Bloodlust

The poignant taste of blood stung her tongue as she peered across the room at the tall dark stranger. He moved with such grace and assurance, assurance that no one who would come to this sort of ball could possess. There was simply something in his character that enchanted her, possessed her, captivated her sole interest. His beauty was breath taking; no one could deny that. Even the elderly women in their elegant gowns and layers of make-up were discreetly studying him over the slumping shoulders of their dancing husbands. From afar, the blue shimmer in his eyes gleamed with mystique and beckoning seduction. His dark, brown brows accented his sharp features. She was not expecting him to notice that she had been gazing at him, but when he turned to meet her glance she knew that he had known all along. She felt her diaphragm spasm from the sharp gaze of the stranger. It felt as if thousands of tiny shards of glass had engulfed themselves in her throat, cutting off her oxygen. She was not sure whether she was afraid or just bewitched. Of all of life’s breath-taking wonders, he was certainly the most gorgeous thing she had ever laid eyes on. His cold but yet enticing stare made her knees wobble a bit and she felt the saliva start to collect in her mouth. She swallowed hardly, feeling very uneasy, not knowing what to make of the situation. She longed to turn away from him, but found herself ever so more intrigued by his unworldly guise. It was almost as if she had been hypnotized by those orbs.
He shot her a provocative smile before turning away and releasing her form his trance. She was not aware of how hard she had been biting her tongue, but the sensation quickly brought her back. Instant relief flowed throughout her body as if she had been granted the gift of self-comfort. She could not help but let her thoughts wander a little as she imagined where he might be from. He certainly wasn’t Parisian aristocracy. She had never seen him at any of the grand balls that the hypocritical wealthy frequently threw in hopes of culturing themselves and he was wearing more of a subtle dress than those who swarmed around him were.
He frightened her a little by his vagueness she admitted to herself silently. He was completely expressionless and unemotional to the atmosphere of the ballroom. This concept was utterly foreign to a girl who had only known flattery and obsequiousness. He was dressed in a simple, white ruffled shirt and a black over coat. His pants were black, as were his shoes. His appearance did not correspond with the crowd that surrounded him in the commodious mansion. She caught sight of a strange pendant dangling from his pale neck. It was some sort of symbol, she was sure, but it was a very peculiar one at that. It was a simple gold heart with two silver stakes driven into it on opposite sides and there were small bronze trickles of blood escaping the golden punctures where the heart was impaled.
Her view was suddenly blocked by an older couple, dancing along with many others underneath the gigantic crystal chandelier that hung in the center of the giant cathedral ceiling. She strained her neck to the right in hope to catch a glance at him, but she was once again distracted by a nagging voice calling her from behind. She turned slowly to look over her shoulder to see her mother bustling through the crowded room leading a young man behind her. The girl frowned a little, aware of the agony this conversation would cause her. She quickly turned back in the direction of the mysterious man who had now disappeared. She bit her lip subconsciously and it started to bleed again. She thought she had caught a glimpse of his glowing blue eyes through the swarm of old aristocrats, but if it were him, he had vanished just the same once more. Those blue eyes that had captivated her the first time she gazed into them. They called to her, alluring her, beckoning her to follow him to wherever he might lead her. She yearned to go with him, but she was trapped among her own dull social class. She wondered if she would ever be freed from the boring routine of “cultivation.” She longed to explore the world surrounding her, the world she feared she would never be able to see. She was lost in the prison of her life.
“Charlotte, I have been searching everywhere for you. Where have you been?” She turned around to see the thin elderly lady coming nearer and nearer to her. She felt pity for her mother. She was a very nervous and nieve person, the exact opposite of Charlotte.
“Darling, look who has come to make your acquaintance,” the short woman said to her daughter, gleaming with enthusiasm.
“Jacques D’Argenlieu, miss” the young man greeted her.
He was a handsome man with dark short hair. He had a sincere smile and soft brown eyes. He was clearly not as old as some of the other men her mother had introduced her to. No, he must be somewhere around twenty-five or so. He was not a tall man, but stood about four inches taller than Charlotte. Of course, next to her mother he appeared quite tall, as would anyone who stood by her.
“Delighted,” she answered him bluntly. Jacques smiled a little to himself for it was quite obvious that the girl had other things on her mind than meeting and greeting pursuers.
“I am sorry Monsieur, she has not been feeling entirely too well lately.” Her mother protested to the man as she gave Charlotte a faint glare.
“Indeed I have not,” she said while looking directly at her mother. “How could I ever feel well when you drag me to these horrible balls to be with these boring people?” There was an utter silence that followed. Her mother’s glare was burning a deep, singeing hole into Charlotte’s gut. Resentment filled the old woman’s eyes as she glared. Charlotte was sorry she had said it, but could not deny how she felt towards the situation.
“Madame, may I have permission to walk with your daughter, if you do not mind me asking?” he asked. Jacques was clearly trying to break up the tension that had built up within the last few seconds between the old woman and her fair daughter.
“Take her” she replied blatantly. It was evident that the woman was enraged, as she did not take her gaze from her daughter’s face the whole time that Jacques had been speaking to her. Charlotte was by then feeling a little uneasy by her mother’s ruthless stare.
“Shall we go then?” the young man asked with a half smile upon his face. Charlotte took his hand that was waiting for her, stretched out in front of her and together they walked out of the ornate ballroom. She could feel her mother’s cold glare on her back as she exited. It made the hairs on her back raise a little.
The cool night air hit her face and gave a sense of peace free from the chaos that had gone on inside just a moment earlier. The stars were shining brightly and altruistically released their beams of illumination to light the world of man. Jacques held out his hand to help her down the steps only to be declined the pleasure.
“Do you not think that I am able to walk on my own?” she ask smartly as she let her body brush against his on her way down the steps.
“Not at all,” he laughed to himself. The girl intrigued him in a way that he had not been intrigued before. She was not like the other girls that were commonly found at large well-to-do parties such as this one. She did not belong in this atmosphere, that much was clear to him. She turned around half way to look at him and tilted her head to the side.
“Let me guess. You are the heir to some endless fortune. Am I right?” she asked while squinting her eyes. The young man was standing with a blank expression on his face. He opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the girl.
“Of course you are. My mother would have never introduced us if you weren’t.” she said as she turned back around and continued walking. His countenance revealed his guilt. The girl had been exactly right, but the fact that she looked at it as a cliché was what had bothered him about the comment. She couldn’t hear his footsteps, indicating that he was following her so she turned again.
“Are you going to walk with me or not?” she asked plainly. “My mother would have a fit if she knew I were walking in the dark by myself.” She said mockingly. Jacques slowly started to walk towards her, being careful not to say anything that might spark the fiery girl’s aggressiveness.
They walked side by side along the stone path around the back of the mansion, through the embellished gardens, toward the fountain. The statue in the center was of the Greek goddess Athena, patron of Athens, granter of victory.
“Mythology says that she was the smartest of Zeus’s daughters” the girl commented, staring at the fountain that was illuminated by torches surrounding the circumference.
“Yes, but Aphrodite was the most beautiful” he replied back to her.
“And which, do you think would serve a greater justice, Mademoiselle Ambrois?” he asked the girl, trying to strike up some form of conversation. Charlotte thought for a while, biting her lip, before answering; “Both. Having the right combination of beauty and intelligence can get you more than simply one virtue alone.”
He stopped to stare at her for a moment, halting her with him, admiring her answer before he noticed the blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. He slowly yet reluctantly brought his hand up to the side of her face and stroked the side of her cheek. Her skin was soft to the touch. He was shocked that she had not flinched or punched him for that matter. He knew that he would have deserved it for touching her face. Guiding his fingertips down the curvature of her cheek, he brought them to the corner of her mouth. Her mouth parted slowly as he wiped the warm blood from her small lips.
“In that case, I believe that you will have everything you want from this life,” he responded to her remark in a whisper. Charlotte’s eyes softened a bit, but were still as skeptical as they had always been as they peered back into the eyes of her escort.
The crickets were chirping quietly in the distance and a soft breeze hung loosely on the branches of the fruit trees. Then there was the sound of heels clicking on stone becoming louder and louder. Charlotte was the first to slowly look away to find a pair of teenage girls approaching them. She recognized the taller of the two, with long red locks surrounding her face, as Gabrielle. Gabrielle was the daughter of the bookkeeper. Her father owned the largest business in all of west Paris. She could at times, be very spoiled and self-centered, which Charlotte didn\'t care for, but she had learned to tolerate the girl. After all, she didn’t have much of a choice since their fathers had been friends since they were boys. The two girls were acquainted much more than either would have liked.
“Charlotte darling, Who is this that you have with you?” the young girl asked with a satiric, flirtatious smile on her face. She was clearly trying to embarrass Charlotte.
“I haven’t the slightest idea. He is just some random person who has apparently taken a liking to me.” Charlotte sneered at the younger girl sarcastically. She had no intentions of introducing the two.
“Charlotte Ambrois! You are such a comedian!” Gabrielle exclaimed without taking her eyes off of the handsome Jacques. “Pleased to meet you, Monsieur,” the girl said assertively with a curtsy. Following her intrusive greeting, she gave him what was meant to be an attractive smile. Charlotte laughed within herself as she watched the young girl make a terrible fool of herself. She obviously was not aware of how immature she really was. Charlotte was starting to despise Gabrielle even more than she already did. She was certain that the girl had no morals or else she wouldn’t have been here trying to pursue her pursuer. It wasn’t the thought of Jacques loosing interest in her that irritated Charlotte, but it was the deliberate attempt on Gabrielle’s part.
Eager to rid herself of Gabrielle’s presence she turned to walk in the other direction. At that point she did not care if Jacques stayed behind or not. Charlotte knew she had to escape before she strangled the girl. However, the foreshadowing of an even more unwelcome encounter halted her. His name was Pierre and he had practically been stalking her for almost a year. No matter how hard she tried he had always managed to find her. He was completely harmless, but nonetheless he was an awful nuisance. He was an apprentice at her father’s printing press in the northern quadrant of the city. His family was very wealthy, there was no doubt about that, but Charlotte found him extremely annoying. His non-stop chatter always acted as an aggravating gnat buzzing in and out of her ear. Truthfully, she would much rather deal with the insolent Gabrielle.
She quickly turned back around, hoping he had not seen her, to continue her unfortunate conversation with Gabrielle.
“So Gabrielle, now that you have met my company, why don’t you introduce me to yours?” Charlotte tried to force an interested smile in the direction of the stranger. The older girl quickly shot a spiteful glare in Charlotte’s direction before introducing the shorter, blonde girl.
“This is Marie. She is Monsieur de Leon’s youngest daughter.” The girl was thin and her pale face was gaunt. Her myopic gaze and uneven smile gave her a humorous appearance, but she was in no way hideous.
“Nice to meet you, Marie.” Charlotte countered with a forced greeting of enthusiasm. “I don’t believe we have met before, but I am well acquainted with your cousin, Brigitte. She and I are good friends.”
The girl blushed a little and murmured an almost inaudible confirmation. Then Charlotte suddenly heard something that made her façade of delight fade. The footsteps of Pierre furtively approaching from behind her. Why? She wondered. Charlotte hoped he might fall and trip on a branch or perhaps vanish altogether, but she knew this confrontation would once again prove inevitable.
Quickly she muttered a spontaneous excuse to the two girls and urged Jacques, who had said little during the short chat, to come along with her in hopes she might miraculously surpass the dreaded encounter. A little confused, he followed Charlotte in the same direction from which they had come.
“Charlotte, are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m fine, really. I just all of a sudden came down with this really terrible..Oh never mind.” Her voice was overflowing with confusion and contemplation as she swiftly floated over the cobblestone walkway. She had no intention of stopping to look back even for a second, but felt her body jerk to a stop as Jacques held tight to her arm.
“Charlotte, I want you to tell me what is wrong,” the man said strictly.
There was no hope now. Pierre was only within fifteen or twenty feet of them by now. She glared up at Jacques, hating him for a brief a moment.
“Fine, but this is your fault,” she accused. The man looked back at her bewildered
“What is exactly?” he trailed off when he saw the other young man approaching.
He was a tall, lanky boy with careless hair and an unnoticeable limp to his step. He wore a smile that spread over his huge lips, which adulterated his already clownish face.
“Charlotte! I am so glad to finally have found you! I have been looking for you ever since your mother told me you were here…” The boy’s ecstasy slowly diminished from his voice when he took notice of the man standing beside his adored Charlotte.
It was clear now. She had to make a decision. She reached up with her right hand to cup the side of Jacques’s face and for a moment stared into his dark eyes, consumed with confusion and anticipation. Then she brought her lips to meet his in a fiery swiftness. She could taste the night air on his mouth and found herself wanting to explore this new uncharted territory. The man’s lips, a little skeptical at first, eased into the demanding pressure of her kiss. Slowly he began to equally suck on her mouth with wanting and passion. Charlotte guided her hand down to his firm neck and felt her way down to his shapely shoulder. She let her right hand rest there as she guided her left up to his chest. Jacques instinctually grasped her narrow waist within his long, thin fingers and gently pulled her into him causing the suppleness of her breasts to meet his own muscular chest. The new embrace left Charlotte feeling a little odd, but not uncomfortable. She let herself give in to him a little, allowing him to kiss her a little while longer.
She brought both of her hands up to his face simultaneously and slowly edged her fingers towards the point where their mouths intertwined. She pulled her mouth from his, remaining with her eyes shut. When she finally opened her eyes, Jacques still had his closed with a state of awe devouring his face. Slowly and reluctantly, She turned her head to look for Pierre.
“Why, hello Pierre, I didn’t see you coming. I’m sorry. Have you met Jacques?” the girl inquired in attempted sincerity as she lowered her hands and turned to speak to him. Jacques was starting to come around. He had a faint smile on his face when he finally looked up at the shaken Pierre.
“I…don’t think…we have.” The boy stammered under an uninterrupted stare. “I’m sorry. I…uh…forgot that there is something I need to talk to my father about. It is sort of urgent. I guess I will have to introduce myself later. I’m sorry.” He quickly turned and disappeared.
Charlotte couldn’t help but feeling a little guilty for her insidious scheming, but honestly, she could see no other cheap way out. Pierre had clearly been perturbed by what he had seen and Charlotte was certain she would not have to deal with him for a while, but it had still felt wrong. She brought her attention back to Jacques, who was looking at her in a peculiar way. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut short by Charlotte for the second time that night.
“Thank you for the favor, Monsieur,” she said professionally before turning to walk back around to the front of the mansion once more. She had only taken a few steps before she felt a hand on her shoulder. The hand turned her around to face Jacques again, but this time he was not smiling. His deep brown eyes burned with discernment. He carefully took her face within his hands and indulged in her kiss once more. She clasped her own hands to his forearms and kissed him back. She parted his lips with her tongue and slipped it into his warm mouth. The taste of his saliva was irresistible, but held no flavor at all. He pushed her into the ivy-covered brick of the mansion, drawing out a breath of satisfaction from her restrained lungs cradled inside of her corset. She lowered her hands to his waist and tilted her head back as Jacques left a trail of soft, perpetual kisses on her thin neck. She breathed out heavily before she brought her hands back up to his chest and rolled him over so that he was now pressed against the wall. She let herself wallow in the lust for a couple seconds more before throwing herself away from him again.
“I have to leave.” She said coldly. “I do not have the patience for this.”
She embarked again on her journey along the path that crept tightly along the outside of the house.
“Charlotte,” Jacques yelled from behind her. “Wait.”
She wanted nothing more than to go home, to be in her own room, with her own things, where everything was controlled and nothing was anything unless she said it was. Jacques caught up with her and offered his arm to her. She looked at him askance.
“I can’t have your mother mad at me for leaving you alone,” he smiled at her.
She tried not to return his smile so that she would not encourage him, but she could not suppress the joy she felt inside. She took his arm and together they walked.
That night on her carriage ride home, thoughts from the night revived themselves in her mind. Clearly, she had never had an experience quite like the one she had encountered tonight. To tell the truth, She was not exactly sure how she felt about anything. She wanted to relax. She wanted to escape reason. But something was prohibiting her.
She turned to look out of the small stagecoach window. The night was still ablaze with stars and the French countryside was as beautiful as ever. She turned to look down at her hands, which were still warm from Jacques’s embrace. She smiled to herself as she returned to look out the window, only her smile suddenly disappeared. Two magnificent, pale blue eyes gazed back into her fear-stricken face.