When the marquis' impatient gaze swept over them, the girls couldn't help holding their breaths and hope for the improbable. Oh, but could it be? Could the most powerful vampire in the world possibly be here...to acquire a pet of his own?
A moment later, however, the marquis had swung his back to the crowd, and the girls could only sigh in disappointment as they watched him stalk in the direction of the school's graveyard.
Indifferent to the amount of attention he was attracting, Mihail worked hard to rein his temper in even as his lips tightened in resolute displeasure. Her scent had changed, he thought broodingly, and in such a way that he absolutely did not approve of.
Still in her trail, he soon found himself going down a stony pathway that weaved through marble tombstones and grave markers in the shape of angels and gargoyles. That Rhapsody seemed to favor spending her leisure time at a place where the dead slept, he didn't give a damn. That her scent, however, was now tainted...
Damn her.
His mood grew blacker, and he deliberately allowed his footsteps grow ominously heavy. He wanted her to know he was coming. Wanted—-
Mihail's steps came into an abrupt halt the moment she finally came into view.
Rhapsody.
His pet and heartkeeper, in the flesh, and white-hot desire struck him like a fucking flash of lightning at his first glimpse of her. His groin had tightened to the point of agonizing pleasure, and his mind had gone completely blank, all thoughts of reprimanding her completely buried under an almost excruciating sense of need.
His hungry gaze ran over her sylph-like form even as he had to clench his fists against the most basic and savage desire to jerk her into his arms and fuck her then and there.
Mother of Hell, but she was perfect.
Long, sable-black hair that seemed made for his fingers to grip. Creamy, ivory skin that appeared to beg for his marks, and an exquisite form of slenderness that would be a challenge for him not to break as his thick, hard cock ruined her pussy.
Her beauty was tormentingly exquisite; she was everything he secretly fantasized her to be, and her voice, once it came out, was also every fucking thing Mihail had imagined. Lace-soft and hauntingly serene, it was the sound of unawakened sensuality hidden under a provocative cloak of propriety as he heard her speak for the very first time.
"Master."
Just one word, and Mihail already knew.
He would still let her go as planned...but not before claiming her maidenhood for himself.
RHAPSODY WATCHED THE marquis stride towards her. This was her first time to see him in the flesh, and even without an aid of photographs or portraits - even if she were also to disregard the uncanny resemblance between him and his younger brother - she knew with absolute certainty that the too-beautiful man who had yet to take his gaze off her...
It could be none other than her Master, and Rhapsody surprised herself by catching her breath as the marquis came to stand before her. How worrying, she thought, and when he finally came upon her, Lord Mihail Gheorgiu proved to be all her worst fears come true. Tall, dark, and handsome like the quintessential Regency rakehell but also big and strong like a warrior. A flawless specimen of hot-blooded manliness, the marquis certainly was, and it doomed what little secret hope she had left about their arrangement.
Ever since finding out that her Master, despite being as old as Methuselah, was far from being elderly and decrepit, Rhapsody had worked diligently to prepare herself for his eventual rejection. That day had now come, and yet...
Why was the marquis looking at her as if she were a sultry goddess—-
"Milady."
The rich baritone of her Master's voice distracted Rhapsody from her musings (which were irrational to say the least), and she automatically curtsied even as her brows furrowed ever so slightly. The lush sound of his voice had an oddly lingering impact on her senses, with the way it seductively teased her ears and had goosebumps covering her flesh.
"It is a pleasure to finally meet you."
"It is the same for me, milord."
Mihail stilled. Although he knew his pet was not the type to lie, for her to say such a thing...
"The past two years," he said carefully, "gave me the impression that you harbored a sudden dislike to my person." He had expected her to respond with a mere nod or a shake of her head, but instead the words had his pet actually appearing dismayed.
"It might have seem that way, but I assure you it is not the case at all."
"I offered to visit you upon your arrival in the kingdom," he reminded her, "and you said - admittedly in more polite terms - that it is best I do not bother."
"Because I was not yet prepared to meet you," Rhapsody explained matter-of-factly. "I did not, however, realize it would make milord think I hold you in dislike. That has never been the case..." She saw the look of skepticism on the marquis' face and struggled to find the right words to say. "The idea of you, milord...made me feel what I believe is called...a mixed bag. And now that you have unexpectedly appeared before me, I feel even more conflicted. Truth be told, milord, the number of emotions I have to concurrently process is...overwhelming."
"I am...sorry to hear that." It was all Mihail could think of saying, struggling as he was not to succumb to an improper urge to smile at the rather clinical manner in which she spoke. In order for both of them to regain their respective composures, he simply let time pass and turned his attention to their surroundings.
At the back of him was the graveyard with its stony population of angels and gargoyles, and behind Rhapsody the crooked, leafless trees of Amstel Woods, swaying to the beat of a chilly autumn wind. Put together, it painted a landscape of eerie Gothic beauty...and one perfectly fitting for his hauntingly lovely pet, whose countenance was no longer as ghostly as earlier.
Satisfied at what he saw, he nevertheless sought her confirmation, asking politely, "You are feeling better, milady?"
The question had his pet's lips pursing in response, and he could almost see her going through a mental checklist to examine if she was indeed feeling better.
After a while, his pet lifted her gaze back to his and nodded. "I am indeed feeling better."
"That's good to hear," he murmured.
And then it was just silence between them, and although he had yet to drink her blood in order to read her thoughts, at that exact moment, it didn't even seem necessary. He simply looked at her, his pet and heartkeeper, and she looked at him, her Master, and somehow...it was the exact same memories that drifted to their minds.
Mr. Booth says I must practice expressing my affection, she had once written to him. Do you reckon I succeeded?
And to which he remembered wasting several sheets of paper until he found the right words that did not cross the lines of deception. While I wish to always take your side on all matters, heartkeeping also forbids me to speak any untruth.
He had hoped that would have been the end of it, but instead she had quickly sent her reply back. It did not escape my notice that you did not actually answer my question.
The memory made his lips twitch, and before him, he saw his pet's lips curve ever so slightly.
Her first smile, the marquis found himself thinking, and the sight was as heavenly as it was earthly, as precious as it was forbidden.
"How is this happening, milord?" his pet suddenly asked.