Читать книгу The Dark Heroine: Dinner with a Vampire - Abigail Gibbs, Abigail Gibbs - Страница 24

August 28th brought my eighteenth birthday, and with it little reason for cheer. I had kept my mind well-guarded since I made the connection between the Queen’s death and my father, so nobody realized I was a year older.

I should have been out partying, enjoying my first legal drink of alcohol; instead I was stuck in a living room full of vampires, because sitting up seemed a better option than running the risk of experiencing yet another dream. They were endless, and I didn’t believe Fabian for a single second: they were real. The chill I felt every morning told me that.

Today was August 27th. Which meant tomorrow was the 28th and therefore my eighteenth birthday.

I propped myself up against a couple of pillows, staring blankly into space. I should be out partying, opening presents and having my first legal drink of alcohol, not lying on a bed in the middle of nowhere, afraid to go to sleep.

I glanced at the clock. It was going on 10 o’clock. I didn’t want to sleep. I was too afraid of the nightmares I knew would ensue as soon as I closed my eyes. But I had no choice. My body was screaming at me to close my eyes, disgusted at my self-neglect. I grabbed a tank top and a pair of shorts, changed, and climbed into bed. I tugged the sheets right up to my chin, hoping the warmth would somehow drive away the dreams. I reached over, switched the lamp off and closed my eyes.

But the dream never came. In fact, I fell into a peaceful, unbroken daze until far away I heard bells chiming, resonating in the stillness. Twelve times they rang.

I seemed to be rolling and rolling and I shivered. The air had got cooler. Far, far cooler. Then it went sub-zero.

I scarpered up, screaming at the top of my lungs. My sheets were plastered to my legs and I was soaked: someone or something had poured freezing cold water onto my bed. I heard several suppressed giggles and a low chuckle. In the darkness, I could just make out numerous dark figures surrounding my bed, outlined by the moonlight shining through my windows.

‘What the hell was that for?’ I screeched, shivering.

‘Happy Birthday!’ Fabian sung, a little too delighted.

‘Go away,’ I groaned, kicking the wet sheets off the bed and rolling over.

‘Nope!’

‘It’s midnight,’ I told my pillow, smothering myself with it. When they didn’t go, I grabbed the other pillow and chucked it at the end of the bed in their vague direction. Immediately, it came back my way and landed on my back. I sighed. ‘What?’ I snapped, sitting back up and placing the pillow in my lap. ‘Can’t you just let me sleep? I need sleep, remember?’

As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I could see Fabian and Cain glancing at each other, grins widening. ‘Oh, I don’t think that will be possible,’ Fabian said.

‘To hell it is.’ I threw myself back down onto the mattress and was just curling up when a pair of arms wrapped around my waist and hoisted me up.

‘Hey! Let me down you stupid leech!’ I screeched, pummelling Cain’s chest as he lifted me up into his arms. My legs flailed and I wriggled, but he wasn’t going to let go.

‘No,’ Cain replied, still grinning as we passed Kaspar, who held an empty bucket. I glared at him.

‘But–’

‘No.’

He sped up and everything hung in the air for a moment before we were downstairs and standing outside a room I didn’t recognize. He let me down and I landed on the cold floor.

‘You might think we are totally heartless, to quote you, “murderers”, but we’re not. And to prove that, we decided we can’t ignore your eighteenth birthday.’ A wicked grin spread across Fabian’s face, and my stomach clenched in dread, suspicious.

‘Bah, stop looking so worried,’ Cain said, placing his hand on the doorknob. ‘And don’t tell father. Or Sky or Arabella.’ With that he threw open the door, revealing a large living room I was sure I had never seen before. He stepped through and after Fabian motioned, I followed, apprehensive about what I was going to find. But my face soon lit up when I saw what was waiting on the table: bottles and bottles of alcopops. A bottle of champagne came flying my way and I caught it clumsily, almost dropping it.

‘Many happy returns and all that shit, Girly,’ Kaspar said, twisting off the cap on a bottle of vodka. ‘And crack open the bubbly before I get old, will you?’ he added, gesturing at the bottle in my hands. I shook it and pressed my thumb against the cork, holding it as far away from my face as I could get. I screwed my eyes shut, waiting for the resounding pop which turned out to be a bit more pitiful than I hoped. Instead of going flying, the cork landed at my feet and a few bubbles dribbled from the rim – not exactly Formula One worthy.

‘Less wasted, I suppose,’ Kaspar said, taking the bottle from my hands and pouring it into several glasses, handing them around. ‘To Violet’s first legal drink!’ He raised his glass in the air and everyone followed. I stared at mine and blushed. Kaspar must have already had a bottle or two. He was far too jolly. I watched as he downed the champagne in one and then picked up the bottle he had just opened, taking a long swig from that too. Staring at the label, I realized it was neat vodka.

Fabian turned to me, pouring himself a second glass of champagne from the bottle which was practically empty now. ‘How do you feel about getting totally wasted?’

Something in my brain said vampires, but something else far more overwhelming said alcohol. I smiled. ‘I’m totally fine about it.’

***

Four shots of vodka, three alcopops and two glasses of champagne later, I wasn’t so fine about it. My head was swimming, my vision wavering and my words didn’t sound the same as they did in my head. I clutched at another alcopop, sipping it whilst watching Felix down his sixth bottle of neat vodka – he wasn’t even tipsy. Stupid vampire tolerance to alcohol.

I leaned against the back of one of the sofas that had been pushed against the wall, swaying to some music I knew but couldn’t name. I watched as Lyla flirted outrageously with Fabian, her usual vodka and blood substituted for the straight stuff. Fabian kept flashing me looks and something seemed to click in my brain, but it didn’t register. I shook it off, refusing to think.

Kaspar sauntered over, but in my not-quite-with-it state, I didn’t give a damn. The clock struck one and he reached me, resting up against the sofa.

‘Hey babe,’ he slurred. ‘You’re not wearing very much, are you?’

I wrinkled my nose in disgust. ‘Eww, how much have you had to drink?’

He immediately sobered up and smirked. ‘Not enough.’

I inwardly groaned as I realized he was nowhere near as drunk as he was feigning.

‘Why are you doing all this?’ I asked, gesturing with my bottle towards the other side of the room where the pile of alcohol was growing as more people arrived. ‘My’ party seemed to be in full swing now – vampires I didn’t recognize were dancing at the far end of the room where a large space had been cleared; the lights had long been switched off and the music turned up. Girls and guys openly groped, kissed and grabbed, regardless of gender and watching them, I felt my heartbeat quicken.

‘You only turn 18 once,’ Kaspar said, shrugging and taking another mouthful from the litre bottle of vodka he was holding. I didn’t even want to know how many of those he had already emptied. ‘And besides, it’s an excuse to drink.’

‘And there was me thinking you did it out of the kindness of your heart.’

‘Do I look like a saint?’

I chuckled. ‘No, not really.’ There was an awkward silence for a few minutes, which I filled by sipping more of my drink and watching as Felix tugged at the skin on a girl’s neck with his fangs. Pressed up behind him, a guy, his features strikingly caught between male and female, groped at the chest and crotch of the fiery-haired man. I felt intrusive for looking, yet it was so alluring as his face split into a smile and he took their hands, leading them from the room. I felt my cheek burn and glanced to my right to see Kaspar’s gaze darting between the door and my face, a smirk playing on his lips. I stared at the floor, waiting for him to make a snide remark, but none came.

I tried perching on the back of the sofa but slid right back off again, struggling with the concept of balancing. ‘You know, next time you don’t have to use cold water to wake me up,’ I complained.

‘Oh, that was just a last minute idea of mine,’ he shrugged, taking another swig of the vodka. ‘We were going to shout boo, but you were snoring so loud you wouldn’t have heard.’

I went bright red and crossed my arms across my chest. ‘I don’t snore.’

‘Do.’

‘Don’t!’ I punched him on the arm, annoyed. He did the same back, but I wasn’t expecting it and the bottle I was holding fell to the floor, shattering. It splashed everywhere, drenching me. ‘Idiot! Now look at what you made me do!’ I exclaimed, gesturing at my tank top that was now dripping wet. I side-stepped out of the way of the glass, conscious of the fact I was bare foot. ‘Why is it that when I am around you, I always seem to get really wet?’

He laughed, side-stepping the glass too and pressing me up against the back of the sofa. ‘I generally have that effect on girls,’ he growled into my ear, clearly amused. For the second time that night, I groaned in embarrassment. ‘No need to be ashamed, Girly. It’s all natural,’ he added, stroking my flushed cheeks and then wrapping his arms around my neck.

‘Get off me, you manslut.’ I pushed him away and he stepped back, chortling.

‘Manslut? Seriously? That’s not really a comeback.’

But this is, I thought, raising my hand to slap him. He caught my wrist – of course – before I got anywhere near his cheek.

‘Whoa! Ease off. Don’t want to get on my bad side now, do you?’ he said, winking. I felt a sharp pain in my mind and knew he was trying to invade my thoughts. I threw up walls around my mind, not sober enough to really hide anything beyond the padlocked box I had stashed the knowledge about my father in. He shrugged and stopped trying, taking a long swig of vodka until the bottle was empty. Without saying anything, he left, dumping the bottle and returning with a new one. I eyed it, amazed at how much he could drink and not even seem tipsy. He caught me watching and stepped around the shattered glass on the floor.

‘Dare you,’ he said, holding the bottle out to me. I stared at it, hesitant. My rational self said no. It was neat vodka. The other part of me said beat Kaspar.

‘Whatever,’ I replied, sounding more confident than I really was. Snatching the bottle from his hands, I tipped it up and gulped several mouthfuls down. It burned my throat and I shuddered, feeling it strip away all the moisture in my mouth. I took another mouthful and another, trying to quench my growing thirst, but it didn’t work and as stars appeared in front of my eyes, I thrust it back into his chest, feeling the room spin. The music faded away, the voices becoming louder, confusing, overwhelming and I grabbed onto something solid in front of me, steadying myself. After a minute, the dizziness passed and I stood up straight.

‘See?’ I smirked at Kaspar, who I realized I was gripping the shoulders of. I let go, but then decided it was a bad idea as my legs threatened to give way. I wrapped my arms around his neck, trying to steady myself, not even thinking about what I was doing. I felt breath on my hair and a voice whispered something in my ear that sounded like, ‘Want to dance?’

I nodded eagerly and felt a hand take mine, leading me towards the far end of the room. Something pulled me around and in a blur I was pressed up against someone, hips swaying to the beat, hands on a hard chest. I forced my eyes to re-focus and recognized that the hard chest belonged to Kaspar. I frowned and froze, a little rational thought breaking through the haze. What am I doing?

‘Relax, Girly,’ a voice purred in my ear.

Before I knew it, I had spun around, my back to his chest. A pulsating beat filled the room, pounding against my ribs and sending my heart into my mouth. It was slow; too slow almost. Hands rested themselves on my waist, following my movement as my body instinctively followed the beat. My head rested in the curve of his neck and I could smell the same musky, expensive cologne that his room and half the corridor always smelled of. He was wearing too much; it tickled my dry throat, yet it was alluring. Maybe that was the drink. Yes, it’s the drink. I could feel how warm my skin was compared to his and louder than the music, louder than the voices, louder than anything was the sound of his breath in my ear, like a rush of wind amongst the trees.

He wrapped an arm around my stomach, pulling me closer. His other hand reached down and hooked itself under my arm, sweeping it up until it circled his neck. The other followed as his arms trailed after mine, starting at my neck, sending shivers down my spine. They ran over my shoulders, lingering around my breasts – were people watching? – over my hips, stopping at my thighs. I barely noticed as they slowly worked around to my inner thigh; I hardly cared. My breath came out in short rasps and I could have sworn his breath wasn’t as icy as usual.

‘What do you say we–’

His low voice was interrupted, his hands abruptly leaving my legs. They settled themselves around my waist, spinning me around with him. I giggled and squinted, recognizing Fabian in front of us. He looks angry, I registered. Even in the gloom and through my alcohol-tinted gaze I could see his eyes were black followed by a vivid green.

‘I think you have had your fun, Kaspar,’ he growled. Kaspar stood perfectly still, eyes cold. He didn’t loosen his grip on me. Fabian narrowed his eyes and they paused at black. ‘A word if you will,’ he continued, addressing Kaspar. He grabbed my hand and I toppled into his arms as he pulled me back towards the sofas and away from the music just as the song changed.

‘I love this song,’ I moaned, tugging on Fabian’s hand. He ignored me, as did Kaspar, who walked silently behind us. We stopped and spotting a sofa, I slumped down against the back; any clear thoughts that remained were fast leaving now and I just wanted to close my eyes, which I did, just listening instead.

‘What the hell were you thinking?’ Fabian spat, his voice venomous. ‘What would have happened if you had lost it? If the King knew, he would kill you.’

‘But he doesn’t know,’ Kaspar replied. His voice seemed distant. ‘Christ, I was just having a bit of fun. It’s not as though she minded.’

‘Of course she didn’t mind. She’s drunk! And it was you who got her that drunk. I saw you. When will you get that you can’t treat every girl you come across like this? Especially her,’ Fabian bellowed. ‘Alcohol can kill humans, you know that right?’ His words echoed around my mind, but I didn’t really hear them. My head felt like lead and I slumped even further, only just managing to stay upright.

‘I can treat girls anyway I like, I’m the Prince. And yes, I did get her drunk. So what? It’s not as though she’s dead, is it?’ I cracked open an eye at that and saw him gesturing towards me without really checking to see whether I was all right, which I wasn’t: the room was spinning and I felt sick.

‘Guys, I don’t feel so good,’ I groaned, as my vision funnelled. Before I knew it, I was tumbling over the back of the chair, landing with a thump on the soft cushions. Two faces loomed above me, one concerned, the other amused.

‘Kaspar, how much did she drink?!’ I heard Fabian roar before I passed out.