35. Sapphire

Sapphire

In one week, I’ve gone from thinking I’m human, to thinking I’m fae, and now to thinking I have a mix of both fae magic and vampire magic.

It’s likely why I’ve always loved my meat rare—bloody—even though fae are natural vegetarians. Because I need blood to survive. Not straight blood like vampires require, but enough to satisfy whatever vampire magic runs inside me.

At the thought of blood, a sudden, fierce hunger sears through me, sharp and all-consuming. It’s different from the quiet, gnawing hunger I’ve felt in the past. This is primal—a need that coils in my chest and twists down to my core, demanding to be satisfied.

My eyes drop to Zoey’s bandaged arm, her blood already seeping through the torn cloth. Its spicy, chocolatey scent fills my senses, and my mouth waters, desperate for a taste.

It’s quickly replaced by bile creeping up my throat, and I back away, putting space between us, horrified at myself. The thought of taking from Zoey, of drinking from her to sate this need—it’s monstrous.

I tear my gaze away from her, squeezing my eyes shut and focusing on the icy air biting at my cheeks, trying to cool down my appetite.

The hunger doesn’t wane. It’s a steady thrum in my veins, making my vision pulse with it and my bones ache.

My tears are freezing on my cheeks when a breeze sweeps past, and with it, a scent that makes me freeze.

Metallic and rich, tinged with the coldness of death.

The dark angel’s blood.

My eyes fly open, and I look over at his body, his wings sprawled across him like remnants of a storm. The wound on his back is seeping blood, the bright red pooling in the snow around him, tempting me in a way I never would have believed possible even a day ago.

His body is dead, but his blood is fresh. It calls to me, singing with a promise of strength and satisfaction, despite the revulsion at myself surging beneath the craving.

It’s this or nothing, a pragmatic, cold voice whispers at the edge of my mind .

Zoey won’t make it without help. Neither will I.

And here this man is—a man who violated me in the worst way in my life—lying there like freshly caught prey.

He’s my prey.

I push myself to my feet, my legs trembling and my heart thundering with a mix of fear and anticipation as I stumble toward his body. As I get closer, the scent grows stronger. It drowns out everything else—the freezing wind, the burn in my muscles, even the steady thud of my heart.

All I can think about is how close I am to regaining the strength I need. The strength Zoey needs me to have.

Finally, I reach him and kneel beside him. The wound is deep, his blood staining the snow. I take a deep breath, and the hunger claws again, urgent and insistent.

“I’m sorry,” I say, and I dip my fingers into the wound, bringing them to my lips.

An electric current snaps through me, my vision sharpening in seconds. But I’m only able to enjoy it for a moment. Because a pang of sharp pain cuts through my gums—sudden and fierce, like an injection at the site of a wound.

I wince, my hand flying to my mouth as the unmistakable points of fangs push through.

Hunger twists at my stomach, stronger than before.

I need more. And I’m going to have it .

I roll him over, although his wings break as I do, and study him for a few moments.

He’s just as beautiful in death as in life. Sharp features, and inky black eyes that are darker than a moonless night. It’s haunting, and mesmerizing, and horrifying all at once.

But I’m not here to admire the beauty of whatever species he is.

I’m here to satiate the hunger roaring inside me like a hurricane.

My gaze shifts to his neck. To the same spot where his fangs broke my skin— where he drank from me to taste my blood and my fear.

He’s going to pay for what he did to me. Not only that, but he’s going to strengthen me in the process.

And so, with a growl that sounds more animal than human, I lean down and bite, my new fangs piercing his cold, tender skin.

The taste of his blood floods my senses, warm and powerful, rushing through me like wildfire. I’ve never experienced something this satisfying in my life, and as I continue to drink, my exhaustion vanishes, replaced by a fierce, revitalizing heat that seeps into my muscles and sharpens my mind.

It’s dark. Potent. And with each fresh pump of his blood through my body, I regain strength, clarity, and control .

I’m not the prey anymore.

I’m the predator.

And I’m absolutely relishing in my latest kill.

Eventually, the rush of blood slows to a trickle, and I bite down harder, desperate for every last drop inside him. But there’s nothing left. As hard as I try, I come back empty.

Enough, I tell myself, and I pull back, my face flushed, newfound power pulsing through my veins.

His beauty’s still there, despite his deathly pale skin, his neck marred by my bite.

You did this to him, a small voice sounds in my mind. You killed him. You fed from him. You’re a murderer. A monster.

The world narrows around us—just me and this dark angel, one of us alive, and one of us very, very dead. But as I look down on him, all I see are his eyes, predatory and merciless as he fought me, pinned me down, and took the very source of what keeps me alive.

He did this to himself. He didn’t have to fight me. He didn’t have to fling Zoey aside like a piece of trash.

But he did.

It was either going to be him or me, and I’m glad it was him.

Not wanting to look at him a second more, I stand and rush back over to Zoey.

The bruise on her head is worse, and her blood is already dotting the fabric of the recent makeshift bandage.

I kneel beside her, slide my arms beneath her, and stand. The weight that felt insurmountable moments ago is nothing now. She’s light—strangely light—and her breath, while still shallow, is there.

“We’re going to make it,” I tell her, holding her close as I turn to the forest, stride toward it, and step into the trees, setting off along the path to Riven’s cave.

I still don’t know if I can trust him.

I still don’t know what he’ll want from me when—if—he comes for us.

And I don’t know if he purposefully sent us across that ravine so the dark angel would find us and attack.

But I do know this: I’m stronger than ever. And if he tries anything against me, he’s going to discover just how dangerous I can be.