Drake (Book 1)

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[50]-In Amber Clad

London

9:49 a.m.

He watched Lyn’s toes slide across the floor as if she were on ice. The other ballerinas followed suit as they rehearsed for their play, Swan Lake. The band continued playing a soft melody and for once, everyone appeared to be in sync with the music. Lyn’s face brightened, and she shot Drake a smile as she spun and disappeared within a wall of feathered women in white dresses. He smiled back and noticed Serina within the bunch.

She stared at him sullenly before turning away and meeting with the male dancer, who lifted her to the air. She wore a black dress with fake feathers and a matching crown. The black fishnets and powder gave her an elfin appearance, almost as if she belonged to a fairy tale. But if Drake could describe her in one word, he would have said darkness.

He drank a rich concoction of blood, disguised as a sports drink. No one questioned him and Lyn dismissed it to the overly curious as a requirement for his daily insulin. Godfrey attended to his daily chores as usual. Kalen went into town to gather any leads on Sullivan or kept watch for any other of Drake’s monstrous creations.

Drake pondered at the sight of the red-headed woman dancing among the ballerinas. He stood up and rested his hands on his hips, watching the girl closely.

His eyes widened, and a gasp escaped. Everything about her tormented him: the untamed red curls, her golden eyes, and slim body like a dove. If Serina was dark, then this woman was a rose. The tiny mole beneath her chin only solidified his thoughts.

Crackling electricity flooded his mind with a woman almost identical to the one before him. Anna. He saw a hollow in place of her heart, steaming and overflowing with blood. She coughed and more blood flew from her mouth. Anna’s face was contorted with misery and her body became stiff.

He covered his face and shook his head before storming off the stage and upstairs. Lyn glimpsed his departure and frowned. She suddenly stopped mid-tempo. Sweat formed on her head like dew on a melon.

“That will be all for today ladies…”


9:52 a.m.

Lyn slipped off her ballet shoes as she walked down the hall. She peeped into every room and found nothing.

As she approached their bedroom, she heard water falling. At first, she thought it was raining. But the forecast didn’t predict any rain for at least another week. As she stepped in the bedroom, she noticed the closed bathroom door. Water continued splashing behind it, and she scoffed.

She formed a grin and shed her dress. Her panties and bra followed, and then she untied her high topknot. Green hair flowed down her back in a decisive swoop. She burst through the door, a triumphant smile on her face.

Frigid air left goosebumps on her skin, and she shivered, covering herself with her arms. Water poured and behind the shower’s glass door was Drake. His appearance left her dumbstruck.

Still wearing his suit without a jacket, he huddled against the corner as cold water doused him. He didn’t look up or respond to her voice. Curly black hair covered his face and his normally olive skin was near porcelain. Stout muscles bulged through his white shirt, now soaked. She grimaced and opened the door, closing it behind her and sitting next to him.

Lyn wrapped her arms around him and told him: “Hold me.”

He did, and she rested her head against his chest and hugged him.

Drake stammered his words. “It’s like there’s so much blood on my hands and it won’t come off…”

He gawked at his hands. Lyn grabbed them and uncurled his fingers. She sucked his fingers one by one and when she finished; she kissed his cheek and stroked his shaven beard.

“See? All gone now,” she said, “no more blood.”

He managed a smile.

“Are you cold?”

Drake nodded, and she reached above them and turned a knob. After a few seconds, the water grew warmer and steam rose, perspiring against the glass door. She embraced him and he lifted her legs across his lap, turning himself into a cradle for her. Lyn pelted his chest with soft kisses and the paleness from his skin melted away.

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