Page 7 of Dark Flame

Unless it’s no longer up…which is entirely possible. My hands curl in on themselves.Fucking useless tools.

Maybe he’s one more thing to add to the ever-growing pile of ways to torment me.

In an abrupt movement that seems to ruffle no part of the surrounding air whatsoever, he gets to his feet. Silent, steady, and stealthy, letting me take in exactly how he towers over me. Easily a foot taller than me, not that height really matters considering the strength their kind has.

Hair so black, it shines like the nighttime sky against the dull backdrop of my bedside lamp. It curls around his ears and masks the tops of his eyes—also deep and dark as a void of nothingness. He’s like a nightmare come to life. His skin is pale, a common attribute of vampires, but unlike others who look like walking corpses, this one makes it work. There’s a sexiness to him, enthralling in that lethal way so many of them are. It’s simply one way they lure in their prey. Every flawless inch of him is a hunter.

I slide my foot behind me, managing to gain a fraction more of distance between him and me.

His head ticks to the side instantly, his immortal hearing catching the subtle movement. His lips curl until the tips of his fangs peek out. I jolt at the sight of his weapons, my stomach coiling in warning.

“Don’t be stupid. If you run, I’ll be forced to chase, and I promise you will not like it when I catch you.”

His voice is strangely soft, silky almost. A purr reverberating throughout my body, warming my insides in a way I can’t decide is pleasurable or not. Likely a protective instinct and nothing more…even if it feels like my body’s trying to tell me something else. Something bigger. Something begging me tohearhim and realize what I already know.

My heart pounds in my chest, hands forming fists. I can’t fight my way past him; one pinch of a finger and his strength would drop me instantly. And my magick…well, yeah. Words are all I got. I’m left with talking him down.

“H-how did you get in here?” One hand wraps around one of my wrists, fingers brushing along old scars I know to be there. It’s an anxious twitch I’ve never been able to get rid of.

He doesn’t reply, leaving me to my own conclusions: the barrier failed, exactly like so much in my life has.

“Wh-what do you want?”

I know what he wants. It’s the same as all the others who stalk my house.

“You.”

Of course it’s me. It’s always me. Ever since my ancestor cursed me to live like this.

“Get out,” I demand, my voice strangely calm and steady. The questions of how and why matter less than getting him to leave. Even though I’m about to lose a fruitless fight without being able to defend.

He takes a step, and I do too, crossing my bedroom’s threshold. The stairs are only a couple feet away. If I run, I can get downstairs and maybe out of the house before he catches up. Maybe. A slim possibility at best. And if I managed it, where would I go? He’ll catch me no matter what. Hiding with neighbours will only result in their deaths. Running to the police would get me locked up in a psychiatric ward. And that’sonlyif I manage to escape that far.

I lift my hands for the first part of my lie, ready to fake my way to safety. “You’re a brave vampire to be entering a witch’s home. Leave, or you’ll burn.”

“Yes, yes,” he drawls. “You Sinclairs have always had a penance for fire. Destructive little things, aren’t you?”

His comment hits the part of my heart closest to where grief is stored, but I try not to reveal the little power he could so easily gain with a few choice words.

“You seem to know a lot about my family.”

All witches are born with one kind of elemental magick, which can command, control, and create the natural world related to the element: earth, air, water, or fire. My powers are bred in fire, exactly like every Sinclair before me. It’s the comfortable heat I’ve grown up with—and now miss almost as much as Mom and Dad.

He chuckles, the sound almost depraved and teasing. “Probably more than you.”

“Which tells me you’ve had dealings with us in the past. So you’ll know I’m not the witch to piss off.”

“Then do it.”

He wasn’t supposed to call my bluff.

I wait for the familiar tingle of heat in my palms, the feeling of freedom rushing through me. Of control and power and strength.

The feeling I called upon to save my parents when vampires attacked our home.

The same heat that formed balls of fire to kill the pointy-teeth assholes.

The magick I haven’t felt since then.