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   Chapter 18 Ingrained in Her Heart

Resurrect Thy Heart By JMFelic Characters: 20036

Updated: 2018-09-05 22:28

Dawn came the next day. Ysabelle woke up with a tired feeling. She cleared her eyes, rubbing it gently and then sat up. She was in a moment of disorientation then.

Where are the candle lamps? The transparent drapes? Where are the rose petals in the floor?

Scanning the room thoroughly, she finally realized she was now back in her bedroom... in reality.

Somehow, the truth pricked her heart. If given a chance, she would have never wanted to wake up again. She would have wanted to stay in that dream world, where the warmth is... where Marcus is...

But, a dream is always a dream, and every dream has an ending -- waking up now in her bedroom is her own end.

It left a hole in her heart.

'What a night, ' she said to herself, and then released a long, deep sigh, curling herself and putting her forehead against her knees. 'What a dream.'

She reminisced the scenes of the dream she had with Father Marcus.

Everything... down to the last when she slept near his chest.

'Oh, God. I would give anything to feel his warmth again, ' she thought, then tears briefly spilled from her eyes.

"No, please stop!" Ysabelle shouted to herself and rubbed the salty liquid away with the bed linen. "I must stop this nonsense infatuation about a dream."

She pulled herself up and stood at the edge of the bed, confidence radiating gradually.

Her eyes unintentionally fell on a chair at the foot of the bed. It was the same as yesterday morning, in its exact weird position. With that basis, she now believed that someone really was inside her room last night.

Chills crept down her spine just thinking about it, but knowing that she hadn't had enough proof, there was no way she could report it to the castle security office.

Praying herself to be strong, she shrugged the problem away for the time being and strolled inside her bathroom.

The exhaustion she was feeling she had deemed it because of the activity she had with the students yesterday in the garden. She never connected it with anything else. However, when she entered her bathroom and stood in front of the mirror, that's when her eyes widened and she froze.

The reflection showed red small blots around her neck and chest, similar to an ant bite but a lot bigger in circumference. In its entirety, it actually looked like...

"Kiss marks..." Ysabelle's mouth dropped, a feeling of heat climbed quickly up her spine.

'Oh, God!'

Returning to the memories of her dream last night, Marcus did gave her some in the same spots.

"No..." she murmured in disbelief covering her mouth, ""

Feeling uneasy and breathless, she paced along the sink fanning herself with her palm and stopped, and paced again and stopped. Every pause she leaned forward towards the mirror to see if the kiss marks were in fact real.

And goodness, they were very real.

Her mind reeled with a lot of questions.

If last night wasn't a dream at all, then how? How were they both in that kind of place? How was it they both thought the whole time that it was just a dream? Moreover, Marcus and her...

"Oh, God... Oh, God!"

Ysabelle paced again, shaking her head thoroughly.

They made love! God, they did! And this exactly explains her feeling of exhaustion!

Is this just her imagination or is this really real?

Her hands trembled. Stalking out of the bathroom, she sat down at the foot of the bed and embraced herself.

'No...' she uttered, trying to resist believing the evidences.

Eyeing the main door, there was only one way to find out if she wasn't hallucinating. She wanted answers badly, and Father Marcus was the only one who can give it. So, although she felt the hesitation at first, she finally decided to pay him a visit.




'Room 212'

It read when Ysabelle stood up in front of Marcus' door an hour after her breakdown. She was fresh from a bath, having her hair damp, and wore clean clothes mainly a sundress, a wool jacket and a red scarf to cover her neck.

She waited after a round of knocks but somehow, Father Marcus didn't answer it.

"Fa-father Marcus?" she called out nervously, but after another full minute, the door didn't open. Ysabelle thought that maybe a change of tac would be better, so even if she was uncomfortable with wording it, her mouth effortlessly flowed the name out.

"Marcus... please... open the door. I need to talk to you."

But unfortunately, still, he didn't answer. That's when she realized that he may have left the room already.


Ourech, Czech Republic

West District

House of Doubrava



A thick door opened and in stepped an old, bald man with his cane supporting his weight. He was wearing a formal wear, complete with a striped necktie and coat. He strolled inside, looking at his visitor who was sitting in the leather sofa with his back to him.

"This is an unexpected surprise. You, a Vatican priest, in my house. What brings you here Father?" the bald man stated with distaste, holding his cane in front of him whilst standing in a solo sofa opposite the man who lifted up his face.

They were in a study room, dominated with an air of male authority. The walls and shelves were painted dark brown, the sofas inheriting the same shade. There was a fireplace in the center and it provided a balancing warmth of the coldness of the room.

"The name's 'H', Earl Doubrava, " Marcus stated, smirking at the old man with clever emphasis, "it has been...awhile, yes?"

The eyes of the Earl enlarged, then his scowl that was evident awhile ago vanished. Sweat gathered quickly on his nape and the way he held the head of the cane tightened.

"Pri—nce...Ha—ie—n?!" he stuttered. "You... you?"

"Yes, I did, " H smirked some more and leaned forward putting his elbows on his knees. This made the Earl sit obediently like a puppy in front of its master.

"Don't I look good in this form? Very fitting isn't it? A demon inside a priest, " the impostor added.

"The exorcist priest was able to house you? How?" Earl Doubrava queried, badly wanting to know the truth.

H's brows flinched in this disappointment. Damn... even he didn't know the answer to that.

"You tell me, " he replied after licking his lips, "This priest somehow has strong blood running in his veins. I can't pinpoint it, but I fucking want to know why."

The Earl's discomfort lessened and his curiosity heightened. He looked at the hands of the priest and saw the peeking tattoos under the sleeves, but he could still visualize clearly the throbbing pulse along it.

"I—I may need to take samples of his blood if you want some answers."

"Ah, by all means, get it, " H shot up his right wrist in between them to which the older man eagerly lifted a finger to signal an awaiting bodyguard in black tuxedo. He knew already what his master wanted, and it was to call the in-house medical staff to extract blood from the priest.

"Anyway, right now, this is good news. I guess we finally are successful in transferring you to a human body huh?" Earl Doubrava stated, smirking slightly now.

"Indeed, we are."

"So, our agreement is binding?"

"Hmmm, " H released a throaty groan and shook his head in amusement. "Earl, you are a man who doesn't waste time huh?"

"Time doesn't side a human, my Prince. You know that already."

"Ah, so that is precisely the reason why you had to go through great lengths on possessing the woman's immortality."

"You know that already, " the Earl replied cautiously. Speaking in tongues with this demon wouldn't be good, so he might as well get to the point. "So, now, I ask you. Have you taken it from her?"

"Not yet, " H replied casting his heterochromatic eyes on the floor.

Earl Doubrava clenched his teeth, trying to conceal his amassing disappointment, but his voice gave it away. "What do you want? The right timing? I will give it to you!"

H shot a sharp look on the old man. "Patience, Earl, " he said, "You know you are not the puppeteer here. I own the stage. I alone decide when I get Ysabelle's immortality."

"Tsk, of course Prince Haien. I understand. But I have to ask. What if the body won't last long? What if the priest will fight the ownership with you? What about our agreement if that happens?"

The demon released a long sigh. "Question, questions..." He stood up and paced towards the fireplace, putting his hand on the flames like it was nothing.

"This body is strong, I can feel it. The owner however is weak, and that is the advantage of it. I can always control the priest so you don't have to worry anything at all. You will get what you want old man, in due time."

"Huh, just don't let me get to my deathbed before that happens. I want to live forever and Ysabelle's immortality is the key."

"Greedy bastard you are, " H uttered, plastering a devilish grin.

"So says the demon prince of Hell, " the Earl countered. "Looks like the body is housing you real well huh?"

"It is, and I like it, but I still need nourishment. Any welcome offerings for me, Earl? Since I surfaced, I am yet to enjoy being in the Human Realm."

They were subtle words, but the old man knew exactly what it meant. A chill crept up his spine thinking of it, but there was nothing that he could do. The demon already demanded it. Anyway, he cared not a thing about the people he sacrificed. Playing the villain was his forte in his brotherhood anyway.

"I do, as many souls as you want, Your Highness, " he replied with a neutral face.

"Good, " H wickedly beamed again, "Bring them to me, now."


Dob?í? Castle




"Auntie Belle, are you okay? You have been spacing out the whole day, " Mehak asked worriedly whilst staring at her Aunt w

hose eyes were cast downward. They were walking up the grand stairs to the second floor, intent on changing their outdoor dusty clothes after spending the whole day of their last day tour out in the gardens. They were to have their last dinner in the castle's first floor restaurant together with all the school officials, students and the newly promoted main caretaker, Mr. Grann.

Ysabelle glanced at Mehak with a brief smile and said, "Ah, nothing Sweet. I am just a bit overwhelmed by the heat of the sun, that's all." But that was just her alibi though not wanting to inform the oblivious girl of her predicament with the exorcist priest.

"Then you should rest now, Auntie. We can have your dinner brought up in your room. You don't really need to join us later."

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea, " Ysabelle replied, nodding and smiling half-heartedly. "Thanks for worrying for me, Sweet. Now go, you enjoy your last day here in the castle."

She pointed the hallway towards the girl's room and the latter was just as innocent and eager to let her Auntie go with just that.

"I will Auntie. See you tomorrow in the foyer!" Mehak said, kissing Ysabelle in the cheek, and then hopped to her route.

Ysabelle waved her hand and thereafter continued her way towards the third floor. When she arrived in her room, what she did first was take a bath.



The lukewarm water of the shower calmed her down and eased the aching of her fingers from clicking her camera nonstop and ankles from standing most of the day. The lavender shampoo gave her a boost of aroma therapy while the sponge lathered with liquid milk soap added comfort. However, all of these simple bath pleasures didn't alleviate the gloomy mood she was in. Marcus was still storming her mind. The kisses that they shared, the caress of his lips on her skin and the feel of him above her still lingered in her consciousness.

Now, expecting that she won't be able to get a good night's sleep if this persisted, she decided to visit his room again, hoping that she would find him there.

After stepping out of the bathroom, she fixed herself and wore a casual clothing of denim jeans and simple black tee. Sitting near the bedside table, she tied the laces of her sneakers quickly. When she finished though, a startled gasp escaped from her upon seeing her unexpected room intruder.

How? When she didn't even notice the sound of her door opening?

"Marcus!" Ysabelle cried the moment she saw him enter her bedroom.

'But good that he is here. He can finally give me answers, ' she commented in her mind.

She sat in anticipation, watching him stroll towards her. However, her brows furrowed consequently when she felt the room's temperature turn cold. She examined Marcus from head to foot and found something about him that screamed caution... real dangerous caution.

It all brought her questions earlier flying out of the window.

"You seem to be at a loss for words? Why so?" the man in front of Ysabelle remarked in reverberating tonal waves. Everything was the same with this man, everything... but amidst this, she could clearly see - as clear as the platinum cross around his neck - the brilliance of the red tint in his eyes. With roughened breaths, she had concluded something was amiss with him. Something...terribly dark.

Marcus had the same handsome face - disarming to the core - yet it was tainted with the slyness of his mouth's grin. He had the same posture of a confident, strong man, but a distasteful aura reeked outside of his body. Ysabelle could feel it well, it was so palpable and it easily made her feel cautious.

H paced across the room's available space, his black clothing opened halfway on its own showing the rigid torso Ysabelle had seen countless of times but choose not to ogle. The show made her blush momentarily, but realized it was a condemnable act especially that the teeny sign of attraction was directed to Marcus. It was sinful by nature to feel so, but with the current circumstances, was it wrongful then? If last night wasn't a dream and if they truly made love, she was certain that it was already too late to feel wrongful about it.

They eyed each other, but H's was by far more intimidating than hers. It made her feel the chill in her spine. It made her feel the violent churning of the contents in her belly. It made her heart flutter wildly and her lips in cold quivers. She had always despised the feeling ever since Marcus arrived in the Rogratiatto Mansion, but it was of a different reason back then, being attracted to him and all. Now, it was purely out of fear.

After seconds of feeling like a stone sitting at the edge of the bed, Ysabelle pulled herself up and stood near the bedside table. Courage and a sense to protect herself kicked right in as she curled her hands into a tight fist.

"You look different, " she stated, finally regaining her voice.

H quirked an eyebrow and gave another smug smile. "Do I now?" he said.

"Yes, " was her quick reply.

"Funny, I don't seem to feel so, " he replied nonchalantly, raising his hands as if he could see something physically different with it.

Ysabelle's breath hitched again. Believing his words would be the last thing on her mind. She may not be able to see what was exactly going on with Marcus, but she could well vouch herself that he wasn't the same man she knew him days ago. Yesterday, she actually felt the same chill, but it wasn't as potent as compared to now. "Quit your lies, please, " she requested kindly, but there was considerable amount of tremble in her voice.

"Hmmm...I saw the way you look at me, Ysabelle, " H remarked, ultimately changing the subject. His words were soft amidst the undulating echo of his voice. It had a trail of a strong emotion in it, like it wanted to erupt but was not permitted to do so. A step closer he did with ease, and that made her heart leap in panic and her pupils, briefly dilate.

"I have eyes, it is only natural, " she stated, hoping it was sarcastic enough to discourage him, "I give preferences to nobody." She lifted her chin as a sign of tenacity and held that pose until only a second passed.

"Oh, but you do, " H immediately responded, taking in another step closer to her, " me." Affected she was and that made her determination shrink and wither. It was the truth. His word did hit the right spot. Although she hoped to hate it, she couldn't deny that there was an intense attraction collecting inside her towards Marcus. Now, it wasn't only attraction but love too, and that was the reason why she yielded herself to him in their so-called dream last night.

This time, they were both inches apart. Ysabelle could feel H's warm breath touching her forehead and now-flushed cheeks. She leaned forward against the table and gave him a frown - the only meager comeback she could make. "Don't misunderstand things, " was her stern reply. This version of Marcus was truly scaring her.

"Quit your lies, Ysabelle..." H spat the words right back at her. This caused her to press her lips thinly. Ha! What irony it was indeed to be slapped by her own words.

When he closed the short gap, Ysabelle poised to throw a hand in between them. A quick push of his chest away from her would do the trick, but never had she imagined that he would make a counter by hooking an arm around her waist and holding a mass of hair with his free hand.

"Step back!" she ordered a little more than alarmed. Touching a copper-molded picture frame with her other hand, she grabbed it immediately planning to bang his head just in case he would still advance.

But advance he did, leaning his face and trespassing her private space without so much as a show of fear on the object she was holding. H did not utter any words, only grinning at her with amusement.

"I swear! I'm going to hit this frame in your head so much that you would bleed if you dare kiss me!" she threatened, now shouting.

"Oh?" H paused, "You would do that now, would you? He wouldn't be pleased I'm pretty sure."

Toying with her emotions, he adjusted his red eyes and called for the original shade of smoky brown to replace it briefly.

And just as expected, Ysabelle was taken by the trap. She thought it as redemption for her.

"Marcus... Marcus!" she desperately cried as if she was talking to a third person other than the man holding her waist. "Please wake up! Please! Get a hold of yourself!"

With that H released a short wicked laugh, and then proceeded to cup her chin tightly. "But he is, Y-sa-be-lle..." he stated, slurring her name intentionally. "He is awake. Don't you know? I am him and he is me. He is still in control of his emotions. Only, I am just magnifying it so that it would bloom a thousand fold."

Whatever she heard, she considered it gibberish. She dared not believe any word that comes out of his mouth, especially when this man wasn't exactly Marcus.

"Unhand me. This is not what he wants!" she spat, trying to push him away, but failed.

"It is, " was H's limited answer.

And then, he kissed her. Mouth on mouth. Lips on lips.

Patience. Yes, patience...wasn't his thing. It was never his thing. So, without so much as a minute of waiting, his warm tongue slid, invading her delicate muscles. This instantly caused her to unintentionally moan. Moan in protest? Surely. Of pleasure? Maybe. Possibly. Because even though she denied it with all her heart, it was still Marcus' mouth that she tasted. Warm and soft. Burning and fueling a desire she hadn't felt ever since the sun greeted her. This brought out memories of last night, but she suppressed it quickly.

A short moment of bliss it was, in her part, but luckily sense of reason came. Ysabelle wriggled in an attempt to free herself but unfortunately, she brought out no success. No. Not even a millimeter of difference as H pushed her tightly against his chest, and they both floated down the bed.

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