Zinnia Demitasse
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Belladonna/M!MC
🕑 Added 2024-12-02 02:42:56 +0000 UTCThe clicking sound of her heels greeted me long before I watched her come around the corner. Belladonna had this way about her where she could intimidate anyone with just the sound of her footsteps. They echoed through the market, announcing her presence like a red carpet, and for anyone that did not know her, a sort of magic wove around them, filling them with equal parts awe and trepidation. I, however, knew better. I had come to know the sound of her footsteps. What each click meant. She was late today, and certainly irritated that that was the case. It would be in my benefit to hide my smile, despite thinking her irritation was cute. Belladonna had a rare amount of flaws and the occasional times she was late, she considered gigantic failures.
She appeared from around the corner, hair piled high off her neck with long tendrils of curls framing her angular face. Her eyes were bright with the light of fresh blood pumping through her veins, and her cheeks were flushed pink.
“My heart,” she cooed, coming over to kiss my cheek. “Were you waiting long?”
“Not really,” I told her, lacing my hand within her own. “Meeting run late?”
A tight line ran across her brow as she fought the childish urge to roll her eyes. One of Belladonna’s favorite things to do and the very trait that still tied her to her younger, more human years. “Yes,” she said. “My time was filled with boring details on how to make the vampire society care more about their roots and the thrill of the kill.”
“You had a meeting about that?” We began walking down the alleyway, maneuvering through the series of mazes. The Baron life, it turned out, was not as glamorous as she thought it would be.
“It’s been a series of five meetings,” she told me. “Where a group of vampire elders and brainwashed fledglings all try to tell me that it is my responsibility as Baron to make sure that we do not lose sight of the old ways. That we must rise up against the guard and fight for our right to kill those wandering in the dark.”
“It’s constantly dark here.”
“That was what I told them as well, but the irony of that was lost on them.” She waved it all off. “Either way, they are all dead now.”
I stopped, one foot stumbling in front of the other. “What now?”
She turned to me in obvious confusion. “They were keeping me from you. Did you really think I was going to let them live?”
“Bella, we have spoken of this. Killing people at random is not exactly something I should be hearing about.”
“Why not? It shows my love to you.” She tugged at me, continuing to walk. “Where are we even going? In all the proceedings, I haven’t even asked.”
Belladonna was always going to be Belladonna. While I had a deep love for the people of the market, it was within her nature to kill. And I supposed she was killing other vampires. Having any sort of jurisdiction on that didn’t feel right.
With a sigh, I walked out in front of her, silently leading her down another long alleyway until we came to a small crack within the wall. Belladonna perked up as we approached, quietly scenting the surrounding air. I fought the urge to grin, knowing she smelled the old, bound leather and the pages of parchment.
“I thought I would do something special for you tonight,” I told her. Then, moving forward, I pressed my hand to the crack, my fingers twitching against the brick. One by one, they began to move aside, stacking on top of each other and forming themselves into a large archway. The little gasp that Bella emitted from my side gave me an immense amount of satisfaction. Being able to give her a genuine, unplanned moment, after a long day, was exactly my desire.
She didn’t wait for me. Stepping through the archway, she paused, turning to take it all in. Long tables were set up for as far as the eye could see, each of them piled high with books. Some tables were stacked high with the tomes, while others had rotating bookshelves with interchanging novels. Other areas had the books proudly on display, open to pages of interest and occasionally, a table would house an author, working vigorously on their next debut.
Coming up behind Bella, I placed my hands on her hips, leaning in close. “Buy anything,” I told her. Hazel gave me a special bag that would be able to carry it all home.
“Is this the traveling bookmart?” she breathed. “It– it wasn’t due to be here for another three moons.” I could hear the reverence in her voice. She had mentioned that she had missed it for the last three years due to her duties and the goings-on in the market. There had been genuine sadness over it and I had vowed that the next time it came around, I wouldn’t let her miss it again.
“This is when it was supposed to be here,” I told her. “You just had so much on your plate, I think you forgot.” Really, I was surprised I could pull this off at all, given how much she loved books. I thought she would have had this on her calendar and would have been dragging me along. But last night at dinner, when she went on about her meeting and nothing more, I realized that she would once again let the market come and go if I didn’t say anything.
Looking over her shoulder, I saw the deep love within her gaze. That kind that said she was going to pay me back tenfold later tonight. “How many is too many?” she asked. I knew she would buy whatever she wanted, and she was more curious to hear my answer than anything else.
“You can never have too many books.”
She smiled at me, flashing her fangs. “Good man.”
And then she was off. I watched her began to wander the aisles, picking some up and feeling the ridges of their spine. The etching upon leather. Removing the dust jacket from some to see the quality inside, while simply buying others without even a thought. And each time she did, she came back to me with a coy little smile before slipping it inside the bag I carried.
After an hour or so, she began to calm, content with perusing instead of buying. Hooking her arm within my own and leaning her head on my shoulder. “I love the smell of books.”
“I know.” We were walking at a languid pace now, her body content against my own. “We don’t have to leave any time soon.”
She hummed a bit. “I am enjoying being in a place where no one sees me as the Baron.” Most of the booksellers knew her, it turned out. But they knew her as Ms. Malady. Not the vampire Baron who would kill someone just to get out of the end of a meeting.
“Then we can stay. Find a place to sit, and maybe you can tell me what you’ve bought.”
“Perhaps,” she murmured.
I twisted my head, planting a kiss on the crown of her head. “Or,” I said quietly. “We could go back home. I could light a fire for you, and then I could read to you tonight.”
I felt her smile against me as she buried her head against my shoulder. “Are you spoiling me for a reason, my little muse.”
“I’m spoiling you because you deserve it,” I told her seriously. Stopping, I turned to her, tipping her chin up a little so she’d look me in the eyes. “And, because I enjoy spoiling you just as much as you enjoy spoiling me.”
Her eyes flashed again, this time, that deep gold that told me she was pleased. “Then I would be a monster to take that away from you. Let us go, and I will take you up on that offer. And I demand that you rub my feet.”
I looked down at the four-inch heels she wore, shaking my head a little. “I will be getting you practical shoes on our next date.”
“And you will die.” Leaning up, she kissed me on the lips, nipping at my bottom lip. I pulled her close then, letting my body heat seep into her. With her head tucked under mine, I held her close. I could feel her nails glide down my back, just on the other side of painful. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“No one has ever done this for me,” she told me seriously. I felt my stomach clench with the knowledge, and suddenly had the overwhelming desire to show her how much I loved her with little actions such as this.
“Then we’ll have to do something like this more often,” I told her gruffly.
She laughed a little, the feel of it rolling through my body. “You can’t afford me, dear heart.” It was an old joke. From far back when she wasn’t a Baron. When she was an enigma of a woman who I had looked at with wide-eyed wonder.
“I think we’ve just proven that I can,” I told her.
She didn’t discredit it. She didn’t even try. Holding her, I was overwhelmed with how far we had come. And I was desperate to see what our future would bring.
