Page 21 of Bloodstained
Panic surged. He closed his eyes, forced himself deeper into the corner until darkness swallowed him whole. Then, after long, agonizing seconds ticked by, he stepped forward into the candlelight, and the air left my lungs.
The monstrous visage slipped, revealing the brutal beauty of the man. And still… all that blood. Heat flashed through me so hard it felt like lightning. His mouth was red, his teeth stained, the twin points of his canines leaving no doubt what he was and what he used them for. Blood slicked down his throat, coursing a trail over the huge muscles of chest and dripping lower over his defined abs before saturating the front of his pants.
Those teeth were made to tear, to latch on, to drink a body empty.
For a breath, we didn’t move, both caught in the same dark snare. The undercroft seemed to exhale with the weight of blood and stone, the cold air curling around me as if urging me to turn and flee.
His gaze never wavered from mine as he moved toward the stag and crouched beside it. He pressed one broad hand to its chest, fingers smoothing over the matted fur with a tendernessso at odds with the carnage that something inside me seized. His lips moved, a low murmur spilling from him—words I couldn’t decipher, yet they struck me with a strange familiarity.
I didn’t need to understand the language to know its meaning. Some quiet part of me recognized it, whispered the truth before my mind could catch up… he was thanking the creature for its life.
The cadence of his voice clawed at something buried deep inside me. I shouldn’t have recognized it, yet the sound threaded through me like an echo I’d once known. A shiver lifted the hairs along my arms, not of fear but of familiarity. It was as if I had heard that same tone whispered against my skin in another life, words meant only for me.
He didn’t hide what he was. He didn’t pretend. He simply wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing the blood into a darker mask. When he spoke, his voice was steady, low—deeper than I’d ever heard it.
“In the beginning, I fed on humans,” he said. “For decades. For several hundreds of years, in fact. My enemies. The worst of humankind. It was the only mercy I allowed myself—not killing the innocent. I don’t even remember when I started feeding on animals. But this one…” He gestured to the stag. “He was dying at the edge of the property. He wouldn’t have seen dawn. I did him a mercy.”
I swallowed. The taste in my mouth went sour. “You don’t feed on humans?” The words felt absurd even as I spoke them. “You don’t kill them… anymore?”
“I feed when I must. I stopped killing a century ago.” He didn’t explain further, and I didn’t ask. I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer.
Silence bled into the stone room, chilling me from the inside out. The stag lay still, its black eyes glassy, a sadness clinging toit even in death. My hands felt stupid at my sides, and I dug my nails into my palms until crescent moons bit my skin.
“I didn’t mean to come down here,” I whispered. “I didn’t want to… see this.”
“I didn’t want you to,” he said evenly. “But it was inevitable. You needed to see—really see, Clara—what I am.”
My throat worked around a hard swallow. “Why? Why would you want me to see this?”
For a heartbeat, he said nothing. Then, softly, Ivan murmured, “Because you’re mine. And the devil has already claimed you, Clara. I’m a predator, but I would never hurt you. I wouldn’t let anyone get close enough to try.”
He stepped away from the carcass toward a stone basin sunk into the wall that I hadn’t even noticed before. I stood frozen, watching as he dipped his hands into the water and clouded it dark, washing the gore from his skin. When he finished, he used his discarded shirt to wipe his mouth.
It looked like a ritual—obscene and deliberate all at once. When Ivan turned back, the monster wasn’t gone. It was simply contained, as if he’d drawn a curtain over it for my sake.
“You’re scared,” he said quietly. “Angry.” It wasn’t a question. His voice had softened just enough to ease the sharp edge of my fear.
“I’m—” My throat worked around the word. I stared down, sifting for something solid, telling myself over and over I would not be a prisoner, I would not be a victim. I was disgusted. Terrified. And yet, I felt something else deep down in my soul.
I was hypnotized by the sight of him. Horrified by the heat crawling through my veins.
And then it hit me so fast I thought I’d lost my balance. A memory. Not whole. Not clear. It was just a fragment. It was like cold air slapping against me. The smell of iron and wood smoke. A hand—Ivan’s hand—smoothing my hair back as he whisperedagainst my ear. The tone was low and desperate. I knew the words were spoken out of love.
As fast as the memory came, it was gone.
“I don’t know why,” I said finally, my voice thin, “but part of me feels like I’ve seen this before. Like I’ve been here before. I don’t understand it. I just… knew something was coming.”
“I should be grateful,” he finally said, voice low enough to echo off the stone. “That a part of you remembers some things.”
“Don’t twist this,” I snapped, breath shaking. “I’m not?—”
“Accepting this,” he finished softly. “No. You aren’t. But you came here anyway. This door isn’t on the main corridor. Your feet—your memory—found it.” His head tilted slightly, studying me in that unsettling way of his, as if he could hear my thoughts before I formed them.
A shiver rippled through me as an image rose. A lantern swung from a hook where the basin now stood, the undercroft lit not by moonlight but by flickering gold. My fingers curled against my palms as another memory—no, afeeling—bloomed. Laughter echoed off these same stones. Warm bread shared on the steps. His hand steadying mine as we traced the carvings on a pillar, reading their meaning aloud like we were telling bedtime stories.
The ghost of it passed through me as sharp as the first rays of sun touching the land for the first time. It left me dizzy. This was not just a crypt or a hiding place where he fed. Once, it had been a refuge. A place we’d come to escape the world, where just the two of us could speak freely with no one hearing.
My skin prickled at those memories. Ones I didn’t understand. Ones that confused and terrified me.
