The library of the Serkhan estate was extensive. Aeron ran his fingers over the shelves of books like a monk would run his fingers over the beads of his mala. Each books was leather bound, many carefully refurbished or with new covers to hold the ancient papers within. The ones that were newly bound all looked similar - dark calfskin with tiny gold lettering.
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He picked out a volume and brought it over to the sofa. After a moment, he pulled a velvety throw over his legs as the room was kept as cool as a wine cellar, if much dryer.
Only a few pages into his reading, Aeron heard the door of the library open softly, slowly. Footsteps as light as a cat's entered the room and scurried from door to the bookshelves.
It only took a moment before the room became suffocating with a scent Aeron knew well enough to fear. A cloying perfume of blood and pheromones with an underlying tone of soap and fresh linen. He rose from the couch slowly and made his way towards the door. His steps were stilted and he walked as if protecting a fresh injury. Every muscle in his body fought him, every predatory urge born in him told him to turn and find the source of this smell; this blood. Why had no one told him one of the women in the manor was on her period?
A soft sound stopped him at the door. He turned slowly and felt bile rise in his throat. It was a girl. Her form was that of a child no older than nine or ten years. She was as pale as the white gown she wore and her hair hung platinum down her back. It was as if a ghost, a colorless creatures stood before him and only her eyes, the color of the blood he scented, looked real.
She held a book, as wide as her own torso and nearly as long, clutched to her chest and Aeron understood everything at once.
There was only one child known in the Serkhan estates, the daughter of Lord Serkhan, the pure-blood princess Aricia. Aeron had guessed her age to be nearing the end of her first century. Yes, they normally start bleeding around then, don't they.
She had obviously escaped her quarters where she would normally be locked up like the greatest treasure known and kept out of any part of the manor or estates where the males of their kind would roam; where they would be tempted by that scent. Crept out of her room and away from her maids for a book, of all things to risk your life for.
Aricia stared up at him, wide-eyed and as still as a stone. He wondered if she was even breathing and realized he wasn't either. He took a shallow breath, trying not to inhale too much of that smell that was already making his heart hammer in his chest. He cleared his throat, held out his hands so that his wrists were bare, and greeted her softly, "Lady Aricia, good day. I'm Aeron Beraht, son of Lord Chlodochar Beraht, friend of your fathers."
The words were so rehearsed and formal it was almost laughable to be saying them to a girl in her nightgown. However, the reception was just as solemn. Aricia held out her right hand, her bare wrist showing a network of blue veins beneath the paper-whiteness of her skin, the other hand held her book close. "Well met, young Lord Beraht." Her voice was soft and bird-like in its tone. It was a child's voice carrying the weight of adult words.
Aeron gave her a soft bow and smiled, surprised at how easy the smile came. "You are without a chaperon, my lady."
She nodded and he saw now what hadn't been apparent before; the wide eyed girl had a soft tremble in her hands. Aricia was very aware of the circumstances she had found herself in. There was fear behind those red eyes.
Holding his hand up and stepping back, Aeron opened the door and looked out. The hall was empty and he could not hear anyone nearby. "I believe your way is clear."
Turning back to her, he held out his arm. "Shall I escort you back to your chambers?"
She hesitated, wisely. Finally, she stepped forward, her bare feet barely making a sound on the plush rug. Aeron saw her toenails were painted a silvery blue that was chipped here and there and, somehow, this relaxed him. She's just a girl, despite the blood.
Aricia took his arm and for a moment he was very still, taking shallow breaths as her scent engulfed him like a red-tinged aura. After a moment, he was able to smile again and guide her out of the room.
The predator within him kept pointing out terrible realities. She is so small, so fragile. Aricia barely reached his shoulder in height and her arm in his was as small and thin as bird bones in his mind. Her heart races, or is that mine? He felt the hummingbird resonance of her pulse through his shirt sleeve. We are alone. There wasn't so much as a servant in all the corridors that she led him through. Oh gods, that smell.
To break the sound of his own thoughts, he whispered to Aricia. "What book did you steal out of your rooms to come and collect?"
She smiled softly, her lips a thin pink wetted by her blood-red tongue. "Urizen," she whispered and showed him the cover. The Book of Urizen by William Blake ins what seemed to be original binding; a testament to the rarities in the Serkhan library. "Have you read it?"
Aeron smiled and nodded, "Yes, I am fond of Blake."
They turned the corner and went up a small flight of stairs into the north wing of the manor. The furnishings here were well used and the paintings were all portraits. This was the family quarters.
Aricia stopped at the doors near the end of the hall. One of them opened with a load slam and out ran a woman in a black dress that would have been vogue in the fifties. She had a harried look about her face and her dark hair and eyes along with her high-collared shirt showed her to be a famulus - a servant.
The woman looked from Aeron to Aricia and back with horror in her dark eyes. "My lady..." she said before her voice broke.
Aeron gave her a nod, "I have returned your lady to you." He felt his voice grow hard as he realized who's negligence was responsible for Aricia leaving her rooms. "I hope that she will be more comfortable and better cared for now?"
The woman gave a nod and lowered her eyes.
To Aricia he gave a smile, "I'll leave you now, Lady."
Her smile made his pulse quicken. She raised her right hand, wrist up and his heart nearly stopped. This was a common gesture among the pure-bloods but coming from this one, from the purest-blood and during this time, it was overwhelming. The famulus gasped softly but Aricia pretended not to notice and only looked up at Aeron calmly.
He leaned in close and then smiled as he kiss her wrist. Her pulse went through him like a single heart beat, a drum that shook his very being. She smelled both carnal and divine. He took the scent into him as he rose. "Good day, my lady."
He didn't run from the hall but his walk was fast and he didn't dare a glance back. It wasn't until he reached the front stairs that her scent was only a memory.
Aeron fled the manor, leaving a message for Lord Serkhan with the valet that gave him his coat that he was called away despite the Serkhan hospitality. He couldn't escape her scent or the predator within him fast enough.
Glancing back at the manor with its nouveau architecture and finest stone, Aeron gave a grin full of sharp fangs. He would return one day to receive the wrist of Aricia, so-called princess of the vampires.
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