7. Chapter 7
7
Chapter 7
August
“Again!” her father yelled.
She staggered, clutching her thigh where his wooden practice sword had landed a brutal blow. The sting already promised a bruise by morning. She rose to her feet, eyes burning with the need to prove herself, and this time, she blocked his swing, deflecting it just enough to come back with a quick jab to his ribs using a smaller piece of wood. It was shaped like a dagger—one I hadn’t noticed before.
Her father let out a loud laugh, the sound booming with pride, before dropping his sword, picking her up, and spinning her around. His joy was palpable, his eyes shining with the satisfaction of seeing her strength.
“Are you ready for your gift?” he asked, setting her back down on her feet.
She nodded eagerly, her vibrant—almost glowing—green eyes practically shining with excitement.
Her father motioned to the men holding me at the edge of the woods, their chains woven with spells that bound my strength, reducing me to nothing more than a weak human. The spells crackled faintly against my skin, a buzzing, stinging sensation that made every movement feel like wading through thick, icy water. My limbs, once so capable and powerful, felt as though they were weighted with lead. Each attempt to move was met with resistance that seeped into my bones. I couldn’t fight my way out; the magic had stripped me of everything that made me dangerous, leaving a hollow ache where my strength used to be.
The men dragged me toward her, and she could hardly contain the smile that stretched across her face, knowing exactly what was to come. But she didn’t wait for them to bring me all the way. She ran to me, and her small, childlike hand found my shoulder.
The world seemed to stop. The air left my lungs, and what felt like acid burned through my veins, spreading with an agonizing slowness, as though fire had replaced my blood. It wasn’t a sharp pain—it was molten, relentless, crawling through every nerve and igniting them one by one. My ears rang with the phantom sound of something tearing, like fabric being ripped apart, matching the rhythm of my own unraveling. It was as though she were siphoning the very essence of my existence, ripping every bit of my being from me. My mind screamed in agony, a piercing, endless wail, but not a single sound passed my lips.
Without warning, she raised a hand, her fingers curling around a small ball of fire. The heat that radiated from it was excruciating, and she brought it closer, closer until my skin began to blister.
Then, I felt every part of myself burn to ash.
I woke up covered in sweat, my skin flushed and burning as though I had truly been engulfed in flames. The nightmares were getting worse .
I had heard the stories of marked ones, how their dreams were plagued by the one who had marked them. The pain, the relentless torment, driving them closer to madness with each passing night. But I never heard of it happening the other way.
Luckily, I’d never truly felt sane, so there wasn’t anything to take from me.
The dreams started a little over a week ago. The same nightmare, night after night, but each time, it was a new year. Her birthday became a twisted tradition—a dark gift she seemed to take pleasure in getting. Each year, her father was prouder, her skills sharper. Yet, every year, he made sure to be tougher on her.
It was the same every year. She would spar with her father, she would eventually beat him—I’m still unsure as to if she truly beat him or he finally let her win every time—and he would give her his birthday gift to her. A vampire.
Except now, I was the fucking vampire.
Burned alive every night.
I’d just hoped that once we made it through her birthdays, the dreams would end. Though I was sure it wasn’t that simple.
I had decided the moment I left her in the woods that I was going to drag this out. She was different. A witch, except she managed to suck the life out of me—literally. I thought it would be a fun way to pass the time, terrorizing her, driving her insane, letting her attempt to kill me. But each night, I found myself hesitating, caught between my hunger and something deeper. The thought of her growing stronger, of meeting me as an equal, both thrilled and unnerved me.
I couldn’t ignore the hunger, though. It gnawed at me constantly, a relentless pull that was as maddening as it was intoxicating. Her blood had become an obsession, a need that clouded every rational thought. I’d never craved anything like this before. She was in my veins now, whether I wanted her to be or not.
And yet, part of me held back. Part of me wanted to see how far she’d go, how much she’d fight, how strong she thought she was. The tension between my hunger and my curiosity was unbearable, and the line between torment and fascination grew thinner by the day. She was just as crazy as I was. She just didn’t know it yet. And I was going to see just how far I could push her.
But these dreams had me questioning that decision.
I’d never gone out during the day. With hunting much easier at night, I usually slept while the sun was out. That was the plan for today until the smell of her blood—the only fucking thing I thought about—filled my lungs. I had searched for that smell since the night I first tasted it, but every night I fell short. I had thought she’d died from the injuries she’d sustained that night—because I couldn’t smell her anywhere for miles into the woods—until the dreams started.
If she was dead, she wouldn’t have been marked and that connection wouldn’t have formed for her bloody memories to force themselves into my dreams.
But no matter how far I searched, I couldn’t find her, making the need only grow stronger. Until this morning. On Market day. So fucking close to my home that I could practically taste her in the air.
I was glad it happened this way, though. If we were alone when I found her after weeks of searching, I didn’t think I could’ve controlled myself. But seeing how easily she went from the initial shock to stabbing me in the hand in front of dozens of people just reassured me that I was going to drag it out.
I rose from the bed and poured water into the washbowl before splashing my face as I was still drenched from sweat.
I looked into the mirror to see red eyes staring back at me. I closed my eyes and with nothing more than a thought, I brought them to brown. A simple trick I had always been able to do, though I never had a choice in the color. They were familiar eyes that I hadn’t seen in over a century.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose trying my best to get the smell of her blood out of my mind, but I knew it would take a miracle to do so.
I had to feed before I went looking for her again tonight if I wanted any chance of being able to restrain myself. I just hoped she wouldn’t hide herself like she had somehow been able to do these last few weeks.
I put a shirt on and headed out of the door to see what options I had in town tonight. As I stepped into the sunlight, I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the brightness. A sharp pain raced through my head before it disappeared just as fast as it came. I’d take that over being forced into the darkness any day.
Market was over, and the sun was quickly going down, leaving the number of people outside growing scarcer by the minute. I walked a while, examining my options. A gentleman with hair that was beginning to gray: no. Another man who was pushing a cart of vegetables: no, he seemed busy at the moment. An older woman with a rather distinct odor to her: fuck , no.
I continued my walk, dipping around a corner as I made my way closer to the district of the much more . . . giving type of people until I saw a young woman with dark hair who had seen me before I saw her. She stood there twirling her hair, a playful yet nervous smile on her lips as she waited for me.
Perfect.
“Looking for something?” she asked, her voice soft but laced with something like amusement, as if she knew exactly what to do to get what she wanted.
I gave her a slow, deliberate once-over, drinking in the sight of her. She had no idea what she was walking into, but the smell of her blood . . . It was almost too much to ignore.
“Perhaps,” I said, my voice darker than I intended. “But I think I’ve found exactly what I need.”
Her gaze flickered, something shifting in her expression—nervousness, curiosity, fear? I couldn’t tell, but it didn’t matter. She was mine now.
I stepped closer, allowing my presence to close the space between us. She didn’t flinch, not even when I reached for her arm, pulling her just a bit closer. I could feel her pulse beating beneath the soft skin of her wrist, pounding in my ears, the rhythm of it driving me mad.
“I’ve been hunting for someone like you,” I said softly, brushing a lock of hair from her face. She didn’t pull away, and that only made the hunger grow.
I took a step back, pulling her with me until we were in the deep shadows of an alley from the rapidly lowering sun.
She smiled then, a tiny, unsure curl of her lips. “What makes me so special?”
I pushed her against the brick wall, a startled gasp escaped her lips.
I brought my lips close to hers. “You’re not,” I whispered, my voice low and dark. “But you’re here. ”
Her eyes flickered, and for a heartbeat, I thought she might have realized what was coming. But she was too late.
With a speed that would have terrified her had she been any more aware, I pressed against her, my fangs scraping her neck as I leaned in.
She gasped, and for a brief second, her hands flew up to push against my chest. But her attempt was futile. I sunk my teeth into the soft flesh of her throat, and the moment her blood hit my tongue, I nearly lost control. It was sweet, better than anything I’ve come across in days, but it wasn’t her .
This wasn’t the girl from my dreams. This wasn’t the one I marked. This was nothing more than a substitute.
Her blood rushed over me, warm and rich, a fleeting moment of pleasure. But with each drop, I felt the edges of my sanity slip further away. My hunger grew stronger, but I pulled myself back. This wasn’t the time to lose myself.
Not yet.
I drank slowly, drawing out the pleasure of her life slipping away, though I stopped just before her legs gave out. I pulled away, my fangs retracting, leaving bloody marks on her neck. She stood there, her legs trembling, the blood still dripping down her skin, but she wasn’t dead.
“Go,” I murmured, barely above a whisper. “Run.”
Her eyes, wide and filled with fear, met mine as she staggered back, almost tripping over her feet. Just as she turned to make her escape, I slammed her back into the wall and wiped a tear from her cheek.
I placed a soft kiss on her forehead, leaving her blood from my lips in its place. “If only it could be that simple.”
I sunk my teeth in her once again and drank deeply. Her breath came in shallow gasps, a desperate, broken rhythm. Her legs trembled beneath her, but she couldn’t escape me now. I could feel her life slipping away, the pulse in her neck growing weaker with each swallow.
I drank until she was still, until her body went cold in my arms and the warmth of her blood no longer flowed.
When I finally released her, she crumpled to the ground, a lifeless heap.
I tilted my head up and looked at the stars that had begun to shine in the sky, unable to stop myself from smiling.
“Here I come, Winnie .”
***
The forest was quiet, as if even the nocturnal creatures had decided to stay hidden tonight. I expected her to come here, and the soft crunch of leaves under a hesitant step confirmed it.
I turned toward the sound, my eyes scanning the darkness until they landed on a faint shadow moving between the trees. She was creeping through the clearing where we first met, her movements cautious. My lips curled into a smile. She came. Brave or foolish, I wasn’t sure which.
I inhaled deeply, but her scent wasn’t there. The air was clean of her, free of the intoxicating pull I’d come to expect. My brow furrowed until I noticed the cloak she had pulled tight around her. Of course.
Witches and their spell-laden cloaks. I’d come across them before—enchanted to mask their wearers, granting them an edge over creatures like me. Clever, but not clever enough.
She paused near the center of the clearing, her head tilted slightly as though listening for something. I watched her, hidden in the shadows, as she slowly turned in a circle, scanning the darkness for any sign of me.
She thought she was alone. The thought made me grin.
I moved silently, circling her as she moved through the clearing. Her breathing was steady, but I could hear the faint hitch in it every few moments, betraying her nerves. She was on edge, every muscle in her body taut, like a bowstring ready to snap.
She stopped abruptly, her body tense as she stood perfectly still. Her frustration was obvious in the sharp way she exhaled, her fists clenching at her sides. She muttered something under her breath, the words too faint to catch, but her rigid posture and the quick shake of her head told me everything I needed to know.
I leaned against a tree, watching her with quiet amusement. This game of cat and mouse was more entertaining than I’d anticipated. She had no idea how close I was, how easily I could close the distance between us. But where was the fun in ending it now?
Her cloak shifted slightly as she moved again, the faintest glimmer of light catching on its fabric. She adjusted the hood, pulling it tighter, and the brief motion gave me a glimpse of her face. Her green eyes burned with frustration, her jaw clenched tight. Even in the dim light, I could see the fire in her expression, the determination that made her so different from anyone else I’d ever hunted.
I stayed where I was, letting the moment stretch. The longer she stayed out here, the more frustrated she’d become. And the more frustrated she was, the more mistakes she’d make. It was only a matter of time before she slipped.
For now, I was content to watch. To see how long it would take her to realize she was the one being hunted.