Chapter 2 #2
He gave me a silent nod, his movements fluid and careful as he climbed the stairs, not a creak in the floorboards.
I threw open the back door, the morning air rushing in, cool yet crisp against my skin.
The scent of dew-covered grass and damp earth filled my lungs as I stepped outside, the woods beyond the clearing bathed in soft sunlight.
The peace of the morning was unsettling in its silence; the usual chirps of birds and rustle of leaves were nowhere to be heard.
I closed the door softly behind me, the old wood creaking under my careful steps.
Stepping down the wooden steps with my bare feet, the soft earth beneath me felt damp, grounding me as I moved forward.
The dagger was gripped tightly in my hand, the cool metal a reminder of the danger that lingered just beyond the tree line.
A burn started deep in my chest, the familiar feeling of magic humming beneath my skin, but still, there was nothing.
There was no sign of life, no movement, just the eerie quiet of the woods in the morning light.
I scanned the surrounding trees, every instinct screaming that something was off, but the woods remained still. The air was quiet, and its weight pressed in around me. My heart pounded harder, each beat echoing in my ears as I waited, feeling the tension build with each passing second.
The sharp crack of a branch behind me snapped through the air, and before I even registered the movement, I reacted on instinct. In a fluid motion, I spun and hurled the intruder over my shoulder, his body hitting the ground with a loud thud that echoed in the silent woods.
He was up in an instant, faster than I could blink, his speed blurring with the force of his movement.
Without hesitating, he lunged toward me, his body a blur of motion.
I barely had time to raise my arm before I flicked my wrist, the black dagger slicing through the air.
It met flesh with a satisfying, sharp noise, and the vampire hissed, a guttural sound of fury and pain.
It didn’t slow him down; he only seemed more enraged.
Before I could react, he was on top of me, pinning me to the ground in a flash.
His cold, dead weight pressed down on me, his hands strong and merciless as he hovered above, his blood-red eyes glowing with hunger.
A malicious grin curled across his face as his inky dark hair fell into his eyes.
I could feel his breath, cold and deathly, but his scent was intoxicating, blood orange with a hint of honeycomb.
His breath ghosted over the skin of my neck as he aimed for the pulse.
Panic surged, but my body was already moving, a deep, instinctual power rising within me.
My hand shot out, fingers splayed wide, and with a sharp exhale, I thrust my palm into his chest, releasing a gust of wind so fierce it sent his body flying.
He hit the tree with a sickening crack, the bark splintering and falling away from the impact.
The vampire staggered, disoriented but unfazed, slowly rising to his feet with a grin that had me tightening the purple blade in my hand.
He was fast, dangerous, and relentless. I scrambled to my feet, watching him with narrowed eyes as he straightened up.
“Not bad for an elemental witch,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he stepped forward. His blood-red eyes were fixed on me, studying me with a dangerous, almost amused glint. A slow, unsettling smile spread across his face, revealing his sharp teeth—though they weren't quite fangs.
Is this guy for real?
Irritation flared in my chest. His confidence was infuriating, as if he didn’t care about the world and only he mattered.
Everything about him screamed danger, his deliberate, calculated movements, the way he regarded me with both amusement and disdain. I wasn’t sure whether to be pissed off or terrified.
“You’re a long way from home, vampire,” I grip my dagger tighter.
“Blood mage,” He corrected, his smile never faltering. “Not a vampire.”
I blinked at him, the confusion flickering across my face. “What’s the difference?” I spat, my irritation rising. “You’re both a menace.”
His laugh was low and dark, like the sound of an approaching storm. “A blood mage isn’t bound to the same rules as a vampire, little witch. We aren’t undead. Vampires, on the other hand, are slaves to their thirst.”
I brought my dagger up slightly, ready to fight, but something about his calm confidence, how he seemed so unfazed by the tension in the air, unsettled me more than anything.
“Both are still bloodsuckers.” I retorted.
He chuckled, his voice dark and smooth, as he took another step closer to me. I instinctively stepped back, tightening my grip on my dagger, every muscle in my body tensed for action. My magic was prepared to unleash if he attempted anything.
I had never encountered a blood mage before, and the vampires I had crossed paths with were enough to make my skin crawl, especially the ones who hunted me. I wasn’t about to let another predator get close.
“True,” he mused, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “But I’m particularly picky about who I feed from, and I only feed for power, or when I’m fucking.”
I have no idea why that sounds so appealing.
He slowly licked his lips, his gaze lingering on me as if I were a meal he was savouring.
“I could take so much from you—your magic, your pleasure,” he murmured, nostrils flaring and eyes dark with hunger.
Something snapped inside me, with a flick of my wrist, the earth beneath our feet responded to my call, thick vines bursting from the ground like serpents, twisting and curling towards him with an undeniable force.
He paused, his red eyes scanning the vines as they snaked toward him. His lips curled into a smirk, a hint of curiosity in his expression as he cocked his head.
“Impressive, but I’m not here to kill you.” He said smoothly.
The vines remained coiled, their sharp tips just inches away from him. However, his presence diminished their threat, making them feel more like an afterthought. It was as if I were the one trying to prove something, while he simply waited for me to reveal my hand.
“Could’ve fooled me,” I shot back, my gaze narrowing. Every part of me screamed to strike, to end whatever this was before it escalated, but something in his demeanour kept me grounded.
A nagging feeling that he was more than just a threat.
He was closer now, his movements smooth and confident, like he was strolling through his domain.
His dark, messy hair fell effortlessly into his face, framing his sharp, striking features, and that smirk of his only seemed to deepen with each passing second.
He didn’t seem to care about the vines still thrashing around us.
This was no more than a mild inconvenience to him.
“So, you're just an elemental witch, right?” He drawled, leaning back. His red eyes flickered with amusement.
“Pretty basic power, no wonder you’re a lower-level witch.”
I clenched my fists at my side, feeling the crackle of restrained magic just beneath my skin.
This arrogant bastard had no idea who he was talking to.
Unfortunately for me, he wasn’t entirely wrong.
My full power was locked away, sealed by an intricate tattoo that stretched across my spine.
The dark ink pulsed faintly, whispering of the magic trapped beneath it, magic that my mother had bound because I was too dangerous.
“Don’t rise to the bait, Raven.” Xarothar's voice slithered through my mind, his tone both amused and warning.
“Raven?” I echoed, my brows furrowing.
“Short for your name.” Huh, I hadn’t realised he could hear my thoughts too.
“You literally just took away one letter.” I pointed out.
He chuckled, “And yet, you suit it well.”
“Are you done talking to your familiar?” the blood mage asked, stepping forward without my noticing. My magic had the vines coiled protectively around me, inching upward like serpents sensing a threat. Their thorns glistened—sharp and eager—waiting for the slightest excuse to lash out.
“I don’t have one.”
“Well, that’s a lie.” His gaze flicked towards the cottage as if he could sense something hidden within its walls.
“Every witch has a familiar.”
“Not me,” I interrupted. Not a lot to do anymore.
The cool air had become frigid, abruptly making me conscious of how little I was wearing—a thin satin nightgown, with my bare feet pressing into the dewy ground.
Here I stood in front of a blood mage, whose face was unfairly handsome for someone I already despised.
It had been years since I had spoken to anyone other than the werewolf who helped me train.
He clicked his tongue, his crimson eyes dragging over me like a predator sizing up its prey. I straightened, my hair spilling over my chest like a shield.
“I’m not a threat to you,” he murmured, his voice smooth, coaxing. “You can put your dagger down and these vines.”
I arched my brow. Is he serious?
“You just attacked me.”
He just laughed, dark and rich, as if I had said something amusing. “I didn’t kill you. And trust me, if I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”
“But I’m not,” I pointed out, ignoring the dull ache creeping into my skull.
“Yet.”
His lips curled into a slow, knowing smile as he reached out, tapping one of my vines. The plant recoiled, hissing as if offended. One second, he was several feet away. The next, he was right in front of me, his hand snapping around my throat like a collar.
I gasped, my fingers tightening around the hilt of my dagger, but I didn’t get a chance to use it.
His grip wasn’t crushing, just firm—controlling.
His body pressed close, heat and something unhinged radiating from him like a live wire.
His fangs gleamed as he tilted his head, inhaling deeply like he was savouring the scent of something rare.
I barely moved, but his grip flexed in warning, a smirk curling his lips.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, little witch. Your heart is already beating fast enough—it’s making me hungry.”
Clenching my jaw, I forced myself to remain still. My vines twitched but didn’t strike. If he were indeed a threat, they would have torn him apart by now. Either they sensed something I didn’t, or he was just good at playing the part of a man who wasn’t insane.
His eyes darted to my shoulder, zeroing in on the faded vampire bite. His thumb ghosted over my pulse. “Tsk, Tsk. You’ve already been bitten? How tragic.” His eyes snapped back to mine, and his smile widened, teeth sharp, “I hate sloppy seconds.”
Then, without warning, his tongue traced a slow path up the column of my throat, his voice was a dark whisper against my skin, laced with possession.
“Good thing I’ve already claimed you.”
A shiver crawled down my spine—not from fear, though I told myself it should be, but from something far worse.
Something I didn’t want to name. I hated the way my body reacted, the traitorous heat coiling low in my stomach, the way his voice sent a shudder through me that I wished was disgust—but wasn’t.
He let out a low, satisfied hum, as if he were indulging in some forbidden delight, enjoying my existence like a sip of fine wine.
And, gods, I despised that—yet for the briefest, most shameful second, it almost felt good.
Just as quickly as he had grabbed me, he released his hold, stepping back with a lazy grin and tilting his head, watching me with childish amusement.
“I wish I didn’t have to leave, because this was fun, little witch.
” Something dark flickered in his eyes, “Next time you come outside, make sure you’re covering that beautiful body of yours.
I’d hate to have to rip out their eyeballs and pop them…
kidding, I would very much enjoy it.” He winked, and then vanished, as if he hadn’t just claimed me, licked my throat and threatened the popping of someone’s eyeballs like a deranged psychopath.
He disappeared into the trees, his laughter lingering in the air like a haunting melody.
I exhaled slowly, rage and unease winding in my gut, and a little turned on. My headache pulsed behind my temples, only worsening.
Fucking lunatic.
I needed to prepare for my trip tonight and catch some mice for my greedy dragon.