Bleeding Affection: Bound By Blood

The first time Serenith Vale saw a dead man come back to life, she was standing in the rain with blood on her hands. And the first time she met Theron Veyr, she wished she had never been born. But that was later. For now, all she knew was that something had been following her for three nights. It started with the dreams. Every night, Serenith found herself standing in a forest beneath a blood-red moon. The trees were black, their branches twisted like the fingers of the dead. Somewhere in the distance, a woman screamed. Then came the sound of footsteps, slow and deliberate, drawing closer no matter how fast Serenith tried to run. And always, just before she woke, a man's voice whispered the same words. I have found you. She never saw his face. She only remembered his eyes—one a burning crimson, the other a strange, molten gold. On the fourth night, she stopped sleeping altogether. At seven in the evening, she stood behind the counter of a small bookstore in the heart of the city, trying to convince herself that exhaustion was responsible for the shadows moving at the edge of her vision. "You're doing it again." Serenith glanced up. Maya Bennett, her best friend and the only person who could tell when she was lying, leaned against the counter with a paper cup of coffee in her hand. "Doing what?" "Looking at the door like someone is about to burst in and murder you." Serenith gave her a tired smile. "Maybe I'm expecting a delivery." "At seven in the evening? In this weather?" Maya glanced toward the rain-streaked windows. "You're a terrible liar." "I'm an excellent liar. You're just annoyingly observant." "Thank you. It's a gift." Maya placed the coffee in front of her. "Drink. You look like you've been negotiating with death." Serenith wrapped both hands around the cup. The warmth felt good against her cold fingers. "Thanks." Maya's teasing expression softened. "Seriously, Serenith. What's going on? You've barely slept all week. You keep staring into empty corners, and yesterday you nearly screamed because a customer dropped a book." "It was a very loud book." "Books don't make that much noise." "That one did." Maya sighed. "I'm not joking." Neither was Serenith, but she couldn't explain what she didn't understand herself. How could she tell her best friend that she had been dreaming of the same strange forest for four nights? That she kept hearing footsteps behind her when the streets were empty? That sometimes, when she passed a mirror, she thought she saw someone standing just over her shoulder? She would sound insane. And Serenith had no intention of becoming the subject of Maya's next concerned lecture. "I'm fine," she said. Maya narrowed her eyes. "You're using the voice." "What voice?" "The one you use when you're trying to convince me that everything is fine while your life is actively falling apart." Serenith laughed despite herself. "Go home, Maya." "Not until you promise you'll call me when you get back." "I promise." "And don't walk through the alley behind the building. It's dark, creepy, and looks like the setting of a low-budget horror movie." "You're describing half the city." "Serenith." "I'll take the main road." Maya studied her for another moment before finally picking up her bag. "Call me." "I will." After Maya left, the bookstore grew painfully quiet. Serenith finished her coffee, closed the register, and switched off the lights. She checked the locks twice before stepping outside. The rain had softened to a cold drizzle. She pulled her coat tighter and began walking toward the bus stop, her boots splashing through shallow puddles. The streets were nearly empty, and the wind carried the smell of wet pavement and something metallic. Blood. She stopped. The scent was faint, almost imperceptible, but it made her stomach tighten. A car sped past, spraying water across the pavement. Serenith blinked, and the sensation disappeared. "Get a grip," she muttered. She continued walking. Then she heard the footsteps. One. Two. Three. Her own steps stopped. The other footsteps continued. Serenith turned sharply. The street behind her was empty. A streetlamp flickered overhead. Beyond its weak circle of light, the road disappeared into darkness. She swallowed. "Hello?" Silence. She felt ridiculous. She was twenty years old, not a child frightened by shadows. There was probably a perfectly reasonable explanation for everything happening to her. Probably. She turned away. Something moved behind her. This time, she ran. Her boots struck the pavement as she hurried down the street, her heart hammering against her ribs. She glanced over her shoulder twice, seeing nothing but rain and darkness. Then a figure stepped into her path. Serenith screamed and stumbled backward. A man stood beneath the streetlamp. He was tall, dressed entirely in black, with a long coat that seemed untouched by the rain. Dark hair fell across his forehead, and his face possessed the kind of severe beauty that made it difficult to look away. But it was his eyes that held her. They were red. Not brown, not dark hazel, not a trick of the light. Red. Like fresh blood. Serenith stared at him. The man stared back. For several seconds, neither moved. Then he tilted his head slightly. "Serenith Vale." Her blood turned cold. She had never seen him before. "How do you know my name?" He took one step toward her. She took one step back. "I asked you a question." "And I heard you." "Then answer it." Something flickered across his face. Surprise, perhaps. Or amusement. "You have a remarkable habit of demanding answers from strangers." "And you have a disturbing habit of appearing out of nowhere and knowing people's names." "Perhaps you should be more concerned about why I came looking for you." "Perhaps you should be more concerned about how quickly I can call the police." His gaze dropped briefly to the phone in her hand. "Do that, and you may discover how little they can help you." Serenith hated the way he said it. Calmly. Confidently. As though the world operated according to rules she had never been taught. "Who are you?" "Theron." "Theron what?" "That is all you need to know." She gave a disbelieving laugh. "Wonderful. A mysterious man with red eyes and no surname. Should I be impressed or frightened?" "Both would be sensible." "You're insane." "Perhaps." He stepped closer. Serenith should have run. Every instinct told her to put as much distance between herself and this man as possible. Instead, she stood frozen, caught by the strange intensity of his gaze. Then the wind shifted. Theron inhaled. His expression changed. It was subtle at first. His shoulders stiffened, and his eyes narrowed. He looked at her as though he had just heard a sound no one else could hear. "What is it?" Serenith demanded. He didn't answer. His gaze moved to her throat. She instinctively raised a hand to cover it. "Stop looking at me like that." "What are you?" The question came out low and dangerous. Serenith frowned. "I'm a woman standing in the rain, having a very unpleasant conversation with a stranger." "Your blood." She went still. "What about it?" He moved so quickly that she barely saw him. One moment he stood several feet away. The next, he was directly in front of her. Serenith stumbled backward, but he caught her wrist. His fingers were ice-cold. She gasped. "Let go of me!" Theron ignored her. His attention was fixed on the tiny pulse beating beneath the skin of her wrist. For the first time, something resembling genuine shock crossed his face. "No," he whispered. Serenith struggled against his grip. "Let. Go." He released her abruptly. She staggered back, clutching her wrist to her chest. "What is wrong with you?" Theron looked at his own hand as if it had betrayed him. Then he looked at her again. The red in his eyes had deepened until it seemed to glow. "That is impossible." "What is?" He took a slow breath, though Serenith noticed something strange about the gesture. He didn't seem to need the air. "Your blood." She stared at him. "You're going to have to be more specific." For a moment, he said nothing. Then his gaze settled on her throat once more. "May I see your neck?" Serenith's mouth fell open. "Absolutely not!" His expression hardened. "Do you understand what you are carrying inside you?" "No, and I'm beginning to think that's your problem, not mine." A strange sound escaped him. It might have been a laugh, but there was no humor in it. "You have no idea." "Then explain it." "I cannot." "Won't." "Cannot." The distinction frightened her more than his eyes. Before she could respond, a low growl sounded from the darkness behind them. Serenith turned. A shape moved between two parked cars. At first, she thought it was a dog. Then it stepped into the light. It was a man—or something that had once been a man. His skin was gray and stretched tightly over his skull. His mouth hung open, revealing teeth too long and sharp to be human. Black veins crawled beneath his skin, and his eyes were empty except for two pinpoints of red. Serenith stopped breathing. The creature sniffed the air. Then its head turned toward her. A wet, hungry sound emerged from its throat. "Run," Theron said. She didn't move. The creature lunged. Serenith screamed. Theron moved. He struck the creature so hard that its body crashed into a parked car, denting the metal. Before Serenith could process what had happened, he was standing over it, one hand wrapped around its throat. The creature shrieked. Theron's face had changed. His eyes burned crimson, and sharp fangs extended from beneath his upper lip. Dark veins spread across his temples, giving him an appearance both terrifying and inhuman. He was not a man. Not entirely. The creature clawed at his arm. Theron tightened his grip. "Who sent you?" The creature's jaw opened unnaturally wide. A string of black saliva slipped down its chin. "She..." it rasped. Theron's expression became murderous. "Finish that sentence." The creature's gaze shifted toward Serenith. Its ruined mouth twisted into something resembling a smile. "The blood... has awakened." Theron went utterly still. Then the creature laughed. Its body convulsed, and black smoke poured from its mouth. Within seconds, its flesh began collapsing inward, leaving nothing but a charred skeleton beneath Theron's hand. Serenith stared in horror. She couldn't move. Couldn't speak. The rain fell around them, washing the street clean as if nothing had happened. Theron released what remained of the creature and turned toward her. For the first time since their encounter began, he looked genuinely afraid. Not of the dead creature. Of her. "What are you?" Serenith whispered. He approached slowly. She backed away until her shoulders struck the cold brick wall of a nearby building. "Stay away from me." He stopped. His gaze searched her face, lingering on her eyes, her mouth, and finally the pulse beating at the base of her throat. Then he spoke words that made the night seem colder. "My name is Theron Veyr." She swallowed. "And what does that mean to me?" His expression darkened. "It means that every vampire in this city will soon know your name." Serenith shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about." "No," he said quietly. "You don't." He removed his coat and held it out to her. She stared at it suspiciously. "I'm not taking anything from you." "Your hands are shaking." "I'm terrified. There's a difference." For a moment, something almost human softened his expression. "Take the coat, Serenith." "No." His jaw tightened. "You are the most infuriating woman I have ever encountered." "And you're the most disturbing man I've ever met. I suppose we're both disappointed." He looked as though he wanted to say something else. Instead, he lowered the coat. Then he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small black card. He held it out. Serenith didn't take it. "What is that?" "An invitation." "To what?" "Answers." She laughed bitterly. "You attack people, threaten them, and expect them to follow you because you promise answers?" "I did not attack you." "You grabbed me!" "And released you when you asked." "After I had to demand it!" His eyes flashed. "Do not mistake restraint for weakness." "And don't mistake fear for obedience." Silence fell between them. For several seconds, they stared at each other, neither willing to look away. Then Theron placed the card on the ledge beside her. "Midnight tomorrow. The address is written on the back." "I'm not coming." "We shall see." He turned and walked into the darkness. Serenith watched him disappear. She waited for him to reappear, to say something else, to explain the impossible things she had just witnessed. He never did. When she finally found the strength to move, she snatched the card from the ledge and hurried home. She locked her door, checked every window, and called Maya. She told her friend that she was safe. She did not tell her about the creature. Or the fangs. Or the man whose eyes had glowed like blood beneath the streetlamp. Most of all, she did not tell her that when Theron had grabbed her wrist, something inside her had answered his touch. Something old. Something hungry. Something that had recognized him. At midnight, Serenith stood in front of her bathroom mirror and examined the faint red mark around her wrist. The skin beneath it began to glow. She stumbled backward. A thin line of crimson light spread beneath her skin, forming a symbol she had never seen before. Then a voice whispered inside her mind. At last. Serenith clapped both hands over her ears. "Stop!" The voice fell silent. Her reflection stared back at her. For one terrible second, the eyes in the mirror were not hers. One burned molten gold. The other glowed crimson. Then the lights went out. And somewhere far beneath the earth, behind a sealed door that had remained untouched for five hundred years, something opened its eyes.