Bloodmark

17: My Raven

[first draft; feedback, critique, and comments welcome; please point out any typos]

King Atlas flashes his golden smile. We stand at the double doors to my quarters, his hands in his pockets and mine fidgeting at my waist.

            "Thank you for joining me at breakfast, Mara."

            My brain implores me to accept his thanks, to give a polite response. But my thoughts are crashing against a weakening barrier, and I blurt instead, "You and Felice must have been close."

            He hesitates a moment. A moment where he purses his lips and breaks eye contact. But he chuckles and, tilting his head in a way that almost suggests flirtation, says, "Are you perchance jealous?"

            Heat licks my cheeks and my hair acts as a curtain between us. "She is very beautiful."

            A single step towards me kickstarts my heart into overdrive. He says, "Everyone is beautiful in their own way. Would you like me to reassure you of the ways you are beautiful?"

            Fire tries to consume me. A part of me wants to know what he would say, while another part is convinced it would all be lies. I shake my head, stammering, "N – no."

            A lilting chuckle passes his lips. The space between us sobers, which encourages me to glance up. Eyes locked, he says, "I know the Mark on your arm is reminder enough, but let my words remind you as well: you, are my Mark. I choose you, Mara. I hope you remember that."

            My pounding heart keeps me from saying anything. But my silence has never bothered him. So he simply smiles, revealing those friendly fangs.

            "Thank you again, for joining me."

            He bows and takes a step backwards to his own set of double doors. When he turns, hand on the knob, the dam of curiosity breaks, and I ask, "What did the Prince mean?"

            "Why don't you join me," he suggests, indicating the open door, "and I can answer all of your questions."

            In the privacy of the King's quarters, I sink into the cushions of the sectional and he takes his usual spot in the neighboring wingback. He crosses his legs, and I marvel at his ease. My shoulders remain taut, although I am much more relaxed in his presence now than previously. But the constant pull of my Mark convinces me that I will never achieve complete tranquility around him.

            "What's your question?"

            "The Prince." My skin crawls slightly at his mention. "He talked about seeing more of me, as is customary. What did he mean?"

            King Atlas touches his index finger to his temple. "Pay him no heed, Mara. He likes to push. But he's referring to the fact that it is custom for Marks to accompany their vampyr virtually everywhere. It mainly applies to public events, such as the galas."