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Carefully and trying his best not to look at the indecent parts of her body, he gently took her arms out of the coat. She slumped forward onto his shoulder with a sigh as he scooped her into his arms. He strode to the back corner of his cabin, where a curtain hung from the ceiling. Pushing it aside, he lay her on his bed. Her outer garments were soaked, so he carefully removed her riding pants and jacket.
He pulled a few thick woolen blankets from the edge of the bed and tucked them around the rest of her body, making sure the thin cotton shift and half-corset weren't as wet as the other items. Then, Rolf pulled the curtain back, grabbed the large bear fur from the wall, and settled in to sleep near the hearth - waking every few hours to keep the fire roaring with fresh wood.
* * *
Her dreams were plagued with fuzzy images, which was odd since she hadn't dreamt for decades.
Part of her loathed it, the languidness with which memories, feelings, and desires all blended together. There was a reason she had enjoyed the dreamless sleep that came with vampirism. It made everything slightly more tolerable when you were immortal, if your sleep was a void - a calm numbness instead of wrought with the pendulum of human emotions. It certainly made what she did for her coven endurable.
The hazy pictures played out in her head as if she was watching her countless past lives from a distance. All of her memories hovered in the air, just out of reach - reminders of what it meant to pass as a mortal century after century and remain unchanging. The warm summer evenings she used to spend along the Seine in the heart of Paris after the Revolution. Arm in arm with a faceless person.Each time she turned her head to see who it was, the face would blur, and the details would blend, like an artist swiping away at the canvas.
The background noise of chatter faded into chants of"Vive la Revolution"and Napoleon Bonaparte marching through the streets. Hundreds of disenchanted soldiers filled the alleyways and brothels, seeking refuge after the wars.
She tossed and turned, her body refusing to move until the sun went down. Even then, she could not wake until well into the evening from exhaustion and lack of sustenance.The calm, distant beat of a heart finally roused her from her repose.A tiny voice whispered in the back of her head that there was a warmblood within her reach, and she could easily feed for days off of the hulking mass of muscle the woodsman had.
Thump. Thump. Her ears prickled with the other sounds that filtered through her haze.A shuffling in a chair. The softchhh-chhh-chhhof a knife scraping against some wood.The crackling of logs on a fire, the deep, even breathing of the strange man from the night before.
Her eyes flew open. She was staring at a rough-hewn log, thin shavings of the bark still clung to the surface. Stacked one upon the other, she traced a pattern to where the ceiling met the wall. Adeline shifted slightly in the bed, only to be met with a cool, calm voice at her back.
"Good evening, Vampire."
She froze.
"I trust you slept well," his voice cascaded down her back, crawling along her spine. It spread warmth down her toes.
Adeline rolled over, letting the blankets fall surreptitiously from her shoulder. The man's eyes stayed firmly on the piece of wood he carved away, unbothered by her movements. Either he was extremely daft to be so careless in front of her or…
"I did, thank you," she finally replied. Her throat was sore, and she swallowed a few times to get rid of the raspiness beneath her tone. She opened her mouth to speak again, but he cut her off.
"You're thirsty." It was a statement and a gruff one, at that. And, still, his eyes did not meet hers. "You need blood.”
He had already called her for what she was. Who was she to shirk away from the truth?
"Yes," she answered. Sitting up a bit more, she looked around the room. Her clothes hang from a rack attached to the ceiling, drying. Her boots had been cleaned and polished, and rested near the fireplace. The man had changedfrom his thick wool outer clothing to plain cotton trousers and a relaxed shirt.Adeline swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet touching the cool floor. "I will not ask you to offer any. You've been far too kind as it is."
He snorted, finally meeting her eyes. His dark honey-colored eyes met hers, a flash of some unknown emotion warmbloods feel passed behind their inquisitive shine. And even though her heart beat slowly, she felt it thump against her chest rapidly.
"I was not going to offer it, Vampire."
She nodded, "Understood."
Unable to help herself, her eyes skirted around the room, and it wasn't until she saw a tiny cage in the back of the cabin, with a cloth draped over the top, that she picked up on the faintest pulsing of a little heart.
A rabbit?
"A rabbit," he said at the same time the image danced in her head.
Adeline frowned and looked at him skeptically.
"An old one," he continued. "Possibly sick and certainly not long for this world if he was going out in the storm that is currently raging outside. I tracked it down earlier today.”
She tilted her head, her brow still creased in disbelief. "For me?”
"For you." He nodded his head over his shoulder at the cage.
Adeline pushed herself off the bed, glancing down at the black corset and underthings on her body. He turned, then, and that's when she saw he was holding the beginnings of a wooden spear.
He can try...She smirked inwardly. All she would need is a little of the rabbit's blood, and then the man would be dead before he blinked an eye.
