The Fates (Book I) - 2014 Watty Award Winner!

1.4 - The Dark Rose

Dear Readers: Introducing Atropos - in her modern human form, and with a different name of course... love her, hate her, judge her as you will ;)

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Scene 4: The Dark Rose

A.D. 2015

Darkness. She had always shone most brightly in the darkness. There was no time or place that Atria Shearer was not the star, but darkness was her home. She’d known so much of it throughout her life. She drew her strength, her beauty, from the shadows. For shadow was her only source. And she had needed to, in order to survive.

The darkness here was thick and hot, heavy from lost minds and liquor-laced lust. This was the sort of place where Atria had always done much more than just survive.

She thrived. And everybody watched her thrive, and none could look away. The dark rose dancing on the bar. The deathly blossom, each glance from her pine green eyes a thorn that pricked the heart and watched it bleed.

One heart here tonight was bleeding most profusely. The blood was beautiful to him, though. For the rose was his.

Or so he thought, at least.

“Just look at her, Axel,” the boy told his brother.

Axel gazed at the rose over the rim of his glass. “How could I not.”

“She’s unreal,” Ronan gushed, his breathless voice drawling from too many drinks. “Sometimes I stand here… and I wonder… how I occupy… the same universe she does.”

“Get a grip, Ro.”

“Let alone the same bed,” Ronan added proudly, slamming his nearly drained drink on the nearest surface. “Fuck. I am the luckiest little dog that ever lived. I, Ronan Golde…”

“Get a fucking grip,” Axel ordered him again.

The club was loud enough for Ronan to pretend he’d not heard his big brother’s orders. At any rate, he wasn’t about to heed them.

They both watched as a buff, shirtless man with a buzz cut climbed up on the bar behind Atria. He’d had enough of pawing at her feet from down below, like everybody else.

Axel’s lip began curling back into a snarl. He caught himself and curbed it. “Get a grip. Like that guy who’s gripping her thighs.”

Ronan shrugged, waved his hand dismissively. “Doesn’t bother me. They can look, they can touch…”

And the man with the buzz cut most certainly was.

“…but they can’t kiss…”

The man swept Atria’s dark silk hair out of his way, baring her sensuous neck just inches from his open mouth.

“…they can’t fuck,” Ronan finished. “No one fucks her but me.”

Axel shifted uncomfortably.

“Look at that…” Ronan marveled, “…the grace with which she picks them off like flies, just when they start to get too close… just watch…”

As if she’d heard her little lover from this distance, even over the deafening din of the club, Atria’s emerald eyes locked intensely on his.

His bleeding heart jumped to his throat. As happened every time.

She reached stealthily down behind her, to where the man’s hips were grinding hard against her shapely derriere. Her deft hand disappeared for a second. The man’s eyes went wide; inflamed, he dove in to devour her.