Page 2 of How to Dump a Vampire

Kneeling by sleeping handsome here, I study his face in the firelight. He has no clue that fate thinks we’re a match made in heaven or that he now has power over me, and he never will.

When he wakes up, I’ll play dumb about all this magical connection stuff. As far as he’ll know, I simply took pity and helped a stranger in need. I’ll get him back on his feet, send him on his way with some supplies, and pretend this never happened. No twist of fate can dictate my future or who I give my heart to ever again.

My safe little cottage, my rules. I control my destiny now. The past and whatever magic stirred here tonight will stay buried.

After settling the stranger’s unconscious form by the fire, I rise to stoke the flames. The howling of the gusts of snow has only grown louder since I returned, so I add another log and prod the embers, sparks dancing up the chimney.

As the fire regains warmth, I glance back to check on him. Still as death he lies there, raven hair framing his angled features. A closer look makes me freeze. His lips are partially open, revealing the lengthened fangs of a vampire.

Carefully, I move closer to see if they are, in fact, fangs. In my shock, I fail to notice his hand shooting out to grab my wrist in an iron grip. Before I can react, he pulls it toward his mouth, teeth poised to pierce my skin.

I cry out, yanking my arm back desperately. The reflex seems to stir him, just enough for his fangs to retract and release me as he sinks back into unconsciousness.

I stumble away, staring wide-eyed and cradling my wrist. “Shit,” I breathe aloud. This is no mere lost traveler. A weakened vampire in my cottage… This can’t be happening!

Yet the puncture wounds I expected do not bloom. Some part of him, even deeply unconscious, resisted the urge to feed, but the primal instinct will only grow as starvation sets in.

Thoughts churning, I pace in front of the fire. When he awakens, his tenuous control will be all that stands between decorum and violence. I can’t risk his bite. It could make the bond between us harder to break, if not impossible.

The solution comes to me in a flash—the asrbloom elixir, a tea that can sustain a vampire, abating the thirst for blood. It may be this stranger’s only hope… and mine.

I rise from his side and make my way past the dried bouquets adorning my timber walls. At my carved oak cabinet, I sift through jars of dried flower petals, bundles of herbs dangling from the rafters, vials of essential oils, and hand-sewn pouches holding rare ingredients—treasures I’ve slowly gathered, transforming this little cottage into a sanctuary imbued with nature’s magic.

I sift through the various pouches and jars filling my cabinet, glass clinking, until my fingers close around a small linen pouch tucked in the back. Pulling it outgently, I loosen the drawstring and peer inside at the precious contents—a fine powder with a shimmering crimson hue, flecks sparkling like rubies in the firelight.

Asrbloom pollen, harvested from a rare magical flower that only blooms beneath the full moon. So potent is its magic that simply steeping a pinch in hot water can nourish a weakened vampire without the need for blood. It is a secret my mother uncovered through decades of studying botanical lore, one few in the realms know.

This stranger’s only hope is the restorative tea this pollen can produce.

With care, I sprinkle a small amount into the iron kettle hanging above the fire, but as the water starts bubbling, the pot suddenly shakes violently then, explodes in a spray of shards that rain down onto my worn wooden floors.

I stand stunned, gaping at the wreckage now scattered across the woven rugs. Never before has my magic acted so volatile when crafting a curative elixir. What disturbance has shaken my intuitive talents so?

When our energies connected briefly, it was as if a rock dropped into a still pond, disrupting the calmflow. That must be why my attempt to bring this stranger back from the brink of death affected my magic oddly.

Taking a deep breath, I center my focus, grab another kettle, and begin brewing a second batch, willing my magic to flow calmly. This time, the healing tea steeps perfectly. Gently cradling the man’s head, I lift the mug to his colorless lips and administer the steaming crimson liquid.

As the tea restores faint color to his cheeks, relief washes over me, yet it is short-lived. When he wakes, I must ensure no sign of my true nature is revealed. My existence depends on secrecy. Better he believes I’m merely a humble herbalist who took pity on a lost soul than for him to learn the truth.

The sooner he’s on his way, the less likely our crossed paths will dredge up secrets best left buried. If distance comes quickly, perhaps this mate bond between us will fade back into dormancy before he recognizes it. I can’t risk the alternative, especially not with a vampire. The fated mate magic grows stronger with proximity.

Once he’s healed, I will give him provisions and directions through the forest and hope I never gazeupon those piercing silver eyes again. It is for the best, no matter the whispered protests in my conflicted heart.

2

Draven

My head is pounding like a battalion of trolls went to town on it. I pry my eyes open and squint against the flickering firelight. Wooden rafters swim into view overhead. Where the hell am I? Where are my men? Where is Lord Anthony? We’ve been friends since childhood. He wouldn’t just leave me.

I try sitting up to get my bearings, but my limbs feel like jelly. Seriously, it’s like some sorcerer sapped all the strength from my muscles.

Lying here on a fur rug, I take stock of my surroundings.

Small, rustically furnished room. Herbs hanging to dry along the walls. The comforting crackle of logs burning in the hearth. A quaint little cottage, by the looks of it. Pretty swanky digs compared to the frozenforest floor I last remember. Still no clue how I ended up here, though.

Let’s retrace my steps. I was journeying westward through the mountains on an urgent quest, making for Everdusk. Got ambushed by a freak winter storm along the desolate high pass. Snow came down so thick I couldn’t see two feet in front of me.

I must have been separated from my men in the storm. As much as I hope they are safe, I’m not sure I would be of much help to them at the moment feeling as weak as I do.

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