A Promise
Her
He was warm.
That shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did.
The vampires that fed from me before were always cold. Not just their bodies, but everything about them. Their hands, their voices and their eyes. He wasn’t. He burned with heat and power, his bare skin close enough that my dress was wet from the water that still clung to him.
He towered over me. Broad, like the statues carved into the market square. He might have been bigger, even.
His tan skin glowed faintly in the dim light, and his face…I swallowed.
He looked ancient. Not old, not frail, but something more than age.
I should’ve been used to this. I’d spent years locked in a basement, a captive. A bleeder. My wrists still remembered the feel of the chains, the sting of the knife before each draining.
They told me I was lucky. That I was helping the city. That my blood had purpose.
But this was different. I wasn’t strapped down now. I wasn’t one of many. I was here, alone, with him.
The one who drank me dry just yesterday.
A shudder rippled through me at the memory, his fangs in my throat, the darkness that came after. I hadn’t passed out. I’d disappeared. It felt like I’d been erased from the world. For a moment, I was sure I’d never open my eyes again.
Now I was staring at the naked form of a vampire whose face held more arrogance than cruelty, and that terrified me even more. He looked like he was capable of anything, of taking anything and everything from me.
I followed the line of his chest downward, my eyes catching on the thick scars carved into his torso. He wasn’t flawless, like some of the noble vampires that came to visit me before.
His body was marred by battles I couldn’t imagine, and I wasn’t sure if that made him more human or more dangerous.
I let my eyes drop for too long, wander far too low. He hung heavily between his legs. I gasped and turned away, shame crashing through me like a wave. Heat rose to my face. My mind reeled, scrambling backward in time to the last man who owned me.
A sharp-edged smile curved his lips and his hand snapped toward my neck, fingers wrapped around my throat.
“I brought you here to feed,” he said, amusement laced in his voice. “But you’re welcome to take what you want.”
His tone was light and teasing, but all I registered was a threat. My stomach clenched. His tone was light, almost amused, but all I registered was a threat. My stomach clenched.
I took a step back and found the wall behind me. His hand unfurled from around my throat, palm resting flat against the space just above my shoulder, not touching skin but close enough. “No. Please.”
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly, studying me like he didn’t understand. “We don’t need to do anything else.”
I didn’t believe him. I pressed my palms to the wall, heart jack hammering against my ribs. “Please.”
There was a flicker of intrigue in his face, curiosity.
He moved again, stepping closer, body pressed against mine, and I flinched violently. “Don’t, please!”
I slid down the wall, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them. My eyes shut tight.
It’s not him. It’s not him. It’s not him.
But it could be. It could be worse. It could be better. I didn’t know.
I wasn’t dead, but that didn’t mean I was safe.
He exhaled, long and rough, and walked away. A door opened and closed again. When I peeked up, he was in pants now, thank the gods, though his chest was still bare.
He walked back toward me, and I braced for the worst.
Without asking, he crouched, then lifted me like I was weightless, his hands beneath my thighs and back. My breath stopped when he pressed me to the wall.
His body caged mine. His breath tickled my ear.
“Calm the fuck down. Your blood is pulsing.” He presses a thumb to my throat. “Right here. I can see it, hear it, feel it, and if you do not slow it down, I will not be able to resist shredding you in two.”
The words weren’t cruel, but they weren’t gentle either. He was annoyed. Or maybe tired, but not gentle.
I didn’t breathe. Couldn’t.
He carried me across the room and set me on the edge of the bed. The moment he released me, I scrambled back, spine flush to the headboard. My hands clenched on the sheets, white-knuckled. I couldn’t stop shaking.
His black eyes dropped to my fists, watching the tension.
Then he spoke flatly, like he was bored. “If you do not let me feed from you, you serve no purpose.”
I blinked. “It’s not the f-feeding.”
He lifted an eyebrow, jaw clenching. “I will only touch you when I feed.”
I didn’t understand at first. Then the words sank in.
“Promise?” It came out raw, cracked and desperate before I could stop it. My voice sounded like it belonged to someone else.
He stared. Long enough that I thought he might laugh, might throw it all back in my face. Instead, his jaw worked, and then he said, “Fine. Promise.”
He looked like he hated the word. I should’ve felt relief, but I just felt hollow.
He leaned forward suddenly, grabbing my ankle.
I yelped as he yanked, my body sliding down the mattress, my dress riding up. I tried to tug it back down, heat blooming in my face. His eyes darkened as they scanned my body. They landed on the web of scars across my thighs, my stomach. I braced for revulsion, but I saw nothing in his face.
He climbed over me slowly, one hand braced on either side of my hips. His breath was steady, which was more than I could say for myself.
My arms curled over my chest like a shield.
“I’m hungry,” he growled.
I nodded, barely.
“Relax.”
“I’m trying,” I whispered. “Y-your hunger… hurts me.”
“I know.” He reached for the back of my head and pulled me up just enough to reach my neck. When his fangs slid into me, the pain was instant, electric. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. My hands found his shoulders, clawing for something to hold. My legs kicked. Tears streamed down my cheeks.
He moaned against my throat as he drank, and the sound was devastating.
When the pain overwhelmed me, I cried out, but that didn’t stop him.
The burning ebbed. I felt the flick of his tongue as he sealed the wound. My lungs dragged in air, desperate and raw. He stepped back, chest rising slowly, like he had been the one to just do something difficult, and not me.
“Loxer will be here for you.”
He disappeared into the closet, and I took advantage of his absence to catch my breath. I lifted my hand to my neck, feeling absolutely nothing. No scars, no wounds.
They can heal us?
I was always left to bleed, scab, and scar. Who was this vampire?
When he returned, he wore a suit. He paused at the door, his shadow stretching across the floor to where I lay. “What’s your name?”
I hesitated. For a moment, I didn’t want to give it. “Elowen,” I whispered.
He looked over his shoulder, and his black, dark eyes shifted to an electric blue.