Hexed and Bitten

Prologue Part 2

Slowly standing up, she looked around at the horror and slaughter of her family, her entire coven. If she had only trusted herself. If she had only pushed harder. If she had argued with her mother, forced her to listen, and heeded her own warnings. She hadn't known exactly what her intuition was predicting, but she could have fought harder.

An anger like she had never felt broke through her ribs. A primal roar ripped from her throat as a wave of power she had never allowed herself to wield exploded from her body. Screams rang out as she let it all out, no more holding back, no more fear of her own gift. Closing her eyes, she set her power free. She knew this was her end, and she would take them all with her.

"Fierce little witch," a deep, smooth voice purred.

Arabella's eyes blinked slowly, trying to clear the dark spots swimming in her vision. When had she fallen? She remembered the anger, the explosion of power, and letting it all out, but she didn't remember collapsing to the ground.

"Such destruction," the voice hissed. There was a hint of approval and dark amusement in the tone. "What shall I do with you?"

She wanted to scream. She wanted to tell the voice to go to hell, to let her die here with her coven, but she couldn't muster the energy to speak. In letting her power out, entirely unchained, she had completely drained her life force. She had hoped the blast would kill her, but fate was not on her side. No, unlike her sisters, she would not get a quick end. She could feel it in her aching, tired bones.

A cool, dead hand caressed her cheek, slowly tilting her face upward. Leaning over her was the most beautifully monstrous face she had ever seen. His long silver hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck, though a few stray strands escaped to frame his sharp features. His skin was porcelain white, like a ghost, making his striking blue eyes glow unearthly down at her. He was handsome in a terrifying way.

Grinning, he flashed a pair of long, pointed fangs where his canines should have been.

"Such power," he mused, those otherworldly eyes scanning her face and moving down toward her gown. He let out a deep chuckle that rattled his chest. "You, my naughty little flower, caused so much destruction. I have lost most of my clan because of you."

This was it. He was going to end her just like he had ended her sisters. She had killed his kin, and now he was going to kill her. Closing her eyes, she braced herself for the moment, for the pain of his fangs tearing through her flesh, or perhaps the sensation of him ripping her heart out. She did not know how he would end her, and in truth, it did not matter. None of it mattered anymore. She would soon join her coven, her mother, and her sisters in the afterlife.

"Ah, ah," he gently scolded, his cold fingers gripping her chin. "Open those beautiful eyes," he commanded.

Although she wanted to refuse, to keep her eyelids shut tight, she felt a strange, invisible power dance from his words, tickling across her skin.

Gasping, she tried to fight it. If she hadn't depleted her magic, she might have succeeded, but in her weakened state, she was no match for his compulsion. Her eyes forced themselves open, widening with surprise. Her mother had always told her that vampires could not compel unless they looked directly into their eyes. So how was he compelling her?

"I will not share my secrets," he grinned, as if reading her thoughts. But that could not be... could it? "Such a curious little one, are you not?" He chuckled, finding endless amusement in her misery.

"Maximus," another voice snapped, pulling his attention away.

Sighing, Maximus turned his head, though his grip remained firm on her chin, keeping her face locked toward him. "Be done with the little witch."

"Quell your impatience, Otto, I rather like this little witch." Turning his glowing blue eyes back onto her, a sinister grin curved his lips. "We have lost so many kin tonight. This little witch is rather entertaining."

"You would not," Otto scoffed, seemingly reading Maximus's unspoken thoughts.

"So much judgment," Maximus tsk'd. "All my kin have come from many different beginnings. Why should I judge hers?"

"She is a witch," Otto hissed, spitting the word as if it disgusted him to say it.

"And you were a veneficus. Did I judge you for that?"

Arabella could hear Otto's irritated growl before his boots stomped away. What was a veneficus? She had never heard that word before. The odd name almost distracted her from the cold fingers gripping her chin and the sharp points of his nails scraping against her skin.

"Curious creature. Veneficus is what you mortals might call a potion maker," Maximus answered her thoughts. An amused smirk curved his lips as her eyes widened. "Such a rare beauty. So curious, even when facing the absolute finality of your ending. What shall I do with you, my little flower? I could kill you, end your life with a simple snap of your neck. Or I could keep you as a pet. Feed from you until I tire of your taste, and then discard you." He mused aloud, not truly wanting her answer, simply voicing his dark thoughts.

I do not want to die.

It was that sudden realization that scared her more than death itself. Every fiber of her being suddenly screamed to live, to find a way to keep going, to survive.

Slowly, Maximus's smirk turned into a wide, delighted grin. "Well. Well." He leaned closer. Arabella's eyes widened with the frightening realization that he had indeed read her thoughts. "In all my time walking this horrid world, and I have lived a very long time, I have never come across a creature quite like you. My little flower, how could I end such a rarity?"

"K-kill me," her voice came out hoarse and strained.

It took the absolute last of her energy to force those two words out. Even though deep down she desperately wanted to live, dying would be infinitely better than what he planned for her. Did she truly want to be his pet to feed on?

"Oh little one," his chuckle pierced through the cold night air. "Do not fret. I do not plan on making you my pet. Not anymore."

Before she could voice her confusion, a pain like no other punctured her neck. Clawing at him uselessly, she tried to push his massive frame away, but as he drank from her, she felt the cold truth, she was dying. This was her actual end. Slowly, her hands stopped their futile fighting, dropping limply to the grass. Her eyes closed, accepting the dark.

"Ah. Ah." She heard his muffled voice. He sounded so far away now, echoing at the end of a long tunnel. "I will give you a choice. I can let you die... or I can give you a gift."

Slowly, her heavy eyes fluttered open. She was so incredibly tired. The pull to give up, to let the sleep pull her under and join her family was overwhelming. Yet, when she opened her mouth to tell him to let her die, her soul betrayed her. A different word slipped past her lips.

"L-live." And with that single word, her universe changed forever.

Before she could rethink her choice, his wrist was pressed firmly to her mouth. “Drink,” he commanded.

She wanted to refuse his demand, but as the warm, thick liquid dripped into her mouth, flavors she had never imagined exploded onto her tongue. Arabella gasped, eyes widening. Without thought, her hands gripped his arm, pulling his wrist closer. Moaning softly, she drank deeper, frantically eager to capture more of the sweet nectar flowing from his veins. Eyes closed, she reveled in the taste. How could blood taste so sweet? It was intoxicating. Each swallow made her more ravenous.

“That is enough,” She ignored his command, drinking more. “I said that is enough, Arabella.”

His sharp, powerful command made her spine snap straight. He yanked his wrist from her mouth, the force of it making her fall backwards onto the grass.

“Such hunger,” he chuckled, his wrist now close to his chest, his eyes dancing with dark amusement.

Licking her lips, Arabella had never felt so invigorated. But as she moved to sit up, a pain unlike any other stabbed her stomach. “Ah!” she cried out, her arms wrapping tightly around her torso as she curled into a ball. The pain continued to spike, moving from her stomach and radiating through her entire body. What was this? Was she dying? Had he tricked her? Would it be so bad if he had? Thoughts raced through her mind, pausing only briefly during each agonizing spike.

“Do not fret, it is only your mortal soul dying,” he spoke, his tone smooth as if trying to soothe her worry. But his words only made her panic rise. “The mortal self dies, so the undead shall rise,” he added cryptically.

Before she could think of her next question, everything went quiet. As she took her last mortal breath, the world tilted, and a heavy darkness pulled her under.

Floating in that darkness, phantom images of her life appeared. Her mother’s judging eyes. Her father’s gentle words. Laughter of her sisters in the garden. Then, Mary’s smile surfaced in the gloom. Arabella reached out to touch her, but was violently yanked from the darkness.

Gasping, she shot upright. Her eyes frantically darted around, unable to focus on any single thing. Everything was brighter, clearer, and impossibly sharp. She could see the smallest of critters scurrying in the dirt. The sounds. There were so many sounds. She could hear Otto's irritated grumbling from wherever he had stomped off to. Hear the heavy rushing of the waterfall down at the watering grounds she used to sneak off to as a girl. She could even hear the tiny movements of animals deep in the heart of the forest.

It was wonderful, yet too much. She wanted to look closer and listen to it all, yet desperately wanted to cover her ears and close her eyes to block it out.

“Hush now,” a familiar, deep voice pulled her focus back. “You will get used to it. I will teach you.”

Turning her head, her eyes locked onto him. Maximus. If she had thought he was handsome before, that word seemed impossibly mundane to describe him now. She had just thought the forest and the night sky were beautiful, but they had nothing on him.

“You flatter me,” Maximus chuckled, the sound like a symphony to her ears. “Now come, we must be going.”

He reached out his hand for her to take, a small smile playing on his lips. Without hesitation, she slipped her hand into his, allowing him to pull her up. With one fluid movement, he scooped her up into his arms, holding her securely against his chest.

“W-w—”

“Home,” he answered before she could get the full word out. “Rest, little one. I will protect you.”

Arabella knew she should argue, or want to get away from the monster who had slaughtered her coven, but all the fight she had once possessed seemed to flutter away the moment she drank his blood and died. Reborn, his touch felt uniquely comforting, and his words were deeply soothing. Leaning her head against his shoulder, she wrapped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes, allowing him to take her wherever he wanted.