Chapter 6

Willow didn’t see the blood hunter for the remainder of the day, and it made her nervous. If she didn’t keep an eye on him, she had no idea what he was up to. The fact that he disappeared nearly drove her up the wall. Where was he? Why was he missing his own feast Alixia invited him to in honor of his presence in Lakefalls?

She picked at the food in front of her, holding back a grimace. Human food. She could hardly stomach the stuff. Besides, it did nothing to satisfy her hunger. Vampires consumed one thing and one thing only—human blood. Anything else tasted awful.

Her stomach rumbled. She’d fed nearly two months ago when the baron’s house burned to the ground, which meant it was time to feed again. And soon—she didn’t want another repeat of Windspire.

Windspire brought an onslaught of memories into her already overcrowded brain. Flashes of red. Blood dripping from her fangs. A nearby cry. She would be devastated if she ever had a repeat of her darkest moment. She needed to gain control of her hunger, which was no easy feat, while a blood hunter lurked in town. Nervousness over sneaking into the woods or scouring the roads to hunt overcame her. What if the blood hunter managed to follow the tracks that led back to her?

An involuntary shudder wracked her body as if a sudden chill swept into the room. All this uncertainty was killing her, and the inescapable tension was making her go mad. Either the blood hunter needed to make the first move, or she would make it for him. Hiding in the shadows slowly ate her alive.

“I do love a good feast,” the jarl said, biting into a chicken thigh with all the lack of ladylikeness she seemed to muster. A small trail of the juice ran down her chin, making Willow sick at the sight. Unfortunately, many of the guests ate in the same fashion. There was no escape from the gruesome sight.

She pushed the food around on her plate, trying her best to give the appearance of eating rather than avoiding the “inedible” food before her. She lifted her head and took note of the guests. Most resided in Lakefalls—the captain of the guard, wealthy nobles, the priest, to name a few—and several others hailed from neighboring cities, longing to catch a glimpse of the evasive blood hunter.

Although she tried to avoid eye contact in an attempt to go unnoticed, it didn’t work. A wealthy lord to her right struck up a conversation. The man looked to be well past his prime, with graying hair and wrinkles set in folds on his forehead, and equally graying eyes that looked like they had seen their fair share of the world.

He wore bright, lavish clothing that managed to drown out his skin tone and make him appear even paler than he would without the colorful display. Although Lord Gervais was a nice enough man, rumor said he was searching for a young bride to share the rest of his seemingly short days, and unfortunately for her, she happened to be the unlucky wench to catch his eye.

Despite the unwanted attention and promises of riches, she didn’t want to settle down with a mate yet. Vampires mated for life, so she only had one opportunity to make her choice. She didn’t want to get it wrong, which was one of the reasons why she hadn’t chosen anyone yet. None of the vampires—or men for that matter—felt right in her heart.

Adam Degore came unbidden to her mind at that moment. Of course, if he wasn’t a blood hunter, she may have entertained the idea of settling down with a mate… But he frightened her, and her father would surely disown her if she chose someone like Adam. A blood hunter.

She involuntarily shivered. She needed to leave Lakefalls.

The door burst open and she sighed in relief at the distraction, at least until she noticed who entered. Her palms began to sweat, and she squirmed in her seat.

Adam Degore trudged inside, tracking the mud from his boots into the palace, uncaring of the mess it made. He received many curious stares and others that appeared borderline suspicious. She wasn’t the only one who didn’t trust a blood hunter.

“Glad you decided to join us,” Alixia said sarcastically, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with a cleanly pressed napkin. “Please, sit.”

Surprisingly, the blood hunter shook his head and quieted his voice to speak with the jarl. Some nobles leaned forward in their chairs to surreptitiously catch the words exchanged between the two. However, she didn’t need to move. She heard everything perfectly from where she sat with her heightened vampire senses. At well over three hundred, she could hear a good distance away if she really listened. Numbering over a thousand years old her father could hear at much further distances.

“I’m not here to stay. I found the vampire, and I plan to leave tonight.”

The jarl raised her eyebrows in surprise, and her voice rose a little bit too high. “You have? And has the vampire been dealt with?”

He rubbed his palm against the smooth hilt of his sword, maintaining a neutral expression, making it difficult for her to get a read on him. “The vampire will no longer be a problem in Lakefalls.”

“That’s a relief to hear,” the jarl said, her rigid stance loosening tremendously. “A cause to celebrate!”

She too, felt relieved to hear the blood hunter’s words. At long last, he would depart from Lakefalls and leave her to live the rest of her days here as Willow Reid. Honestly, she liked it here in the city and preferred that a blood hunter not drive her away before her time came. In truth, she would not miss having the blood hunter around.

She bit her lip and blushed as she stared at the table. At the very least, she might miss his handsome features and his beautiful dark eyes. Sure, he might be nice to look at, but he was an undeniably dangerous man.

“Stay!” the jarl cried jubilantly as if the celebration just started. “Pull up a chair. Pour yourself a drink.”

“Can’t. I must prepare for the long journey ahead of me.”

Alixia shrugged her overly broad shoulders and lifted her cup to him. “To your success and journey ahead.”

Adam nodded his head in thanks, and when the room erupted into conversation once more, he turned on his heel and strode toward the exit, but not without throwing one last glance in her direction. The look caught her completely off guard, and it did giddy things to her stomach before she had a chance to quell the feeling. Yes, she was glad he was leaving. He already managed to upheave her life while hardly touching a thing.

She smiled into her glass of wine, a furtive blush casting color into her cheeks she tried to hide from the other guests. Yes, she was sure glad he was leaving.

****

Willow returned to her home that night, not able to stop herself from looking over her shoulder at every turn, but to her relief, the blood hunter wasn’t following her. She willed herself to stop fidgeting, but it wasn’t easy. Especially as thoughts of her mother surfaced. Blood hunters killed her two hundred years ago, and she was terrified of meeting the same fate.

Pushing her door open, she caught a familiar scent that lingered in her home and froze in her tracks. Someone had been here. Not just any someone. But her father. Dracula.

“Oh, Papa,” she sighed, pulling off her shoes. “How many times have I told you to leave me be? I will come to visit the Homeland when I am ready to visit.”

Sometimes she wasn’t sure whether her father could hear her one-sided conversations, but whenever she called his name, it was enough for him to materialize to her location instantly. She wasn’t sure how he accomplished it, but most vampires older than four hundred years old obtained the ability to materialize—to transport from one place to another. And even older vampires, like her father, had the ability to transport other people too.

Her thoughts turned somberly to her mother, killed by blood hunters long ago when she was about a hundred years old. Her mother had been turned into a vampire, rather than born one like her father. Thus, their offspring would all be vampires. If her mother had remained human there was a chance she could have been born human also. If only her mother would have lived longer, perhaps despite the low fertility rate in vampires, she might have had a sibling, given another few decades or so. After choosing a mate, vampires couldn’t choose again, nor did they want to. She and her father were the last Ardeleans alive. She’d done a poor job of finding herself a mate and continuing the family line, despite her father’s insistent poking and prodding.

She paused on her way to the bedroom when she spotted something white from of the corner of her eye. A crease of worry formed in between her eyebrows as she crossed the room to her desk and found a piece of folded parchment on its surface. It was from her father.

My Dearest Willow,

I am to go into mourning tonight, as it is a blood moon and a new year. You must know how dearly I miss your mother. The thought of her aches like nothing I’ve known before, even after these two hundred years of her absence. Our bloodbond was strong, and it was the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced. I wish for you to experience that same thing.

Willow, you have yet to choose a mate, and I say this in the kindest of ways… It’s time. Most vampires select their mates long before now. You are nearly three hundred and fifty. I want grandbabies. To continue the Ardelean line. For without you, our line will die.

And yes, I assume you suspect I have another scheme in mind. I most certainly do. An engagement to Lord Oriel Covaci. I believe you two met several times during your time in Ichor Knell. Nothing is official, but everything is already set in motion. Business took Oriel away from the Homeland for the moment but come home soon. Court him. You will find he is a rather charming fellow. I am confident you will find him agreeable enough to choose him as your mate.

Until I see you in Ichor Knell again,

Your loving father,

Dracula

She rolled her eyes and threw the letter aside. She had little interest in courting Oriel Covaci. Although he was of a pleasant sort, undoubtedly handsome too, it wasn’t enough to tempt her to leave her life among the humans. She loved learning about them. Living among them. Learning their ways, their traditions, their history. Not even her father could convince her to return home.

“Perhaps after I live a few more lives,” she said to herself. “After that, I might be ready to settle down with the right mate.”

It wasn’t likely, as she’d been telling herself this for many years, but perhaps it was enough to appease her father.

If she was able to live that long.

****

Willow’s nose stung. Badly. Every breath she took burned like poison in her lungs. She coughed once, twice, and when her eyes started to water, she thought for a moment her cottage caught on fire.

Bolting upright in her bed, she surveyed her bedroom to find it bathed in darkness, her belongings intact and definitely not on fire. In fact, the night appeared peaceful. Crickets chirped outside in the long blades of grass and the moonlight filtered into the cottage through the small crack in her window. Nothing seemed amiss.

“How strange…” she murmured, coughing again into the crook of her elbow. Fire continued to burn her lungs as if poison was drowning her from the inside out. And she would know. Someone had tried to poison her before, but surprisingly, it had nothing to do with her being a vampire. Rather, she learned a dirty secret about the duke in Greenfield nary a hundred years ago, and in turn, he snuck poison into her drink in an attempt to get rid of her and protect his secret. It would have worked if she had actually been human.

In an attempt to sleep it off, she took a deep breath and pummeled her pillow into a comfortable shape, lying back down. However, her finger grazed something velvety, and she grasped the object in her hand, her eyebrows furrowing as she turned the small pouch over again and again in her hands.

Her blood froze.

Her heart froze.

Every inch of her froze.

She recognized a poultice when she saw one, especially one infused with garlic. She didn’t put it there, which meant someone else snuck into her cottage earlier and placed the poultice themselves. Someone knew what she was. And she had no doubt who that someone was.

The blood hunter.

She lost all sense of control, her legs taking charge as she leaped to her feet, and her arms acting on their own accord as she grabbed a sack and began stuffing her belongings inside. Thankfully, she didn’t own much, making her escape that much quicker. She threw on a cloak and slipped out her door and into the still night air. A single thought ran through her mind—she needed to leave this town and never return.

Careful to keep to the shadows to hide from the guards roaming through the city, she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and kept her head down. Vampires didn’t live to be her age without having one or two escape plans in place wherever they went. She knew her next move.

No one stopped her as she silently crept through the town, hiding in the shadows of one house to the next, until she broke into a run the moment she reached a thicket of trees. Her silent feet skimmed across a barely used path, and she ducked underneath the boughs of a massive willow tree before she broke into a small clearing beside the lazy river, looking over her shoulder for the dozenth time to make sure no one followed.

No signs of pursuit.

Working quickly, she threw aside carefully placed branches that concealed a small rowboat big enough for one person and flipped it, hardly making a sound. The simple wood oar was right where she had left it.

Her heart burst with relief. The blood hunter may be clever, but she doubted he foresaw this. Freedom—and a new life—was in sight.

The water lapping at the bank of the river wetted her feet as she pushed the boat onto the dark surface and hopped inside in a single smooth motion. The vessel glided across the near glassy surface and—

Something hard and sturdy ‘thunked’ on the back of the small boat, halting it in its tracks. She glanced behind her and nearly had a heart attack when a muddied boot appeared where one shouldn’t have been.

“Going somewhere?” Adam asked lazily, though his steely gaze gave his slack facade away. He knew what she was. She could see it in his eyes.

“A midnight boat ride,” she answered confidently as if this was a nightly ritual. “Don’t tell me you’ve never experienced the pleasure of the solitude among the marshes?”

“Can’t say I have,” he answered.

She observed him carefully, waiting for him to reach for one of his iron weapons. He never did. Why? “I thought you said you planned on leaving town tonight. You’re still here.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, eyeing her just as cautiously as she eyed him. “That was a little piece of information I gave to the jarl in hushed tones. A normal human wouldn’t have been able to hear it. Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? You’re a vampire. I’m a blood hunter. I think we both know what happens next.”

Ice, cold blood pumped through her veins as she stared back into his unfeeling eyes. She was completely speechless. She had never been in this situation before, and part of her knew it would be difficult—if not impossible—to escape. At least alone.

With fear guiding her, she opened the back of her throat and kept her mouth shut as she let loose a high-pitched whine, one only vampires—and sometimes other creatures like werewolves—could hear. Even leagues away, her father had a way of hearing it too, which was her goal. But alas, no help came, and with it, a sense of dread took its place. Her father was in mourning. Each year, he mourned her late mother for two weeks during the blood moon that happened once a year. Her father entered a deep trance and wouldn’t hear her cries for help until his mourning period passed.

A shudder ran through her. She was afraid. Very afraid. But she wouldn’t die. At least not without a fight.

Blindingly fast, before he had a chance to react, she swung the wooden oar in her hand with all her might and hit Adam squarely in the chest, grazing his jaw. His eyes widened in surprise as the force of the blow threw him backward into a tree before he fell to the ground in a heap. She wanted to run away in his moment of daze, but it seemed more dangerous to run from a blood hunter than to face him head-on. It was either him or her. Tonight, one of them would die.

He rubbed his jaw as he lay sprawled on the ground, studying her cautiously as if adjusting his strategy. “You’re strong.” He seemed surprised. Why would a blood hunter like himself be surprised at this?

“All vampires are strong.”

“Not that strong,” he insisted. He shakily picked himself up, eyeing her vigilantly as if she might strike again at any moment. “How old are you?”

She clutched the oar in her hand, her only weapon when things were to go south. “Much older than you, I’m sure.”

“How old?” he demanded again. He wasn’t attacking. Yet, at least. She took it as a hopeful sign.

“Three hundred and forty-one.”

The blood hunter muttered an oath and gritted his teeth, looking as if he was having an internal battle with himself. He ran his fingers through his hair as the war raged on, but he never took his eyes off her. Not once. His lips moved, and if she weren’t a vampire, she wouldn’t have heard him say to himself, “I don’t have time to find another one.”

“Another what?”

His gaze snapped to hers, and he began circling her slowly. She searched for a way to kill him first before he killed her. Her life depended on it.

“What, no kill attack?” he asked, but still he didn’t reach for his weapons. What was his game?

“Didn’t want to risk damaging your pretty face.”

His lips twitched as if tempted to grin at her flirty jest, but otherwise, no smile came—he was as serious as a dead man.

Contrary to his size and muscle mass, he was fast, and she nearly missed it when he ran at her with a heavy branch he found on the ground. She barely managed to deflect his attack with her oar, starting at his sheer strength. Humans weren’t supposed to be that strong either. Then again, she’d never faced a blood hunter.

The two of them traded blows with their wooden weapons. When he swung his branch over his head, she blocked the attack with her oar. She came at him with a lunge, but he swiped her oar to the side, making her miss her target. Unfortunately, he got in a lucky shot when he feinted to the right, and she fell for it, giving him an opening to sweep her legs out from under her before he swung his weapon downward with lightning speed.

Her hand shot up at the last second and caught the branch in her hand, her massive strength giving her the power to squeeze the weapon, splintering the wood within her fingers. He frowned, but he didn’t let that stop him. He dived for the oar at the same time she moved for it and they grappled for control.

He kicked her hard in the stomach, and she grunted, but she still didn’t let go. She refused to find herself defenseless against him. She refused.

Reaching deep within herself, she found the strength she needed, a burst of energy shooting through her as she planted her feet firmly on the ground and heaved the oar with all her might. He yelped in surprise as she smashed him into a tree, his leather armor not enough to protect him from the blow. He grunted in pain, staggering to his feet and raising his fists in a defensive position.

It was then that she saw what gave the blood hunter his strength—the blood gem fastened around his neck had escaped the hidden confines of his shirt and now glowed red as it pulsed with magic. A sudden fear enveloped her, which quickly turned into determination. Her soul would not become trapped in that blood gem, or what was left of it for that matter.

He reached into his jacket, and before she had a chance to dodge, he threw a handful of salt at her. She screeched as the salt seared into her skin as if she found herself caught in a sandstorm in the middle of the desert. She dropped her oar and stumbled backward as the pain overcame her, almost too much to bear. Her eyes refused to open, an intense sting searing them with heat. Salt was poison to vampires—one of their various weaknesses next to sunlight and iron.

In her agonizing distraction, a heavy weight smashed into her and tackled her to the ground. She tried to push Adam off of her but couldn’t find the strength. The blood gem glowed, the magic inside making him stronger than her. It took a lot of magic to best a vampire, which meant he was desperate. But why?

She managed to push him off her an inch, but he sucked in more magic as he wrapped a hand around her throat. Instead of the burn she expected to feel, she experienced an intense chill as an arctic freeze seeped from his hand and entered her. The frost started at her neck and traveled down to her sternum, beginning to take hold of her arms. Soon enough, the frost would freeze her entire being, making her unable to move. She had to do something.

She gasped in agony as the chill continued to sweep through her body and despite all her efforts to fight back, she couldn’t move him.

Slowly, inch by inch, she moved her icy fingers toward his belt, her raw determination making the movement possible. Her body nearly gave up when her fingers grazed the hilt of his iron dagger, but if she quit now, she would die. He would kill her. It was either him or her and no matter how much the iron would burn her, it was better than the alternative of death.

Finally, her hand grasped the hilt of the dagger, and though she experienced an intense burn that seized her arm, she found the fire helped to counteract the ice. His eyes widened as he realized her intent too late. He wasn’t fast enough to stop her and gasped in pain as she thrust the dagger into his shoulder. His magic hold on her broke, and she experienced relief from the numbing ice.

However, what she didn’t foresee was the intense desire that built up inside her when she caught her first whiff of his blood seeping from the stab wound and into the fibers of his clothing. She felt a prickle in her eyes as they flashed a dangerous shade of red and her fangs involuntarily sprouted from her mouth. She eyed the blood, all else forgotten. He seemed to realize the danger he was in because he scrambled backward, tripping over himself in his attempt to escape.

The scent of blood overpowered her senses, and her internal battle began. She balled her hands into fists as she tried to fight her carnal instincts. Yes, he had to die. But not like this. Not because she lost control.

The pigment of her eyes flashed from red to green, and back to red as she fought the urge to kill. It would be easy. Snap his neck. Dig her fangs into his skin. Drink the sweet, red nectar that called to her, beckoned her to feast. But the one thing holding her back was the memories of the last time she lost control. The blood. The cries. The guilt.

She couldn’t lose control. Not again.

She clambered to her feet and turned in the opposite direction of him as she gained a sliver of self-control. Her legs carried her blindly forward, which was why she didn’t notice the trap before it was too late.

The moment she stepped inside the magic blood hunter trap, all of her strength drained, and she fell to her knees in exhaustion, both physically and mentally, as she still continued to fight off the desire to feed. She didn’t want to be this bloodthirsty beast he believed she was.

Not like this. Not like this. Not like this.

Her entire being surrendered, and she knelt low to the ground and bowed her head, fearing the searing iron the blood hunter would likely use to slit her throat. But she had lived a long life. And it had been a good life. If now was her time, then she had no choice but to accept her fate.

He approached her slowly like a victorious hunter approaching his deadly catch, every footfall drumming loudly in her ears. Why must he torture her? If he planned to kill her, he should finish it quickly—put her out of her misery.

Although the delicious aroma of his blood never fled, her desire to feed did. She had made a promise to herself that she would never lose control again, and she meant to keep the promise to her last dying breath—even as he drew nearer with hardness and exhaustion in his own eyes, the magic he used seemed to have taken an enormous toll on him. He raised his iron dagger, and she bowed her head further, not wanting to watch him finish the job.

Instead of the searing pain she expected, he threw the knife to the ground, and the tip of the weapon stuck in a mound of dirt in front of her. She glanced at the dagger with wide eyes and raised her gaze to stare back at the blood hunter. His expression betrayed nothing of thoughts or actions.

He produced a thin chain that looked to be made of steel, and she didn’t try to fight back as he bound her wrists in front of her and heaved her to her feet. To her dismay, her strength was still gone when she stepped outside the small, circular trap.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked. When she shook her head, he continued, “It’s a thin metal called vodryx, weaved into small fibers that make up a chain. It makes creatures like yourself appear more…mortal. The things that make you a vampire are gone, at least during the time the chain holds you captive. Vodryx is impenetrable, unbreakable, and most importantly, inescapable.”

She swallowed hard. She wasn’t dead—yet. And she wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not. The blood hunter was strong—strong enough to kill her. She had been at his mercy, and she was at his mercy still.

In an emotionally husky voice, she asked, “You didn’t kill me. Why?”

He didn’t answer for a moment as he dragged her through thick brush toward the dirt road, but finally, he said, “You’ll learn soon enough.”

Dread filled her entire being. Whatever the blood hunter planned to do with her, she knew it wasn’t good.