Page 3 of Roses for the Damned

T he smell of incense was strong when she finally came to her senses. Lifting her lids, she slowly took in her surroundings.

A grand nave with ten spans reached as far as the eye could see, with elaborate rib vaults and towering columns with pillars, arches, and pilasters creating harmony and a sense of grandeur, the sight so splendid that Rose’s heart stuttered in her chest.

Magnificent Gothic-stained glass windows decorated the walls, while a twelve-piped wooden great organ, a choir and high altar stood at the core of the structure. Awe-inspiring artistic masterpieces and intricately carved lines embellished the stone, the occasional candle casting eerie shadows onto the walls.

Bats of all sizes flew across the open space, the beat of their wings like a calming lullaby in the otherwise silent building.

I’m in a cathedral.

Movement caught her eye.

She jolted up, pain lashing through her as her muscles screamed. Her gut ached, head throbbing, but surprisingly less than before. Heart pounding, pressing, squeezing, until she was sure it would explode–run, hide, save yourself! it seemed to shout.

A pair of black eyes shone in the dark, halting her rising panic. They seemed to be focused on Rose, observing her in her little dark corner.

Sudden warmth burst in her as she stared back, spreading from her core to the end of her toes and fingers, wrapping its delicious grip around her until she no longer felt afraid, until all she could think of was the pulsing between her thighs.

What the hell is wrong with me? She must be going crazy, the trauma to her head surely having dislodged a few sane brain cells. There was no other explanation to her sudden and inexplicable state of arousal, especially not after what she had just been through.

The undeniable feeling of being watched caused the hairs on her neck to stand on end. Ever so slowly, Rose stood then hurriedly went to cover herself when she remembered her torn clothes, only to realize that she was no longer half-naked. A shirt of some sort was draped around her, its buttons clumsily buttoned up, as if being done in a hurry.

“Wha–” her words lodged in her throat, shocked anew when her pristine clean skin came into view. No blood dripped down her thigh, no dirt covered her limbs, the abrasions and cuts covered with some type of salve, their appearance less severe.

Someone must have tended to her while she had slept, the horrors of the past hour wiped away with all the grime.

“They will heal in a few days.”

Her head snapped up at the voice from the shadows. It was the same one that Rose had heard before drifting off to unconsciousness.

“It’s you,” she braved, no longer afraid, “you’re the one that came to my rescue.” Silence. “What did you do to him?” She swallowed. “Did you kill him?”

Nothing, and then, “No.”

Relief and disappointment swept through her – relief, that no one had died because of her, and disappointment, because that bastard had survived when he should have been rotting in the ground.

“You seem troubled,” the voice came again, this time nearer, as if whoever it belonged to had moved closer to her. A bat flew overhead, getting almost tangled in her hair.

She shook her head, eyes darting around, fists clenching at her sides in anger. “I don’t know how to feel.” Lie. “He deserved to die, to suffer the worst that Hell has to offer, but–”

“But you still pity him,” it muttered low by her ear, jolting Rose into awareness.

“Where are you?” she spun around, “Come out, show yourself.”

“That would not be wise.”

Light flickered around her, the shadows dancing on the walls, goosebumps erupting over her skin as she stood frozen in place, her heart frantic.

“Please,” she reached forward, “you–you saved my life. I wish to see you.” A chorus of shrieks rang out as the hall erupted with bats.

Eyes like obsidian appeared before her first, two bottomless pits of night as she stared into them, unable to look away, as if hypnotized. Shoulders so wide they seemed to go on forever followed next, her fingers lightly grazing the sturdy chest as the creature fully stepped out of the shadows.

She gasped, waiting for the panic, for the paralyzing fear to strike her, but none came. Instead, she shamelessly stared.

Its face was perfection, so defined, as if sculpted from the finest onyx colored marble. Lips lush, plump, begging to be bitten and sucked dry. Dark stubble matching the long ebony locks framed its face, while a pair of elongated spiraled horns adorned the top of its head.

A pair of massive bat-like wings loomed behind this thing, the countless dark veins like a map along the membranes that Rose’s fingers itched to trace. Powerful arms with elongated claws on its humanoid fingers caused her mind to race with endless possibilities. What they could do, how they would feel – on her, in her, gripping, pulling, pumping.

I’m fucking insane.

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