The Cabin
1151 Words
Adeline woke to firelight and shadows.
She was lying on something soft — fur, old and worn, but cleaner than anything she'd slept on in years. Her body ached. The brand on her shoulder was a dull throb instead of a scream. Someone had wrapped a bandage around it. Crude. But clean.
Where am I?
She tried to sit up.
A hand pressed her back down.
"Don't."
The voice was deep. Cold. Ancient.
Adeline's head turned. A man knelt beside the pallet — if "man" was the right word. His face was sharp angles and hollow cheeks. His skin was pale, almost translucent, like bone left in the sun too long.
But it was his eyes that stopped her heart.
Silver.
Not grey. Not blue. Silver. Like molten mercury had pooled in his sockets.
"You—" Her voice cracked. "You were at the river."
"I was.
"You carried me."
"I did.
Adeline's hand went to her throat. No wounds. No bites. Just the brand on her shoulder, pulsing quietly.
"Why?"
The stranger tilted his head. His nostrils flared, drinking in her scent. His pupils dilated — black swallowing silver.
"Because you burned," he said softly. "I felt it. Miles away. A thousand years since anything made the ground shake like that." He leaned closer. His breath was cold. "Do you know what you are, little wolf?"
Adeline's jaw tightened. "I'm not a wolf."
"No," he agreed. "You're not."
He reached out. His fingers brushed the bandage on her shoulder. The touch was light, clinical — but Adeline felt it everywhere. Like ice water in her veins.
"I've been dead for a thousand years," he said. "Sleeping in tombs. Crawling through ashes. Forgetting my own name." His silver eyes met hers. "And then you screamed at the river. And my heart — dead for ten centuries — beat."
Adeline's breath caught.
"What are you?" she whispered.
The stranger smiled. It didn't reach his eyes.
"Hungry," he said. "For the first time in a very long time
He should have asked.
He didn't.
His hand slid to the back of her neck — cold, firm, inevitable. His thumb traced the line of her jaw. His eyes dropped to her throat.
"I can smell it," he murmured. "Your blood. It's not wolf. It's not human. It's..." His pupils dilated. "It's lightning."
Adeline should have pushed him away.
She didn't.
He saved me, she thought. He carried me. He bandaged my shoulder.
But he didn't do it for kindness.
"What's your name?" she asked.
The stranger paused. His brow furrowed.
"I... had one. Once." He looked at her like she was the only real thing in a world of ghosts. "Cyprian. I think. It's been so long."
"Cyprian," Adeline repeated.
The sound of his name on her lips made him “ shudder”
"Say it again," he whispered.
"Cyprian."
His control broke.
He lunged forward — not at her throat, but into her space. His forehead pressed against hers. His breath was cold mist on her lips. His hands were shaking.
"I'm going to drink from you," he said. His voice was raw. "I'm going to try not to take too much. But I can't promise." His silver eyes searched hers. "Tell me no. Tell me to stop. And I will."
Adeline looked at him — this ancient, starving, lonely thing.
He could kill me.
He could drain me dry and leave my body in this cabin.
But he asked.
Kael never asked. Kael took. Kael rejected. Kael branded.
This monster asked.
"Don't stop," she whispered.
Cyprian's fangs sank into her throat.
The pain was sharp — a bright, silver needle.
But the pleasure was worse.
Adeline's back arched. Her hands fisted in his shirt. The world dissolved into sensation — the cold press of his mouth, the pull of his suction, the way her blood left her body and became his.
He's drinking me.
I should be afraid.
But her wolf wasn't afraid.
Her wolf was singing.
"Let him drink. Let him taste. Let him choke on what we are."
Cyprian groaned against her throat — a deep, guttural sound of a starving thing finally being fed. His hands, which had been holding her still, were now holding her. One curled around her waist. The other slid into her hair.
A thousand years, she heard him think — through the blood, through the bond that wasn't a bond, through something older and stranger.
years of dust and darkness and hunger.
And now...
Now, you.
His tongue pressed against the wound. Sealing it. He pulled back, his silver eyes wild, his lips stained crimson.
But the blood on his mouth wasn't red.
It was violet.
Shimmering. Electric. Alive.
"What—" he started.
Then the violet light exploded.
Cyprian was thrown backward.
He hit the stone wall of the cabin — a c***k that shook the rafters, dust falling from the ceiling. He crumpled to the floor, one hand clutching his chest.
His chest was moving.
He wasn't breathing before.
Now he is.
Adeline stared at him, her hand pressed to her throat. The puncture wounds were already closed — sealed by the same violet light that had thrown him across the room.
Her eyes — she knew without looking — were no longer brown.
They were violet.
Cyprian looked at his hands. They were shaking. And in the firelight, she could see it: color. Returning to his grey, dead skin. Pink at the knuckles. Warmth at the fingertips.
"What are you?" he whispered.
Adeline sat up slowly. Her body was weak — but not broken. The brand still ached. The blood loss made her dizzy.
But underneath it all, something was humming.
"I don't know," she said. "But I'm not going back to find out."
Cyprian pushed himself to his feet. He swayed. Caught himself on the wall. His silver eyes never left her face.
"The pack that threw you away," he said slowly. "They didn't know what they had."
"No," Adeline agreed. "They didn't."
Cyprian crossed the room. He knelt in front of her — not bowed, knelt. He took her hand. His skin was warmer now. Not warm. But less cold.
"Come with me," he said. "To the Citadel. To my court. The vampires will fear you. They'll want to hurt you. But I'll keep you safe."
Adeline looked at him.
Safe.
No one had ever kept her safe.
"What do you want from me?" she asked.
Cyprian's silver eyes held hers.
"Everything," he said. "And nothing you don't choose to give."
Adeline thought of Kael. Of his gold eyes flickering with disgust. Of the iron on her skin. Of Jax's yellow eyes in the forest.
She thought of the violet light.
I saved myself at the river.
I can save myself again.
"Take me with you," she said.
Cyprian's smile was sharp. But underneath the sharpness, something else flickered.
Hope.
- Writer
