I looked around to see if anyone saw me and hurried to run into the house, but an invisible barrier kept me out. Amongst my feral energy, I forgot that Blood Hunters needed to be invited into someone’s house.
I sank to the ground, unable to process what I had done. I took someone’s life. I took it for my own pleasure, and now I was left alone with a body next to me.
I wandered the streets for hours, washing my face in a pail of water by a gutter. I was frantic. The darkness of the sky was lightening, and I was too far away from the cabin to make it back safely. Dawn drew near, and I found a man stumbling home from a tavern. I approached him and asked him if I could come inside with him. A playful smile dancedon my lips, hoping he was too tipsy to notice the blood staining my chin. When he invited me in, I barely let him take two steps before my fangs found their mark at his throat.
I remained in the house all day, unable to bring myself to leave, haunted by the lives I had stolen. Fear gnawed at my insides, the fear of what I had become, of the darkness lurking within me, waiting to strike again.
That night, as the moon rose high in the sky, so too did the insatiable hunger that tormented me. With each passing hour, it grew more unbearable, driving me to almost seek out more, but as I was about to leave, a voice called from outside. “Rosalia?”
I opened the door and pulled Draven inside. Crying into his arms, tears streamed down my face.
“Fear not, you are well. It took me a while to find you,” he said, patting my hair and kissing my face. He kissed my lips, and as soon as I felt his warmth on mine, I wanted more. My hands instinctively moved to the buttons of his shirt. With a desperate urgency, I unfastened them one by one, each click fueling my longing. Just as I was about to pull it open completely, he caught my wrists, holding me back.
“My heart, do you want to talk about it?” Draven asked knowingly. His gaze searched me up and down. I knew I must have looked a mess.
I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t even want to think about the people I killed and the lives I took. I wanted a distraction.
I pushed those thoughts aside; I didn’t want to see that. I felt everything now more than before.
“Let’s return to the cabin,” he murmured against my neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
January 16, 1892
In the quiet seclusion of the cabin, time slowed down as the nights bled into each other. I remained inside, reluctant to venture out. I felt raw, my emotions like a fountain I still couldn’t turn off.
Draven became my lifeline, my anchor in the storm. With patience and understanding, he tended to my needs. He hunted for us, bringing back animals for me to feed from or filling bottles with blood, sparing me the need to venture out alone.
Slowly, I began to feel like myself again. If I had enough blood, I felt normal, almost human. Yet, beneath the surface, the primal urges inside of me simmered, a constant reminder of my new nature.
Every sound, every scent became magnified, my senses attuned to the slightest movement in the surrounding wilderness. I could hear animals moving in the fresh snow, their breath in the air. I could smell the musky scent of their fur, and I could hear their blood pulsing through their veins.
Waiting for Draven in the cabin felt like an itch I could not scratch, and as the evening wore on, I found myself growing increasingly restless. Draven had left, promising to return when the moon was high in the sky with our meal. But as the hours ticked by, his absence weighed upon me.
Unable to bear the cabin any longer, I decided I needed to leave. I had to escape the confines of these walls.
I walked, the path beneath my feet snow-covered until I reached the clearing where Draven had turned me. Standing beneath the canopy of stars, the wind whispered through the trees. I gazed up at the moon overhead, its pale light casting a silver glow upon the forest below. I felt a sense of calm wash over me.
I remembered when I was a little girl, my mother would tell me stories about Blood Hunters. She would say they were soulless creatures who crept through the night searching for anyone to feed on. Yet, despite the stillness in my veins, I knew with a certainty that I had never felt more alive. Far from being soulless, I felt everything with an intensity that bordered on overwhelming. Each sensation, each emotion, pulsed through me like a raging inferno, consuming me from within.
I don’t know how long I stood there for, but my thoughts were broken when Draven wrapped his arms around my waist. I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin, carrying with it the intoxicating scent of blood. It stirred something primal within me.
“Draven,” I murmured, my voice barely a whisper as I looked into his eyes, my body moving closer to his. My hands traced the contours of his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. The desire to taste the blood on his lips overwhelmed me.
“Yes, my heart,” he replied, his gaze locked with mine as he held me close. In the moonlight, his eyes shimmered like pools of liquid sky, contrasting starkly against the darkness of his raven-black hair.
“Tell me how much you love me,” I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips as I pushed myself up on tiptoes, my tongue tracing a path over his lips, tasting the sweetness that lingered there.
“I love you, Rosalia,” Draven said, deepening the kiss and pulling me closer to him, his hands moving up my back. I couldn’t keep my thoughts straight as I was overwhelmed by the small taste of blood still coating his mouth.
I could feel my hunger growing inside of me, and my fangs were slowly growing longer as they cut through Draven’s lip. But he didn’t pull away; he only kept kissing me, running his tongue on my sharp fangs.
“Gluttony is a sin,” he murmured against my lips, his voice laced with a mixture of caution and desire. And with that, I surrendered to the irresistible pull of my instincts, sucking gently on his lip as his blood flooded my mouth, filling me with satisfaction.
I went feral, and without thinking, I tore myself from Draven's embrace, a growl escaping my throat as I turned to the clearing in the trees where I knew the village was.
I envisioned my victims asleep in their homes, unaware of me lurking outside. The image filled me with a savage hunger, fueling the relentless drive to satisfy the primal urges that consumed me.
A guttural scream tore from my lips as I backed away from Draven. I gathered up the hem of my skirt and bolted toward the village, my footsteps echoing through the silent night as I raced to my unsuspecting prey.
