“I'm not scared,” Violette grumbled.
“Really? Then why is your heart beating so fast? Or is it because of me?” And there it was – his grin, similar to a devil's. “Am I too close to you? Do you feel excited by this thought?”
Violette forehead creased. “You think too highly of yourself. The only thought that flashed through my head was how I want to introduce your face to the nearest wall.”
He tipped his head to the side with a curious smile. “You've already said it.”
“It's because my dislike of you only grows.” Her features sharpened. “Fine,” she gave out. “But if it's another one of your tricks, I swear you'll regret this,” she warned, straining her back, and tipped her chin.
Dante, amused by her words, kept stupidly smiling, then took a step closer and pressed his big finger to her lips.
Stubbornness still burned in Violette's eyes, but she parted her mouth, letting his blood touch her lower lip. His finger lingered, stroking it lightly along the soft curve of her mouth before pulling away. Violette licked the crimson blood, the metallic taste burned her tongue, the distinct sour aftertaste making her grimace. It was more than repellent, she'd never repeat such a thing again and she hoped there would be no reason for it.
“And how long does it work?”
“As long as I want it to,” he stated.
She drew an incredulous sight at him and then he was gone.
She was twirlingthe clear bottle with dust in her hands when Dante stepped in the summerhouse again. She raised her eyes at his wet hair and rose from the ground. The vampire shook his head – spray flew in different directions. The rain didn't even think about letting up.
“There's an abandoned estate nearby, I didn't find anything else,” he declared as his hand went through his soaked hair, removing it from his forehead.
Violette’s lips swayed to the side and brows pulled down: she hoped for better news.
“I suppose you still want to go there?” She shriveled at the thought of the battering shower outside.
“Would you rather stay here?”
An abandoned house didn't sound much better in her mind but then Dante added it's not far from the town out there so it made sense to walk there and stay for some time before rain will be, at least, not that strong.
Turning some object into an umbrella was also not a good idea, the strong wind would blow it away so all she could do is just turn her purple cloak over and cover her head with it.
With quick steps they ran across the clearing down the hill. Splashes flew from theirboots and slippery ground almost made Violette fall but she found her balance at the last minute. Her skirt sodden, the dirt stains covered the hem. Her cloak got drenched very quickly but soon they were standing in a big empty hall of the abandoned mansion.
It looked broken and desolate. There still were a few pieces of furniture, broken glass on the floor and thick layers of dust on the other surfaces. The walls, once decorated with expensive patterns, had darkened and were covered in mold. A crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling lacked details and was slightly skewed to the side, which made Violette carefully pass under, not taking her eyes off it. The corners were concealed with old web, scraps of which also hung from the ceiling – Violette's nose wrinkled. The low thud of Dante's step followed her to another room.
“Why do you always bring me to the old dusty places?” Violette went on, stepping over a silver vase lying on the floor. “I'll give you advice, if you ever go on a date don't bring a girl to somewhere like this.”
“You're the only one I bring to places like this,” he sang, his lips curled into a smug smile.
“Oh, I'm flattered,” she sarcastically drawled.
“Why did you decide I meant it in a good way?” His nose creased with a satisfied smile underneath, as he left the room to look around.
Violette trod deeper in the room. It looked like a living room: the old fireplace hadn't been lit for years, a few faded paintings hanging onthe wall, an old piano with a broken leg, near an empty dark spot presumably from the sofa which was no longer there.
Violette walked to the wall and pulled out the cracked box they found earlier. Her gaze lingered on the wooden top of it before she opened the case and looked inside; the content of it haunted her. She was thinking about it all that time when she was alone in the little summer house but she didn't do what she insisted now.
Her hands placed the box onto the empty fireplace and she took out the crystal bottle with silver dust. It was common knowledge not to consume anything unfamiliar, yet Violette was nearly sure it was a memory powder. It seemed logical. At least, she certainly knew it wasn't a poison. She sprinkled some dust on her hand. If Dante doesn't want to – she'll do it. After all, if she doesn’t take a risk, she won't get what she wants.
She shook the powder in her hand, blue grains sparkled with a silver hue as she lifted her hand to her nose. A sweet flowery scent entered her nostrils – a delicate blend of lilac and blue Renvoit, which was often used in the memory potions. A decision was made. She raised her hand and threw the powder over her head. The purply blue grains iridescent with silver slowly landed on top of her head, then her lashes, lips and her clothes. A burst of sudden tiredness made Violette’s legs give way, a mist crept to the corners of her mind.
“Little Witch!”
The male voice intruded in the room and she felt a familiar hand under her back, grabbing her before she'd fall onto the floor.
“What have you done?” Dante's face appeared before her eyes before it turned blurry.
