She was sitting on the ground, leaning against a large stone grave. Snow dusted her hair and her lashes. Her dull gaze raised to the vampire. She seemed so small and miserable, as if life had been sucked out of her, but she was still breathing, she wasalive.
“Dante…” Violette breathed in a heavy voice, trying to move, but her body gave up on her.
He scurried to her and crouched down, his hand carefully straightening the lock of her dark hair back, revealing fresh marks from fangs between dried blood under her jaw.
His worried gaze shifted to her face. She was breathing, her heart was beating, although slower than usual, but she was not dying, only deprived of energy. It also didn't look like she was infected with the vampire venom. He'd never forgive himself if she turned into a vampire. A breath of relief left his mouth.
“You got rid of the mask,” Violette nearly whispered with a drained voice. “You have a pretty face…” She scarcely understood what she was saying but it didn't mean she hadn't thought so.
She looked half asleep, half delirious. Her breath came out in a heavy and labored way, short exhalations kept releasing into the air.
Dante’s forehead wrinkled as her eyelids fell and a deep sigh slipped from her pale lips. He touched her cheeks – absolutely icy, lacking their color. Falling snow had accumulatedon her clothes. His fingers immediately reached to the buttons on his coat and he threw it over her cold shoulders.
“You need to warm up,” his gentle voice caressed her ear, “and rest.”
“No…I don't,” she squeezed hoarsely.
She was even able to raise her hand, however she didn't have enough strength to even touch him, nor to push him away.
He caught her as she began to slide off the stone wall into the snow. And he felt very warm – she didn't remember when he'd been so warm, even hot. He reminded her of a warm fireplace, but that didn't change the fact that she didn't want to lie in his arms, no matter how hot and cozy they were. He sent her away, said a lot of rude things to her. He behaved like a brute. It was his fault she was freezing now, deprived of vitality.
It seemed as if life was slipping away through her fingers, and she tried to cling to it, but it was burdensome. The cold made her eyelids even heavier; she wanted to sleep so badly. Just close her eyes and fall asleep. And if she is lucky – everything that happened turns out to be just a dream. And it will all disappear the next time she opens her eyes. If she will open them again.
“Put me down…I don't want to die in your arms,” she whispered.
“You're not dying, Little Witch,” the vampire said tenderly, and tucked her in his coat. His voice sounded as sweet as a lullaby, making her eyes even harder to keep open.
Violette didn't believe his words, she couldn't help but die – the weight of exhaustion was unbearable, lodging itself deep in her bones. She couldn't feel her hands and legs, and her mind was wandering in the hazy fog. It felt like soon all of it would turn into a blank page. She should have been angry at Dante or felt upset, but she didn't even feel that, all she wanted to do was to close her eyes.Forevermore.
You're such a liar,she wanted to say but instead of words her mouth let out some unclear burble.
“Everything will be alright.” Dante scooped her in his arms, his fingers brushed her hair away from her face and shook off the snow.
“I hate you,” she slurred very quietly against his chest, her eyes drifting shut. “I hate you so much…”
He didn't say anything as she whispered her last words before falling asleep. He knew he deserved it. She should have hated him after everything he did, especially after what he did when she went into the grotto with him the first time. He hated himself not less, if not more.
Chapter 42
DECEIVED
Violette opened her eyes. Sunlight streamed into the room through a gap in the curtains.
She was under a heavy blanket in a comfy bed when the fog in her head started to clear. She was at the cemetery and then…What was then? She remembered how she cried and the two fangs that flashed before her eyes. Then she felt like vitality left her but she didn't die, however it felt like she was about to. The blurry image of Dante appeared in her mind; he was there, he found her in the snow after Nigel sucked her blood and left her to freeze. He might be the one who had taken her to wherever she was.
The exhaustion was still deep-seated under her skin, calling her to a sweet oblivion like she was only half alive. She felt so tiny and the world was so big. And…she feltalone. Furthermore, she couldn't tell if this hole in her heart was because of what Nigel had done or because of what Dante said…
She herself hoisted from the bed. A headache forced her eyes to squint shut for a second, her temples pulsating with pain.
She tried to replay in her head everything that happened and as far as she was going into it – the more it hurt; every flash, every word. And then she felt a grudge. A torment. Like someone was squeezing her head so tight and she knew exactly who that someone was. What he said. What he did.She remembered the pain he caused. How he used her and treated her. Tears once again flickered at the corners of her eyes. But stronger thanher pain was her anger. She didn't deserve any of this. And if he was that cruel, why would he come for her?
She jumped out of her bed in a second, feeling indignant, rage pulsating in her veins. She swayed. She had to find him. And as she held this thought in her mind, the door opened.
Dante stood at the threshold. Their eyes collided. His jaw drew tight. Silence fell between them. The growing storm in Violette's eyes was ready to meet the shadows in his. She pressed her lips tight, fighting tears back.
“You got up,” he said. Cold.
Everything she wanted to tell him stuck in her throat. She couldn't swallow it, nor let out.
