“No, no,” I chant, then I scream as my head is ripped to the side and fangs sink into my neck. I kick and yell, fighting, but the creature is too strong. My gaze lands on my baby girl as my life is drained from me. When my eyes begin to close and the darkness takes hold, I send up a prayer that the next life will be kinder to me, that I don’t lose my love and fate is not as cruel…
Then nothing but darkness encompasses me. I swim in it like a sea, paddling in nothingness. I have no body, only a consciousness, just floating, merely existing. No pain or grief, nothing but warmth. I sink into it, accepting its welcoming embrace, but just as I do, I am ripped away.
I feel a jerk of a pain then the sensation of choking. I can’t open my eyes, but I know I’m not dead, yet I’m not alive. I’m still caught in the dark, but the pain, God, the pain. It races through me, burning everything away like lava through my veins. Erupting, destroying, and breaking, and in its path something new blooms, something darker...stronger...a monster.
I scream both in the dark and in reality, the sound inhuman, and then something cool hits my lips, dripping down my throat. I drink it down, swallowing again and again, feeling each drop hit my stomach like water putting out the blaze, and only when there is none left do I stop, the fire burning low, still there, never gone, but simply subdued...ready to return at any time.
A thirst.
“No!” comes a scream, and I’m thrown backwards from the memory, into my own head, my fingers on the cool, stone floor, my chest heaving as I suck in desperate breaths, my tears still falling as I look up slowly to meet his eyes.
They were his memories...of how he became a vampire.
“Wh-Who did that to you?” I whisper brokenly. I felt his pain, his utter grief. He wanted to die, welcomed it...had lost something so precious, but his own life, his own choice to die was ripped away from him and in its place he became this—a vampire controlled by thirst. God, the thirst. I couldn’t imagine it, it’s so much worse than mine, a pain unlike any I have ever felt, controlling him, guiding him. To fight that for so long…the strength he must have. I shake my head and wipe the tears away as I gaze at him.
I have seen the darkness in his mind. I know him. He thinks he doesn’t know himself, he has no name, no memory of his identity, but I know him. I do, right here and now, I know it. He’s mine, my destiny, meant to be here. Like I am meant to be. His human life was cruel, his vampire life not much better from what I can gather, but it led him here…
To me.
“You don’t want to see that, see what she made me.” He spits the word ‘she,’ his distaste clear.
“I can see it already, I don’t need your memories for that,” I point out, reining in my breathing as I sit up and scrub my face clean. He looks away, not meeting my eyes, his hair hanging like a curtain before me as he shudders and sucks in breaths, muttering under his breath. Words, phrases I can’t understand, to push back the memories, I think. I leave him to it. He exposed himself without meaning to, and one of the hardest moments of his life was shown like a video to me, a stranger. I’ll let him rebuild and pull himself back together. It’s not like I’m going anywhere, so I sit back and wait.
I tried to release his chains, but I couldn’t. I also tried to feed him, but he wouldn’t let me. After I saw his memories, he isn’t even looking at me, his head hanging in shame. I’m leaning back against the wall, watching him.
I think he’s worried about what I think of him, that I’ll be disgusted at what I saw. He doesn’t understand I was awed. Many would have given into that fire before now and ceased to exist or become nothing but death, yet I found peace and lust in his arms, not mortality. He doesn’t know himself, doesn’t see himself. That’s hard, I imagine, when you can’t remember bits of your life or even your name. Maybe that’s a good thing, a fresh start for him. With me. It’s clear he isn’t comfortable with what he is, maybe even hates it. I can’t imagine going through life like that, perhaps I can help him. He helped me, after all. I know now how easily he could have killed me, I left my throat vulnerable, but he didn’t, he let me feed, heal, using his energy.
My eyes flicker to the other man in the room, the guard. He’s on death’s door, I can feel it. Sense it. “Want me to kill him or are we keeping him as a pet?” I muse.
He gazes at me then, seemingly more put together. Less...fragile and fractured, even though those are not the words I would use to describe the warrior, the fighter before me. “Do what you want with him,” he mutters, his voice hoarse and cracking. He needs to feed but he won’t. He looks away again, and I ache to see those eyes. I debate what to do and finally sigh as I slump against the wall, stretching out my legs, not staring at him but at my feet.
“I was murdered,” I start, blowing out a breath. “By my husband, ex,” I correct, knowing my mates hate it when I refer to him in the present tense. “He was not someone I chose, I was a fool. I was charmed by his money and face, and I didn’t see the monster hiding below until it was too late. I needed to get out, but I couldn’t. He made me his little pet and I caved, sinking into myself. Doing everything he asked just to not feel the pain of his anger. I looked at myself in the mirror and didn’t recognise who stared back.” I raise my eyes then, unwilling to be ashamed about what I survived. “I endured it, waiting, becoming what I had to be to get through every single fucking day, and do you know what I became? He raped me, killed me, and buried my body, but I still wouldn’t fucking die. Too stubborn and filled with the need for vengeance, I rose back up into what I am now. I don’t know whether the pain, death, or need for his blood changed me. I don’t care, I’m not ashamed of the monster I am. I’ve seen those human monsters, and they are so much worse than us. They hide behind masks, being cruel and craving pain and control. We are monsters from circumstance, with no choice…”
He meets my eyes then, watching me curiously.
“We become what we had to in order to survive. I’m not sorry about that. I’m not sorry I enjoy blood and pain and death. I’m not even sorry I want to kill, to bathe in blood and sex. I want to feed, I want to watch you sink those fangs into me as I take you into my body. I won’t apologise for what I am.”
He sucks in a breath at my declaration, his pupils blown as his fangs elongate.
“Don’t ever feel ashamed about what you are. 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…”