AMARANTHINE| The Eternal Love (BWWM)

Ch.8) Inevitables |Part 1|

Jerias

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I remove my clothes and take a warm shower, relaxing my muscles and mind. Only to become tense again once the image of her comes alive in my memory.

I remember every last detail about her. To the small moon shaped birthmark on her shoulder, and her soft dark brown skin, the black thick curls on her head. The sweet smile of hers and how her lips goes a little higher on the left when she smiles really wide, or when she's laughing. Her small naked body from the first night I took blood from her, the full curve of her hips underneath my hands.

And her eyes... the darkness of it captured me senseless. Strangely bringing more warmth to me than I have ever known.

I wonder if she realizes the trance she puts me in.

I wanted to devour her whole, making every last thing about her mine.

Making her mine.

But if I did that would only make me just like my father. A betrayer to the family. To my mother. I spent years wanting nothing more than to be my father.

And in less than a year I became ashamed of that more than anything. The pain he put mother through.

The pain she put me through...

It began with what he did to her, to me. To us.

And I remember this all, I know how wrong it is. I know what it can do. To love a human.
A human.
But when I look at Ines. I forget she's human. I just see a beautiful woman I desired the moment I laid eyes on her. A woman that makes me happy. And it feels like nothing is wrong, everything is oceans of peace, everything is perfect. She brings beauty. She is beauty. And so I think to myself this is fine. Just being next to her is fine, but it isn't. I want more, I need more, like I won't be satisfied until I have her all, her complete. I always wanted more.

"Never satisfied. Always seeking more. More! More of everything!" My mother would sneer at me, "Just like your father."

Just like your father. I remember everytime she said those words they would ooze with pure hatred. And I would tell myself it's not me that she hates. It's my father, not me.
I used to think 'what if dad never had an Amaranthine? What if he remained fine with just animal blood and never needed an Amaranthine? Would he and mother be fine? Would they be alive today?'

Alive today? Yeah maybe. But mother and father always fought, and despite their attempts to hide their disagreeable natures with each other  I always knew. They fought at night, in the morning, and over everything. They fought when they thought I wasn't listening, when they thought I wasn't paying attention.

But I always did. Always had, and now I wish I hadn't. Maybe I wouldn't have noticed how happy he became when he found the human girl Roseline, she was a gypsy in her former life they found deceased and terribly thin not too far from the city. It was a hit for my father ever since, a feeling I only just understood. That powerful pull, the sharp intake of breath as if you've been drowning. And then the flash of a vision of who you were feeling. I was in my office then, dozing off to sleep when I should've been working on my paper, and it came to my like powerful continous ripples. I saw the accident first, then her face, "She was beautiful," I thought immediately. And everything else was followed by her emotions and her fear was evident. It certainly was something extraordinary, even still today I smile at the moment it all happened. Darkly enough, it was almost as if an Amaranthine's death was a nosferatus birth... or revival.