His Beloved or His Mate

Chapter 2

    Ravana’s  heels clicked on the tiled floor as she made her way to the double doors straight ahead, opening one side. The doors appeared to be a dark wood, but open closer examination, Gabriella noted something heavier. “Steel enforced,” Ravana nodded, looking back at her, “to… discourage certain visitors.” 

    Outside, a stone veranda stretched right, left, and onward to four vast steps that dropped down into a horseshoe driveway. Everywhere were flowering planters and shrubbery hedging the porch and walkways. At the top of the steps leaning on a thick pillar, a person lounged, facing outward. 

    Ravana addressed, “Myung.” 

    The man turned, his folded arms relaxing to his sides. “Sorry- I was…” his head snapped to Gabriella, “meditating.”  His facial features and straight, thick black hair easily identified him as Asian. Though, he looked normal, human. Although he had a strong, athletic build, his skin wasn’t pale, and he didn’t radiate with the sort of allure Raith or Ravana seemed to cast, yet Myung was good looking in his own right. Also, his eyes didn’t look otherworldly, instead, were a soft almond brown. Even though his clothes were a very casual tee-shirt, jeans, and black leather jacket, they looked high quality even down to his white sneakers.

    “She’s ready.” Ravana gently nudged Gabriella forward. “Myung will escort you to King Raith.”

    “You’re not coming?” Her voice sounded like a lost puppy. Even though she had just met Ravana, the assistant was the only one she was familiar with, so she felt a bit anxious to be separated from her at this point. 

    Ravana laughed shortly. “I am honored you desire my company, my Queen. But I do not think King Raith would appreciate mine at this point. I will see to you later.” With a nod, she turned on heel and retreated into the house. 

    After the door closed, Gabriella charily turned to Myung. She swallowed. “Hi.” She waved, then regretted it. It sounded dumb. She bit her lower lip, her eyebrows raising. 

    Myung smiled. “My Queen, please.” He offered his elbow.

    “Ugh. Do you need to call me that?” She eyed his arm and tried to push the awkward feelings deep away as she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. Immediately, he took her down the stairs and began walking across the driveway and soon into the lush green yard. “Just hearing it from Ravana made me feel out of place. You don’t need to, please.”

    He chuckled. “The Princess means no harm. Things are highly formal at the palace.”

    “Princess?” Her eyes flew open. Ok, what?

    “Yes, she is Princess Ravana.” He nodded.

    “She said she was just an assistant.” Gabriella gulped. Was she supposed to bow or curtsy or something? What was the pleasantries between a queen and a princes?? Ai! Was she even a real queen? This was just too much!

    Myung rolled his eyes. “Ya, she’s that, too. Pretty damn good one. Keeps us all in line. But on the totem pole of clan Karayan, she’s Princess Ravana. If she didn’t press you about it, she is probably fine that you call her Ravana.”

    “Karayan?”

    "Ok, wow. You really don't remember, huh?" When Gabriella shot him a frown he quickly cleared his throat. “Uh, well, the clan name is Karayan.” He side-eyed her, brow furrowing. It’s King Raith’s surname, so it’s our identifier amongst the rest of the clans.”

    “How many clans are there?” Clans! How many vampires were out there? She gulped.

    He exaggerated a cough. “Millions. Locally? Too many to cause a massive headache.” He then added. “But only one royal clan in this region… which is this one. One king per region. King Raith rules over tons of peeps."

    Myung chatted as they ambled toward the tree line of evergreen. Already, a salt water scent strengthened in the air.  “Anyway, if I do not call you Queen, I’ll get into a bit of trouble,” He smirked. “Besides, it’s who you are. So, easy enough. You are my Queen.” Myung shrugged. “I could say I would call you by your name while it’s just us hanging out, but that wouldn’t work either. He hears just about everything.” His demeanor was completely different from Ravana. While the assistant… Princess... seemed to have a reserved maturity, Myung acted every bit his age, which looked early twenties. Gabriella felt at ease with him immediately.

    “Hears everything?” She pressed.

    “Well, me for example.” He touched his chest. “With me, his Day Watcher, he needs to communicate with me at a second’s notice. So, my mind-link is opened to him, nearly always. Goes with the job.”

    Gabriella nodded. “What does it mean, the job? To be all Day Watcher-y?”

    Myung chuckled. “Well, my ‘Watcher-y’ duties include a lot of... watching.” His eyebrow comically rose.  “During the day. Very boring.” He smirked. “I’m a glorified security system.” They reached the edge of the woods; Myung indicated a manicured path that led inside and then guided her there. 

    She looked up at the tall trees and smiled. The branches shrouded them from the sky and seemed to blanket her nerves. Birds jumped and flew above them, anxiously dodging her and Myung’s intrusion. Along the forest floor, small pink and white petal flowers peaked up through moss and fallen pine needles that flanked the trail. 

    “Well, you must have a very good security system if he picked you?” 

    “I’m alright.” He shrugged, smiling. “And as for you, well, aside from me, he keeps his tabs on you in his own ways.”

    “Seriously?” Gabriella hissed, halting their progress. “¡Mirón!”

    He snickered, pulling her along once more. “No, he’s not a creepy peeper. It’s not like that.” 

    “You know Spanish?” The earthy ground shifted from dirt path to soft sand. Gabriella smiled as it sifted between her toes. Looking ahead, she could see the beach and ocean through the thinning trees.

    He side-eyed her. “Uh-- ya. You know. I’ve gotta understand a little es-pañ-ol, right, to live here? But you seem to be using a little more English than you normally do. That’s cool.” Myung’s head tilted, lost in thought. “But hey, King Raith’s mirón-y tendencies are more to make sure you’re always safe. So what happened doesn’t happen again.”

    Gabriella bit her lower lip. “What happened...before?”

    “Well--” They both halted after crossing the threshold of trees and stepped onto a thicker sand. 

    “--I’ll take it from here, Myung,” a deep voice demanded.

    Their attention simultaneously snapped outward.

    It was him. 

    Raith. 

    Standing near in the shallow water with his back to them, hands in pockets and an evening breeze pulling strands of his long, thick platinum hair behind him, he looked out over the ocean’s bay. Gabriella’s breath caught, unable to stop from gawking at his herculean physique which seemed much more explicit than when she had seen him before.  A light blue cotton, button-up shirt paraded every muscled curve of his brawny torso.  The opened top three buttons revealed a silver circular object hanging on a black cord hanging against his muscular chest. Khaki linen pants were rolled midway up his calf, allowing the water to ebb and flow around his ankles. 

    “My king,” Myung bowed, even though Raith hadn't noticed the pleasantry, and left.

    As if forgetting how to use her legs, she remained planted where Myung had left her.  Inwardly, she battled the butterflies that murdered her stomach and didn’t know what to do. Should she say something? 

    Would a little “Hi” be weird? 

    Ya, that was weird with Myung. It would be totally weird with Raith.

    Raith turned his head slightly, revealing his stunning profile, as his right eye glanced at her over his shoulder. Her heart pulsed at an astronomical pace in full competition with the butterflies. 

    Anamchara!  a voice feathered in her mind.

    Under this siege of anxiety, she couldn’t understand what possessed her to walk to him. It felt like slow motion, or perhaps the world just stopped spinning, but within moments, she waded in the water at his side. Eyes locked when he completely turned to her. Eyes of bright cerulean. Gabriella stared longingly into them, confused. They had been a different color in the dream.  

    The dream.

    “Mi Alma, you have found me,” he whispered. Gabriella’s face reddened and struggled with calming the erratic thumping in her chest before it caused a heart attack. 

    “I-um...” His cool finger softly stroked her upper lip into silence, hushing any comment she was going to make. Raith seemed lost in play, his attention affixed to her lips, her cheek, her eyebrows; his gentle fingers following his inquisitive eyes, to not simply look but to also touch. At first, he played with a small strand of her tousled hair, but, intrigued, moved his fingers through its softness. Gabriella had to remind herself to breathe.

    “I can’t believe it’s really you.” His forehead repeatedly stressed and relaxed. “I have to keep telling myself that you are real.” His Scottish accent purred off his tongue. 

    Gabriella asked softly, “Why would I not be real?”

    “You are perfect.” He deflected. Raith took her hands and brought them to his lips, tenderly kissing her knuckles. She watched him, and would have lost herself in the caress, but something else caught her attention. A silver ring on her third finger. 

    Has that always been there?

    Sí, para siempre.

    Brow furrowing, absently pulling her hand away from him, she examined the ring. It was delicate, small, perfect for her slender fingers. Encrusted in the center burrowed an exquisite emerald gem.

    He smiled at her discovery.

    “I don’t remember this. Que raro” She looked up at him. 

    “It’s new. My gift to you,” He murmured. “Promise me you’ll never take it off.”

    “Why not?” 

    “Just please promise me.”

    Her brow furrowed. She didn't understand why she promised someone she barely knew, but her heart burned to fulfill his every wish. “Ok.” Gabriella looked at him. “None of this makes sense. I… I almost don’t know who I am. I don’t know you. But I’m hearing voices that I do. Seriously, me estoy volviendo loco.”

    “You aren’t going crazy, Mi Alma.” Raith cupped her face in his hands and kissed her as he chuckled. She balked at his casual tenderness. He nodded; his hands fell to his sides. “I apologize for my boldness. I need to remind myself you need time.”

    Time? Time to go insane?

    “They kept calling me queen at the house.” She eyed the ring again as questions assaulted her mind. “The only thing I remember is waking up this morning. And... I dreamt of you last night. We were dancing. You... ” Her hand gently glazed over the lesions. “...bit me.”

    "What is your question, Gabriella?”

    “Are we…” What did Ravana call it? “...Beloveds? We are together? Like married?” 

    His head tilted slightly, smiling. “Yes. And no. You are my Beloved.” Her stomach twisted as Raith’s eyes meticulously roved over her face as if drinking her in with a meaningful discovery, as if putting it to memory, or maybe, drawing from his own.

    “But I am Queen?”

    “Absolutely.” 

    Mesmerized, she watched his blue eyes smolder into a haze of red. “How can I ‘kinda’ be your Beloved or wife or whatever? Being married isn’t a ’kinda’ thing.”

    “It’s a process.” He nodded to her shoulder. “Takes time. I don’t want to …rush you.” Raith gently ran his finger along his bite. When he touched it, it didn’t hurt. Instead, it sent an exhilarating, electrical current throughout her enough to make her gasp. “It’s our connection, Mi Alma. Para siempre.” His hooded eyes watched her closely as he gingerly wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. “Con su permiso,” he whispered.

    Breathless, Gabriella nodded. 

    Slowly, he lowered his lips to hers, hesitant; the kiss was nearly chaste.  Her hands slid up to the nape of his neck, weaving through his hair. As she pulled him in closer, she opened her mouth a little more, inviting him in. His kiss deepened and a tangible excitement surged between them. 

    When he pulled away for a moment, Gabriella stared up in the maddening red of his irises. Terrifying. Maliciosos. He sensed her discomfort and lowered his eyes. Seductora. Passionate. 

    She brushed her hand across his cheek. “Look at your Beloved, vampire.” Gabriella didn't know where those words came from or understand what was driving her, but this man made her whole being somersault. For him to not be looking at her had left her cold. 

    Slowly, his lids rose until he was finally looking at her once more. The coxcomb sparked a deeper red as she smiled at him. “I’m sorry I don’t remember you. I’ll try. I promise.”

    He hugged her closer as if he would never let go. “It’s not your fault, Mi Alma.”

    “I am so confused. I have no idea-- Will you tell me what happened?”

It took him a good moment before he spoke, his lips brushing the top of her head. “You were gone. I had to get you back. It drove me insane to get you back.”

“How long was I gone? Back from where? Why can’t I remember?” she rambled.

Another long pause, but she was patient. 

“Seems like an eternity that you’ve been gone,” he choked. She held him tighter, to comfort him, yet also, knowing he would hold her tighter too, and she was anxious at what he was going to reveal. “The werewolves,” he growled. “They diseased you. Cursed you... to keep you away from me.” His face softened. “But I found you. Brought you home. And I will heal you.”

Werewolves. Yes, they did exist, too. She nodded to herself.  Witches, Demons, Devils. The shadow world hiding in plain sight in the human world. 

The flood of information was a little jarring, and living in a world of monsters was bewildering. But strangely, it seemed so blasé, too. It was just… how it was. Frankly, she was just happy to have her mind actually working. 

Well, a little anyway.

“I’m sick?”

He pulled away, looking at her. “It’s ok. Please don’t think about it. I am going to help you. I promise.”

She nodded, not knowing what that meant. But, her heart trusted him. It was all she needed. 

When the inland breeze moved a lock of hair into her face, she moved to brush it aside, but Raith quickly grabbed her hand in his. “No. Let it flirt with your hair. It’s beautiful.” He cradled her hand close to his chest as he watched the strands flurry. “Always loved your hair.” His fingers weaved in it again, sending a wave of goosebumps over her scalp and a rosy flush to rise in her cheeks. 

          Unexpectedly, he began singing. Raith’s voice was soft and every bit as beautiful as he was.  “Black is the color of my true love's hair. Her face is like some rosy fair. The prettiest face and the neatest hands. I love the ground whereon she stands.”

Gabriella giggled. “My hair isn’t black,” 

“Was.” He looked like he was in a trance as he continued to pet her softly.

“What?” 

Raith blinked his eyes and refocused on her face. “Just a very old Scottish song.”

“Is that where you’re from?” She beamed at the puzzle piecing together in her mind. “Your accent.”

His lip turned upward into a delicious smile. “Do I still have an accent?”

“You can’t hear it in your voice?” It was so clear in her head, but when she thought about it now, she questioned herself. Was she hearing things? Gabriella swore she heard it whenever he spoke.

“What if it is you that has the accent?” He winked. Her heart fluttered. “I’ve been to so many places, lived many lifetimes. I hadn’t realized it had stayed with me.”

“How many lifetimes have you lived?” Her interest piqued. 

“Plenty.” He chuckled, but then his expression grew serious. “The only lifetime that mattered though was the one with you in it.” His maddening stare turned her legs to jelly. 

Breathless, she asked, “Sing to me more?”

“What? I don’t sound like an old, dying cow?” he quipped.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” she whispered, lost within every inch of his essence.

Raith scooped her effortlessly into his muscular arms and twirled her on the sand before settling her down into a languid, dancing sway.  He brushed his lips over hers before he began: “I love my love and well she knows. I love the ground whereon she goes. The winter’s passed and the leaves are green. The time is passed that we have seen. But still I hope the time will come. When you and I shall be as one. ‘Brown’,” his eye brown rose, “is the color of my true love’s hair…” His voice grew soft as he ended his song.

A name had come to her mind before, but now forced its way past her lips:

“Anamchara,” reverberated in her ears. 

He nodded, nearly crying; pinkish tears teased at the corners of his eyes as he noticeably trembled at what she had said.

What does Anamchara mean? She asked herself in her mind. 

A feminine voice slithered through her psyche. Soulmate.

 Gabriella lost herself in his torment and pulled him against her again. He inhaled as his face swept her neck; Raith’s breathing grew heavy. A dizzying euphoria arrested her logic when her senses stirred with the promise of his dark kiss. She tilted her head to expose more of her neck as excitement bubbled in her stomach. 

Raith took the bait; his lips capturing her flesh, sucking it softly, groaning. Yet, he quickly broke away, resting his forehead on her shoulder, bathing it with erratic breaths.

“No, Gabriella. Not yet,” he sighed, looking disappointed.  Raith pulled away completely, forcing space between them. Facing the forest, he placed his hands on his hips, head bowed and his chest rose and fell as he fought for control. 

Confused, Gabriella ran a hand through her hair, trying to pull herself out of a symphony of somersaults.  Of course, yes, he had already told her it wasn’t time. He had said she was… diseased. He had to cure her first. Even though she tried to coax herself with these excuses, her heart still burned in the rejection. 

“Sorry,” she muttered.

He shook his head, dismissing her apology. Raith didn’t speak for an eternal minute. “I need to go into the city. I have some work to do,” he said without turning back to look at her. “Let’s head back to the manor, ok?”

“Sure.” Her heart slowly fractured.

He held his hand out to her, again without looking back. Pride told her not to take it. A disquieted fluttering in her stomach made her reach out and clasp him. The walk back to the house was quiet, though she caught him stealing glances down at her. She tried to meet his gaze, but each attempt she made, he would quickly look forward again. When she felt his thumb brush the side of her hand, her heart fluttered. 

Was he trying to say something? 

¡Carajo! Just please look at me! 

          Yearning still swam inside every fiber of her being, yet the possibility that he wouldn’t be able to heal her iced the edges of hope. 

What if she was unfixably broken?