7. she who haunts me

7

she who haunts me

Rivian

TWO YEARS AGO - September 21st

It was a typical night on the cusp of fall; leaves changed into mesmerizing colors and the air shifted into a cool breeze as I drove into Valor Cove territory to acquire a certain vampire who couldn’t wait to get herself into trouble.

Troy was invited out to a party with some girls she knew—that girl has friends all over the world. And though invites into other societies aren’t entirely welcomed thanks to the treaty, occasionally the doors will open up for celebration of death days or coronations and such amongst friends and rivals alike, which allows for some of the greatest parties.

Once night falls, Nocturnes of all kinds have the right to travel outside of their compounds’ restrictions to do whatever they please, so long as they make it back before day breaks.

There are two options for main transportation for Nocturnes. Travel by traditional motorized vehicles or public transportation, or manifestation . Any vampire can manifest its being into a place they desire to be, the only hindrance to that is if they are not in the right state of mind. We need to have full awareness in order to harness the ability to control ourselves so that we may conveniently and quickly peregrinate to the places we desire. Then, we can go almost anywhere with the illusion of an apparition, suddenly appearing and disappearing whenever and wherever we wish—like that of a ghost.

Vampires can also become intoxicated. However, consumption of alcohol would need to be significantly greater than that of an Outsider. It’s safe to say that on that particular night, Troy was definitely not in her right mind, having drank far too much—a complex she enjoys showing off. Because of that, I found myself driving into a foreign town like a gentleman of a man I pretend to be.

I made my way through the mediocre house party and secured Troy who was locked up in a bathroom with some random guy. The urge to not rip his head off was strong but I didn’t feel like leaving a crime scene behind me so I grabbed my sister and took off.

As I made my drive back, thumps of the bassy music faded out as I disappeared down the road. But it soon got lost to the sound of someone screaming nearby. Normally, if I'm not the one causing the shrieks of terror, I tend to mind my own business. But this kind of blood curdling alarm sent chills down my spine; something that rang in recognition in my own head. The kind that grips your insides and pulls you tight until you feel like you can't breathe.

It was a feeling I will always remember; being drawn to the very moment I met my fate.

Pain scratched at my brain as the wicked song of cries shifted in the air. When I found the source—a small home a few blocks from where I picked up Troy—I noticed that the front door was surprisingly open. Something about the cries for help drew me in. They were the kind of cries that could make your throat go raw after so long, and I felt obligated to investigate, so I welcomed myself inside.

As I followed the echoed cries, I found myself scanning the pictures on the wall. One photo seemed to be a family picture of an older man, a sour-looking woman and two younger girls. But it was the other picture that knocked the very air out of my lungs.

A school picture of a girl who looked to be about twelve, long dark colored hair in French-braids and a pair of eyes I'd recognize anywhere. Not that I've seen her before . . . but rather her eyes. There's no mistaking a rarity in color like that.

But my thoughts were interrupted at the sound of another scream, so I proceeded toward the chaos and I was not expecting what I stumbled upon when I followed the shouts for help.

I was irate and quite frankly, a little disturbed, to see what I was witnessing. The man from the family picture had the girl from the school picture pinned underneath him, rage boiled in my veins.

I don’t often find myself in positions to occasionally murder the random strangers and enjoy myself a little midnight drink—that would be against the law. But I fancied myself tempted as I closed myself in on the inebriated bastard.

I could feel the alcohol levels he possessed, but that wasn’t the reason why he was doing what he did. I felt hatred radiate from him and he raged for a need to gain control. He was trying to punish her for something that she couldn’t have possibly done. And even if she did play a part in the crime he thought she committed, it was too dark a fate for her. Something gnawed at me to save her from that evil. Evil that brought back some triggering thoughts for me, thoughts that only fueled my desire for retribution for promises I didn’t know I could keep.

Just then I’d heard the crack of a whip, or rather his belt from what I had turned to catch sight of. The fucking bastard slapped her along her cheek; a drop of blood cried from the break in her skin. I realized I had wasted too much time and I needed to act swiftly, especially with the metallic-scented liquid quickly getting to my head.

But I had to focus on stopping this madman from harming the girl he held captive. One, I had felt some kind of irrational connection to her. But two, if she really was who I thought she was, then I was going to need her later.

It doesn’t take much to make one do what I wish, accessing the compulsion with my mind. It allows me to halt the signals in one's brain where I can control what they say or do, or what they can't say or can't do. I can make someone do anything I wish. In the instance of Lucynda's attempted rape, I rewired the thoughts that were enabling this disgusting pig's actions and had controlled his next move, making him feel nothing as he acted next.

I can make it harmless or excruciatingly painful. But I had to remember that I didn’t have time to stop to save this girl to begin with, so I made it quick, removing him from her space and forcing his mind to be trained of the thoughts that he would never lay another hand on her again, or even look at her for that matter.

Little did any of us know, I would be back not only to avenge this girl but to kickstart the plan of revenge that ran through my brain like a fucking disease.

PRESENT DAY - October 11th

She's the very thing that haunts my being when I wake and the only thing that I can seem to focus on when I lie my head down on my pillow at night. She's the one thing I can see saving me from myself and the pain I suffer every day.

But the magnitude in which she possesses, the she has me in, is something I wasn't expecting. She is undeniably the perfect candidate for what I need her for. In more ways than one.

When I first found her battered and abused, I had no idea that our untimely encounter would lead to this very moment. I take pity on innocence being molded into something formed from hatred; abused by monsters. A feeling I know all too well. She was merely a girl who already appeared to be so utterly broken.

But now, as I sit on the rustic metal chair placed just outside of the balcony to her quaint little apartment, I see a girl who has the potential to revel in her pain. I see the remnants of confidence and strength exude from her while I watch her through the window, cooking herself dinner under the dim, amber lighting of her kitchen.

She truly is remarkable; a prepossessing sight. One that I reluctantly crave, especially on nights like this. I watch her sway her body back and forth to some dark academia lo-fi sounds she has shuffling on her phone. Steam rises up from the pan of sauce she’s stirring like second nature.

I haven't seen Lucynda since the night I saved her from her father—other than my late-night stalking sessions since the week she moved in—but I was always working behind the scenes to get her here, never missing an opportunity to plot for her arrival. And when I felt her presence in Shadow Creek, I knew everything was working out perfectly. But I didn't expect this damn soul bond to tempt me the way that it has—something that I soon realized was the explanation for the gravitational pull I keep feeling for this girl.

Anima vinculums can develop pretty much the day a person is born. Typically, it creates a draw between two people but it’s strongest when they are closer to the age of transition ability, which is eighteen. The tether is of Nature’s doing and is beyond anyone's control.

Since she's moved in, I've kept my eye on her. I made it my mission to make sure that my plan follows through and that I succeed in capturing Lucynda's attention, even if it means stalking her and helping her along to make sure I get her where I need her, knowing my intentions aren't entirely pure. I know what I have to do.

Along the way, I’ve noticed her love for cooking and how she dances in the kitchen, whipping up new recipes for “dishes for one” which she finds on her Pin-Me app. How her strikingly snow-white hair is usually braided effortlessly down her back before bed, and how she loves her silk pajamas. I notice her love for reading and I can tell in her eyes when she's daydreaming. I recognize when her daydreams are of happily ever afters or that of a vengeful plot to impose harm on some of her past villains. Though, those thoughts have faded over time as she forces herself to be better than them, but I’m not entirely convinced. I know that it's what she craves most.

Though, of all the things I've watched and witnessed, this is my favorite; when she’s putting on a show for no one but herself.

Or so she thinks.

I never thought to put cameras in her home. If I’m going to gain her trust, I need to halt the invasion of privacy at some point. So, I manage to spy on her in a more personal proximity. Only getting close enough to quell the ache of needing to be near her. Despite the fact that I know my agenda requires needing her for selfish reasons, I can’t help the covetous feeling that torments me, needing to breath her very air.

Just as I decide my time is up and I’ve had enough shadowing for one evening, Lucynda turns to her sink to drain the noodles she had been boiling, and I notice one of the spaghetti straps to her dusty pink silk top slips off her shoulder. I get to my feet, feeling high from watching her so intimately; I can feel the hunger race through my veins, it's pain and adrenaline mixing in a sinful tangle of need.

Her skin looks so soft and smooth, I can practically feel her from here. The only word to accurately describe it is carnal ; the way that I need her.

She uses her thumb to pull her strap back into place and it slips again, but this time she ignores it. I can make out the trace of her breasts and her nipples start to harden. The way her body moves to the song she’s listening to and the way she bites her lip when the steam from the hot noodles stings the tips of her fingers; everything about her sets my fucking world ablaze. She's an enchantress.

And it's dangerous.

But nothing like what happens next does me in more.

Lucynda brings the pot of drained noodles back to the stove and pours the homemade sauce over them. When she reaches for the spatula to stir everything together, something seemingly catches her attention and she pauses for a moment. I can’t see what she’s looking at from here as her back is turned to me, but when she makes a slight movement to lean against the counter, I see a black widow spider crawling along her finger and up toward her wrist.

Spiders are one thing, but black widows are as deadly as vampires in the night. Yet, here she is welcoming the danger as if she has a death wish. Or maybe she craves the risk. I analyze her as she focuses on the spider crawling leisurely up her arm. Lucynda doesn’t seem afraid or even bothered. Instead, she invites the beautifully dark creature to continue its travels while she turns back to her pasta and continues to stir it, but not before lifting the spatula to her lips and licking some of the sauce from the tip.

The red substance stains her lips for a moment before she darts her tongue out and cleans it up, all while the spider is still crawling over her skin. I steady myself with one hand on the wall and the other grips at my hair in an attempt to ground myself.

She will be the death of me.

One thing about vampires is that every single feeling and emotion is intensified. Even more so with a bloodlust as angry as mine. Watching her in this exact moment causes me to severely demand control over myself. Specifically, over my sexual craving for the little temptress in front of me. Need hammers in my veins, blood rushing in waves to my cock.

“That tickles, Stella,” she whispers to the spider as its eight legs feather against her shoulder, the one that is free of her night-top’s strap. Watching the spider crawl over Lucynda's skin is a calming distraction yet somehow an aphrodisiac all the same.

Fuck.

This. Girl.

And who names a spider?

I catch my reflection in the window, my eyes are darkening, and I can feel the severe lust of the tether taking over. I try to shake it and that’s when I spot pearlescent parchment lined with gold lace and a red bow laying on top of the trash can next to the counter.

The invitation I had waiting for her at her doorstep.

Before I make my exit, I drop my head and allow myself a cool and steady breath.

Looking back up at the siren who invades my every thought, I focus my eyes on her figure and force my thoughts onto hers. On cue, she turns to look at the trash can, her eyes staring at the invite.

I knew she was going to be a challenge, but there’s nothing I won’t do to make her succumb to her destiny.

To becoming my wife.