, and they were clearly handwritten.
I decide not to ask for specifics and follow Ophelia into the room, taking in my surroundings.
It’s a massive living room. There’s a fireplace on the left, and it’s bigger than any I’ve seen before. The bricks are in a dirty white color, the corners tainted with years’ worth of dust. It’s giving it the vintage look many people these days try to imitate.Above the fireplace is a big map, though it’s clearly too old for me to know which period it’s from.
There are multiple dark bookshelves on the walls, filled with ancient texts that I’ve never seen before. In the middle of the room are two big couches, plush with red cushions. The edges are sprayed with golden details, and there’s a matching small table in the center.
However, what captures my attention is the massive portrait on the wall behind one of the couches. It’s taking up the entire wall, from side to side, and it’s detailed in a way only a human hand could ever draw.
“Those are my siblings and I,’’ Ophelia says, appearing to stand next to me. She’s looking at the portrait almost fondly, nostalgia overtaking her features. Slowly, I force my eyes away, turning them back to the portrait.
Ophelia sits on the chair, hands on her lap. Her back is straightened, her posture flawless. She’s wearing a floor-length gown and gold jewelry. Her hair is curled into loose waves, and there’s not a single hint of a smile on her face. But the artist managed to capture the essence of her perfectly.
