Chapter 12
That didn’t turn out so well, Eric thought miserably, as he looked at the broken tree branch lying below him. Scaring her hadn’t really been part of the plan, and it definitely wasn’t something she needed right now.
Eric let out a deep sigh. In the back of his mind, he could hear Megan calling him, begging him to come back to her, and for a moment, he thought about doing just that. She whispered apologies. Urging him to believe that she was not scared, even calling him her hero. His heart twisted and thumped erratically. A flash of her neck flitted across his vision. Her soft ivory skin tinted pink as the blood moved underneath the odd marking inked upon her skin. It resembled a figure eight, with a solid line passing through the center of the bottom loop. The outline of it burned brightly, illuminating and glowing in his mind, as if his brain was forcing him to see it. The glow beat in time with her heartbeat, pulsing out towards him. She called to him again. Just his name floating around his head, and then all of a sudden, she was gone. Her scent, her smile, the mark … all of it faded into a small and distant memory.
He shifted his weight on the branch, looking behind him, and as he did, he cringed. Maybe he should have been more specific with his questions. All he could see were rolling mountains stretching out as far as his eyes would reach.
Eric sat there staring, feeling utterly defeated, for a long moment. He was pretty sure that even at top speed it would take him close to a day to reach the bottom of the first mountain. His throat was on fire, he was starving—again—and Megan was in the mountains being hunted because of him. For the first time since the day he had found out what he had become, Eric wished Mitchell had never saved him, and he had died in the field, alone.
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Starvation was a bitter companion. Since becoming a vampire, Eric had never gone this long without blood, and as the hours passed, his mind began to play tricks on him. With every turn he made, he witnessed Megan’s death, each time a more brutal death than the last.
Everything he saw was washed in a permanent crimson haze, and his fangs would not retreat no matter what he tried. But still he pressed forwards.
After his initial desperate defeat, Eric had noticed something. It was small, and he almost missed it, but it was there. A soft pull around his heart, like a wire tightening and humming, pulling him blindly towards the mountains, and the closer he got, and the more frightened Megan became, the stronger it was.
For the first night in weeks, the seemingly endless snow had finally stopped falling. The inky black sky was alive with a blanket of stars, and the moon shone brightly, casting a silver glow upon the snowy ground.
Eric was closing in on the first mountain, the base of it finally coming into sight. He pushed himself a bit harder, trying to run faster. He kept Megan’s smile at the forefront of his mind, pushing away all other thoughts. It was her smile that kept him moving. The coy curve of her lips, as if she had a secret that she was inviting him to share—only him. He wondered what she would think when she realized that he was more than just a dream. Would she welcome him? Would she feel the same insistent pull to be near him as he did to her?
Suddenly, the only thing Eric could smell was blood. The sounds of nature were drowned out by a rhythmic pulse, thumping in a slow and even beat, pushing the steaming, mouthwatering liquid through a waiting vein.
His throat burned, and his teeth throbbed. The scent overtook him, clogging his other senses, and robbing him of his restraint. Before he knew it, he zoned in on it, and his course shifted, veering to the right. Something inside him, deep within his belly growled. He needed food. And he needed it now.
As he raced towards the waiting vein, his mind tried to rationalize the persistent hunger that raged through him. Being a vampire had its perks. Immortality, strength, speed, mind control; all of it was a bit unbelievable, and delightfully thrilling. And Eric knew that all of their gifts centered on human blood. Without it, they would not be able to access the power they could wield. And without that power, he would never find her. Yes, Eric thought, I’m hunting for Megan. He knew the thought was ridiculous, and that hunting was taking him away from his mission, but he couldn’t stop.
Eric broke through the trees, and his eyes landed on a tiny whitewashed cottage, nestled in between two towering oaks at the base of the mountain. It was surrounded by a white picket fence, and it almost looked like a dollhouse against the trees.
He stopped, backing up a few steps, and slinked behind the tree line for cover, his eyes scanning for the humans that he could smell.
At first, Eric almost missed them in the dark. But something shifted, something brown, fabric, and his eyes zoned in on them. Three men, all wearing dark cloaks.
Eric snarled; the sound echoed off the mountain. It was them. The ones chasing her. Adrenaline surged through him like a live wire, and he sprung forwards without thought. He made quick work of the first two, on them and snapping their necks in less than a second. Eric spun to the third one, his face masked by the hood of the cloak, and he stalked towards him.
The man didn’t move. He didn’t draw the bow that he had dangling in his hand; he didn’t even flinch when Eric pounced on him. Eric grabbed the itchy fabric around the man’s throat and pushed the hood from his head.
The man locked challenging eyes with Eric, but he did not flinch. “More are here, and more will come,” the man said with a throaty chuckle. Eric snarled. All he saw was this man chasing Megan. Whether he had been or not, it didn’t matter. Eric bared his fangs and sunk his teeth into the man’s neck.
“Eric, stop!” Megan’s voice shrieked, rupturing in his ears.