Four
1039 Words
Kimberly
We arrived at the manor in sooner than I expected. The Maybach was brought to a complete halt as the electronic gate whizzed close.
There were several people waiting at the entrance as soon as we arrived. I was able to count six of them.
"She's beautiful," someone said, though it was uttered in a very low voice but with my super hearing I was able to hear it clearly.
"How long do you think she'll last?"
"I bet she'll be begging for death before the end of tonight."
"Poor thing."
My heart raced at their comments, but I wasn't surprised. I had heard tales about the Blood Lord and I knew my life wouldn't be easy after getting married, yet hearing them say it brought about a different kind of fear.
"Welcome, my Lady," everyone chorused.
I didn't know what to say so I opted for a simple nod and I wave of my hand.
"She's Cynthia," Mr. Simpson pointed at a lady who looked to be in her late forties and she curtsied. "That's Joyce," he pointed to another lady who seemed like a teenager. "And that's Elena," he pointed at a lady with blonde hair. "they will be waiting on you."
Then he moved and pointed a bulky man with scar under his jaw. "That's Lyon," he then pointed at a gigantic man. "That's Andrew," they are you guards. Then he moved towards a stout man. "And that's Pete. He'll be your personal driver."
As soon as he mentioned driver, I remembered the car that was given as my birthday gift. My Ferrari.
My anger rose as I recalled how Mr. Simpson refused to let me take my car just because his monstrous master wouldn't like it. According to him, if I behaved well, then his master could get me many more of such cars.
Such arrogance!
I looked around and couldn't help but admire the manor. It was clean with no single dirt in sight.
According to his name, I was expecting to see blood splattered around with heaps of dead bodies and dried bones, but here it was the opposite.
"Let's go in," Mr. Simpson ushered Mr in before I could take in the environment.
Obediently, I sauntered after him as he led the way to the most marvelous living room I've ever seen.
My jaw dropped at the sight before me. Did we stop by someone else's house? This couldn't possibly be the same place that that monster resides.
The place was amazingly beautiful.
The ceiling was made to replicate the open sky. A magnificent moon shaped chandelier hung through the ceiling with several starlight adorning it.
The wall had see through marbles adorning it while the floor was made to replicate the sea. It felt as if I was walking on the ocean.
The chairs were styled in a s-shape. With a round seashell shaped table sitting at the center.
The fireplace was cowrie shaped. The fire was dimly lit to keep the room warm. There was a big LED television hanging right above the fire place.
The place was a marvel. Whoever resided there must be lover of nature, and a monster like Kendrick can't be him.
"Welcome My Lord," Mr. Simpson bowed as a young man who looked to be in his mid twenties came down the snake styled stairs.
My Lord?
I looked at the man and got lost in his deep hazel eyes. His golden brown hair was styled in a curly cascade.
As he got closer, my eyes stayed glued on him as if they had a mind of their own. I couldn't take them off him no matter how hard I tried.
He had small eyes hiding under his thick brows. His straight nose looked like it was measured to fit perfectly. He had thin lips sitting atop his sharp jawline.
This handsome man must be the owner of this amazing place not that Bloody monster, Kendrick.
"Bow to the master," Mr. Simpson whispered.
My head whipped as realization sets in. Did he just say master? Wasn't Kendrick his master? Why was he referring to this man as his master?
Could this stud be Kendrick? How come? According to his reputation, I was expecting to see an ugly man with potbelly and bald head and fangs.
How is he so young and handsome?
"Ke... Kendrick?" I spoke my thoughts out loud, still unable to believe that this handsome stud is the Blood Lord.
"Lord Kendrick," he corrected as his eyes checked me out from my head down to my toes. "Lord Kendrick Crowley."
I rolled my eyes at his narcissistic intro. I already know his name, he didn't have to repeat it in full.
"Noted," I replied with a slight bow just to humor the man.
My hatred for him was greater than the fear his dominating presence had over me.
"Good," he installed his hands in his pockets as he continued his quest of checking me out. "Show her to her room and send Linda to clean her up."
Clean me up? Is he kidding? Do I look unclean?
"I do not need...."
Like lightning he was standing before me and his hand clutched my neck. "You do not speak unless I permit!"
I held my breath and met his gaze boldly. I won't fall weak or plead before this monster.
Looking closely at his monstrously handsome face, I could see a scar sitting right above his cheekbone. I wonder how he got that.
"Clear?" He asked, his baritone, strong and demanding.
I chose not to talk to avoid incurring more of his wrath, instead I nodded in response.
However, I seemed to have underestimated the Blood Lord, he wouldn't let me off so easily.
His grip tightened around my neck and his nails pierced my skin as he spoke again. "You answer me when I speak to you!"
Didn't he just say I must speak unless he permits? How do I know when he permits?
"Yes... Lord Kendrick." I muttered through the pain.
He shoved me aside and immediately took and handkerchief to wipe his hands like he just touched some filth.
"I can't stand filth and women are a bag of them."
- Writer
