He could smell her blood, taste it even, as the scent drifted up to him and played with his senses. He had watched their progress along the garden, had known the instant her hand had touched a rose, and had felt that first piercing of her skin. He shivered in memory of when that first drop of blood soaked into the grounds through the roses. A sweet metallic flavor swirled around his mouth and he shuddered in response as an unnamed hunger rose from the pit of his belly.
He growled and stalked back inside halls of his home. The smell and taste of blood had made the monster within him even more restless tonight. He felt it strain and stretch through the confines of his own body, and only his tightly held control kept it at bay. If his ragged breathing was any testament, tonight would be...difficult. Bad enough to keep the beast at bay without the temptation of blood and flesh right before his very nose.
Perhaps this was a bad night to greet his guest.
It didn't matter. She was here now, just outside the door. He could smell her fear, her apprehension; but most importantly, he could smell her blood. Fresh blood dripping, dripping, dripping right outside his door. He felt it seep even more into the grounds as its warmth cut through the snow and into the earth. He felt his skin stretch as he fought for control of his own body. He would greet her as a man, damn it, and not some ravenous beast.
He heard the slow knocks on the door from the balustrade where he paused. He could see the faint shadow of her presence through the bottom of the door as he waited. He swallowed a snarl from his throat as he willed her to open the door herself.
He wanted to see her first, up close, without her seeing him. He wanted to know for certain if the face of the woman in his visions matched hers. Even though he knew, he knew, that it had to be her, he wanted his own eyes to verify what his mind, his other senses, and his soul had known the very moment she entered his domain.
Slowly, he saw the knob turn, creaking slightly from disuse. He watched as the door was pushed open cautiously.
"Hello?" her voice called out, soft and husky.
A shiver raced along his spine as his ears strained to listen more closely.
"Anyone in here?" she asked as she placed one step inside his home.
The door opened more fully and the quick intake of his breath was the only sound he made as her silhouette became visible against the moonlight. A wild breeze blew across, flapping her cloak around her. He saw her shiver from the cold and draw her arms within the confines of her clothing.
"Is anyone in here?" she queried louder this time, as she entered his home fully, looking around fretfully. By chance, her face looked up at him and the light from the outside gave him a clear picture of her features. Once again, for just a moment, his vision overwhelmed him.
"Please," she had said, "don't leave me."
He made a low sound in his throat as reality intruded. He peered at her through his red bangs while his hands gripped the banister, cracking the wood with his strength. She noticed him now. He knew it. He could tell by the stillness of her body and the quickening of her breathing. Her heartbeat jumped and raced. He groaned. He could hear her heart, for God's sake.
And he could smell her. Not just her blood, whose scent threatened to overcome his senses, but also her own personal scent. The slight fragrance of jasmine on her skin, so subtle and almost overpowered by the blood and the roses.
"There was no answer to my knock and the door was open," her voice drifted off, apologetically. He could see her eyes strain to see him. She bit her lip. "I...I've come in my father's stead," she added softly. She waited and gave a sigh of frustration at his decided lack of response.
Drip.
His eyes widened as he noticed her clenched fists.
Drip.
Was that...yes it was. Her life's essence was marking his home. The roses had done some damage. He moved silently along the shadows until he stood in front of her. He could see her startled gasp at seeing him this close. "You need to take care of this," he rasped softly against her ear as he reached for her hand. He let out a low growl when he encountered the warm slickness of her blood against his flesh. A fevered light entered his eyes.
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She jumped away from him in her surprise, but he held her hand tightly and she winced at the slight lancing pain from her cut. She opened her mouth, to say something, anything, only to close it. What was there to say? What could she say that wouldn't sound inane or stupid? She didn't even see him move. He was just there, suddenly, in front of her. She was in the home of a legendary killer and nothing, nothing in her life had prepared her for the sheer presence he exuded.
He wasn't a large man, but next to him, she had felt small and insignificant. He held her in one strong grip, preventing her futile attempts to move away. Her voice, which she was proud to say had held steady until this very moment, had deserted her and she could do nothing but stare at the dark eyes that hovered above her.
The shadows obscured most of his face, but his eyes, his eyes held a strange light as they gazed down at her. "I'm sorry I've made a mess of your floors," a thought escaped her lips. The moment the words were out of her mouth, she mentally slapped herself. I'm sorry I've made a mess of your floors? What was she thinking? Soon, if she lived through this, she would think back to this time and slap herself once more. Of all the things she thought to first say to him, she had to admit that what came out of her mouth never entered her thoughts. Until now that was. Her mind must have abandoned her for what else but that reason could have made her say such a thing? She must be.
Slowly, he raised her hand near his face and she watched him breathe in deeply as if to savor a scent. His eyes were closed, but his expression, or what she could see of his expression, was disturbing in its implications. In muted horror, she watched as his lips touched the palm of her hand and his tongue darted out to follow the trail of blood with a long, wet lick.
The touch of his tongue against her skin was hot, almost burning, as if it traced a line of fire against her cut. That unfamiliar heat seared her, jostled her from her inaction, and gave her the strength to violently push herself away from him. Adrenalin adding fuel to her panic, she was able to draw slightly back, until the only thing of his that touched her was his hand as he held hers in a fierce grip.
She felt goose bumps crawl up her skin as she stared at him aghast. There had been many variations to the myth of Battousai. One of them maintained that the killer was a blood-hungry monster in truth who used the chaos of the era to drench himself in the blood of humans. That particular story had been most effective in scaring little children to behave or Battousai would eat them alive. As children, she and her sisters had always laughed at the gullibility of their peers in believing those stories; but now, she wondered.
As she tugged and pulled at her hand, she wondered if her horse had been overly-optimistic. She wondered whether she herself had been overly optimistic in believing a horse's ramblings. She wondered if she'll die tonight, amidst the blood and chaos that dominated her mind.
"Stop," his voice crept up against her skin.
Still she tried to pull free. A futile effort, it seemed, but she had to try.
"Stop this nonsense at once," he demanded with a growl while he stepped towards her.
"Please let me go," she said frantically, unaware that she had been saying those exact words since she had started struggling.
With an impatient sound, she felt his hands let go of hers just before she stumbled on the floor. He stood over her, towered over her, as she tried to scramble to her feet. She could hear his ragged breathing, and feel his intense stare. Like her, he seemed to be in the grip on an internal battle.
He's trying to decide whether to kill you, you idiot! she thought to herself in near hysterics. Her fevered imagination was taking hold of her senses. She had come prepared to lose her life so that her father and her family might live in peace. She had come prepared to meet her end at the edge of the Battousai's sword. It was an honorable way to die and she had come here willingly to meet her fate. She had expected and been prepared for a quick and clean death. What she was not prepared for was to have a monster see her as food. Gods! Would he tear her flesh to pieces before she died? What sort of monster was he?
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Her terror, which moments ago had simmered just beneath the surface, surged forward and surrounded him like a warm wrap. The scent of it, along with her blood, played havoc with his carefully constructed control. He felt the beast move beneath his skin, seeking escape. He could almost see the fear-driven thoughts that danced through her mind as she gave him a look of alarm.
He had to calm her down or this would all be over soon. He never should have shown himself this night, never should have risked their encounter under the cover of darkness. Under the cloak of moonlight, the beast thrived and grew stronger. He knew she was bleeding, knew that her fear was a hairsbreadth away from taking over her senses.
But he had been...impatient. He had wanted to stand next to her and breathe in her essence. And now he was and that very fact threatened to steal his hard-won peace. Was this what the woman had reduced him to? An almost mindless being bent on flesh and blood?
He clenched his fist and slammed it between his eyes. He felt his own blood trickle down his face and onto the floor. The beast would not escape tonight, he thought, his amber eyes glittering with determination. Even as he felt it attempt to claw its way out of his skin, he repeated the thought. As some semblance of control returned, he wondered in the back of his mind if he had somehow orchestrated this dance with his beast. Without consciously knowing, had he wanted her to see him in the worst possible light now rather than later?
He needed to think, away from her and the temptation she offered to his senses.
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"Your room is upstairs," he informed her in his low, distant voice.
What? Her room? Was this a joke? How could she have a room when she was so obviously going to die tonight?
And even if by some small chance she didn't, she could not stay here with him. He was a madman at best and a blood-thirsty killer at worst. She'll just have to go home. That's right. Her nice horse was going to take her home. He had to. Otherwise...
"Kaoru," his voice called to her, reached her in her panic-driven haze. "You are mine now, as you have taken your father's place."
Her father. Yes. Her father.
She felt her breathing slow down to a more even pace.
Her father. Her family.
Her reason for being here.
Right.
She looked up at him and found his outstretched hand towards her. "I'll show you to your room," his voice seemed...more soothing now. The fires in his eyes burned like a cool flame instead of a raging inferno. And somehow, his obviously forced serenity seemed to have a calming effect on her.
She felt her mind clearing. What had she been thinking? She couldn't escape even if she wanted to. Had she forgotten about those demented roses? Besides, she...she didn't want to escape. To do so might bring down unknown disasters to her family. She...if she wasn't to die tonight, then she was a prisoner here. She stared at his hand before slowly placing her left hand in it. She felt his fingers close over hers as he pulled her up.
The moment she stood steadily on her feet, he released her hand as if it burned him. "Follow me," he rasped as he turned his back to her and began to walk up the stairs.
She watched him walk away from her and envied the calm confidence he exuded. She looked back down at her hand, where his tongue had followed the trail of blood. Even now, in this cold night, she could still feel the heat that glided across her cut. She looked back up at the man who led her deeper into his home. There was no turning back now, right? she asked herself even as her feet began to climb the stairs.
She heard the door to the outside close behind her and shuddered at the reverberating sound. Her left hand, which glided across the railing, tightened its grip momentarily before she proceeded to follow Battousai. He stopped in front of one of the closed doors and waited at her slow progress.
"This will be your room," he stated, opening the door. He didn't come inside; rather, he stood rigidly by the doorway and gestured for her to come in.
Not seeing any other choice in the matter, she walked passed him and entered the room. Her movements were stilted and self-conscious. She could feel his eyes follow her intently. As for her, her own eyes could barely see through the darkness despite the moon outside her window. And that was perfectly alright. She wasn't sure if she was up to seeing him in the full light of day, anyway. Not knowing where else to look and trying to avoid his gaze as much as she could, she gazed at the crescent moon. She wondered if Megumi stared at this same moon tonight.
"Do I..." his voice sounded from behind her, "do I have your promise that you will stay here with me?"
She wondered what Misao thought of all of this.
"Do I have your word that you will stay here with me?" he repeated, a touch of impatience tinged his voice this time.
She turned to him slowly. "I..." she started, only to pause. Did he have her word? Could she give her word to stay here? Not to escape when an opportunity presented itself?
Her mind wandered back to her family, before she gave him a steady look. "You have my word," she whispered, feeling it echo in her mind. Upon hearing herself say those words, she would swear that invisible threads seem to tie themselves around her, as if literally to bind her to her word.
She heard him let out a sigh. Of relief? Perhaps.
"Then," he said, "welcome to your new home." At that, he closed the door and left her alone.
She stared at the closed door, her teeth clenched.
Welcome to your new home.
She didn't want a new home. Her old home had been perfect.
Welcome to your new home.
It had her father, her sisters, her friends, and her neighbors.
Welcome to your new home.
It had love and laughter that echoed within the walls.
Welcome to your new home.
It had the smell of Megumi's cooking in the morning, the sound of Misao's antics in the backyard, and the sight of her father practicing at the dojo.
She felt her legs collapse beneath her as she continued to stare at the door.
Welcome to your new home.
Her new home. Without her family.
And, before her eyes closed in exhaustion, she wondered...she wondered if she would live to see the year.
To be continued
Home FanFiction Akane-Rei Roses In Winter