He kisses my forehead softly, and I lean into his touch. His words secure our bond even tighter. Every word spoken is an assurance, a commitment to me and our relationship. As I lay my head on his chest, I ask him about his short talk with Faas, my curiosity taking over, and I wonder aloud if the Dhampir is trustworthy.
“The Dhampir loves his life too much to put it at risk, Tempest, especially for some human he deems replaceable. He has his own causes to worry about; the Dhampir is stalking the gates of Valorya for a reason. A personal one, I suspect.”
“He agreed, though. Tomorrow evening, you can speak with Elijah. Faas and I will stay nearby in case it escalates. For now, let me relieve you of your thoughts and show you endlessly what you can expect once you’re turned.”
Emrys grabs my waist and starts undressing me. My dress falls to the ground, and hurriedly, I start unbuttoning his black blouse. His muscles come into view, and I press my breasts against his broad chest. His fangs slide against the skin of my neck, and I shudder in anticipation as his teeth pierce through. I moan softly as pleasure courses through me, his shadows roaming over my naked body, ready to play. Hopefully, that'll be a trait we share once I become an Umbra: controlling shadows.
The next evening comes too fast, and I feel unsure if I am ready for this. Emrys takes me with him; his face has dismay written all over it, and I cannot blame him. Every fiber in my body screams at me that this is a bad idea. I silence the voices; I must do this, an obligation I developed toward Elijah.
Emrys and I travel through the darkened shadows and step out at Faas’s residence, a wooden trailer, just outside the city walls of Valorya. I have no answer as to why the group still resides here after their defeat. No new attack has been launched, yet they remain at these premises. Emrys mentions he suspects there is a personal motivation behind it all.
Faas welcomes us as if we were old friends, offering us a drink and food. A board in front of him displays a variety of food, including fresh meats, cheeses, and even fruit. Emrysrespectfully declines the blood, informing the Dhampir that we are merely here to speak to Elijah. I frown at the sight of the silver chalice in the Dhampir’s hand, holding the red-colored warm fluid—fresh blood. Emrys does not seem to care where it comes from, as he ignores the chalice.
Faas escorts us outside and points us in the direction of Elijah’s living quarters. He mentions being nearby if required, then wanders off. I stare at the Dhampir as he walks away, turning his broad back toward us. I swallow as I realize Faas will not be in the room while confronting Elijah, as I expected him to be. I will be alone with Elijah. An uneasiness creeps in like a nagging discomfort, and I become restless. Emrys decides to stay close by, too, unwilling to put my fate entirely in the hands of the Dhampir. His discomfort at the whole situation is palpable. My own uneasiness makes me queasy, and part of me wants to run away as far as possible, severing me from the situation by disappearing. I take a deep breath, walk to the wooden trailer, knock, and open the door to Elijah’s home. I don’t turn my head to glance at Emrys before I close the door quickly, afraid I will turn on my heel and run to him, telling him to take me away, like I always do, knowing he would gladly oblige my request.
Instead, I stare at Elijah, who sits behind a small desk, writing erratically on a piece of paper. Multiple pieces surround him, all a blur of penned-down words, as his hazel eyes furiously snap up at my intrusion. His eyes soften the moment he sees that it is I who is disturbing whatever he is doing. I take a small step away from the door, cautiously looking at him. My body is tense, ready to react, even when the danger isn’t clear.
“Sunshine! I knew you couldn’t stay away from me. Glad you left the sponge at home,” he says with a big, toothy smirk.
He drops the pen, and its sound makes me jump. Every slight sound feels louder, amplified by the tension building inside me. Elijah gets up from behind his desk and walks toward me, his arms stretched as if he wants to hug me or, worse, hold me. In response, I lift my hands defensively to keep him at a distance. I don’t want his hands to touch me, to contaminate me with the curse. I’m scared of the impact our skin touching can have, whether it will cloud my mind. I have no aspiration to find that out. I take a step back; the wooden floorboards creak at the movement. The door handle presses softly against my back. A creeping sense of panic tightens my throat, sparking a visceral instinct to retreat, yet I force myself to have this conversation. I must.
“Don’t, please, don’t. I merely came here to speak to you. If you insist on touching me, I’ll leave immediately,” I threaten as my voice quivers.
Disappointed, Elijah lowers his arms but doesn’t say a word. His gaze glides over my body hungrily, as if he’s ready to devour me after all this time apart. Ignoring his lustful stare, I peer carefully at the papers on his desk, trying to read what he has written, but the words form no cohesive pattern, a vortex of letters. I return my glance to Elijah, who still gawks at me like a cat stalking its prey’s every move. I try to control my breathing, but it feels like the air around us is becoming thicker and thicker, making it harder to breathe. A discomfort roots itself in me, standing in this tiny space with this person who is convinced I belong in his arms. I fumble slightly, anxiously playing with my sleeve, and am hesitant about how to approach the conversation I need to have with him.
“Please, could you take your seat? I find that more comfortable… some distance between us.”
The words come out shaky, revealing my nervousness. I clear my throat. He does as I ask, not breaking eye contact fora second, a cocky smile playing on his lips. It’s eerie the way he glares at me.
“Look, Elijah… I don’t know the correct way to say this, so please bear with me, okay?”
Elijah nods at me, his stare becoming more intense by the second as if trying to look into my skull and dissect my brain; it’s almost violating.
“Sure, Sunshine, anything to make you happy. That’s all I want anyway, your happiness. Together with me, where you belong, by my side,” he says, his voice lacking warmth.
The statement awakens part of the cursed bond, which I try my best to ignore. Being alone with him in this tiny room, so close to each other, makes it hard to think and recall the words I’ve practiced in my head repeatedly. I can strangely smell his scent—an intoxicating blend of wood and wet earth—and feel the magnetic pull between us, stronger now that Emrys is gone. I didn’t notice Elijah’s scent before. Nauseating to my core, and simultaneously a smell I tell myself I can no longer live without.
The cursed bond is suppressing my soul bond with Emrys, actively fighting it, which is only possible because I was idiotic enough to arrange to be alone with Elijah. How could I be so stupid? The moment it was clear Faas would not be in the same room, I should have forsaken this dangerous endeavor.
An unsettling desire starts to nestle inside me to be held by Elijah instead. I feel a tear sliver across my cheek as I try to defy the curse, a tear that holds a vortex of complex emotions. Joy and sorrow. Affection and disdain. Trust and betrayal. Euphoria and despair. Gratitude and resentment. I need Emrys by my side; I’m not strong enough.
I’m always with you, Little Tempest. Don’t ever think you're alone. Remember that for eternity, you and I, my Lucem Mei. You are stronger than the curse; you WILL defy it, and Iwill be right next to you as you do it. Have faith in yourself, my love, as I do.
I blink at the whispering words that weave themselves into my brain, a sound that’s faint and far away, as if Emrys is miles away from me. Yet it stirs me and grounds me steadily back into the present, reminding me of the task I set out to complete. My heart flutters at the sound of Emrys’s soft voice, solidifying our bond. Angrily, I wipe away the stray tear, the liquid above all representing my weakness. Elijah peers at me, waiting for me to start speaking, his eyes tracking my every movement, unaware of the turmoil and doubt that takes place within me. I want to hit him, burn his cheek red. I want to scream at him, but I don’t do either.
“The love you feel for me, Elijah… It’s not real; it’s a curse. All of this is fake. It’s…”
My voice cracks under the weight of my emotions. Elijah cuts me off as he gets up from his chair and stalks over to me. Within seconds, he is standing in front of me. His scent fills the dense air, intoxicating and sickening all at once. A knot twists tightly in my stomach as he stands so close by, too close. My heart races, pounding like a drum, and I can't shake the feeling that something terrible is about to unfold. It is as if dread wraps itself around me, tightening its grip with every passing moment, with each breath. It makes me anxious and on high alert.
“It sure does feel real, Sunshine. Stop saying these bullshit things. How could the love I feel for you be a curse? If anything, our meeting is a damn miracle, a blessing from the old Gods themselves. It’s that bloodsucker that infects your mind with this crap. He’s the one poisoning your mind. I never believed Faas when he said you were with him out of your own free will; you’d be with me. Where you belong.”
He seizes my hand and laces his long fingers into mine; with his other hand, he clasps my hip and pulls me toward him,away from the door. Instinctively, I press my free hand firmly on his chest, trying to keep some distance. A faint tug in my mind enjoys his possessive behavior, but my heart denies it; the act is disrespectful, with no care for my boundaries. Another hint that he acts on behalf of the curse is his lack of empathy. A selfish form of self-preservation, one he has no idea of. He is a mere puppet led by invisible strings, and part of my heart weeps for him, and for myself, at the unfairness of it all.
“Stop it, Elijah! Please. Listen to me. This isn’t you; it’s not real. What you’re feeling for me, try to resist it, help me tear this unnatural connection, reject me,” I implore fearfully, stuttering the words.
As I plead with Elijah, shots of pain surge through my head, and it costs me all my energy to defy the hurt and fight Elijah off me. I pull my hand loose and feverishly give him a firm push; I need him to get away from me. I need us to separate ourselves from each other. He loses his balance, stumbles over, and falls on the wooden floor. Angrily, he scrambles to his feet. Elijah looks at me, baring his teeth like a rabid dog. My eyes dart to the door; if I’m fast, I might make it.
“You know what I think, Harlot? I think you’ve been with that leech of yours too long. You don’t even know what it’s like to be touched by a real man. A man of flesh and blood, a mortal man like me,” he seethes, his eyes bulging from rage.
