Page 11 of Blood Lust

I cannot.

We must join before we wake. It is the way.

The only way.

I have no idea what she’s talking about. I only know I need to escape.

I died.

This must be a demon.

She must be here to take my soul down to the underworld.

Or eat it.

Or something…

She doesn’t like that.

We are the same. We must become.

She keeps saying that, but I’m not buying it. I am desperate to get out of this darkness. To get to a place she isn’t, wherever that may be. My breath increases with stress, and I feel her getting closer to me. She is reaching out to touch, and I am certain that’s the last thing I want right now.

I want to push back, to fight her. Something is sinking into my stomach like lead. The cruel woman is almost upon me.

“NO!” A very real scream rips through me, tearing at my throat as it does.

Eyes snapping open, I shoot upward with a deep gasp for air. I can still feel the water in my lungs as the lake claimed my soul. A few minutes pass, and I catch my breath, accepting that I am not actually dead, despite clearly remembering dying.

A nightmare? I try to calm myself and shrug off the strange dream of a terrifying woman.

Taking in my surroundings, I am in a dark room, a lantern sitting on a nearby table, the only source of light. I am dry, and my clothes are different. The bed I lay in is covered in the smoothest bedding, pleasing to my skin. There’s a quilt over me, warm and snuggly. I swing my legs to the side of the bed and I’m briefly dizzy. Swaying, I prop myself up with my arm.

My arm?

My arm had been broken. I flex it now, rolling my shoulder. It’s fine.

There’s no pain. I distinctly remember the pain.

I touch my face, my temple. There are no wounds.

I should be dead.

I did die.

Why am I not dead now?

My stomach clenches as I realize I didn’t remember anything.

No, I remember some things. The accident is fairly clear. Well, waking up in an upside-down car all alone is pretty clear, along with the man who saved me afterward. Before that, though, there’s nothing.

“Where am I?” I muse aloud. No brutal woman is waiting for me. No one wants me to ‘become’ anything. A figure swims into my mind, covered in shadow, dark hair framing it. Unlike the woman, I yearned to touch him, to run my hands across his body and through his hair. I recognize him. He is mine.

I can hear footsteps approaching. Are they his? My savior’s? Will he tell me what the hell is going on? A soft knock on the door, and I call, “Come in.” Feeling stupid for inviting the person who lives here into their own room, I examine my clothes. In my mind’s eye, I’d been wearing jeans, a tank top, and a sweater. Now I am sporting some sweatpants and a very baggy T-shirt. I am suddenly very aware that I have no underwear on.

The door opens, and standing there is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

Probably.

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