Fallen Rose

By Emma Lowe

After being adopted by the Turner's in 1913, Darien finds himself obsessed with the one person he is forbidden to have - his best friend's sister.

Falling down a sinful path, Darien confesses his feelings only to find that Roxanna has eyes for someone else. Still, he is determined to try and win her heart by getting her the perfect birthday present.

Darien's efforts fall short when vampire attacks start to spread around town, eventually finding their happy little home. Their lives become chaos when a brutal vampire crashes Roxanne's 21st birthday, causing the trio to set out for redemption, safety, and bittersweet revenge.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emma Lowe
• Release date: Feb 6, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463959855

Book preview

Chapter One

"In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. And the earth was waste and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep: and the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.   And God said, Let there be light: and there was light. And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness. And God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night."

(Genesis 1.1—1.5, KJV.)

SLOWLY, I PLACED THE HOLY BIBLE down on my bedside table, staring at Roxanna with an arched brow. My thumb traced the leather cover of the good book. She’d gifted it to me as a room-warming present.

Are you trying to convert me? I asked her.

You don’t believe in God, Darien?

I shrugged. I don’t know, I told her honestly. An odd sensation twisted inside my stomach. It reminded me of déjà vu, like we had had this conversation before. I find it hard to believe in what I can’t see. Miracles sound great and all, but it just raises so many questions. If God exists, then why hasn’t He stepped in and helped those in need?

Roxanna smiled as she touched my cheek. And how do you know for sure that He hasn’t?

She made a point, I suppose. Especially given the fact that—had we not crossed paths around five years ago, I would be back at that horrible orphanage. If that was not fate, if she was not some kind of miracle, then I don’t know what was.

I’d been living with the Turners ever since. It was all thanks to her finding me there in that town. Dirty. Alone. Scared. She saved me. She gave me purpose, a family, and a place to call home.

Of course, I did my part.

As a repayment for their kindness, I helped clean the stables and maintain the property. In return, they gave me my own room and even allowed me to do whatever I wanted with it. This I did. I rearranged the room to my liking, organised my few possessions, and of late I foolishly gave my dear Roxanna permission to paint the walls red.

She wasn’t the tidiest of girls.

In fact, she got more paint on herself rather than the walls, but I didn’t stop to question it—or help for that matter. Instead, I just observed from a safe distance.

She was beautiful, especially when she was unkempt like this.

Her long, pale blonde hair was tied back into a messy braid and she wore pants with black suspenders, which was hardly seen from women of her stature. I felt my lip curl up into a smile as I watched her. She poked out her tongue while she painted, as though it helped her to keep focus. She seemed to be at peace, at harmony with herself.

Roxanne spoke as though she’d read my mind. I like to paint, she told me, still focused, but I didn’t miss her pink lips tug up at the side.

You’re good at it, I commented.

She wasn’t. Yet, in my eyes, she was perfect in every single way—her smile, her laugh, her eyes, and even the soft British twang in her voice. She was perfection right down to the bone. Hell, even her skin was perfect. Smooth, flawless, and always carried the sweet aroma of a rose.

I watched her as she dabbed the brush into the paint, not waiting for it to drip before she spattered it back onto the bone white wall. This resulted in blood-red paint dripping from the walls, and down onto the floor, but it didn’t bother me. In my mind, it was just another reason to love my revamped sleeping quarters.

Now I was surrounded by her.

Why red? I asked.

She was busy painting as she replied, I like red. It’s a powerful colour—the colour of romance and passion.

I was still staring at her when Noah entered the room, swiftly smacking me upside the back of my head with the newspaper he carried. He didn’t need to speak for me to understand his warning: stop ogling over my sister.

You should see the headlines! Noah cackled, his blue eyes were wide with amusement. They’ve temporarily closed Town Hall. Noah glanced over toward Roxanne who had stopped painting. I bet this is going to mess up your date tonight, huh?

My eyebrows pulled together. What date?

Let me see that, my Roxanna spoke while snatching the newspaper from her brother, and then she started laughing. Vampires, can you believe that? They’re closing it because they believe to have seen a real, live vampire. Well, I’ve never heard anything quite so preposterous.

What date? I repeated myself.

Look, Noah pointed toward the article. They even have a witness. Mr. Marsden, the blacksmith, he said he saw one—drinking someone’s blood right in the middle of Town Hall. Article says a Detective Gumboot is looking into it….

I’m not going to hear another word of this nonsense. Roxanne passed him back the newspaper. Besides, I must wash up for my date this evening. Without another word, she strode off down the hall, leaving my wall unfinished.

That was inconsequential.

I turned toward Noah, face blank, but mind full of questions. What date?

Oh, just some guy she fancies. He waved it off. His name is Thomas James.

What a stupid name.

He’s taking her into town, he told me.

I hated him already….

Father’s met him, said Noah. He wouldn’t have approved if he wasn’t a nice fellow.

I still despised him, no matter what Mr. Turner thought. For all we know he could be one of them, I stated flatly, hoping Noah would suggest we tagged along, for Roxanne’s wellbeing, of course.

What? Noah scoffed. A vampire?

Well, he could be. I shrugged. His name is Thomas after all.

Thomas isn’t a vampire! Noah exclaimed with a loud snort. Surely father would have picked up on that.

I wasn’t so sure. I hadn’t heard much about these so-called ‘vampires,’ but apparently—according to the rumours—they were bloodthirsty and wiped out entire towns. Killed by the dozen, they said.

C’mon, said Noah. His boyish, posh accent always contrasted greatly with my deep French tone. Let’s go help mother in the kitchen, she’s cooking your favourite tonight. Smells delicious!

I shook my head.

Do you want to go outside and play sniggin’ buttons? he asked.

I’m not in the mood for sniggin’ buttons, I replied, staring absently toward my unfinished wall. I must finish work here. We’ll talk at supper.

He didn’t seem happy with that response because he not only frowned, but he also dragged his feet as he left my bedroom. I didn’t mean to offend him, but I wasn’t in the mood to do anything right now.

---

The next few hours were torture. I spent them watching the red walls dry and thinking of her. Always thinking of her. The way she smiled and laughed. Her angelic appearance and the way she spoke my name….

Darien.

She made it seem so much greater than it really was. I didn’t want her to go on a date with this Thomas fella. He didn’t seem worthy. He didn’t know her the way I did.

It took a lot of courage on my part, but eventually, I summoned up the confidence to knock on her door. The moments before she spoke were close to agony. My hands started getting clammy. My stomach began to churn, and I was breathing deeply—trying to collect my words before I faced her.

"Who is it?" she sang.

I hesitated, wanting more than anything to walk away. "J-us-t, my voice broke, so I hastily cleared my throat. It’s just me."

Just who?

Just Darien, I replied.

Oh, I heard her say, but I think it was to herself. Come in.

I did as she said, turning the doorknob and showing myself into her chambers, only to notice that she was sat at her dresser, wearing nothing but a white corset and her undergarments.

Without thinking, I instinctively drank in her every curve. Now I realised she wasn’t the same girl she was when I met her. No. She had grown into a woman—a very attractive woman.

I’m sorry, I must have misheard—I didn’t… I choked up again.

It’s fine. She stood and moved toward her mirror, only I didn’t think she saw the same image I did. She seemed most unhappy. Mother normally does me up.

Roxanne gestured toward the back of her corset, where the strings were messily tied, as though she had tried—and failed—to do them up herself.

Right. I nodded, trying not to stare. I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable. Would you like me to go get her?

No, no, I do not wish to bother mother, she replied dismissively. But maybe a gentleman, such as yourself, would be so kind to aid a young lady?

Yes. I nodded. Of course.

I moved toward her as she pulled her wavy, platinum blonde hair over her small shoulder, baring her almost-naked back to me. I swallowed hard as I reached out and touched her. Warmth radiated from her very soul. Her milky skin was flawless. It looked so smooth; I had to fight the urge to brush my fingers over her back.

Yet again, I cleared that blockage that was forming in my throat. "I’ve, uh, I stammered. For some reason, around Roxanne, my words never came out quite right. I’ve never done this before. I don’t really know what to do."

Her lips pulled up at the sides as she eyed me in the mirror. Just pull it taut, she instructed me, placing her hands on the wooden frame of the mirror, to keep her balance as I tightened her corset.

I knew it was now or never. Now was my chance to confide in her. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to tell her exactly. I had planned to speak from my heart—to tell her how fuzzy she made me feel inside, how often I thought about her, and just how deeply I cared. Instead, So, you like this Thomas? were the only words to leave my cowardice lips.

Yes, she replied.

Momentarily, my head spun. I felt acid rise in my stomach, and then my heart sunk deeper into my chest. It was the strangest feeling. I did not like it one bit. What’s so likeable about him anyway?

He’s funny. He makes me laugh.

Damn it! Think of a joke, Darien.

Not one.

I couldn’t think of a single funny joke.

All the while, my hands were practically shaken. Why did my body react this way to hers? Why did she make me feel so strange? Why this sudden urge to kiss her?

With that thought, I averted my gaze from her shapely figure, and then I dropped my hands and focused strictly on the floor. That was wrong.