Embers in the Dark (5)

Elise's frantic struggles faltered, then stilled completely.

A single, sharp flicker of clarity cut through the haze of pain and terror.

Escape was impossible. She would never break free of his grasp—not by force.

Yet, that tiny pause... that hitch in his breath when he first tasted her. It was real. A crack in his composure.

Something about her blood... something in her... had enticed him. Had shaken him.

So she made a choice.

She stopped fighting. And she let go.

Her trembling, blood-slicked fingers, which had been clawing at his arm, instead reached up. They wrapped weakly around the broad expanse of his back, pulling herself flush against him in a way that was almost... an embrace. A yielding. A silent, submissive offering of herself.

A last gamble.

She could feel his rapid heartbeat drumming against her own chest, faster and faster and faster, a rhythm that mirrored her own fading pulse.

They say a vampire's cold, dead heart only beats again when it drains the blood of another life.

...But do they all beat with such immense power?

Do they all seem so... alive?

And then—

He shuddered.

A shaky, ragged breath escaped him, a sound of pure, unguarded instinct. The hand cradling her head slid lower, splaying possessively against the small of her back, his grip tightening to an almost painful degree. His other arm crushed her against him as though trying to merge them into one being. As if she were the only anchor in a raging sea.

He was lost in his greed. He didn't notice her other hand moving.

With the last draining reserves of her strength, her free hand fumbled desperately at her thigh holster, her gloved fingers slippery with his blood. The world wavered, tilting on its axis, darkness creeping like ink at the edges of her vision.

Her heartbeat was slowing.

Her grip on reality was slipping.

Then, her fingertips brushed over cold metal.

With a final, silent prayer and a burst of her failing will, she yanked the flare pistol free, pointed it at the sky between their closely pressed bodies, and pulled the trigger.

FWOOSH.

A burst of searing red light erupted directly above them, a miniature sun that ignited the darkened street in a sudden, shocking crimson brilliance. It painted his silver hair in waves of fire.

The vampire froze.

His breath hitched against her ravaged neck, a sharp, arrested sound.

For a single, suspended second, the frenzied pull of his feeding ceased. He understood.

She had distracted him.

She had played him.

In that heartbeat of stunned hesitation—

She let the spent flare pistol clatter to the ground and clutched onto his back with both trembling hands, pulling him even closer, pressing her weakening body into the hard plane of his chest, offering her bleeding neck more fully.

No matter what, she could not let him leave.

Her cold, cracked lips brushed the shell of his ear.

"...Hold me," she whispered breathily.

And that undid him.

He faltered. A low, wrecked sound vibrated through his chest and into hers. His restraint shattered completely. His arms locked around her like iron bands, crushing her to him as if the world outside the circle of her blood no longer existed. As if he needed the feel of her to breathe.

He buried his face in her neck and resumed drinking.

Desperately. Frantically. Like a man dying of thirst who had just found water.

Elise's knees gave way entirely, but he caught her, holding her upright effortlessly. His hand splayed across her back like a brand, pulling her closer, closer, as if he could devour her very essence through her skin. His breathing turned ragged, uneven, a mirror of her own fading gasps.

She didn't know if anyone had seen the flare.

She didn't know if help was coming.

She didn't know if she could hold on much longer.

All she knew was that she had to keep him there. To buy every second she could.

Her vision blurred into a smear of crimson light and silver hair. Her thoughts scattered into fragments. Her fingers, once wrapped around him, began to slip.

But she didn't let go.

She held him, whispering a lie with her body, drawing him deeper into the web of his own hunger.

Her vision darkened, the edges closing in like a tightening noose. Everything began to numb. Even the feel of his bite faded into a distant, rhythmic pull, a tide drawing her out to a dark sea.

"There! That street—that's where the signal was!"

"Shit—that's where Lady Elise was!"

Panicked voices cut through the night, sharp and urgent.

The vampire froze.

Elise felt the relentless pull of her blood cease abruptly.

For a long, suspended moment, he didn't move. His fangs remained deeply buried in her flesh, his body rigid. But the spell was broken. The sounds of shouting men, of boots hammering on cobblestone, of steel being drawn—the world crashed back in around him.

Then, with a quiet, shuddering exhale, he withdrew.

But he didn't let go. He couldn't.

His face hovered near her ravaged throat, his skin and lips smeared with her blood. He was utterly still, as if in shock.

Slowly, his arms shifted.

He pulled her limp body fully against his chest. One arm wrapped around her back, supporting her weight, while the other hand came up with a devastating gentleness to cradle the base of her skull.

He held her there, against his shoulder. Blood, breath, and a profound, echoing silence were the only things between them.

Elise's eyes could barely stay open, her lids heavy as lead. Yet, even through the numbness and the fading of her senses, she felt the difference.

This was no longer the crushing grip of a predator.

This was something else. Something tender. Careful.

Like a mourner's embrace.

As if the world had stopped, he clung to her.

His chest rose and fell in a single, trembling breath. His entire body stilled, as if in silent prayer.

Then, the voices and footsteps grew louder, more desperate.

Reality returned loudly and brutally.

His fingers, tangled in her blood-matted curls, tightened for a fleeting, heartbreaking second.

With a soft, almost pained sigh, he slowly knelt, lowering them both to the ground. He laid her down with exquisite care, his gloved hand cushioning her head from the cold stone.

Through the thickening haze, she felt his touch one last time—a tender brush of his fingers against her cheek, pushing a stray curl from her forehead.

He stood and turned to leave.

But then, he felt a feeble tug.

Despite the catastrophic blood loss, a spark of stubborn will flared within Elise. Her trembling hand shot out, grasping weakly at the hem of his trousers.

He stilled, though he didn't turn back.

She used the very last dregs of her strength to drag her body an inch forward, her hand closing around the leather of his boot. But she was too weak. Her body went numb, her vision tunneling into a narrow, blurry point.

He remained there for one more breath, a statue in the night, before he took a step. Her hand slipped from his ankle, falling limp to the cobblestone.

Elise gritted her teeth, a silent snarl of defiance, and tried to crawl after his shrinking form. The world grew blurrier, darker. She blinked once.

And he was gone.

Vanished into the shadows as if he were made of them.

Her breath hitched. She scanned the empty alley left and right, but saw nothing. No hint of his presence remained. The only evidence was the cooling, blackened bloodstain soaking into her leather gloves.

Boots thundered across the cobblestones.

"Lady Elise!"

Large, rough hands grabbed her shoulders, rolling her over. The movement sent a fresh wave of agony through her neck.

"Lady Elise? Lady Elise!"

"Good god, she's been bitten! Put pressure on the wound! Now!"

She was being lifted from the cold ground, her name called repeatedly by voices that sounded distant, muffled, as though she were sinking deep underwater. A pair of shaking hands pressed a wad of cloth firmly against her throat. The pain was a white-hot brand, but she was too far gone to feel it properly. Her vision swam, the world tilting on its axis as voices rose and blurred into meaningless noise.

"Stay with us, my lady! Don't close your eyes!"

"Why the hell was she alone? Where was her escort?!"

"She dismissed us! We saw no signs of activity on this route!"

"You should've disobeyed! What will we tell Count Whitefield?!"

The arguments grew more and more muted, fading into a dull roar.

Her fingers twitched at her side, then weakly curled. With a monumental effort, she lifted her hand and grasped a handful of the coat of the hunter holding her.

The man jolted. The arguing halted abruptly.

"Lady Elise? Can you hear us?" he frantically asked.

Elise's pale lips parted. She had no strength left, but she forced the words out on a dying breath.

"Find... Helen..." she whispered, her voice a raw thread of sound. "...Red eyes... Silver hair..."

A brief, stunned silence descended upon the group.

Then, a deeper, more authoritative voice, thick with dread, cut through the night. "Get her to the guildhall. Now. Move!"

She felt herself being lifted swiftly from the ground, the world jostling around her.

She wasn't sure if they had understood.

She wasn't sure what came next.

The last thing she saw was the cold, star-flecked sky of Cerulea, flickering between consciousness and oblivion, before the darkness surged up and swallowed her whole.