Primal Urges
“You are angry,” Luka whispered. “As you should be. But you came back to us,” he said, squeezing her shoulder.
Matilda closed her eyes against the sensation that was a trivial distraction from the hunger that wrenched her stomach. She forced the hunger down, focusing on the child in her arms, breathing softly against her collarbone.
“You killed me,” she replied, voice low and brittle.
Luka’s hand slipped from her shoulder, and he traversed the room to peer out the window at the snow that cascaded into her vacant grave.
“It was not a wise decision. I know that now.”
“You poisoned me while I lay bleeding from childbirth,” she hissed. Silence fell between them like an ice wall. “While I was gasping for air, you were by my side, clutching my hand, crying like it pained you more than me. But what I wanted didn’t matter because you got what you wanted—your heir.”
“That isn’t true!” he snarled, whipping around on her.
The hunger twisted again. That time it was sharper, and her ears awakened fully to the blood moving through Luka’s veins.
It was thick, and the scent of his noble blood seemed to seep out of his pores.
It called to her like an old spell that could only be found in the darkest grimoire from the underworld.
Slowly, Matilda rose from the rocking chair and crossed the room to the cradle beside the bed. She laid Denalia inside, tucking the fur gently beneath her chin. She sighed but didn’t wake. Matilda lingered for a moment, brushing a finger across the child’s warm cheek.
“Sleep, my princess,” she murmured.
She turned and faced Luka head-on. The woman he knew was gone. He realized that when her eyes darkened, and her pupils went thin and predatory. Her lips pulled back just slightly, revealing the sharpness of her new teeth.
“You stole my life,” she growled.
“I did. I was a coward, and I feared you would change your mind if you had time to think. Night Falls would never accept a mortal queen, and time was of the essence. They would’ve killed you.”
Matilda’s jaw tightened.
“You robbed me of my choice.”
“I saved you.”
She moved so fast that the candles flickered as if a sharp breeze had entered the room. Her hand closed around his throat, restricting his breath. Matilda slammed Luka into the wall with enough force to crack the stone. He barely flinched.
“You are stronger than I expected,” he confessed softly.
Matilda snarled, then hurled him across the chamber.
He smashed through the tall window in an explosion of glass.
She plunged from the shattered window, and Luka’s wings unfurled with a thunderous snap.
They caught the wind and lifted him into the sky.
Matilda crashed into him midair, sending them tumbling together in a violent spiral.
Her fingers dug into the base of a wing where bone, muscle, and tendon met.
She ripped downward with everything she had.
Luka roared when the wing partially tore. Blood sprayed into the night, flecking the snowy ground with red streaks.
Matilda bared her teeth as they spiraled. “You will die for this!”
Luka twisted violently, breaking her grip. They crashed into the palace courtyard, shattering the iced fountain.
Luka’s body took the brunt of the impact, and although his beloved had maimed him in an attempt to end his life, he still managed to wrap his arms around her protectively.
She recoiled from his embrace, landing in a crouch, a few yards away, eyes blazing like fire. Luka slowly pushed himself up, blood flowing freely from his damaged wing. He smiled despite the injury.
“You were formidable as a human, but by the gods, you are unstoppable as a vampire,” he declared proudly.
A soft whine caught Matilda’s attention, and her gaze flicked toward the palace above, then back to him when she realized Denalia had settled down.
She surveyed his injuries—torn between hating and loving him.
His injured wing dragged across the stone, leaving a dark trail behind him.
The torn membrane fluttered uselessly in the wind, but would eventually heal.
She stalked toward him, and the rage that propelled her forward was beginning to shift into something far worse… insatiable hunger.
Briefly, the wind stopped, and Luka’s heartbeat was becoming impossible to ignore. She staggered slightly, and her hand shot to her abdomen as if she could hold the hunger inside.
She followed the blood trail as Luka backed away towards the woods.
The blood was rich—the most delectable scent, second to her child. It was warm and irresistible, and her fangs slid down instinctively.
“You feel it,” he said, voice drifting on the wind. Matilda’s breath went ragged as she glared at him. “I can help you.”
“I will not take anything from you.”
He snorted. “You will.”
Her vision blurred, and the courtyard seemed to tilt beneath her feet as the newborn thirst burned through every vein in her body. She collapsed on her hands and knees.
“Your body is newly risen, and the hunger will only worsen.”
The sound that escaped her throat was half growl, half gasp.
“Leave,” she rasped, fingers dragging towards the bloodied stone.
“You would rather starve?” Luka challenged.
“Yes,” she replied without hesitation.
A faint smile touched his mouth. “So stubborn.”
He clucked his tongue when she licked her fingers, and her eyes rolled in the back of her head. Her tongue lolled out, and she lapped the blood like a kitten drinking from a milk bowl.
“Do you remember the first time we met?” Luka called out from the tree line. She paused, and her eyes flashed.
“That was a cursed day,” she answered.
“Was it?” he said teasingly. “Because I recall you enjoying yourself writhing under my boot.”
Matilda’s eyes closed at the memory—his venom coursing through her veins, him planting his boot between her parted thighs, and her hips undulating beneath him. The moment was both gratifying and demoralizing.
“I recall stabbing you in the eye with an arrow.”
Luka clicked his tongue. “Yes… that was rather… unfortunate.”
He lifted his hand to the torn edge of his wing, and when he drew his fingers back, blood coated them, dripping down his wrist to the snow below.
Matilda’s eyes locked onto it instantly. Her breath hitched, and her hunger roared. She was tempted by his offer.
“You will feed tonight,” he announced.
“Not willingly,” she growled.
“Of course not.” He took a step back, then another. He moved further away, leaving faint drops of blood in his wake. “You never were one for easy victories. I will feed you, my Queen. But you must take it.”
Matilda slowly rose, her body trembling with thirst. “You expect me to beg after what you did to me?”
“I expect you to hunt.”
Her breath stilled and something more powerful than hunger took over.
Lust.
“I want to see if the huntress still exists.”
Luka turned and launched himself into the night sky. His damaged wing caught the wind unevenly, but it still lifted him above the trees. Matilda stared after him, tracking his every movement.
“Hunt me, my Queen.”
A dark smile spread across her face before she shot into the woods.