Diary of Daniella Rofle
Dawn&eacture DominiquesAvailable from New Concepts Publishing
| By the time Daniella woke, sinuous shadows danced across the walls of her bedroom. Turning her head, she saw colorless light streaming through her door from the open windows in the living room. Looking at the ceiling, bleary-eyed and feeling unfocused, she ignored the impious thirst parching at the back of her throat, the one repercussion she experienced from absinthe--a hunger for blood. The craving would dissipate in a few hours, just like a hangover, but she despised the gnawing want for the coppery liquid, like an alcoholic craves a little hair of the dog that bit them, so to speak. Hazy thoughts slithered through her head. She felt sluggish and lethargic, but without a headache and ill stomach like usual hangovers.
Pushing back the quilt, she shuffled toward the bedroom door and halted, the foggy memories clearing with resounding clarity. What the...Daniella, you fool! she thought, slapping her palm against her forehead. I’ve never allowed my tongue to slip like that, not even to Manvera! Shit and damn! I allowed myself to get inebriated, and throw centuries of habits straight out the window. Growling under her breath, she stumbled to the edge of the bed and sat, trying to figure it out. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Her internal senses jolted as she picked up Aiden’s heartbeat. It crept over and through her like a lover’s caress whose hands engulfed her entire body, resonating inside at a steady, rhythmic beat, warm and comforting. She closed her eyes, absorbing his essence. Can it be that I’ve kept this secret so long that I need to share it with someone? she wondered, standing to pace the length of her room. She wrapped her arms around herself, hugging her body to try to keep Aiden within her, to meld with him. Emitting a hopeless sigh, she sat back on the bed again. Has Manvera’s death marked a weakness in me, or is it Aiden himself? Overwhelmed by the tumult of emotions, the one most prominent was the arousal whenever she thought of him. Only her blood cycle prompted such unabashed needs and wants. True, she’d had more men than any man or woman alive, but not because of promiscuity. She took partners only to appease her blood cycle. Nor did she kill indiscriminately, unlike her vampire kin. Is it time for me to share this with someone else, other than a Talbot? Is Manvera’s death a changing point in my life? Her silent questions brought a shiver to tickle along her spine. Sensing movement outside from Aiden, she turned toward the door. If I told him, what would he do with the knowledge? A sardonic grin lit upon her lips. He wouldn’t believe it anyway. The smile faded into a worried frown. Or would he? Daniella! she scolded herself. He’s a man of authority! He could destroy you. Sitting for a while longer, she realized arguing with herself was getting her nowhere, and she resigned herself to the fact that she had to face him sooner or later. "I’ll just tell him it was the absinthe talking, not me." Or was it?
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