A Vampire's Pride

The Initiation Ritual

Viola's POV

"Begun? Begun what?" Is all I manage to force out as Kilian's all knowing eyes watch me with special observation.

A feminine chuckle sounds from behind me, but closer than last time.
Then, a hand on my shoulder; gentle and manicured with black polish.

She presses down on my shoulder blade causing me to wince as my wide eyes shoot to Kilian, almost in shock as my freeze response causes me to search for any friendly face; but there were none.
She forces me to turn slowly, finally revealing the face of the one called mother recluse.

             Up close, I'd expected to see features that were sharp and angular— harsh and cold; regal and modern.

         Instead— a round faced woman with red cheeks greet me, a cunning smile on her face. Never did I think someone could have such soft features— yet look so evil. It was as if I were staring at a sweet older woman who'd just offered me freshly baked chocolate chip cookies with a side of slaughter.

            Her white hair is in big curls cascading down her back, the ringlets shiny and healthy as ever. Her skin had freckles, and the saccharine grin showcasing her white teeth that added to the soft beauty look. Her eyes an almond shape with endless brown iris's; it had the appeal of someone that could charm you right out of your pants with a kind heart— and apparently unsuspectingly murder you.

                "How old are you?" I blurt out. My eyes widen in disbelief as I clench my mouth shut. She raises a thickly arched eyebrow at me and watches me in silence. Even as she towers over me by a few feet, I still can't believe how youthful she looks.

             "It's the blood." She touches my face softly, and I tense in unease.
          "I take baths in it to keep me youthful." She pauses as she takes in my expression, and then chuckles yet again.
       "Goat blood, I mean." She says with a grin.

           "It's really nice to meet you—" I start to mumble what I think she's like to hear, squirming in her grip as she won't stop grinning at me.

              "It's my pleasure." She purrs, and then without another second to pass— she leans down and places her lips onto mine.
       I furrow my brows, eyes still open as I stare at her in discomfort.
     Then, with a soft sound of lips touching, she removes them like they'd never been there.

            "You're family now." She says with glee. Then, she struts over to Kilian and does the same with him.
      It takes all of me to hold my composure and not blurt out 'what the actual fuck is going on in this family?'.
       Butt ugly traditions.

"Well," she pauses as she looks over to me, chewing on her lip. "Almost family." She finishes.

I watch her as she walks over to me with a glint in her eye as I rock on the balls of my feet.

"What's next, frenching?" I mutter sarcastically as she grins at me.
I barely manage to catch the slick look on her face, the vicious tilt of her lips as she brings up a thigh and knees my stomach, hard.

My stomach feels like it's been kicked into my brain as I keel over, gasping for breath as she digs her fingers into my hair and slams my face toward the volcanic rock ground. My lips splits before my mind catches up with what's happening, it all happened to quickly for me to comprehend— to expect it.

"Dear, call in my coven. Initiation is starting." Then, she watches as I use my shaky hands to push my chest off of the ground— but suddenly I'm being pushed into the ground again as her high heels dig into my shoulder blades painfully.

The shock and anguish is dying down and instead being replaced with panic and anger.

"What the hell, Kilian?" I call out as he walks away, a small smile on his features.

"It's initiation." He reassures me as I begin to sense blood filling the entirety of my mouth, the coppery taste infecting my tastebuds.

"Fuck you." I spit the blood in his direction as his grin broadens.

"I told you she was feisty." He winks at his aunt as bile churns in my stomach, burning through my intestines as I try to hold it down.
My ice begins to sizzle in my ears as I take choking breaths, mother recluse watching me through her lashes.

"I'll see about that. Bring in the others." She commands as I stop moving, realizing what she'd said before.

"The others?" I whisper, a bit of fear snaking up my spine like a snake in the night.

        "Yes, dear." She gives a soft grin. "Don't worry yourself, you'll survive."

           And even as she's turning toward the door and I'm inhaling dust from the floor, I vow it in my very blood that her death will be mine.
           My eyes glance toward the sword thrumming in the corner filled with cobwebs, shining jewels filling me with hope; that even in the darkest times, light finds a way.
I need to grab that sword and jump out of a window or something.
    Except, there were no windows in this room. Just items of power, and demons with black hearts.

          Listening to the door creak open and dozens of feet beginning to shuffle in, I feel my eyes shut in acceptance.
        I felt violated. Hurt. Betrayed.

              Angry.

         I let that word echo in the quiet place that was my mind, repeating it over and over again.
     So very angry.

       My nose wrinkles and scrunches in distaste as I hear a chuckle in the background of whispers coming into the room. I open my eyes to the view of mens slippers in my vision.

        Their ankles hairy and I'm willing to bet some type of rams horns were sprouting from their heads.
     The roof of my mouth begins to vibrate as my tongue shakes, my ice beginning to coat and frost every organ in my body like a second armor. My eyeballs begin to feel cool, the irises coating with a thin layer of frost beneath my eyelids.

            "Remember brothers, do your absolute worst. We will not have a weak queen." Mother recluse's voice rings out like satin on a granite slab of stone.

         Weak. Weak. Weak. My mouth tilts up slightly into a cold ghost of a smile.

              The volcanic ground beneath me begins to cool, ice crackling underneath the surface with my ears pressed upon it. Hissing and splintering like a chasm filled with dry ice.

         And in that moment I know, I refuse to go down without taking them with me.

            Weak was what you called those who couldn't control their emotions; those who'd rather riot than to calculate things quietly. Those who'd burn down the world for their own selfish causes.

           If she truly thought me to be weak— I'd gladly show her just how weak I could be.

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