Wife of Vladimir ||Book One||

Her Grace

"Three months later, Rosetta was reaching the end of her pregnancy. Not only that, but my birthday and our first wedding anniversary were only weeks away.

She had caught on to her new way of life quicker than I had expected. Whether it was because she was able to learn from me or was naturally skilled, I wasn't sure, but she had already advanced faster than I had. It only took her a week before she could hunt on her own. Throughout it all, I never heard her complain about missing her human life. It made me feel guilty about the conversations I had had with her when I was the only one between us transformed. I could remember venting to her about the things that I had missed and what I hated about this life.

Only a few days after her transformation, I realized that I would never be stronger than her mentally. She had far more willpower than I would ever have. It was just another thing about her to fall in love with.

Rosetta never let the new difficulties of this life change what she did. Every night we spent together, she went about things as if nothing had changed. It took me some time to not be embarrassed by how she was handling things versus how I had done. Eventually, I got over it.

Despite all the new occurrences, it was a nice change. I got to see her more often than I had been before. Her transformation allowed my fear to vanish. Our child couldn't be afraid of Rosetta, as she was still as beautiful as ever. Since Rosetta and I now had similar features, the child wouldn't be afraid of me either. We would all look alike. The child, if Rosetta's transformation worked as we hoped, would be born as a vampire. We would all be the same.

I had long wondered if ever before in the history of our kind if such a thing was a common occurrence. Trevor had briefly mentioned it in his journals, but never anything that confirmed it happened all the time where a human mother carrying a child was transformed. We did our best to not think about it.

We were in the nursery the night the letter arrived.

Rosetta was painting stars upon the ceiling. She had already done a mural of a forest with little woodland creatures around the sides. It was a last minute finishing touch she had decided to do, wanting the child to share her love of the stars.

I sat in the rocking chair, watching each graceful stroke she made with the brush. I was focused on her hand, in awe of each smooth movement she made. I watched as the paint settled onto the wall, moving into the uneven texture. 'Where did you learn to paint like this?' I asked her, allowing my gaze to briefly break away from the stars and towards the forest she had painted. I had seen her make little sketches before, but never a full room like this.

'While growing up, my father insisted I take to the arts. I got to choose which I studied. I knew I couldn't sing, and playing an instrument sounded... Too difficult.' Rosetta paused, hesitating to place her brush back onto the ceiling. 'Writing was something I'd prefer not to take part in, as I spent most of my days writing for my tutors. Painting, however, I could do whenever I wanted and inside, I could draw out anything my mind imagined. I decided on that and father stood behind me on it.' Her eyes never parted from the ceiling as she spoke, her brush carefully making contact with the ceiling again as she finished speaking.

I studied her movements, sensing an unease within her. The story had been edited for me and I tried not to imagine the horrors that laid within her words. There was much about Rosetta and Henry's relationship that I still didn't understand or didn't know about. She hardly spoke of him. I don't blame her.

I glanced towards the door as I sensed a steady heartbeat approaching. I inhaled a breath, recognizing the scent as Franklin. 'Come in,' I called just as I sensed him reach the door.

Seeing as though he was used to this by now, Franklin opened the door and stepped inside. His face was normally relaxed, his eyes speaking his emotions before he could speak them. I scanned his face for the normally joyous eyes that I was familiar with, but instead saw hesitance. 'What is it?' I began to stand, though stopped as Franklin motioned for me to sit back down.