Poisonous Flower

"My Prince," the voice of a man hangs on the back of her head, "Unfortunately we would need a human doctor for a human patient."

"Is it difficult to take care of a human, Sterling? You are the Royal Physician. I thought with your long years of being a doctor and a vampire you would have picked a few skills from humans," commented the deeper voice, his voice was commanding, and despite the laziness in his tone, something about how he pulled his voice at the end of his sentences and that tug between a teasing tone color and one that was threatening.

"I apologize for my shortcomings. For the future, I shall learn more—"

"Go. Go before I turn you to a fate humans and vampires both fear," the deeper voice demanded and not long after, Bella heard for certain that the door was pulled open by men in heavy armor and then closed again with a loud click. Her eyes shifted underneath her closed eyelid as she tried to comprehend the right time to open her eyes. Just as she thought she should fall back to sleep, she heard a creak beside the bed she had been sleeping on, "You can pretend to sleep but that won't help for long. Well unless you have decided to sleep forever which you can tell me if that is your desire."

Her eyes snapped open as she turned her green gaze toward the man who was leaning on the plus cushion that was settled at the corner of the room. She first stared at the ceiling that was painted with stars on a black background and then at the wooden frame of the bed that was covered in a canopy of red velvet that curtains the bed. It was a comfy bedroom but the size was only something a King would have. A size that could house a full family, thought Bella.

It took her a while to think about what had happened to her and then suddenly her body jolted as she pushed herself to stand only to let out a loud cry as she felt she had shifted her entire weight on the wrist that was broken.

She turned to it, seeing how it was now bandaged.

Then her eyes warily turned toward the vampire who was turning his book that was lying on his bed. He seemed unbothered by her movement or what she was about to do. Her heart then raced as the full memory of what she had done sank into the back of her head.

"I... are you going to kill me?" She asked, her voice was sore and her fever was drumming her head in a tingling ache.

The vampire finally closed his book. When he leaned forward to place his arm on his knees, his face was illuminated by the reddish-orange glow from the fork-like candlelight that was settled on the cupboard beside his large cushioned chair.

His red eyes were demanding as he eyed her. His lips then curled, "Because you have killed Rueben?"

Her breaths hitched and she looked at her trembling hands that were still frightened by herself who had taken a life, "I- It was a misunderstanding."

"Oh come, stabbing someone by the neck will kill someone for certain vampires or not. What misunderstanding is there?" The man asked her. She was too exhausted to study her surroundings, her nerves were errant but as his face leaned further near the candle, she could finally see his face.

A man in his late twenties exuded a rugged charm, his masculine features defined by a strong, square jaw. His black button-up shirt hung casually on his frame, the top two buttons undone, revealing prominent collarbones that added to his unintentional allure. Thick, black eyebrows arched sharply above a high nose bridge, their shape drawing attention to his striking gaze. His long lashes, tinged with a subtle red hue, framed his piercing crimson eyes that shimmered with a glassy, almost otherworldly sheen, as though harboring secrets that burned quietly within.

"Unless you think that someone else had killed Rueben and you have witnessed it?" The man asked again, gathering her attention to the words that slipped from his thick lower lips. "Hm?" He demanded, his tone sounded gentle but one would know that there was no ounce of kindness in his eyes. He was simply asking, wanting to hear her response, and she didn't know what was the right response that this man wanted to hear.

"He tried to— he... attacked me."

"He attacked you and you attacked him back, despite being a slave, you dared to kill your superior," he reminded her place which made her throat bob from nervousness. "What did you feel when you killed Rueben?" He then asked, the question unexpected to her ears.

It wasn't a question out of worries but out of curiosity, as if humans' emotions was unheard of as a vampire like him.

"I felt... fear," she admitted, her voice trembling as she avoided his gaze. "Are you going to kill me for what I did to Rueben?"

His smile widened, a chilling curve that hinted at something far worse than death. "Rueben isn't dead," he replied smoothly, watching her lips part in shock. His crimson eyes glinted with amusement as he added, "Gravely wounded, yes. Left to suffer, yes. But alive. Oh, how delightful your predicament is becoming. Poor little flower, you're going to suffer much more from now on, aren't you?"

Bella's stomach churned. Relief washed over her for a fleeting moment—she hadn't killed him, hadn't completely crossed that line. Yet that relief quickly soured, curdling into dread. Rueben's survival wasn't a blessing; it was a curse. She had wounded a vampire of power, and now she would pay for it.

"Then..." she hesitated, her voice barely a whisper as her eyes settled on the man before her. His dark hair fell in loose, casual waves, framing a face that seemed almost too serene for the menace he exuded. "Why did you save me?"

"Because it's fun," he said with an almost boyish grin, leaning back lazily.

Her frown deepened. Fun? Was that truly all her life meant to him—a mere plaything for his amusement?

"Don't look so disappointed," he teased, his voice sharp despite his relaxed demeanor. "You should be grateful."

Before she could respond, he snapped his fingers, and her startled gaze snapped back to his face.

"Where did your mind wander?" he chided, his tone suddenly cold. "I'm speaking, aren't I? Show some respect."

Bella swallowed hard, quickly lowering her gaze to avoid provoking him further. "Arabella," she murmured, her voice steady despite her pounding heart. "That's my name... sir."

His smile returned, sharp as a blade. "Arabella? Like the poisonous flower that lures with its beauty only to kill with a touch?"

Her jaw tightened. She nodded stiffly, resisting the urge to snap back. The comparison had always stung, a reminder of her parents' cruel indifference and the curse of her existence.

"Your parents must have adored you to name you after such a lethal bloom," he mused, his words laced with mockery.

Her head snapped up, fiery green eyes locking onto his. She bit back her glare, but he caught it anyway, his smile widening into a grin that felt both delighted and dangerous.

"Ah, there it is," he murmured. "That human fire. So full of emotion, so deliciously raw. Do you enjoy suffering, Arabella? Is that why you're here?"

"Does being rude come naturally to vampires?" The words slipped from her lips before she could stop herself.

He paused, tilting his head as if considering her question. "No," he said at last, almost kindly.

Relief flickered through her, but it was short-lived.

He rose from his seat in one fluid motion, his long strides bringing him closer until he stood over her. His book lay abandoned on the chair, forgotten.

"But it does come with being bloodthirsty and violent," he continued, his voice dropping to a predatory murmur. Her name rolled off his tongue like a curse. "Arabella."

She held her breath as his hand shot out, gripping her chin. His touch was firm, commanding, forcing her to meet his gaze. That's when she noticed the half-moon birthmark on his neck— a strange, hypnotic mark that seemed to pulse with quiet power.

"You've entertained me tonight," he said, his lips curling into a smile that sent chills down her spine. "So I've decided to let you live— for now. But don't mistake my mercy for leniency."

Her heart raced as his tone darkened, his crimson eyes narrowing.

"That doesn't mean I won't kill you," he said softly. Each word was a dagger, deliberate and cruel. "Entertain me, poison flower. Keep me amused, and I might let you live a little longer. But if you're unwilling..." He let his words hang in the air, their weight suffocating.

His grip on her chin tightened slightly. "I'll send you back to your cell. Straight to your death."