CHAPTER 5
1281 Words
Dragomar didn’t return the next night.
That didn’t make me feel any less anxious.
His absence was its own kind of threat — silent, unpredictable.
He could appear any night.
Any moment.
Any breath.
I slept with Granny Bia’s herbal pouch under my pillow and drank the bitter mixture religiously. But every sunrise left me more exhausted than the last.
On Thursday, Michael told me he’d be leaving town for a few days to help a friend — gone until Sunday.
I took advantage of his absence and spent the night with my friends. I was buzzing with the need to talk about him.
“How is it,” Ana asked, “that you didn’t see anything in the mirror, but you’re the first one to get an actual guy while we’re still waiting for our soulmates?”
Elena and I exchanged looks.
I smiled innocently.
“Guess I just got lucky.”
Diana sighed. She wanted her soulmate more than all of us. Marriage, kids, the perfect man — she’d dreamt of it since she was twelve.
Me?
I hadn’t thought about marriage. Not even once. And kids? Zero instinct.
Right now, all I thought about was Michael.
And how horny I was.
So horny that wearing tight pants felt like medieval torture.
Back home, I FaceTimed Michael.
We said goodnight.
I fell asleep to the sound of his voice…
and woke up crying.
Again.
I dreamed I was searching for someone — calling out for them, begging them to come back.
But their face was a blur.
All I had was a name slipping out of my lips with desperation.
“Dragomar…”
I woke with the taste of his name in my mouth.
My heart hammered.
Missing him?
Was I insane?
No.
I was sexually frustrated. That’s all.
I texted Michael:
It’s time. I don’t want to wait anymore. On Sunday, you’re mine.
He answered instantly:
You miss me that much, huh?
I sent the drooling emoji instead of confessing that my subconscious apparently missed a demon.
On Saturday, Elena called.
“Granny Bia found a solution,” she said. “Come now.”
Back at her house, two other women waited — both stern, both ancient-looking, both radiating the heavy air of witches who didn’t mess around.
They stripped me naked and laid me on the floor surrounded by candles.
They pricked my finger, mixed the blood with ashes, and painted sigils across my skin.
Cold streaks.
Warm streaks.
Symbols of protection.
“This will guard you,” Granny Bia said.
“You must not wash until morning.”
I thanked them and left… just as the snowstorm unleashed itself across the city.
I could barely see three steps ahead.
The wind slapped the windows of my building like fists.
Inside my dark studio, I made hot chocolate, curled on the couch, and put on Gilmore Girls, hoping for comfort.
Instead—
A foul smell hit me.
Strong. Rotten. Wrong.
It came from me.
The ashes.
God, the stench was unbearable — like spoiled meat mixed with sulfur. I gagged, stumbled to the bathroom, and threw up something black.
No food.
No acid.
Just a dark, tar-like paste that smelled like death in summer heat.
My body was rejecting the ritual.
I couldn’t do it.
I had to wash.
I stepped into the shower fully clothed.
Undressed under the boiling water.
Scrubbed every inch of myself until my skin burned red.
Brushed my teeth twice.
Then again.
Finally clean, trembling, I sat on the edge of my bed and reached for my body lotion.
“Should I do that for you?”
His voice.
I froze.
“Why are you here? You promised me time until the next full moon!”
“I was drawn by the smell,” he said, stepping out of the shadows. “Those little witches thought they could outsmart me. They failed. Marking you after I already marked you? They only made things worse.”
My throat tightened.
“What do you mean, worse?”
“You’re mine, beautiful Kira. I marked you the very first night. Getting rid of me is not so simple. If it were… humans would have killed me centuries ago.”
“The herbs were supposed to help! I keep them under my pillow!”
“They no longer work.”
His voice softened, dangerously.
“You canceled their power with the ash ritual.”
I sucked in a breath as he stepped closer.
Fully formed.
Towering.
Dark and devastating.
“Don’t worry, beautiful one,” he murmured. “I will keep my promise. If you find a replacement and shift the contract, I will leave you.”
My mouth went dry.
“I can’t do that. I won’t sacrifice anyone.”
“Then what shall we do, my beautiful Kira?”
His fingers traced my cheek… then drifted slowly down between my breasts.
“Because I’m starving. And I’ve been patient.”
My skin erupted in heat, sharp and involuntary, betraying me before I could think.
“Are you feeding only on me?” I whispered.
He chuckled.
“I have… other ways to feed. But the feeding I take from you is rare. Precious. Born of ritual. A connection that nourishes me with vital energy. Very soon, I will not be just a shadow in your room.”
“You need more of me to make that happen…”
“Yes,” he said. “Pleasure is the strongest form of life force. And you give it so beautifully.”
“So I become your—your battery?”
“Something like that.”
His voice brushed over my lips.
“I would never harm you. The contract binds me.”
“But I don’t want this anymore. It’s wrong.”
“I showed you the way out. Whether you take it… is your choice.”
“There has to be a loophole,” I said, pulse racing. “And I’ll find it.”
He leaned in so close I felt the heat of him without touch.
“You’re brave,” he whispered. “And stubborn. I admire that. But tell me something, Kira…”
His hand trailed over my lips.
My breath caught — a small, humiliating proof of how easily he could unsteady me.
“If you truly want me gone, why do you moan my name every night? Why do you think of me when you touch yourself?”
He smiled.
“Even now, your body calls for me. You fight your impulses, but your desire betrays you.”
“It’s your powers! You did something to me!”
“Oh no, my beautiful Kira,” he murmured.
“All I did was release your inhibitions. The rest… was always you.”
My heart stopped.
“That’s a lie,” I breathed. “You’re manipulating me.”
“Your mind resists,” he said, voice molten. “But your body knows the truth. Reach between your legs and you’ll feel how ready you are for me. Aren’t you curious… what I could do to you while you’re awake?”
“Even if I am,” I whispered, trembling, “I won’t give in.”
A slow, dark smile curved his shadowed lips.
“You already have.”
And then—
he vanished.
Leaving me shaking.
Confused.
Burning.
Alive in a way I didn’t want to be.
Later that night, Michael texted.
He was snowed in.
Wouldn’t make it home Sunday.
I asked if we could FaceTime until I fell asleep.
He agreed.
And with the phone beside me, pretending he was here in bed…
I let him watch me drift into sleep.
- Writer
