Page 5

Four

HARLOW

The pain in my head dulls, slowly drawing me from sleep. Discomfort thumps front and centre in my forehead, and I groan, opening my eyes to pure darkness. My heart begins pounding a bit faster. I shift, confirming I’m not tied down, and I immediately breathe easier having control of my limbs. At least I have that going for me.

Unilluminated places end up having a sense of entrapment, and my claustrophobia is a bitch about it. With that fear out of the way, my mind’s able to focus on the rest, the immediate problem.

Like what happened and where I am.

I shift my hips, the ground hard beneath me. Certainly not my bed, warm and comfortable. I move my arms again, this time paying attention to my senses rather than not being tied down. Dirt, I think, and rocks. I lift my hands to my face, waiting for my eyes to begin making out shapes. After a minute of this, I give up since nothing seems to be changing. It’s not that concerning, considering it’s only a bit obscurer than my shadow friends, and those I’ve gotten used to.

All at once, memories flash through my mind. The vampire in my room. The one who spoke my name in the exact way I’ve been hearing for all these months.

Impossible. I’ve imagined the entire thing. The voice in my head…yeah, don’t have an answer for that one, but it can’t possibly be the same. If that’s the case, then vampires must have powers that my parents never mentioned. Unless they didn’t know either, in which case, who knows what else vampires have been hiding, or what other abilities my captor will likely use against me.

More plausible: My terrified, traumatized brain injected my kidnapper’s voice into being the replacement for my mental one. They’re two different things, but circumstance forced my mind to blend the two realities.

Yeah, that’s what I’m going with.

Returning to the last thing I remember: that vampire chased me, caught me—because why wouldn’t he have?—and then other vampires showed up. He fought them off but I didn’t bother sticking around to see the ending of that. Whoever won didn’t change the outcome they all wanted me for. He must have won, considering he caught up to me, this time caked in blood, like he just walked off a horror-movie set.

I don’t recall anything after that.

If only I had my magick still, then none of this would be an issue. Instead, I sit up and wait for my eyes to adjust to the impossibly dark room, for shapes to begin forming.

Minutes pass, and still nothing. I remain where I am, rocks digging into my thighs, rather than stand. My luck, the asshole stuck me on the edge of a cliff and with one wrong move, I’ll topple to my death.

Although death may end up being the better option than whatever he’s planning.

Over the years, many vampires have come for me—for the cure, anyway—but my parents always had so many charms on me, my blood was made to smell like a mortal’s, allowing me the chance to live a semi-normal life. It helps vampires can’t come out in the daytime either, so as long as I’m inside by sunset, I’m good. They’ve attacked the house, but none have managed to get through the barriers.

Until this one. The nameless vampire who beat me.

I scoff. What’s it matter, anyway? No matter the bloodsucker’s name, they’re all the same: rich, ancient, and cocky as fuck. He’s one of many whom I’ll burn to death the moment my powers return.

At this point, I’m still working on the how. If my magick wanted to cooperate, I’d like to think it would have last night when my life was literally in danger. Although, I suppose I’m still in danger. Maybe. I don’t really know what’s about to happen, but I do know having light would be nice so I can plan my escape accordingly.

Goddess, give me the fucking strength to defeat this vampire.

As though my prayer to Her is answered, a dull light flickers in the distance, casting a glow that barely reveals my surroundings. The dirt-covered and rock-decorated ground, the windowless stone wall at my back, and the thick metal poles across from me that lock me into a not very large space.

At all. Not large at all. Small, in fact. Too small. Mentally, I try to count the estimated size of this place, coming up with six-by-six feet or something close to that, and only about four feet above my head if I was standing.

Prison?

A cell that feels entirely too tiny. The concerns of where I am and why are gone for the immediate future, the panic slowly setting in given how close the walls are to one another…and how I’m stuck right in the middle.

Claustrophobia’s always been such an inconvenience, and freaking out about my cell’s size shouldn’t matter as much as the fact that I’m inside one. But it’s where my brain goes.

Getting to my feet, I wipe the dirt off my pyjama pants and walk to the bars. Thankfully, I still have my flip-flops on from my two seconds of logic before escaping my house. Taking the extra moment to slip them on meant running faster than in bare feet.

I wrap my hands around the frosty bars and shove my face through the metal as far as they’ll allow me to, studying my surroundings while breathing in the stale air. Stale, but it’s free too, so I’ll take it. Better than the cell’s air.

It’s the same damn air, but rationalizing the different compartments of this horrible place will help me feel less scared about the four walls around me. Sticking my face between the bars makes me feel less trapped. Like the walls aren’t so close.

For once, I’d rather have the shadows around.

Wherever I am, it’s a jail of some sort. A matching cell is across from me, with two more on either side, both sides of the short hallway. At the end is a door, and I long for it to open, for that vampire to return only so we can get this over with.

I should be more frightened, I realize, but somewhere over the years of my parents’ protection, I suppose I rationalized this possibility. That at some point, a vampire wouldn’t be satisfied with merely a sip.

I twist around, taking in the cell with better detail, my back against the metal. It’s cold, and my oversized shirt rides up, the chill pressing to my skin, but I accept it. Accept the fact I’m not so numb yet that I’ve tuned every sensation out. I slide towards the ground, bringing my knees up to my chest, and rest my head on them, unsure what’s to come.

I’d gotten good over the past couple months at pretending. Pretending I’m not dying inside while compartmentalizing my problems. Losing Mom and Dad, and the guilt and grief that have been plaguing me since that fateful day, has been momentarily shoved into a pretty little box and put into a much safer place than I currently am. Once I’m free—and I vow I will get free, even if I’m unsure how at this point—then I’ll return to hating myself within the confines of my home with my friendly shadows hanging around. I wonder when they’re coming back for me. Or has the Goddess given me a reprieve from that torture method considering my new problem?

Even so, once I get out of here, home is no longer safe without the barrier. If I escape, then I’ll be attacked by the next surge of bloodsuckers waiting. With a considerable look around, I realize this cage is the safest place for me. At least until I get my magick back. Or find a coven willing to take me in.

Not the one I was born into—they kicked me and my parents out when I was a kid, so I doubt they’d take me back—but another one.

Ironic that being imprisoned by a murderous vampire is the safer option. At least he keeps out the multiple others and, from what I’ve seen, he’ll protect me from them.

Like a dog protecting his bone from other canines. At this point, I’ll take whatever protection I can get.

From down the hallway, a loud crack sounds out. By the time I manage to get to my feet again, using the cell bars as leverage, a quick sliding of metal against metal clangs and a blur of black ends up towering over me, backing me into the cell bars.

Him.

He sneers, looking down at me over his nose. Strands block parts of his eyes, but not enough I’m unable to see the black pupils of the soulless creature.

“Sinclair.” It’s that voice again; the same one I’ve been hearing for months. It reaffirms the revelation I’m still pretending doesn’t exist.

“Asshole, bloodsucking kidnapper,” I greet in return, failing to come up with possible explanations why his voice has been in my head.

“Enjoying your new accommodations?”

“Fuck off.” My heart quickens with his nearness, which he probably hears. He’s too close, but not in an alarming manner like the size of the cell. There’s a strange feeling coursing through me as I tip my head and meet his dead gaze straight on. “Better yet, burn.”

He smirks, looking entirely boyish, and a mere fraction of what his actual age likely is. I hate, hate, hate to admit this, but my captor is actually hot. I noticed it when finding him on my bed, and I notice it now.

In a psychopathic way, of course.

“Good thing you don’t have your magick. For me, anyway.” His lips purse, momentarily hiding the sharp tips of his fangs. “How did that come to pass?”

I remain silent, my jaw locking and holding in the answer.

Clearly, he doesn’t care all that much about my secrets because he continues to say, “You are somewhat of a disappointment. My history with the Sinclairs dates back a long time, and none have been quite as…lacking…as you are.”

“Then send me home. Wait for the next one of us to come around.”

He chuckles, the deep reverberation bouncing throughout the room, a threat on its own. “That won’t be happening.”

There’s only one way to end this. I might be magickless, but I’m not powerless, and my power is the very reason vampires seek me out: my blood.

I tip my head back into the bars and squeeze my eyes shut as I do the very act I’ve always dreaded ever happening and bare my neck to the bloodsucking demon who doesn’t deserve my permission.

“If you’re going to do it, stop playing around and just fucking do it.”

“Do what?”

“Bite me, obviously,” I reply with a bit of a huff. “That’s why I’m here, aren’t I? You want the cure because you’re tired of being a vampire. Poor little soulless creature, forced to endure forever…” The kidnapping is a bit much when he could have bitten me in my bedroom and gotten this over with. “What a fucking cliché.”

He makes a humming noise that reverberates through my body and straight to my core. My eyes clench again, only this time for a reason other than fear.

A moment later, he takes my offer and lowers his head towards my neck. I hold my breath when his hair tickles my cheek. I never believed I’d ever invite a vampire to bite me, but the sooner he’s human, the sooner he’ll release me. And if he doesn’t let me go, at least I have a fighting chance.

Lips cold as ice but silky as water cruise my neck in the space below my ear before dipping into the curve of my shoulder. My heart races both in fear and anticipation. A vampire’s never bit me—for good reason—though I’ve been curious what it’d feel like from time to time.

Hooking a finger in my shirt’s collar, he slides it as far as the material allows, clearing a space for his mouth. His lips part, and sharp pricks slide over my skin. His chilling lips freeze me pressed against the poles, waiting for him to jam them into my skin.

Up and down, he teases me. Taunts me. My hands clench the bars, tapering the storm of emotions brewing—frustration, disgust, anger…desire.

Then he pauses, and I grip the poles even tighter in anticipation of the bite. My thighs press together. Any second, he’ll?—

His chuckle, dark, dangerous, but also musical, blows against my skin. “Oh, Hellion…” He pauses, his tone trailing off towards the end before he lightly huffs. “Hellion. Yes, that’s much more fitting for you.”

A freaking nickname ? This asshole’s taunting me for the cure, chasing me around my neighbourhood, and now he’s naming me.

“Thought you’re not supposed to name your food. Makes you grow attached.”

He smirks, his lips brushing against my clavicle. “You are very far from being my meal. Your first mistake was assuming I’d like to end my immortal life. I’m at the top of the fucking food chain, so why would I give that up?”

“What?” My eyes fly open and I rip away from him, shoving into the bars hard enough my hips will likely bruise. A bruise is better than anything he has in store for me, because if he doesn’t want my blood, why am I here?

The vampire cages me in with his arms. He ducks until he’s eye level, his fangs catching my attention. They’re so intriguing, mystical, and entirely attention-stealing, despite his next words deserving all my focus because they suggest my downfall.

“I won’t be drinking your cursed blood because I’ll be selling it.”