“I will.” I hugged her one last time, watching and waving until her carriage disappeared down the darkened road.
My brain was still throbbing and my body weak as I strolled down the stone passageway to my cottage. I could hear the waves crashing against the rocks beyond the cliff.
I’d spent countless nights gazing out at the dim horizon, fantasizing of what existed beyond. But not tonight. Tonight, I needed to curl up in bed under my warm blankets and sleep.
After drawing a hot bath, I paused in front of the mirror, the night’s events replaying in my mind. My fingers skimmed the area where I was bitten. I leaned toward the mirror, searching for marks. There was nothing but smooth skin. Not a blemish or bruise in sight.
I knew it was real, though. I felt it. Saw the blood dripping from the stranger’s elongated teeth. I could also recall, in vivid detail, the sharp contours of his face, the way he walked and carried himself, and those unforgettable, soul-piercing eyes that had captured me completely.
The most disconcerting part was that he knew me, yet I still—after being more intimate with him than anyone else ever—knew nothing about him. Not where he lived and clearly not a name or even an initial. He’d somehow managed to dodge all my questions. And my over-zealous libido and fogged brain didn’t help me.
After my bath, I slipped into my bedgown and snuggled up with my blanket and favorite book. It wasn’t long before waves of nausea and cold chills struck me. I grabbed a bucket and placed it next to my bedside, just in case.
My head was pulsing and every muscle in my body throbbed. Throbbed so severely, it had me coiling up into a ball. Soon, my insides started to heat, like someone had lit a torch inside of me.
I could scarcely move. The pain and searing of my insides caused a veil of darkness to linger at the fringes of my eyes.
I was losing consciousness, helpless, and there was no one around who could help me.
With my heart palpitating and breath quickening, I could only consider one terrifying conclusion. I was going to die, and no one would discover me until I was a decayed and smelly corpse.
As the night crawled on, dark and invisible tentacles coiled around me, pulling me down, down, down into a scorching hell.
Flashes of the stranger’s face pulsed in front of me. His deep cobalt eyes. His smile stained with crimson.
My blood.
The fever was making me delusional. Through the unending nightmare—in between blacking out and barely gaining consciousness—I swore there was someone with me. A shadowed figure at my bedside.
I felt a cold compress against my forehead and a feathered touch sweep across my cheek. I even felt a hand had grip mine through the agony and heard a voice whispering comfort . . . saying this hell would soon pass.
But the suffering was too powerful, destroying all illusions of hope, enveloping me in a cocoon of flame and darkness.
There was no respite, and no knowing when it would end. I lost all track of time. Countless hours, days . . . who knew how long my cries went unheard as the blaze ravaged me.
I prayed to the gods to let it end. Even pleaded for death.
Then, all at once, it stopped.
Gasping, soaked with perspiration, I struggled to move, but was paralyzed. Every cell inside of me was spent, weakened to the edge of failure.
The darkness was again threatening to devour me whole. But this time, it offered no suffering. It was serene and calm, greeting me with open arms. Death had finally come for me. And I embraced it.
Chapter Three
My aching eyelids drifted open, and much to my dismay, I was still alive. The drapes were drawn shut, and the lamp on my nightstand was lit. Peering down, I noticed my bedgown was changed, and the blankets were fresh and clean, neatly tucked in around me. Someone had been here. Someone had changed my clothes and bedding. If they did, they saw me nude.
The thought sent a shudder up my spine.
The dark figure in my nightmare . . . were they real? Or had my parents returned? I wasn’t certain how long I was unconscious. The days and nights had fused together. I didn’t even know what time it was.
Glancing to my side, I spotted a single red rose at the base of my lamp. Next to it lay an ornate golden flask with an envelope leaning against it, my name handwritten in script on its front.
I moved, relieved I was no longer paralyzed, but my body was still frail and quivering. Pushing myself to a sitting position, I reached for the envelope, my feeble fingers scarcely able to grasp it.
The back was sealed with crimson wax, impressed with a decorative crest of a shield, a sword and dragon. I snapped the seal in half and slipped out the piece of parchment.
Then it struck me. That familiar and indescribable scent of earth and wind and spice. I brought it to my nose and inhaled—that perfect blend.
My fingers trembled as I carefully unfolded the note and held it toward the light. The message was penned in the most exquisite handwriting—script with decorative swirls and curves—looking more like art than a letter. I inhaled again and began to read.
Dearest Calla,
I must apologize for not properly introducing myself at your celebration, but time was my adversary. I realize you have many questions, and I vow to answer them in greater detail when we meet again. First, I must apologize for the bite, but let me explain.
My name is Trystan Vladu. I am a representative of one of the seven vampire clans on this continent. Your grandfather, Nicolae Corvus, was born a Dhampyr—a half-breed—or at least we are led to believe this. There isn’t enough information on him, but we were advised, through a recent decree, that he has been charged with the murder of a Prince of Morbeth. We are unsure if this is a fact, but as of now, your entire family has been marked and is in grave danger. They’ve dispatched hunters to come for you, and their orders are for the arrest and execution—the complete elimination—of Nicolae’s entire bloodline.
I realize this sounds like lunacy, but I am urging you to trust me.
Representatives of our clan have produced names of your family members and an address of where you reside. As soon as I saw your name, I felt a profound connection—like nothing I’d ever felt before. I knew I had to save you.
The only way I could, with such limited time restraint, was to claim you.
When I bit you, part of my essence was delivered into you. It’s what started your transformation. For the past three days, your mortal body was dying, and like a Phoenix rising from the ashes, you’ve been reborn and given an immortal body. Another attempt to keep you alive.
The liquid in the flask contains my blood. If you consume it, our blood bond will be secured, and the rival clan cannot touch you. Any attempts to harm the bonded of a pureblood will immediately dissolve the centuries-old treaty between kingdoms, and war will swiftly befall them.
But I am allowing you the option.
If you choose me, I will make certain you and your household will be protected and well-tended to for the rest of your lives. However, if you do not choose me, I cannot make any assurances.
Your decision must be made with urgency. The enemy has already been dispatched, and tonight when the moon is full, they will come for you.
If you choose not to consume from the flask, I beseech you to run. Leave your home as soon as the sun sets and never let the light of day touch your skin. Travel to the Moonlight Tavern, where I will have someone waiting for you, regardless of your decision. They will help answer any questions you have and will take you to a protected location until I can meet with you once again.