The Knight Of The Rose

Dark Secrets

First Edition for Epub

Copyright 2012 Angela M. Hudson

Smashwords Edition

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This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, events or incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to places or incidents is purely coincidental.

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For all the dreamers who don’t

believe it’s possible

Time: we have no control over it.

We cannot see it or change it,

we can only exist as a part of

its greater plan.

The only thing greater than dreams is living the life you’ve made from them. We wake, we

breathe, we bleed every day, but it’ s only the ones who make each breath count and each drop of

blood colour the grey that wake with a reason to smile.

David is my blood, my breath—my dream. A dream that will never die, but will exist

eternally out of reach unless I choose to make blood my life—exchanging my breath for eternity,

and waking every morning from a nightmare of death and sin.

“Wake up. Wake up.” Vicki slapped my leg th rough the covers. “Time to shop. Let’s go,”

she beamed, then padded across my room and threw my curtains apart, i nviting the bright light to

pour into the darkness.

I squinted, using my arm as a v isor, then gave up and cl osed my ey es instead. “I don’t

wanna go to school today,” I said jokingly, knowing full-well exactly where I was being dragged to.

“Ara?” Vicki said in an insistent tone. “Just humour me…
and
your boyfriend, and let him

spend some money on you.”

I pulled the covers over my h ead, but the blinding whi te light stung my eyes again as the

cold of morning circulated my suddenly uncovered self.

Vicki dumped my quilt on my chai r across the room and s hook her head. “Be nice. Is it

really so bad that David wants to buy you a dress?”

“Yes.” And even worse, he clo sed my curtains after he snuck in here las t night. I hat e it

when he does that. “I have savings, Vicki. I can buy my own dress.”

Vicki, after a long sigh, rummaged in my dresser drawer, then pointed at the clothes she

placed over my quilt for me.

“This is not open for discussion, Ara. Now get dressed.”

So, apparently I can’t even choose my own clothes now, either. What ever happened to

freedom of choice?

With a groan, I flipped my legs over the side of the bed and stumbled to the window. The

dull grey clouds hid the sun, making everything under its suppressed glare seem vividl y white—

lighting up the entire yard, which was littered with garden debris. “Did it storm last night?” I folded

my arms and leaned my butt against my desk, resting my head on the windowpane.

“Yes. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it. Don’t you normally wake in a storm?” She folded her

arms, too, looking out at the clouds as they started to spill over and the soft pattering of rain filled

the desolate street below.

“Didn’t hear a t hing. Slept like a baby.” I shrugged. Hmm, that’s really odd. I should’ve

absolutely been on the phone to Mike last night, tucked under my covers, cowering at every gust of

wind. Maybe I’m just getting over my fear of storms. At least that explains why David shut my

window.

A pensive twist to my lips became the first smile of the day. He always takes such good care

of me; where would I be without him?

After getting dressed, I tidied my room a little and shook my quilt out over my bed. Emily

and Alana will probably get here before Vicki releases me from shopping; I figure my room should

at least be tidy if I’m having my first sleepover.

“Ara. I’m going to the car—hurry up,” Vicki called.

I quickly ran to the bathroom and patted some more ski n-tone make-up over the f ading

bruises on both sides of my neck. David r eally did do some pretty bad da mage with his overeager

bite when he led this innocent young human under the auditorium stage.

I jabbed the purple skin with my fingertip and scraped the small brown scab off the centre,

then watched it seep a runny, clear liquid. This was the worst side. The other one just looked like a

misshapen birthmark or a hickey. But, thanks to Vicki’s shopping obsession, I happened to have a

two-hundred dollar bottle of concea ler in my bathroom cabinet that could cover up a nose if you

wanted to.

I stood back and obs erved my handy-work; looks great, and the skin isn’t quite as tender

now. I’m actually sur prised at how quickly I’ve healed. It’s sort of nice, though, to carr y

around David’s mark; it makes me feel like he’s always with me, like I’m a part of him—in a really

creepy, sadistic way. I shouldn’t feel like that, but all the common sense I once had evaporates into

the background of my subconscious when it comes to David. All I care about is that he’s mine, and

I’m his. Nothing more.

Of course, it’s been really tricky keeping my neck hidden from Vicki and Dad. I suddenly

had a lot more homework to focus on t his week in order to hide in my room, and I’m so glad

summer scarves are in fashion right now.

If David had agreed to shar e the intimacy of drinking blood on Thursday night, when he

took me to the rooftop, I would undoubtedly have been hiding another nasty scar from Vicki today

while I tried on scanty dresses.

But, even though I still wish he wanted my blood, I ’m glad he didn’t let me cut myself . In

the clarity of daylight, it seems a littl e foolish. I guess he really does love me. Very few vampires

would refuse to drink the blood of a human who was practically shoving it in their face.

Vicki, obviously in the car, beeped the horn twice. I patted my pocket, slipped my shoes on

and stuffed the last of my savings into my purse as I ran out of my bedroom.

I can at least
try
to use my own money—I just have to do it without being caught.

But my triumphant escape, as I reached for the front door and drew a breath of success, was

ruined by a hand grabbing mine.

“You won’t be needing
this
.”

“Hey!” A loud s igh carried my frustration as David took m y purse. “It’s for lunc h, or if I

need anything else, you know, for the sleepover or, like, girlie stuff.”

“Nice try. If you need anything else,
I’ll
take you shopping later.” He tucked my purse into

his pocket and kissed my cheek, then, as the front door swung open and Vicki called out again, he

disappeared.

A victory grin spread across my face as I slid into the car and patted my fingers over the real

two hundred dollars I’d stuffed in my pocket earlier. He didn’t se e that, and he didn’t check my

purse to see the grand amount of ten dollars I really put in there. And since I was careful not to think

of it when he caught me, he won’t know about it.

Human one—vampire zero. I held in a chuckle.

Vicki parked at the centre of the long, outdoor strip of shops. I jumped out of the car and

looked up at t he sky. Even tho ugh the sun wasn’t s hining, as it had been last time I was here,

somehow, everything felt so much brighter. The shopping strip was quiet for a Saturday, not that it

was usually very busy anyway. I t reminded me of my hometown; how there were people out and

about, but scattered and far between.

Hidden from the radar of Vicki’s vigilant eye, I checked my watch. Nine o’clock. Emily and

Alana are coming over at four. Hopef ully, I’ll have a new dress by then so that a; I can show the

girls, and b; I won’t have to come out here and do this again.

Don’t get me wrong, I love dresses and I love shopping, but being dragged, against my will,

to have money spent on me from an unapproved source is just plain—awkward.

Lucky I have a contingency plan.

By eleven o’clock, exhausted from moaning and whingeing my way around the entire shop,

I decided enough was enough, but Vicki dragged me to her favourite café and made me order lunch.

I just wanted to go home. After trying on thirty dresses, the only one I remotely liked was a

satin, emerald-green one—like David’s eyes. But it wasn’t really grand enough, so Vicki says.

I thought it was fine.

“So, I stil l have to find some pretty new underwear and a mask .” I laid my shopping li st

down on the table beside my plate.

“Well, you can’t get a mask until you have a dre ss,” Vicki said with a mouthful of salad,

“and the underwear you get will depend on the fabric of the dress, too.”

“Why?”

“Well, if you get a satin dress, you won’t want lace underwear.”

“Oh.” She’s right—I need to find a dress. This is just dragging on. “I think I’ll just get that

green dress—the satiny one,” I said, stuffing a chunk of steak, covered in too much salt, into my

gob. Vicki stopped chewing and stared at me. “Ara. David has given you a
lot
more than
that
to

spend. The green one is pretty, but you can do better.”

“I know. But I’m not gonna let him buy me a dress, Vicki.”

She looked up in shock.

“You didn’t really think I’d just go along with this, did you?” I tried to sound casual, tearing

my eyes away from her heartbroken glare.

She took a dee p breath. “Well, I guess it ’s up t o you. But, before we go home, can you

please just humour me and try a dress in
that
store?”

I looked behind me, to the wall of glittering glass and puffy fabric decorating the front of a

very expensive-looking store. W ith a loud sigh, I nodd ed. I can’t let Vicki down; she l oves this

girlie stuff more than anything, and it’ll make her so happy if I just suck it up and play Barbie for

another half hour or so.

We stepped carefully around the silks and tulles falling over the wooden floor as we entered

the realm of couture. A thin girl smiled at us from behind the counter, then went back to reading her