Chapter 22 Hannah
Hannah
I’m seeing through Julia’s eyes, a wildness in my heart, drunk on power I’m still learning to control. And beneath me, writhing on my bed, is my beautiful Charlotte.
It’s been six months of feeding on her, and I know her essence like I know my own name.
I know the honey-sweet taste of her skin, the pitch of her cries when I touch her just so, the way she trembles on the edge of release, the glimmer in her eyes when she looks at me like I’m divine instead of damned.
“Please,” she gasps, arching into my touch. Her skirts are bunched around her waist, baring her pale thighs. My fingers are slick from pleasuring her, and she spreads wider for me with shameless need. Her thin blonde hair is matted with sweat, spread across the pillow like a halo.
But something is wrong with her skin today. It’s far too pale, almost translucent, blue veins visible. Her hip bones jut sharply, and I can count each rib. The hollows of her eyes are too deep, shadowed like bruises. But to acknowledge it would mean stopping these blissful feedings.
Her pulse stutters beneath my lips as I kiss her throat. A warning whispers in the back of my mind. Something is different today. Something is wrong.
But her essence calls to me like a siren song, and I silence the doubt.
“I love you,” she whispers, and her total devotion makes my magic surge with possessive hunger. “Take all of me. I am completely yours.”
The words ignite something ravenous in me. Mine. Yes. All mine.
My fingers darken as I begin the incantation, my other hand still between her legs, my thumb circling that sensitive pearl while two fingers curl inside her.
Her back arches, a moan escaping as her body grows weaker.
She tangles her skeletal fingers in my hair, holding me close. “Yes! Oh God, Julia—”
More. I need more.
The magic and the pleasure build, feeding each other. I whisper the words against her lips, drinking her gasps, and my fingers move faster, deeper. She clenches around me, close to the edge, her essence rising like a tide.
“Give me everything you have,” I command, my voice rough with desire.
Dark tendrils snake from my fingers, wrapping around her. She shivers beneath me, release crashing through her as I pull her life force from her mind and body. The sensations rip a cry from her throat.
Power floods into me. Every cell in my body ignites. My vision goes white-hot with it. It sings in my veins like nothing I’ve ever felt. I’m invincible. I’m whole. I’m—
I’m taking too much.
The thought surfaces dimly through the euphoria, but I cannot stop. Her essence is a torrent, pouring into me faster than I can control it. I freeze, my fingers still inside her, scrunching my face against the competing desires.
I try to pull back, but the dark tendrils snake tighter around her, holding me there.
She’s still trembling, but it’s convulsive and desperate.
Her nails dig into my shoulders, no longer from passion. Her mouth opens, but only a thin wheeze comes out.
I pull my fingers from her body, staring down at her.
“Charlotte?” My voice sounds far away, muffled by the roar in my ears.
I jolt back, trying to stop the feeding, but the magic has taken on a life of its own. It’s devouring her in great gulping draughts, and I can’t—I can’t—
“Stop,” I whisper, as if I can tell my magic what to do with such a simple word. “Stop!”
She goes rigid beneath me. Those beautiful green eyes stare up at me in confusion and fear and something that might still be love. Her lips form my name, but no breath carries it.
The sudden silence is deafening. The flow between us cuts off like a plug pushed into a drain, leaving me gasping. The room spins.
Realization hits like icy water. Bile rises in my throat as I stare down at her still form. Her eyes are open but empty, that adoring gaze frozen. Her lips are blue. Her chest doesn’t rise.
“Charlotte!”
No response. No breath. No heartbeat.
I press my fingers to her throat, searching for a pulse I know I won’t find. Her skin is already cooling beneath my touch. The warmth of our passion is fading, replaced by the cold truth of death.
“No, no, no…” I shake her, gentle at first, then harder. “Charlotte, wake up.”
But her head lolls, her blonde hair sliding across the pillow.
I scramble off the bed, my hands shaking. My fingers are still wet from being inside her. The sheets are soaked with sweat and other evidence of our coupling. The room reeks of sex and magic and death. What have I done? How did I not realize? How did I—
But I did realize. Some part of me has always known I’ve been taking too much. I felt her weakening body, her faltering pulse, the desperation in her touch. And I kept going because it felt too good to stop.
That is what truly made me the monster. Not a single moment of violence, but a thousand small decisions to take a little more. Just one more taste. Just until I am satisfied…while deep down, I knew I would never be satisfied.
A sob rises up, and I cover my mouth, forcing it down.
I back toward the door, unable to look away from her corpse. She looks almost peaceful. Her skirts are still rucked up around her waist, exposing her in death as she was in life—vulnerable, trusting, mine.
What have I done?
I make myself step closer and pull her skirts back down, my hands shaking violently as I touch her lifeless form.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper over and over, but the words are meaningless. She can’t hear me anymore. She’ll never hear anything again.
Then I run.
I gasp, the dark cabin fading and Elizabeth’s sanctum returning in a dizzying rush.
Oh, God. Oh, Charlotte….
I sway. I’m shivering. Sweating. I can’t get enough air into my lungs.
The worst part wasn’t even the killing. It was how good it felt, and how utterly out of control my magic—Julia’s magic—became as she drank in Charlotte’s essence. It took over. It wouldn’t let me stop feeding. The power had its own hunger, its own will, and Julia was the vessel it poured through.
Charlotte’s pleasure amplified Julia’s power, which in turn intensified Charlotte’s ecstasy. Round and round until there was nothing left.
I meet Julia’s eyes. They’re glossy, wide, and vulnerable. I’ve never seen her look so ashamed and afraid.
My heart cracks. I try to speak, but my throat is too tight. I swallow hard and try again.
“Was it truly a mistake?”