Chapter 7 #2
“Don’t go near the edge of the lake, you idiot,” Faas sneers, snatching me away.
“How is it possible your family survived for so long when you know nothing of this world? This lake might look normal, son, but the moment you stare into that water, its reflections will lure you into it. And once you’re in, you’re done! You hear me? You’re dead.”
“How?” I ask, bewildered, glancing at the water glistening in the sunlight.
Nothing about it seems magical.
“When you get in that water, the surface closes. It seals you in, and as you drown, all you can do is stare at your own panicked reflection. It’s the cruelest way to die.
Your lungs fill with water as you breathe in, unable to ignore your natural instincts,” he growls, still irritated by my ignorance.
I tear my gaze away from the water and peer across it.
On the other side, a dark red flower field appears, the one the witches brought to life, where Caria and I shared some precious moments together.
I smile at the memories. Faas sits down, a few meters away from the outline of the lake, and gazes up at the blue sky.
Unsure, I join him and then lie down on the barren grass, staring up at the sky as well.
Lonely clouds pass by, and I wonder if there’s something magical about them, too.
Perhaps they come down sometimes to suffocate you, wrapping themselves around you. I softly chuckle at the idiocy of it.
Suddenly, the dhampir opens his mouth, talking to me about Caria and that male witch of hers.
The words that travel from his mouth start to unravel my world, as lie after lie is detangled.
Tears well up in the corners of my eyes as it hits me that Caria is using me as a pawn in her own cruel game, but that nagging feeling remains.
What if the dhampir is lying? What’s in it for him to get me to cross to his side?
I know Caria has feelings for me, even if she’s with Reiner, that male witch from a different coven.
Who can I trust? It seems Faas, so far, has only given me the truth, providing breadcrumbs that leave me to put the puzzle pieces together on my own. But Caria… She left information out…
It doesn’t matter. I know these foul creatures, witch and dhampir alike, can't be trusted—I should drive my fist into his mouth and scorch him from the inside, breaking off his teeth one by one. Beginning with those gnarly canines of his. And then move on to the damn witch.
I sit up straight, my eyes widen in shock at my own mind, the thoughts evaporating as fast as they arrived; they’re becoming more aggressive, more vicious and brutal, no longer aimed only at Harlot, but everyone around me, even those I do not hold dear.
“I know it’s a lot to take in, son,” Faas begins.
“How do I know if you’re telling me the truth? Why do you want Caria and me so desperately separated? Why?” I demand, my voice trembles with despair, as hopelessness clings to me.
“I don’t,” he shrugs. “I couldn't care less who you associate with Fynn. I just wanted you to know that she’s not as honest with you as you might think. That’s all. It’s up to you what you do with the information. Ignore it for all I care.”
Faas still lies in the barren grass, the sun warming his pale, nearly translucent skin, giving him the appearance of a ghost. His medium-length, light brown hair contributes to his handsome look, which he likely owes to his vampire heritage.
Everything about these creatures is designed to lure humans in; their beauty is nearly impossible to resist.
“What happened to your parents?” I ask, unable to quell my curiosity, drastically changing the subject.
That catches the dhampir’s attention, as his eyes snap to mine, but it’s impossible to read any emotions on his face.
“If you must know… My mother died when I was six, Fynn. I couldn't control my vampire side, and I ended up ripping out her throat and draining her of all her blood. She didn’t survive that, obviously. And my father… Well, who knows? Vampires aren't exactly known for being loving or even monogamous. They can mate, sure, but they're mostly loners, solitary creatures, hooking up with whoever they want, regardless of gender; male or female, they don’t care. The only reason they herd together in cities like Valorya is for safety purposes. I don’t know how my mother survived being raped by a vicious creature such as a vampire, but somehow, she did, only to meet her end at the hands of her own son, a twisted and cruel joke by Mother Nature herself. I’ve been by myself ever since, until I got picked up by another dhampir, teaching me the ways to live this eternal life.
He trained me, showed me how I could expand my powers.
I found him cuddled up with a female vampire…
I ripped both their heads off. I guess he was like a father to me to a certain extent, but I had a hard time with the betrayal I felt finding him like that. "
His voice is devoid of any emotion, as if he’s reading from a book—a story that is not his, yet he tells it anyway. I stare at him, my mouth slightly parted.
My voice is barely a whisper.
“I’m sorry, Faas… I had no idea; no wonder you despise vampires so much…”
“What are you sorry for, son? Did you rape my mother? Or betray me with a vampire? It’s what vampires do. Betray you.”
He pauses briefly; a flicker of emotion appears and disappears as quickly as it came. It makes me wonder if the memory hurts, the betrayal, despite his stoic stance. Then he continues.
“It’s just part of being a dhampir—the hatred is wired into your brain. As soon as you’re born, one of the first emotions you feel is loathing for these undead beings. Even without my experiences in life, I would have gone after them.”
When I get back to the inn, I find Jodelle sleeping in bed, her eyes puffy and red from the many tears she has shed, and guilt consumes me.
I swipe away a stray strand of her long hair and look at her, taking in her soft, delicate features: her cute nose, honey-blonde hair, the freckles that dance across her cheeks, and the long, dark lashes that frame her deep blue eyes—a natural beauty.
“Why can’t I just be happy with you, and let everything else rest?
” I mumble as I gently caress her cheek.
“Why is everything so complicated? I keep wondering if I would have found you if my sister hadn’t disappeared into that forest. Would we have crossed paths regardless?
Was it really fate that we met that day? ”
She shifts in her sleep, softly groans, and then starts to snore lightly.
I continue to caress her cheek as I speak.
A selfish part of me wants her to wake up so I can make things right with her, but I refrain from doing so, unsure of how long it had taken her to find rest in the first place.
Besides, I’m unsure how I would react if she were to pull away from me in fear again. I fear my own reactions.
“I feel the tug at my heart when I look at you, the despair when I’m not near you, a longing that captivates my entire being. Yet, at the same time, something pushes me away from you, an unconscious part within me that’s not certain of our fate and lacks faith.”
“I’m so sorry, baby, for what I put you through, the hardships, the mean behavior, the constant cold shoulder.
I don’t want to, but a part of me, a corrupted part of me that grows stronger every day, more often than not, takes hold of me, and I am no longer myself.
It feels like I’m watching everything from a distance, screaming from the sidelines, but nobody hears or sees me. ”
She sighs, her eyes still closed.
“But I see you, Jodelle, and I love you. I don’t know how to thank you for sticking by my side, despite my horrendous behavior.”
I kiss her on the forehead, a tear sliding down my cheek.
Snap her neck while she lies there. She’ll be too drunk on sleep to fight you off. That long, delicate neck of hers is just begging to be broken. Imagine the sound.
My eyes go wide with anguish, and I shake my head. This is getting out of hand. I feel her hand glide over my thigh as she turns her head to me and gives me a groggy smile.
“That was sweet,” she says. “You truly have been an asshole to me. You’re lucky I love you so much.”
She rubs sleep from her eyes and lifts herself, our gazes meeting.
“I don’t know how else I can show you that my love is real, Fynn. That it is pure,” she says.
She climbs on top of me, carefully, like she's expecting me to push her off or strike her again.
I fixate on the scabs and cuts on her face and lips, small red lines with crusted blood, reminding myself that I'm the one who caused them.
It was my hands that struck her beautiful face.
My cheeks burn with shame, and I'm confused about why she'd want anything to do with me.
My hands carefully cradle her face, and I kiss her gently.
“I’m so sorry, my beautiful girl. I’m sorry I ever laid a hand on you. I don’t know what got into me,” I say.
My voice breaks, as tears begin to stream down my face. She eagerly returns my kiss, as if it’s air she’s been deprived of.
“It’s that fucking curse, I know it’s not you,” she says, her voice hoarse. “The fact I carry some of your magic, your sister did something, I’m sure of it.”
When I could still regulate my emotions fairly well, I had shared most of what I learned with Jodelle—a truth she accepted without hesitation.
With my hands on her hips, the thought of my sister derails my mind, and images start to flash of her dead body, legs broken and twisted in ways that are not natural, and I involuntarily lick my lips.
I want to push Jodelle off me, a sudden urge kicking in to find my sister.
It’s her neck I want to snap, not Jodelle’s.
“No. Fynn! FOCUS!”
Angrily, Jodelle snaps her fingers in front of my face, and I glare at her, irritated.
Without saying a word, she unzips my pants, pulls out my semi-hard cock, and begins to tug.
My breathing becomes heavier, and it doesn’t take long before I stand fully erect.
She lifts herself and slides down on my hard cock, her slit drenched, taking me easily.
Feeling the warmth of her pussy enveloping me, Harlot is instantly shoved to the back of my mind, as Jodelle’s vagina grips me tightly.
She pushes me flat onto the bed and begins to ride me with an intensity that makes me see stars.
I forgot how wild and free Jodelle could be, how good our sex life was, and how much I genuinely love this woman.
She pulls her nightgown over her head and reveals her beautiful breasts to me, her nipples erect, as she continues to grind on me.
She rolls her hips expertly. I love it when she takes control during our lovemaking, and I begin to relax more and more.
My fingers trace the skin on her thighs as she bounces on my cock, a squelching sound filling the room, while our skin slaps together.
Chasing her own pleasure, she increases her speed, and I roll my eyes into the back of my skull as the rhythm she sets makes me lose control as well.
Hearing her moan loudly as she orgasms causes me to come as well, and I fill her up to the brim with my cum. Her skin is glistening, a thin layer of sweat covering her, and she has never looked more ethereal and beautiful to me.
That night, I feel part of my brain rewiring itself with my love for her.