Prophecy: Caelestis & Aurorea (37 page)

“You look terrible,” he said it so quietly that it was almost a whisper.

The worry was visible in his eyes when she looked at him. She managed a smile.

“I’m just tired. It’s nothing to worry about, really.”

He didn’t lose the look of concern and she wished they were at his room already. She should have asked Serenity to show him where it was but something about the idea of leaving him alone with her friend made her stomach tighten. She had noticed the way he’d subtly flirted with Serenity when they’d first met. It was looking out for her friend that had made her choose to show Venturi to his room herself. It had nothing to do with jealousy. He meant nothing to her, at least nothing more than a friend.

Walking along the corridor, she kept her eyes fixed on the floor. They drifted to his boots occasionally but she didn’t let them wander any further than that.

When they reached the door to his room, she looked up at it. Awkwardness filled her and she suddenly felt nervous about being around him. She blamed it on her tiredness and the fact that she wanted to go to her room.

She wanted to go to Valentine.

He was the only one who could make her feel at ease.

“Well this is it,” she said and opened the door for him. She waited for him to walk through before following him in.

He placed the bag down on the large mahogany bed and looked at her.

“I should get my things.” She walked to the bed and opened the bag. Taking out the scrolls, she looked at them. “I suppose I can trust you with these?”

He looked offended. “You need to ask?”

She shook her head, backtracking swiftly and holding them out to him. Closing the bag again, she slung it over her shoulder and glanced at him. He was still frowning at her and she caught the hurt in the depths of his eyes. She hadn’t meant to upset him with what she’d said. She’d just wanted to be sure.

She went to the door and turned to look back at him. “You don’t have to fight tomorrow.”

He walked over to her, stopping barely a foot away. His intense blue eyes bore into hers. “Yes I do. My loyalty is to you, Prophecy. I have sworn to protect you and it is my duty to do so.”

She averted her gaze and stared at his boots again, trying to ignore the way his determined look had made her stomach flip and heat through.

“I know … it’s your duty. I’m always someone’s duty.” She went to walk away but he moved to block her path.

“What is that meant to mean?” he said in a voice heavy with curiosity and tinted with anger.

She stared at his chest. “That I’m tired of being someone’s responsibility or duty. Valentine saved me out of a sense of duty, but he grew to realise that it wasn’t duty that was really behind his actions. It was love. I don’t want people to feel obliged to help me, Venturi. If it’s only duty that is making you fight beside me tomorrow, then you had better stay here.”

She tried to move past him but whichever way she went, he went too. She growled in frustration and stomped her foot, her fists clenching.

“Prophecy,” he said in a low whisper by her ear.

She turned her head away from him, staring at a spot on the floor.

His fingers brushed against her cheek and she frowned, desperately resisting drawing comfort from his touch even as she did so.

He brought his lips close to her ear. “I admit that it is not duty that compels me to help you, although it was at first. I believe that my sense of duty has suffered a similar fate to Valentine’s.”

His low spoken words sent a chill down her spine, making her nerve endings tingle.

Was he saying what she thought he was? She had said that Valentine’s duty was in fact love. Venturi couldn’t love her.

She didn’t want to listen to any more of his poisoned words. She wanted to leave but she couldn’t move. Her feet wouldn’t respond and she was left standing so close to him that she could feel his breath against her neck. Her eyes slipped shut when he pressed a kiss to her cheek beside her ear. She cursed herself for letting him make her feel this way, as though his arms would offer her the comfort she wanted and his kiss would slake her desire.

In the darkness of her closed eyes, she saw a flicker of an image. Her fingers curled around her amulet and she felt the power growing there. Her heart ached.

This man wasn’t the one she really wanted. The only reason she was tempted by him was because he was offering her exactly what she needed. There was nothing in her heart for him. It was need that was making her act this way, not love.

She pressed her hand against his chest, pushing him away from her. He stepped back at the same time as she did. She stared at her hand for a moment, seeing the red lacing through her fingers.

Valentine.

That was where her heart lay.

He was the only one who could really offer her the comfort she needed. What Venturi offered was short lived relief, not real release from her pain.

She looked at him, unable to form the words she so desperately wanted to say, and then walked past him.

He didn’t try to stop her.

Fixing her eyes straight ahead, she pushed him out of her thoughts and headed straight to her room.

Tears formed in the corners of her eyes when she thought about everything that had happened tonight and would happen tomorrow. Venturi’s affections were the least of her worries.

Reaching her door, she pushed it open.

Venturi growled to himself while he listened to her leaving. What the hell had possessed him to do that? He had known she would react this way, leaving him alone in his room without her sweet company. He should have kept his distance and kept his comments off the subject of his feelings for her but it had been impossible.

Stepping into his room, he closed the door and walked across to the bed. He unbuttoned his shirt, his eyes taking in the room while he did so. Stripping it off, he tossed it onto the bed and pulled his boots off. He stretched, ran his hands down his torso and frowned at the door.

He should have waited.

She had wanted comfort. He’d seen it in her eyes. She would have come to him and nestled close in his embrace if he hadn’t pushed her.

He turned and fell into the bed, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. His legs dangled over the edge of the bed and he stretched his arms out by his sides and then raised them above his head and gripped the other side of the bed.

“What is she doing to me?” he whispered the words as though he feared someone was listening.

He ran his hands through his hair, tousling his dirty blond locks and then curled his fingers into fists.

He should have waited.

She had been so close. If he’d just given her a few more minutes without pressing her, he was sure that she would have sought comfort in his arms. She’d looked as though she’d wanted to in the main reception room. He growled at the ceiling and sat up.

Burying his face in his hands, he slid his fingers into his hair and held the sides of his head.

How did she reduce him to this? Is this how Valentine had felt before surrendering completely to her? He knew they were alike. There was something in the way that Valentine visibly restrained himself sometimes that told him that he and Prophecy hadn’t always been on easy terms and he hadn’t always been able to deal with his feelings for her.

Prophecy.

Pushing her out of his thoughts, he propped himself up with the pillows and picked up the scrolls and journal. He took his pen and opened the book, reading over the notes that Mathias had made about the language and a way of deciphering it.

He had to translate it if she was going to stand a chance. There had to be something hidden within the prophecy that would give her a clue as to how to fulfil it or the elders wouldn’t have split it and forbidden its translation.

He looked at the marks on the pieces of paper for a moment and then leaned his head back into the pillow and stared at the far wall.

Where was her room? It had to be on this floor. He wondered if the pretty, dark-haired girl he had met before would tell him. What was her name? Serenity. She certainly was serene.

He had half a mind to tease Prophecy by flirting with her friend, but he knew it would get him nowhere. He could never make Prophecy love him by doing that. She would only grow to hate him for it.

He could never make her love him full stop, at least not like she loved Valentine. He hated to see them together. The way they looked at each other when they thought no one was watching sickened him. It shouldn’t be the Aurorea on the receiving end of those beautiful looks.

But she could love him.

She could love him quite well if Valentine didn’t exist.

He cursed his thoughts and tried to ignore them but they wouldn’t go away. Tomorrow they were going to war against the house of Aurorea. He mused that the current lord of Aurorea was strong and there was a high chance that Valentine would not live to see the rising of the sun. No. He shouldn’t be thinking things like that.

What good would it do him if Valentine died?

Prophecy would die too. Not physically, but she would die inside. She would no longer care about the fate of their species and the world. He had seen it in her eyes so many times. Without Valentine in it, the world wouldn’t be worth saving.

He had sworn to protect her and that meant he had to protect Valentine too. No matter how much he hated it.

His eyes moved to where his shirt lay on the bed. If he had to go to war tomorrow, he wished he had his armour. The prospect of going into a house full of Aurorea with no protection wasn’t a good one.

He could almost picture the armour where it rested on his bed back in Romania. It seemed like too long since he’d been home, or had even thought about it. He would have to contact them soon to check that everything was running smoothly and that there was no sign of danger at the castle. Leaving a message at the local inn would suffice. His second in command, Piotr, was having an illicit affair with one of the innkeeper’s daughters. She had a penchant for being bled that he had to admire. He’d been paid to bleed women in his time and most of them had handsomely rewarded him with more than just their money. Mathias had been right about his bloodline. There was darkness inside of him that begged him to give into it and sometimes he was weak enough to succumb to the pleasures it spoke of. Pleasures like bleeding someone until they were barely alive and then letting them slowly recuperate only to be bled again. He’d kept girls for months that way, all of them slaves to his whims and his desire.

Not one of them had complained.

It was fascinating just how twisted some women could be. Some of them had even surprised him.

He’d even been with female Tenebrae that had enjoyed the pleasures of being bled.

He’d even been bled himself.

The woman who had done it had been as beautiful as Prophecy.

He frowned at the way she’d crept back into his thoughts and shifted uncomfortably on the bed when he couldn’t stop himself from imagining her bleeding him.

Taking up the scrolls again, he cleared his throat and forced himself to focus on them.

Maybe he would ignore her for a while or maybe he would act with cold indifference towards her.

He smiled.

He’d give every woman but her his full attention, his smiles and his compliments.

Then he’d see just what her true feelings were.

Valentine stood with his back to her room, staring at the grounds below her window. Her room was exactly as he remembered it. The large bed was against the wall to his right. To his left were a dressing table and the other window. A desk was near the fireplace along with an armchair. The only thing that was new was the hole in the wall above the fireplace. He presumed it was the result of a magical mishap on her part.

It seemed strange to be here without her.

He wondered where she was.

It had been over an hour since he’d left her in the main reception room of the house. As much as he’d wanted her to come with him to her room, she’d had to stay there and let her family see that she was strong and was waiting for them to come to their decision. If she had left with him, she would have lost some of her standing in their eyes. It would take time for them to come to terms with his presence, if they even could.

He doubted it.

Hatred of the Aurorea had been bred into them, just as hatred of the Caelestis had been bred into him. They had spent years listening to the reported comments made by the opposing house. They had been poisoned against each other.

He saw the gate open and watched two figures walking towards the house.

He recognised one as the guard Prophecy had spoken to and the other was someone he wished he’d never met.

Venturi.

She had beckoned him then, and he had come like the faithful dog he was, always desperate to please his master in case she offered him some kind of reward. The day she did that would be the day he killed Venturi.

He’d watched him around her. The Tenebrae knew what he was doing. Whenever Prophecy flagged or became upset, Venturi was always there with a warm smile and concerned words. He was preying on her weakness and trying to confuse her feelings.

Valentine didn’t want to think about what Venturi had been doing while he’d been a captive of Kalinor and Arkalus.

His fingers curled into fists that trembled with his anger.

Venturi had probably tried to worm his way into her heart, telling her everything she needed to hear and offering her comfort in her time of need. The more he did precisely what she needed, the more confused her feelings would get until she was convinced she felt something for him.

He slammed his fist into the wall beside the window, denting the plaster and causing his knuckles to throb with pain.

The Devil he was going to let Venturi do that to her.

The door opened and closed.

He removed his fist from the wall but kept his back to her.

She smelt like Venturi.

“Is something wrong?” she said and before he could blink, she was by his side, her hands holding his arm.