Our lives were ripped away from us and replaced with this darkness, this new cruel and dark world, but I refuse to be a fucking victim ever again. You are a warrior, a fighter, so goddamn strong. Don’t break now, I can see you cracking, embrace that darkness. Show the world who you are, and I promise you that you won’t ever walk alone again. I’m here, we’re here, others like us. Survivors, fighters, we are damaged and reassembled stronger than before to become the monster of our own stories, not the hero. I don’t need a fucking hero, I need a partner. You, you need to feed, get your strength back. If you remember who you are, good, if not, start again. You are resilient enough. Don’t let them break you, use it. Use that hate, that pain and rage. Make it yours.”
He licks his cracked lips, watching me now. “I remember snippets...the things I did...they should horrify me, but they don’t. I revelled in blood, spiked heads, and hung them as decorations as warnings to my enemies. I ripped through thousands of soldiers like paper and laughed as blood rained from the trees…”
I inhale sharply at that, not in disgust…but need. Fuck, like I said, I’m messed up.
“I don’t fear what I am, but what I was...I fear that I don’t care. Does that make sense?”
I nod. “Of course, but fear has no place in our world. In private? Yes. But we are survivors, and right now we’re in a cell and we need to get out. Make them pay for what they have done. After…after we can worry about everything else.”
“Okay,” he replies calmly, lifting his head. I can see him now, how he will be, so strong with his head tilted back in defiance, blood in his wake as he walks through death and laughs. The image makes me shiver and clench my legs together. He reminds me very much of the films about Dracula I used to watch as a kid, so formidable, and the spiked head thing? Was he a rip-off or were they? Or maybe the stories of Vlad the Impaler are just a mixture of legends, I can’t be sure. Did they base those stories on the vampire before me? It makes me wonder how old he is and just how powerful he will be...
“For that, you need to feed,” I remind him. Deciding to circumvent his argument, I sharpen my nails and slash them across my wrist so blood wells. The ruby red is stark against my pale skin, and I watch him with mild interest as it drips down my arm, the cut deep and wide, and then I look up at the vampire to see him straining to get to me. That’s better.
“Feed,” I demand, and get to my feet. “I need you. Let me save you the way you saved me.”
I fly to my car, change back into my human form, and get back in, starting the engine and heading back the way I came—to the witches. I wonder what I will owe them now, but it is worth it to save my mate. I would do it and worse.
A buzzing comes and I realise my phone is ringing, so I snatch it from the passenger seat as it goes off, making me grumble. I spot the many notifications as it starts to ring, Jean Paul’s name coming up. I swipe to accept it.
“Hello?” I call, driving as I do.
I can hear him speaking in a tiny voice, so I glance down at the phone. “Fucking machines hate me. I can’t hear you, speak up!” I scream, and I hear miniature laughter. Pulling over, I put it to my ear to hear him still laughing.
“Sire, press the speaker button.” I move the phone away and examine it, pushing buttons while I swear until I finally hear him speaking loudly.
“Magic.” I sigh. “Jean Paul, is everything okay?”
“Yes, sire, I wanted to check on you. Have you found your mate?” he asks, and I sigh.
“Not yet, there are some complications, nothing I can’t handle. How is everything there?”
“All fine, sire…” He trails off, and I can hear something in his voice which makes me grip the wheel tighter.
“Jean Paul,” I command.
“I didn’t want to tell you...I have heard some rumours, a rumbling if you will,” he hedges and sighs. “There has been another dragon sighting, not far from the town you stopped in for the night.”