Chapter VIII #2
The thought turns around in my head while I study the spread Izcacus has prepared. He serves little round cakes, strawberries, slices of pear, a variety of cheeses, and crackers. My stomach clenches at the sight. Seeing food has reminded me that I haven’t eaten in some time.
“Thank you. This looks delicious,” I tell him softly as I reach for a pear slice, realizing that this is the first time someone has ever given me food. For as long as I can remember, even through my childhood, I have always been the one to make food for others. No one took care of me.
He is giving me a lot of firsts.
“If it’s okay to ask…are you human, like me? Or…something else?”
My teeth sink into the crisp fruit, and I moan as juice bursts in my mouth, my tongue tasting hints of vanilla.
I haven’t eaten anything so delicious in a long time.
A drop of juice slides down my chin, leaving a sticky trail.
I swipe the pad of my thumb across, catching the pearl before sucking, my tongue lapping the sweetness from my finger.
Finished, I glance up to find Izcacus is holding out another slice. Heat blooms in my cheeks as I take the pear. Our hands brush, and I’m surprised to find that his coldness feels more like warmth, now. It’s a simple gesture, but my heart swoons all the same, serenaded by his gentle melody.
“The town calls me a nightwalker, but the true name of what I am is vampyre.”
Vampyre.
I’ve heard tales of the nightwalker since I was a little girl, but I’ve never heard of vampyre before. It’s shrouded in mystery, though the sharpness of the sound seems to fit his grotesque existence. Seems to fit his cadaverous frame that roams free under the crescent moon.
The pear’s flesh breaks between my teeth, yet all I can taste is Izcacus’s cold touch burning down my throat. I swallow, and a hollow emptiness strangles my stomach. My body is starved for something else. It’s hungry for him. I’ve had a bite, and now I want more.
The true wanting of someone is a strange concept. I think it should feel like a noose constricting around my neck, but it doesn’t when Izcacus is the recipient of my desire.
My gaze fogs over like windows on a frosty night as I try to process my feelings and what I desire, but what’s more confusing is what it might mean after everything that I’ve been through.
Am I even allowed to feel like this? To crave someone, even a monster, despite the horrors I’d faced, seems foolish.
Conflicting thoughts begin to whirl, a blizzard tearing through my mind, leaving me stranded.
A soft touch against my cheek calls me back to the moment and I turn to see Izcacus’s red eyes shining like a beacon through the twilight.
“Let me take care of you. Tell me, what do you need, my ferocious goddess?”
“I just…I’m––” My chest feels restricted, as though smothered by an unknown weight.
My fingers scratch frantically at my heart in an attempt to escape the feeling of being buried alive, trying to claw my way to the surface for air.
Yet the more I fight, the more that panic crams into my mouth, tasting of rotten dirt infested with writhing millipedes.
Izcacus grips my hand kindly yet firmly, and for a second, my anxiety-ridden thoughts halt, giving me a moment of reprieve.
“Run,” he growls.
My mind trips over itself and I stare at him blanky, confused.
“W-what?”
Tension electrifies between us, replacing my overwhelm with something dark. Something twisted and depraved.
“Run from me, my little human, because when I catch you, I shall consume your soul. I will ravage you without mercy.” Despite the harshness of his words he kisses my hand reverently.
My earlier confusion fades to the realization that this is a game, a kind distraction from the imprisonment of my own mind.
Izcacus is showing me the way to freedom, opening the doors and allowing me to run wild.
My eyes brighten, adrenaline shooting through my veins and igniting my body into action. I scramble up to my feet, and my heartbeat pounds like a drum. I whip my head around, determining where I’ll run to hide first.
“You have ten seconds, and then I will hunt you. You can try to hide from me, but know that I will always find you.”
Izcacus closes his eyes, the game starting as he softly counts down.
Ten.
Taking off in a sprint, I hurtle towards an obelisk stone, the whisper of a giggle escaping me. I cover my mouth to smother my gasps.
Nine.
I lose my slippers while ducking and weaving amongst the headstones. But I refuse to stop, instead relishing the feeling of the dirt sinking between my toes, of the wind whipping through my hair and tearing at my clothes.
Eight.
Endorphins surge as my legs pump. I feel alive, and I love it.
Seven.
The thrill of knowing Izcacus is hunting me sets me on edge. He is going to get me, and I can’t wait.
Six.
My eyes scan as I run, spotting thick bushes with red berries covered by dark, shiny foliage. A crow squawks, making me jump, and I gasp, my heart rate accelerating.
Five.
I work my legs harder still, gasping for air as I struggle to catch my breath. Anticipation nips at me, urging me on, urging me to go faster. And so I flee, losing myself to the untamable creature that lives within me, the one that revels in the terrifying expectation of what’s to come.
Oh my God. I realize with a start that it is far too quiet, that I have somehow missed the end of his countdown. A shiver runs up the side of my neck. He’s already stalking me from the shadows. He could be anywhere.
I dive into a bush, uncaring of the branches that whip my arms. Instead of retreating from the thorns I squeeze myself inside and kneel, my fingers digging into the dirt as I peer out. My hiding spot obscures my vision, which intensifies the anticipation.
Seconds pass.
The night is still.
There is only silence. Too much silence.
I hold my breath.
A clawed hand wraps around my ankle, and I scream when Izcacus drags me from my sanctuary.
My breaths are frantic as I squirm, kicking my legs.
His talons tear through my dress, the sound of fabric ripping echoing in the night.
All I can see is darkness and glowing, red eyes.
I think I should be scared––I know I should be scared––but I’m not.
This is a game, but for the first time in my life, I have the chance to fight.
My nails claw at his arms, and I thrash.
The noises that leave my mouth are animalistic and savage as I wrestle against Izcacus’s body for dominance.
His hands mark me and he growls, low and guttural.
As his grip loosens, I scramble onto my hands and knees, using the opportunity to push myself off of the ground.
Then I’m running into the open, delirious giggles trailing in my wake.
I don’t make it very far before his hands are again at my waist, spinning me around until my lower back hits a tombstone.
I pant, grinning up at him. My skin is slick with sweat, cool air dances across my exposed breasts, the dress having been tugged down, and my hair is frizzy and wild. Everything about me is untamed.
Izcacus grips my throat, but I know that I hold my own power when I’m with him. He pins me against the grave and lowers his mouth to hover just above mine, the heat of his fetid breath sending ripples across my skin.
“You are not delicate prey, Cassandra. You are vicious, and strong. You are mine. As I am yours.”