CHAPTER 8 :

I flop down on the bed, knowing full well about the never ending trouble I have gotten myself into. I have often wondered what was it like, to live in the supernatural world.

But the odds that I have in the real life just doesn't bode well with my fantasy one. Here, I am about to marry a Vampire Prince called Dravon Dark. The man is basically a sadistic freak behind that handsome sane mask of his. He is cold, ruthless, and I do wonder what made him that way.

I just can't sleep. I pace up and down on the mahogany furnished floor, as I face myself in a huge mirror. And, my reflection stares back at me. I run a hand through my hair in frustration, when I spot a medium sized jar of a golden brown liquid kept on the table. I gently open the intricately designed glass cap, as I smell the drink.

It's scotch! Thank god, they have some fantastic ass liquor in here. No one needs a drink as badly as me. I grab a glass as I pour myself a generous amount of scotch, and I sit back on the couch, idly sipping my drink.

I get lost in numerous disturbing thoughts, when suddenly someone knocks on the door. Who is it, at this hour? It must be 3 am by now. The sun will be up in a couple of hours.

I briskly walk towards the door as I open it, revealing a sexy Dravon Dark, standing infront of me, wearing a black leather pant which clings to his legs, and nothing to cover his chest, except for a transperant black cape that reveals the taut muscles of his chest and almost reaches his thighs. I gulp down the lump formed in my throat. Focus, Daemon! Focus!

"Ahem, why are you here?" I mumble out in a half drunken state.

"I decided to check on you. But someone seems mighty drunk." A playful grin plays on his lips.

"The last thing you need to do is care about me. I know how to handle myself." I say, my tone shrewd and clipped.

"Who said that I care about you?" He archs an eyebrow at me, and ouch!

"No one did." I reply, suprisingly hurt by the indifferent tone in his voice.

"Stop assuming things, then. I haven't cared about anything for centuries and you're no exception." The coldness in his voice, almost stabs me like a couple of sharp pins at once.

"Listen, Mr. Grey, it's a deal that will benefit us both. After that, I forget about you and vice-versa. We have mutual consent about this." He leans against the huge oak door.

"I know, Mr. Dark." I take another sip of my drink.

"The wedding is tomorrow morning." He says non chalantly. What?!?

"What the hell! Tomorrow?" I almost drop the glass on the floor.

"Yes. And, we have to make it seem real. As real as possible." He twists around a signet ring around his index finger.

I can still sense the anger in his voice, with every word he speaks, the feeling gets emphasized more and more.

"Good night, Mr. Grey." He says, coldly, as he turns his back at me and starts walking away through the never ending corridors.

I run behind him, as he turns back to face me.

"What do you want?" He speaks, as I gaze into the burning intensity of his eyes and see behind the palace lifestyle, the luxurious expenses, the bloodthirsty nature — straight to his damaged, wounded heart.

I touch his hand, and he freezes in the spot.

"I'm sorry that I talked to you like that." I murmur, keeping my voice low.

"It's okay. I'll be more than happy if you keep hating me, especially for the 6 months that we'll be together. After that, consider me “history”, Mr. Grey." He loosens the grip of my hand over his, as he walks away, and this time, I don't stop him.