Page 19 of These Eternal Bones

Unicorn Fevers

Molly

My fingers skim over the endless rows of books, towering stacks that reach the ceiling of one of the many columned towers of the estate.

Their leather bound spines beckoning me to crack them open and delve into their long hidden stories, but they beckon to the wrong woman.

I wonder for a moment if it would be incredibly selfish to hold him to his promise of teaching me to read, if he would even have the time.

I had wrongly assumed that the Vampire of Port Clyde’s days would be filled with leisure and decadence.

Where there is no shortage of the latter, Elric is a busy man.

My working day has been filled with long stretches of mulling about in the same room or just down the hall, to rushing behind him as he went about his tasks.

Not only does his lighthouse command the small port town, but he owns it…

all of it. He also maintains order and “culling” of the estate and the supernatural’s wh o reside here.

Such is to be expected of an obscenely wealthy man living in the same place for hundreds of years.

My long hair hides most of my face as I peek over my shoulder at him, where he sits writing a letter.

A letter that no doubt holds reasonable importance, but still, his eyes flash to me more often than not.

I fear I am no good for his concentration, but he wants me here, and I owe him so, here I stand.

He has only stopped his endless tasks long enough to sit with me while I have a meal or to answer my questions.

Each time I’m met with his full attention, rapt and unyielding, like what I say truly matters, like my inquisitive mind isn’t a burden on him.

It wasn’t that way in New Eden; questions were met with suspicion, and idle hands were at risk for perversion.

With so many wives, even the strict schedule of when he would share a bed with one or another had hardly been enough. I was meant to be number seventeen.

Even in an icy place like this, I cannot escape the oppressive heat from that day.

The way the sun beat down on me in my slip dress.

One, I was told never to wear outside. But I was outside then, with the others, my intimate parts all but bared long before they had started to mature.

Tears had gathered in my eyes as he made his rounds, waiting for his scathing words, for atonement, but what he gave me was so…

so much worse. His eyes skimmed me slowly, taking in everything I had been taught to hide.

When his hands ran gently through my copper hair, this sickening feeling welled in my gut.

Even then, at the age of nine, I knew I was on the precipice of something terrible. Something wrong.

He chose me that day.

“You are so blessed!” my sisters had cried.

But I knew.

I’d always known .

Now, standing here in a library full of books, I was told I would never have cause to read, a new exciting world full of magic that I was made to think only lived within him …

.I have never known with more clarity what I knew then…

Joseph was just a man. A sick, perverse man who wanted to have his cake and eat it too.

Joseph was Captain Faine, but handsome and far more charismatic.

With a pretty smile that made you feel warm, seen, when you were neither.

I’d watched it happen over and over. He took wife after wife, child after child, lined up for his pleasure like the sheep we kept in the herd.

He’d done everything right with me. I don’t know why it didn’t work.

Why his attentions had never had the proper effect on me, why I was cursed with the desire to question when everyone else was content to simply obey.

Perhaps the universe, the gods, whatever powers that be, knew I had somewhere to go.

Someone to meet.

Someone to help pass the long years, if only it would be a moment for him.

I gasp as Elric all but appears in front of me, his dark eyes swirling. “I have left you alone for too long. You’ve fallen into your thoughts. A dangerous game indeed, syringa. Perhaps we’re in need of a distraction.”

That heavy weight that had settled on my shoulders eases, my heart beating through what feels like sludge.

As the hours pass, it's getting harder to remember why I was so angry at him. Why it was important to stay that way. That this life here, with the Vampire of Port Clyde, isn’t mine, the cottage…

Péal and all the others I’ve yet to properly meet.

They don’t matter to someone just passing through.

My lips part as he doesn’t take my hand… but takes me .

“Elric!” I gasp as he lifts me into his arms, heading from the room the way he always does, with grace and purpose.

Those tendrils that had formerly been content wrapped around his broad middle worm against me as if they were suddenly desperate to be free.

My eyes widen again as the pressure of them releases, leaving us in a cloud of black mist. My side suddenly snug against him.

I need it innately, everywhere. My bottom is seated on his arm like a bench, my hands gently lay on his shoulders, the other dangerously close to his neck.

“Surely you don’t need to carry me around like a pet. ”

“You are under my employ, yes?” He quips, that damming smirk on his lips. The one that gives me a dangerous peek of sharpened canines.

“Y-yes.”

“Then, as your boss, it pleases me to carry you.”

“I–”

“Also, you walk quite slow, things are much more efficient this way.”

My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water several times before I let loose a drawn-out sigh, making my displeasure clear.

It is hard…to unlearn that closeness is wrong.

It is hard to ignore the way my deepest part tightens at the prospect of doing something I’m not meant to do.

Something perverse, with a very inhuman thing.

I quite think one cannot get further from God than this.

“Where do they go, your tendrils?” I ask, needing a distraction from our proximity.

“They simply bleed into the surrounding air, dematerialize into something undetachable.”

“So-so I have…been breathing in your…what?”

He laughs at the sudden horror on my face, his black hair tickling my wrist as I try to hide my smile. “Is the thought of having me inside you truly so terrible, little human? ”

It takes me precious few seconds to get his meaning, my mind not catching up until his eyes slide to mine, darkened…daring me to respond.

Oh.

OH.

A flush overwhelms my face, making my cheeks feverish as I slam my eyes away, suddenly interested in the art lining the grand stairwell.

My body heightens as he takes in a deep inhale, a small growl escaping before it’s cut short.

He gives me a moment for my mind to cease its spinning, each step drawing attention to the slickening between my thighs.

Such an odd, gross thing, I’m not sure if it is normal.

It seems…like quite a bit more than what I would typically find in my underthings after a day of wear.

Péal’s words from last night tunnel through me, only adding to the maddening need to clench my thighs. That tiny bundle pulsing and throbbing again. He was waiting to feed from me…

Could he truly want me? Like that?

When I sneak a look over at him, he’s already staring, his veins darkened and bleeding from his eyes betraying some deep sense of emotion.

I slam my eyes away again as we finally come to a stop.

Another long descent dragged down his front at a mind-numbing pace nearly makes a whimper escape my throat.

My core feels so…hot, so needy for touch.

I barely notice that we’re standing in a bedroom.

A large, opulent one that smells so richly of spice and cedar, every breath I drag through my lungs is heavy with it, making my mouth water.

He’s gone and back in a blink, wrapping my shoulders in a heavy coat, his coat, before he throws open the ornate embossed glass doors in front of us.

The sight before me is…stunning as he guides me gently onto a large balcony overlooking the ocean, the lighthouse…

everything. I take a seat by the railing, keeping my eyes away from the man at my back as my heart race s.

Embarrassment heavy on my chest as I press my thighs together, lowering my hands to press into the space where I need the pressure.

I don’t dare move them; I don’t dare move at all.

But my voice betrays me, it’s breathy, barely a whisper. “It’s beautiful, Elric.”

“Breathtaking, syringa. Like every time I see it, it is for the very first time.” His deep growl heats my flesh, so much so that I barely feel the nip of cold. “I will send for some tea for you.”

And then he’s gone and not a moment too soon.

Later that night, my eyelids are drooping when Elric finally releases me from my duties of lounging around, snooping, and listening to his stories.

My mind is heavy with sleep as I’m tugged into his arms on his horse, Jin, I learned.

A shire horse, although that means very little to me.

Apparently, he is from a long line of horses that have been born and raised here for hundreds of years.

I quite suspect the beast of an animal only barely tolerates anyone but his master as he stomps the moment I’m hauled atop him.

Elric’s arms are cold, but I am wrapped snugly in cloaks, his tendrils securing me to him like binds.

Between their snug hold and soothing, rocking cadence, the sounds of the woods that would normally fill me with apprehension can’t reach me.

Elric’s chest rumbles as he begins that familiar song again, my mind coming in and out with it.

I don’t wake again until the creak of the cottage door, the hinges new and refitted, jolts me.

Péal is there waiting with an odd look on her face as he sits me just inside the door, lingering while I right myself.

“In the morning then, syringa. ”

I offer him a sleepy nod when Péal speaks up. “Tomorrow is Sunday, master.”

The sense of disappointment is immediate and alarming. The man in front of me all but glares at the selkie, “A moment, please.”

She nods, heading outside with a small smile on her face, her pale hair braided as always.

He opens his mouth, and I can see the question there.

The lines between us are as hazy as the fog.

A bad idea for a visitor, someone who plans to leave…

needs to leave. As I move away from him, his eyes track me like prey.

"I had almost forgotten to thank you for the easel and paints. I love them, truly; I’ve missed it so much.

So, I uh…I made you something to say thank you.

It’s nothing special…” I trail off for a second, going to the small closet I had stuffed it into.

I peek over my shoulder, finding him watching me intently, a soft, endearing look in his eyes. My chest feels odd at the sight of it. “Cover your eyes,” I command softly, and he does, his strong hands covering them immediately.

“I wanted to say thank you. I’m hoping it’s enough until I can repay my debt.”

When I look up, I gasp at black swirling eyes peeking from behind his palm. I slam the painting face down, glaring at him. “You peeked! Now you have to turn around since you cannot be trusted!”

He laughs, and I barely suppress the bubble of my own as he pivots, giving me his back. “You know, I think there is no one else alive who would dare to command me as you do.”

I huff. “I’ve found you listen well enough.”

He laughs again, but this time my nerves keep my laughter away as I approach him, stopping just behind.

For the first time all day, my fingers rub together, testing that rough flesh he's eyed at least once every time we’ve been together.

I dread the day he asks, although I know it is inevitable.

The painting feels so silly after seeing the ones in his home, after seeing the dark vines and arched windows, stained glass, and opulence that make up his castle.

“Molly, your pulse is racing.”

I breathe out, “Okay, you can look.”

My heart rages in my chest as I look way out the window of the cottage to the clearing behind, my arms outstretched, holding the painting up for him.

It’s of a clearing much like this one, a similar dark cottage in the back, but the focus is a…

unicorn. A very pink and purple unicorn.

Mortification consumes me the longer he’s quiet.

It's only when he gently removes the canvas from my hands that I dare to look back at him.

“I know it is silly, probably much too girly for you, but it was–”

“Thank you, Molly.”

My heart stops in my chest, going from a wild sprint to nothing at all in the blink of an eye. The somber…sincerity in his voice is nothing compared to the look in his eyes as he studies my painting. “It was nothing really.”

When he looks away from the painting, I’m again caught off guard by the emotion in his eyes, the pure adoration there. Something so strong, so overwhelming, something that shouldn’t be for me. “It is not nothing to me. I would like to have breakfast with you tomorrow, if that is alright.”

I just nod, my chest heaving as Péal steps back into the room.

“Goodnight, Molly.”

“Yes, goodnight, Elric.”

He’s barely out the door when Péal tugs at the laces of my bodice with a giggle. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay at the estate mistress? You’re positively feverish.”

My heart jolts as I hush her, gripping onto her as if it’ll silence the tiny woman.