Chapter 16 When the Thunder Stops
WHEN THE THUNDER STOPS
Iran.
The sound that escaped me wasn’t even human. It was the sound of something breaking. Something that had dared to hope and now paid the price for its foolishness.
My socked feet pounded against the cold floor as I fled the room, the walls closing in, the flicker of candlelight stretching like claws in my peripheral vision.
His voice called my name, but I didn’t stop.
I couldn’t. The echo of that laughter, the witch’s laughter, still rang in my ears, searing through my mind like the shriek of madness itself.
He had said it, hadn’t he? That he was a monster. That I should have stayed away.
But I hadn’t listened.
I had seen glimpses of gentleness, of humanity hiding behind that mask, and I had been na?ve enough to believe it meant something. That he was something more. That there was something good left in him.
I was wrong.
I had been wrong about everything.
I stumbled through the dark hallway, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
The lightning flashed, flooding the corridor in brief bursts of white light, and for a moment I saw his shadow.
One stood masterful at the far end, tall and still, his face half-swallowed by the darkness he commanded.
The one that consumed him like hell’s sickness.
A sob tore from my throat as I turned and ran faster.
I didn’t know where I was going, only that I needed to get out. Away from him. Away from this house and the horrors that were caged within.
When I reached the grand staircase, I nearly slipped, catching the railing to steady myself. The thunder crashed above the roof, shaking the windows and rattling the chandeliers, as if the storm outside had become a living thing that wanted to tear the house apart.
It felt right somehow.
A house of monsters deserved to crumble.
I didn’t even think as I ran through the main hall, throwing open the heavy front doors.
The cold night hit me like a wall, and the rain instantly soaked through the thin fabric of my pajamas.
The wind howled, carrying with it the scent of earth and lightning, and for a moment, I just stood there, chest heaving, staring into the wild dark beyond the steps.
Freedom waited somewhere out there. Or death.
I didn’t care which. I stumbled forward into the storm; my arms wrapped around myself as I tried to shield my face from the pelting rain.
The world beyond the manor was shrouded in mist and darkness, but I remembered what he’d said.
The housekeeper lived in her own home on the property.
If I could just find her.
If I could reach her before he found me.
The grounds stretched endlessly before me, but I ran anyway, my soaked hair plastered to my face, my feet slipping on the slick cobblestones. The storm swallowed every sound but the wild drum of my heartbeat and the pounding rain.
I didn’t dare look back.
Because if I did, I feared I would see him standing there in the doorway. His face half in shadow, half in flame, watching me run, knowing there was nowhere I could truly go that would ever take me beyond his reach.
So, I kept running. Through the storm, through the darkness, through the madness that whispered in the wind. All I could think was that I had to find her. The woman with kind eyes who had looked so startled to see me. The one person in that house who might have a soul left untouched by his shadow.
Please, I begged silently, be real.
The storm seemed endless.
The wind clawed at my hair, whipping it against my face as the rain blurred everything into a smear of silver and shadow. The grounds that had looked so beautiful by daylight now felt endless and unwelcoming, the hedgerows like sentinels, the trees bending low as if to whisper warnings.
I could barely see beyond a few feet, but then, through the veil of rain, a faint glow flickered in the distance.
A light.
Hope.
It was small, golden, trembling against the blackness like the flame of a single candle fighting the dark.
I stumbled toward it, half running, half dragging myself through the mud and long grass that clung to my legs.
My lungs burned with every breath, my heart hammering so hard I thought it would tear free.
When I finally reached the small stone cottage, I almost didn’t believe it was real. Its windows glowed with the same soft light I had seen from afar, and smoke curled faintly from the chimney, warm and homely against the cold night.
I climbed the steps and hesitated for only a moment before pounding on the door with trembling hands.
“Hello! Is anyone home!?” I cried, my voice nearly drowned by the storm.
“Please, it’s me, Vanessa. I need help, please!
” The door opened a fraction, just enough for the dim light within to spill across the threshold.
A single wary eye peered out before the door opened wider, revealing the older woman I had met at dinner.
Her grey hair was tucked beneath a headscarf, her lined face pale and startled.
“Dear heavens,” she breathed, ushering me inside.
“Child, you’re soaked to the bone. What on earth are you doing out here?” I stumbled past her into the warmth, the fire crackling in the hearth, making the whole cottage glow with soft amber light. The smell of tea and baked bread clung to the air, and for a fleeting moment, it felt safe.
“I had to get out,” I said, my voice shaking.
“Something happened. I saw… I saw something in the east wing.”
Her face went white.
“You went in there?” Her voice sounded strained, borderline horrified. I nodded, my teeth chattering.
“I didn’t mean to. I heard something, someone… It sounded like…”
But before I could finish, she reached for my hands, gripping them tightly, her own trembling.
“Listen to me carefully,” she said, her voice low and fearful.
“You must never go near that place again. Do you understand? Never.” Her eyes darted to the door as if she expected him to appear at any moment.
“I didn’t know,” I whispered.
“I just wanted to help. There was a sound. A person…it sounded like…” I didn’t want to say it. But I knew. I knew without seeing it. The terrified scream. The moans of pain. And then the slurping sound. Oh God, that sound!
The sound of death by a Vampire.
At that, her expression broke, and something flickered in her eyes. Guilt. Or maybe sorrow.
“There is nothing in that part of the house but evil,” she admitted quietly, as if her working there had been more like selling her soul to the devil. A chill raced through me that had nothing to do with the storm outside.
“What do you mean by evil?” I asked, knowing her answer would only breathe life into my dark suspicions. But before she could answer, the sound of heavy footsteps thudded on the porch. Her hands dropped from mine. Her face drained of all colour.
“Oh no,” she whispered.
The door flew open, slamming against the wall.
And suddenly, there he was…the devil himself.
He filled the frame like a shadow come to life.
Rain ran down his maskless face, his shirt plastered to his chest, and his dark hair dripped in wet strands that clung to the edges of his consumed face.
Lightning flared behind him, outlining his form in white fire, and for a heartbeat, I thought the storm had conjured him.
Vasileios.
His housekeeper gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.
“My lord… Please… She came here terrified, she needed…” she stammered,
“I know what she needs!” He snapped angrily, lashing through her words with his cutting tone.
“Please, my lord, she is just an innocent… You promised…” The housekeeper’s plea made my head snap toward her, confusion striking deep. The words echoed, sharp and haunting, as the question burned on my tongue… What promise was she speaking of?
“Enough!” He thundered dangerously, making her stagger back.
The power in that single word silenced her. I gasped, looking back at her to find her swaying slightly, blinking as though her will was being pulled from her body. I reached for her, fear twisting inside me.
“What are you doing to her?!” I cried, but he didn’t answer. His eyes glowed faintly, that dark, shifting light burning behind them. His words came slowly and deliberately.
“You will sleep, Mrs. Ashcroft,” he said softly, almost kindly, gifting me with the kind lady’s name for the first time.
“And when you wake, you will remember none of this.” Her lips parted as if to protest, but her voice never came.
Instead, her body slackened, her eyes fluttering closed.
He stepped forward and caught her just before she could fall.
He moved so quickly. All I felt was the breath of air as he passed unseen before he lowered her gently into the chair beside the fire.
The act should have been tender. Instead, it chilled me to my core.
“What did you do to her?!” I screeched, stepping back.
“I protected her,” he replied coldly.
“From me. From you. From what she shouldn’t know.” Then he turned to me, and in the next instant, his hand was around my wrist. The strength in his grip was unyielding as he pulled me toward the open door.
Back into the storm.
“Let me go!” I shouted, struggling, digging my heels against the wooden floor.
“You can’t do this!” I cried again, but he didn’t stop. He dragged me into the rain, the door slamming shut behind us, the sound lost to the roar of thunder. The downpour swallowed us whole, cold and punishing, drenching my already soaked skin in seconds.
I twisted in his hold, wrenching my arm free, and ran.
The mud was slick beneath my feet, the wind tearing at my clothes as I sprinted across the courtyard, my heart thundering louder than the storm. But I didn’t get far. His hand caught me again, spinning me back, forcing me to face him.
“Stop!” he growled, his voice rough with restraint. His chest rose and fell hard, every breath as ragged as my own.
“Let me go… You don’t get to control me like this… I am not… not yours… to…” I demanded, my voice shaking into nothing more.
“Nessa,” he said. My name left his lips like a confession, deep and raw.
I froze.
Something in the way he said it broke through the chaos, through my fear, through everything I thought I knew. The darkness that half consumed his face, moving under his skin like shadows filled his veins. The silver glow in his eyes narrowed down at me.
“Why can’t you just let me go?” I implored as tears overflowed.
“Because you're mine,” he declared, making me shake my head and correct him,
“Your prisoner, you mean!” I snapped, trying to pull my arm free of his fingers that still shackled my wrist. But his hold tightened, becoming an impossible force to fight against. Then he shook his head, ignoring the venom in my tone before telling me,
“No, but you are a prisoner to my soul for… You. Are. Mine!” He stated firmly, and as I gasped, it became an invitation for him to affirm the claim.
His arm snapped out, taking my own with it, stretching it to the side so I had no choice but to stumble into him.
His other hand clasped my waist as both worked together to keep me locked against him.
Then, before I could utter a word of protest or longing,
He kissed me.
And the world exploded around us.
It wasn’t soft or cautious. It was desperate.
Fierce. A collision of everything we had tried to deny.
His hands found my face, framing it and dragging me closer.
And for a fleeting, impossible moment, the storm ceased its turbulent strikes at the earth.
For we were a far greater force to be reckoned with as we consumed its power.
It was inside us, alive, wild and utterly unstoppable.
The kiss burned through every fear, every secret, every warning.
Until even the thunder fell silent.