Rain battered down upon me like bullets, relentless and violent. It didn't stop me from staggering over the wooden plank, just as the storm howled its fury, but I welcomed it.
There are no voices in my head now. Nothing but blood.
I thirst for it.
Which made my mission even more clear.
My knees hit the ground, but I didn't even feel any pain radiating through my bones. It should've hurt. Where there should've been electrifying pain vibrating through my bones, there's just nothing. It's like I'm dead already.
I watched the river water flowing through my blurry eyes, its gray melding colors with the sky. Soon I'll join them, among these grays and forever buried into the water. I wouldn't have to live like this anymore.
I crawled on my hands and knees towards the edge.
What with the storm pressing me down, and down, it's like they're urging me to jump before it's too late. Already my gut is gnawing at me, head throbbing, jaws aching for something that isn't human. I'm changing.
I would rather die than to turn into something inhuman.
I edged closer, about to jump when something wrenched me away by my shoulders. My back slammed a cold, hard chest.
I shouted, hands and feet outstretched reaching for the storm. Arms that weren't mine, wrapped across my body, pulling me away from the river.
I screamed and fought, arms and legs flaying around the air hitting at nothing. It wasn't like anyone could come for me, now that we're in the middle of a nowhere, right underneath a rainstorm.
His hold was strong, no matter how hard I fought, he wouldn't budge. And the more I moved, the more my gut gnawed. I'm really hungry. But not for food.
For blood.
And he knows it.
"Get inside!" he shouted over the battering rain, yanking me by my arms into a small, abandoned cottage. "You're only making it worse."
I land on the ground, hands flat, just as he kicked the door shut behind us.
He paused, looking through the small window next to it before I heard the click of a lock behind me. He was turning on the lanterns and lighting a fire before I woke and ran out.
I groaned as my insides are practically chewing itself, screaming for sustenance. My gums are aching, stretching as if they're getting ready for a meal. But I'm not going to cave. I'm not.
A blood bag landed right in front of me.
I snatched it up without thinking, ready to tear into it.
My hands froze and I let it fall back to the ground, scrambling away from the thing like it's a ticking time bomb, no matter how hard my gut was screaming at my actions.
"Don't be stupid," he said from one corner, sucking on his own bag like he's drinking soda, "there's no point in fighting the hunger, it'll only make you worse."
I shake my head.
"I'm not going to," I rasped, my throat feeling like sandpaper. My body's already trembling from the hunger and fatigue. Not to mention the pounding headache.
My eyes darted to the knife by the kitchen sink.
Scrambling to my feet, hands outstretched, reaching for the weapon until it was knocked out of my grasp. My back slamming against the dining table and I cried out, pain radiating through my back from the impact.
"Why do you keep trying to kill yourself?" he snapped, more out of frustration than concern.
"Why did you stop me?" I snapped back, despite my gravelly voice.
"Because," he began, tearing open his blood bag wider, "I still need you to get me out of here."
He shove that thing into my mouth before I could protest. My hands immediately goes to his wrist, trying to pull him away but his grip was stronger as he held me down.
One hand on my jaw, keeping it open, while the blood flowed down my throat. The other, holding onto the blood bag despite my hands clawing at his wrists, drawing blood.
He doesn't seemed fazed by the pain. But then again, the pain would've seem minuscule compared to what we had put him through.
I wanted to fight him. I wanted to spit out the blood he shoved down my throat. But I can't.
I'm weak. The more it flowed through my lips, the more radiant I feel. Stronger. Lighter. Relief, like a drug addict finally getting his fix.
"See?" he pointed out smugly, his red eyes practically glowing at the sight of me gurgling blood, sprawled on my back across the round dining table like some piece of meat. "Told you there's no point in fighting."
I didn't bother to fight him anymore. Now that he squeezed the last drop out of the bag, dry.
I didn't even bother to point out how inappropriate our positions are, now that my eyes flicked up and find that he's literally standing between my legs, his thighs against the table. Something large tenting his pants, poking my middle.
I'm still wearing the same white dress from when we ran. Both still drenched from the rain. It didn't take a scientist like me to surmise what he's looking at. Or seeing through, I should say.
He tossed the blood bag into the fire and walked away. I closed my legs, embarrassed, and jumped off the table, surprised by my newfound strength. It's like I had injected a thousand steroids into my body. I feel lighter, more energized, unstoppable.
"You're going to get used to it," the vampire prince muttered, taking a seat on the ugly sofa by the fireplace, casually sipping on the blood bag I abandoned on the ground.
"Why are you doing this?" I wondered, approaching him in my rain and blood-soaked dress.
"I want to go home," he replied, his red eyes empty and looking ahead, straight at the door.
The rain still poured around us, relentlessly beating down the steel canopy above and the decaying wooden walls. He used the abandoned steel and wooden planks to cover the tiny windows around the place, just in case sunlight would creep in. Giving way to the warm, flickering glow of orange lanterns and the crackling fireplace that cast trembling shadows along the damp floorboards.
"Look, I'm sorry..." I began, hands fidgeting with unease, "I shouldn't have run out like that. But I'm sure...if we reason with the authorities..."
"Are you seriously suggesting we turn ourselves in?" he cut in, incredulous.
"I'm sure..."
He stopped slurping, licking the blood from his lips before muttering, "You must be more stupider than I thought."
"Excuse me?"
"You're a vampire," he said flatly, his red eyes gesturing to the bloodstained dress. My hands flew instinctively to cover them. "What makes you think they're going to go easy on you? Just look at what they're doing to me."
I chew on my bottom lip, helpless, until I feel a familiar pain. That metallic taste of blood. But it didn't make me crazy like it did with the blood bag he's slurping, it came from my lips.
With shaky hands, I touch my gums, nearly nicking my fingers from the sharp edges of my teeth. I jolted back with surprise.
Fangs. I have fangs.
Eyes widened, I turned to him as if he held the answers.
"Don't worry, it'll turn back to normal in a few moments," he said casually, eyes on the dancing fire.
His Adam's Apple bobbing up and down, gulping the last of the blood down greedily. If it weren't for his dark red irises reflecting the fire, or the fact that he's slurping blood down like it's soda, he would've passed as a human. Handsome, with his white-blond hair, pale skin and piercing eyes and jaws that goes on for days.
He tossed his empty bag into the fire before getting up, walking past me.
My eyes trailed after him as he moved, his black shirt and drawstring pants clinging to his body, still damp from the rain.
The way the fabric outlined the lean muscles beneath, all defined and alive. Gone was the gaunt, hollow-eyed figure I remembered, worn down by weeks without blood. Now he exuded nothing but strength, and power.
"You can quit undressing me with your eyes now, Rosie Posie," he said over his shoulder. I can feel the smug grin tugging at his lips, as he slipped into a shadowed hallway and vanished through a door.
The place was narrow, dimly lit, barely more than a corridor but I followed him without thinking, hypnotized.
He's standing in a small bedroom, rummaging through the wardrobe that's surprisingly still filled with clothes. It surprises me how well-kept this cottage seems to be, despite the years.
"You should change," he said, pulling out some pants and a shirt. "Your nipples have been pointing at me, and it's distracting."
I look down, hands covering my top, embarrassed. It must be from the cold that I seemingly no longer feel. Or the adrenaline.
He doesn't seem to care either way, tossing me a pair of dark jeans and a shirt.
"These look like they could fit you," he said, digging some more for himself.
I looked down at the white shirt, with some old film poster plastered in the middle and a pair of blue jeans. These looked like they belonged to a woman. Thank god.
"Whose are these?"
"How am I supposed to know?" he replied distractedly, grabbing a black shirt, jeans and some underwear before disappearing off to the en-suite bathroom.
I walk up to the wardrobe, digging through the mess he'd made and grab the most comfortable-looking set I can find: a beige cotton bra that looks about my size, and a pair of matching panties.
Making sure he's still inside the bathroom, his door securely closed, I strip. There were no doors between the living room and the bedroom, so I picked a corner, where there'd be less visibility and slide down my panties, still wet and cold from the rain.
He walked back into the room, when I was buttoning my jeans.
"Damn I missed the good part."
I looked up, catching how good he looked in his black shirt and those jeans, clinging to his thighs in a way that made them look impossibly defined.
"What's with the longing look?" he asked.
I cleared my throat, heat rising to my cheeks as I bent down to pick up my wet dress I've discarded on the floor.
He let out a low chuckle. "I forgot you're new to this, Rosie Posie. How silly of me."
"It's Rose," I corrected sharply, feeling something tingly stirring between my legs. "And what do you mean?"
I cleared my throat, feeling the heat gathering in my cheeks as I bend down and pick up the wet dress I've discarded on the floor.
He let out a low chuckle, "I forgot you're new to this, Rosie Posie, how silly of me."
"It's Rose," I corrected him. "And what are you talking about?"
"You're a newborn vampire," he stated, his lips twisting at the edges that made him look like the evil creature of the night parents warned their children about. "Blood will make you really, really horny."