8. Aria
8
ARIA
M aybe I shouldn't, but I am unbelievably attracted to Christos. His athletic build, bright green eyes, and thick, wavy dark hair would have any girl falling for him.
But I can't shake the feeling that he's hiding something. He disappears frequently, gone for nearly a day, and won't tell me where he's been. He just tells me not to leave.
Every time he returns from one of his mysterious trips, his eyes are shadowed, his shoulders slumped. But as soon as he sees me, his face lights up, and my heart skips a beat.
"You're back," I say, unable to keep the relief from my voice.
He nods, running a hand through his dark hair. "I am. Did you stay inside like I asked?"
I bristle at the question. "I'm not a child, Christos. I can take care of myself."
His lips quirk into a half-smile. "I don't doubt that for a second."
I want to press him for answers, to unravel the mystery surrounding him and this place. But something in his expression stops me. Instead, I find myself drawn to him, noticing the way his pale skin seems to glow in the dim light of the cabin.
"Are you okay?" I ask, stepping closer. I'm not even sure why I care. "You look... drained."
Christos tenses, then forces a smile. "I'm fine. Just tired."
I reach out, my fingers brushing his arm. He flinches, but doesn't pull away. "You can talk to me, you know. Whatever's going on, I want to help."
His green eyes lock with mine, filled with an intensity that takes my breath away. "Aria, I—" He stops, shaking his head. "It's complicated. And dangerous. The less you know, the safer you are."
"I'm a journalist, Christos. Danger is part of the job description."
He laughs, a low, rumbling sound that sends shivers down my spine. "You're something else, you know that?"
I grin, emboldened by his reaction. "So I've been told."
For a moment, we stand there, the air between us charged with unspoken tension. I want to close the distance, to feel his arms around me. Even though I shouldn't. I have this nagging suspicion that there's more to Christos than meets the eye.
He breaks the silence first, clearing his throat. "You should get some rest. It's late."
I nod, reluctantly stepping back. "Will you be here in the morning?"
Christos hesitates, then nods. "I'll be here."
As I turn to go, I catch a glimpse of something in his eyes – a mixture of longing and regret that makes my heart ache. Whatever secrets he's keeping, I'm determined to uncover them. Not just for the sake of my investigation, but because I'm falling for him, despite my better judgment.
I can't take it anymore. Two days later, Christos is gone and I can't be cooped up in this cabin any longer, especially with Christos's vague warnings echoing in my head. My journalistic instincts are screaming at me to investigate.
Heart pounding, I slip out of the cabin. The forest is eerily quiet as I creep towards the clearing I glimpsed before. As I get closer, I hear voices - hushed, urgent tones that send a chill down my spine.
I duck behind a tree, peering around it cautiously. What I see makes my blood run cold.
A man - pale as death - has his mouth latched onto another's neck. I clap a hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp. Vampires? It can't be real, and yet...
Before I can process what I'm seeing, a twig snaps behind me. I whirl around, coming face to face with a creature straight out of a nightmare.
It looks human, but its eyes are wild, feral, despite how beautiful its features are. Its mouth opens in a snarl, revealing razor-sharp fangs. Without warning, it lunges at me.
I scream, throwing myself to the side. Fingers graze my arm, tearing through my sleeve and drawing blood with how hard the pressure is. The pain is sharp, immediate.
I want to scream, but I don't want to attract more of them. Now, I see why Christos kept telling me it was dangerous, but…is this what he is, too? Why hasn't he attacked me?
The creature - is it a vampire too? - stalks towards me, its eyes fixed on the blood trickling down my arm. I look around frantically for a weapon, anything I can use to defend myself.
My hand closes around a fallen branch. I swing it wildly as the creature lunges again. It connects with a sickening thud, but barely slows the monster down.
A hand rakes across my shoulder, feeling more like I've been slammed into with a brick. I cry out in pain and terror. This can't be happening. It can't be real. But the pain, the fear - it's all too visceral.
I manage to get to my feet, but adrenaline pounds through me. The creature circles me, toying with its prey. Its tongue darts out, licking blood-stained lips.
"Please," I whimper, knowing it's futile. This thing isn't human. It doesn't understand mercy.
It pounces. I raise my arms in a pitiful attempt to protect myself, bracing for the killing blow.
Just as I brace for the impact, a blur of motion catches my eye. Suddenly, Christos is there, inserting himself between me and the creature with inhuman speed.
"Run, Aria!" he shouts, his voice strained.
But I can't move. I'm frozen, watching in horror and awe as Christos grapples with the monster. His movements are a blur, faster than should be possible. The creature snarls, lashing out with his bare hands and teeth bared. Christos dodges, but not quite fast enough. Blood blossoms on his shirt where fingers rake across his skin. .
I gasp, the sound barely audible over the feral growls and the sound of fists connecting with flesh. Christos fights with a strength that defies belief, throwing the creature back with enough force to splinter a nearby tree.
But the monster is relentless. It springs back, fangs bared. They clash again, a whirlwind of pale limbs and flashing teeth. Christos takes hit after hit, each one making me wince. Yet he keeps fighting, placing himself between the creature and me every time it tries to lunge in my direction.
"Christos!" I cry out as the creature rakes across his back, tearing his shirt to shreds. Blood wells up from the wounds, but Christos doesn't falter.
With a roar that sounds barely human, Christos grabs the creature by the throat and hurls it away. It crashes through the underbrush, the sound of breaking branches echoing through the forest. For a moment, everything is still. Then we hear it - the sound of rapid footsteps retreating into the distance.
Christos stands there, chest heaving, his pale skin marred with cuts and bruises. His eyes, when they meet mine, are wild, almost feral. For a moment, I'm not sure if he recognizes me.
"Christos?" I whisper, taking a tentative step forward.
He blinks, and the wildness recedes. "Aria," he breathes, relief evident in his voice. Then his legs give out, and he collapses to his knees.
I rush to his side, my own injuries forgotten. Up close, I can see the extent of the damage. Deep gashes crisscross his torso and back, blood seeping from wounds that should have killed a normal man.
"Oh God, Christos," I murmur, my hands hovering over him, unsure where to touch without causing more pain. "What... what was that thing? What are you?"
He looks up at me, his green eyes filled with a mixture of pain and resignation. "I'm sorry, Aria," he says, his voice weak. "I never wanted you to find out like this."
I shake my head, knowing that we can't stay out here, not with me bleeding. Looping my arm around him, I pull him to his feet. "Let's get back to the cabin."