Page 4 of Blood Vows
A temptation I would not give in to.
But what of your own temptation?Its voice urged in my mind making me grit my teeth.
“No! I will not yield to her…wait, what is this…” I asked the night as I turned the moment a sound broke through the quiet. One soft but distinct, the creak of old wood shifting under cautious feet.
I closed my eyes and exhaled, the ghost of a smile pulling at my mouth, despite myself.
So, the little rabbit had decided to wander after all.
But of course, she had.
I could feel her presence moving down the hall, light and hesitant, like a whisper against the edge of my mind. My shadows stirred, eager to follow, to surround her, to keep her where she belonged.
But I didn’t move. Not yet.
Part of me wanted her to find what she was looking for, whatever that might be. The other part wanted to see how far she’d go before fear pulled her back.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, the firelight painting my hands in shades of gold and scarlet.
She was trouble, and she was walking straight into the lion’s den.
And still, I couldn’t bring myself to warn her.
Because where was the fun in that?
The house was silent, save for the distant whisper of the wind moving through its bones. I rose to my full height, standing at the edge of the firelight for a moment longer before making my move toward the door. The weight of the silence pressing against me like a second skin.
My only comfort, until her.
I shook this secret thought from my mind and hardened my gaze.
My shadows followed without being told, spilling across the floor, gliding ahead of me through the darkened corridors. They moved the way smoke does, soundless, patient, tasting the air for her. And there she was. Her scent, faint, human, and sweet, drifted to me long before I saw her.
Soap and skin.
Blood and fear.
She had ventured farther than I’d expected. Bold, or foolish…Maybe both.
I found her in the kitchen, bathed in the low amber light that filtered through the old hanging lanterns. She moved slowly, her steps careful, as if the floor might betray her. The soft burgundy fabric clung to her in a way my body couldn’t help but notice. As if parts of me I thought long dead, were stirring back to life without asking them too.
For a long time, I simply stood in the doorway, watching.
She was unaware of me, her focus narrowed on the metal first aid box I had used and left on the table. Then she moved to the cupboards and drawers after a frustrated sigh left her.
She opened them, one by one, her trembling fingers searching for something. I realized what it was only when she paused before the counter, pressing a hand to her head and whispering a quiet curse under her breath.
She was in pain.
Now that was different, for I couldn’t recall the last time I hadn’t relished the sight of another’s pain. Since when did I care for anything beyond my cause? And worse, what was happening to me that I now found another’s suffering…distasteful?
I could have spoken then. I could have ended her search with a single word. But I didn’t.
Instead, I let myself indulge in silent curiosity. Indulge in just the sight of her. That quiet peace that came with watching her.
The rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed. The way the light caught in her hair, golden red threads glinting against the dark strands still damp from her shower. The small sounds she made, the clink of a cupboard door, the sigh when she found nothing. It settled somewhere deep inside me, stirring something I didn’t want to name.
She didn’t belong here. Not in my world of shadows and blood. Yet she fit within it far too easily.
