I’m giggling, eyes wide with joy and heart racing from excitement, when we make eye contact.
Several yards away, he stands beside a tree. Blocked partially by a fallen branch, his form is obscured behind the brush, but I don’t miss his eyes. One set of crimson irises that have an icy glow, laser-targeted right at me.
I’m running before Jasik even realizes what’s happened. I hear him call out to me, shouting for me to stop, to wait, but inside, I’m burning. My magic is bubbling within my core, and it aches to be released.
Chapter Four
The snowfall is heavy. Unlike Jasik, I didn’t sense the incoming storm, and I certainly didn’t plan to hunt a rogue in the midst of a blizzard.
When I reach the tree, my prey is long gone. Having seen my approach, he must have retreated. The skin on the back of my neck tingles, and I turn, sure I’ll see him watching me. I don’t. I can barely see even a few feet in front of me. The thick, white blanket coating the earth is making it difficult even to track his footsteps.
I crouch, finding craters in the fresh snow, but the divots are quickly filled in. I curse and swipe my hand through it, smacking the fluff and sending it flying into a nearby bush.
Standing, I scan my surroundings. I consider shouting for Jasik, who should have reached my side by now, but I don’t. I can’t let the rogue know where I am. I take comfort knowing if I can’t see him, he can’t see me. I assume this is why Jasik hasn’t called for me since I left him behind to chase a rogue vampire.
I was careless. Hunting without a plan is never wise, but by now, Jasik is used to my recklessness in battle. I think with my heart, running steadfast into the dangerous unknown. My carelessness has gotten worse since I transitioned into a vampire, but I have yet to die. So I must be doing something right.
I trudge through the snow, the piles quickly reaching the top of my boots. My jeans are tucked into them, preventing the crystallized water from icing my already-cold skin.
My T-shirt is wet from being pelted by the snow, so I zip up my jacket. My heart sinks, mind numb to the realization. Normally, I wouldn’t ever do this. My jacket’s inner pocket is where I kept my stake. I needed it to be one quick swipe away from killing a vampire, and having to unzip my jacket would take far too much time.
But I don’t have to worry about that anymore. Mamá stole the weapon Papá gave me, and I doubt she’ll ever return it. For my remaining years as a hunter of rogue vampires, I will fight with someone else’s weapon. I feel like I betrayed my stake by being so careless with it. Regardless of what happened that night, I shouldn’t have been so distracted that I left it behind.
I hear something behind me, and I spin around to face my attacker—except I’m alone. No one is there. Again, I hear a noise, and I spin to face it. Over and over again, I spin, certain I will come face-to-face with the rogue who occupies these woods.
Spinning ’round and ’round, I’m lost. The world is blinding white. I can’t see anything but the constant assault of snowflakes peppering my face. My skin is slick—from nerves or the snow or both, I’m not sure—and I push back hair that clings to my moist forehead.
I fall to my knees. My heart is racing, my thoughts jumbled. My chest heaves and burns as I struggle to sift through the endless landscape before me. Hacking, I take in too much air. My overstretched lungs ache. I feel myself on the verge of a panic attack, so I try to calm myself, ignoring the danger lurking behind the sheets of snow encasing me. I may not be alone, but I certainly feel alone.
“You’re fine, Ava,” I whisper.
The back of my neck feels hot and sticky. I swipe my hand over the skin, rubbing my cold fingers against burning flesh to cool down. I scoop a pile of snow and press it to my neck. This works far better than my sleek, icy fingers.
My mouth is dry. I try to lick my lips, but my tongue sticks to the chapped skin. On my hands and knees, I stare at the ground. The snow is growing deeper with each passing second. My arms sink into its depths, and my wrists are no longer visible. Unable to see the ground or my own two hands, I feel as though I’ve been swallowed whole. I’m in the belly of the beast, and as I look around, I see no way out.
“You’re going to be okay,” I say.
This time, I speak more forcibly, and I catch the attention of the rogue. This time, I know I hear his approach. The earth shakes as he charges toward me. The echo of crushed snow is carried to my ears by the dry, lifeless air.
I feel his eyes burning into the back of my head, and I shoot to my feet and turn to face him.
We collide. The force of his body thrust against mine sends me falling backward. I sink into the snow, my head thrashing against the frozen ground. Stars dance behind my eyes when I make impact with the tundra.
Sweat drips into my eyes, and they sting. I blink away the salty fluid and stare up at him. His empty crimson irises shine brightly above me, a jarring contrast to the blinding white abyss we’re inhabiting. We’re secluded in a vortex, torn from the rest of the world.
The rogue smiles at me, his teeth almost as bright and white as the snowy prison we’re trapped in.
He says something, but I don’t hear him. I’m distracted by the howling wind that sends freshly planted snow up from the ground to cover my face. I shake it away, but more trickles back. It coats me, and I’m overwhelmed by the eerie sensation of being buried alive. Frozen in place, I’m queasy as the rogue smiles down at me as if he can read my thoughts.
The rogue says something again. My face must betray my inability to understand him, because his eyes are amused with me.
He digs his fingers into my arms, pinning me in place. I wince as he bruises my flesh, but he does not draw blood. He’s holding back… Why?
“You aren’t my first,” the rogue says loudly. The roar of the storm ceases long enough for me to hear his confession.
I hear him, but I still don’t understand his words. His first what? Victim? Vampire kill?
Believing he’s stalling as some sort of torture technique, I struggle against him. He budges slightly, but his strength barely wavers. I can’t pull my arms free. I wiggle my wrists, digging my fingers into the compacted earth. Frozen snow digs under my fingernails, and I squirm at having something so cold in a place never meant to be bared. My skin is sensitive to the assault, and an itchy sensation rises up my arm, settling in my chest.
I groan and grumble, howl and bellow, hoping Jasik will hear the attack. I shriek for him, but I’m silenced when the rogue speaks again.
“And you make three,” the rogue says. He emphasizes each word, pausing briefly after each breath.
Suddenly, he’s lowering himself onto me. Fangs bared and saliva dripping onto my jacket, he slumps down as he pierces my neck. I screech at the impact of his fangs tearing through my flesh.
I jerk from side to side, hoping to whack him with my skull or jab him with my shoulder. Almost as soon as it began, it’s over, and the rogue is off me.
I scramble to my feet, clutching my wound. Already, my skin begins to heal. The snow at my feet is stained with crimson, a jolting revelation of just how much blood I lost. I stumble as I stand, woozy from moving too quickly after a harrowing attack.
A screech pierces the silent night. It takes several blinks for me to realize the sound is coming from the rogue. He’s screaming, clutching his throat. I glance around for Jasik, but my enemy and I are alone. If Jasik didn’t pull this beast off me, then how was I freed?