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A decade ago, a blood war took place emerged from the taboos of young Romeo and Juliet; a vampire and a mortal. As the tragedy goes, together, the paramours are bound to be led to the bite of awakening an impeccable and ravenous baby bi...
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Scott's body fell on the floor, motionless, revealing the culprit behind him: Agnes. The question "why" seeped into her blood and paralyzed her brain, her pupils became dilated and there was a tremor in her hands. One word out of the witch's mouth calling her name, and she blew.
The wind ran from within her as if it has been restrained for time out of mind, thrashing the remaining bits of the broken furniture around the cottage. The ground began shaking, the lights flickering, only Agnes remained unaffected by the pressure of the raging air in the room. The raindrops outside chilled to ice and the noise of the blocks hitting the roof added to the rising commotion.
When she let out a hurling scream, a foreign voice vibrated like an deep soulish echo. Her body moved on its own accord. In the blink of an eye, she was in front of the murderer, flashing her fangs as a means of threat. Her sudden increase in speed put the witch off but it wasn't enough to land a scratch on her.
"Raven!" she yelled. "You have to understand that this was the only way to liberate you from yourself. You'll only become hungrier if you feed on something you're not meant to."
Blinded by rage, she disregarded her incomprehensive words and took a huge leap towards her. Before she was in reach, she felt a sudden pressure on her stomach stopping her mid-air. A familiar presence from behind pulled her backwards, an arm snaking around her waist.
She flinched, instinctively baring her teeth at the new threat, aiming for his neck. Just as her fangs touched his cold skin, she froze. Wafting in his puissant scent, sanity returned to her clouded mind.
"Cross," she called, taking a step back to stare into his bloodshot eyes. "You. . ."
"Red, get away—" before Agnes could finish, a force prompted by her anger sent him flying to the other end of the cottage and through the concrete wall.
"You didn't have to kill him," her vehement voice echoed throughout the woods. The guilt that swallowed her previously vanished, like she has completely given up on caring about his awareness of her true feelings, and replaced with an intense impression of regret.
His body was leaned against a tree that slowly fell, cut in half where the impact was made. He grabbed his knee for support when standing back up, attempting to catch her attention. "Raven."
It made her blood boil—watching him keep his calm while not dodging any of her attacks, knowing full well that he could've stopped them. "You were never there when I needed you most. I can't believe I let you abandon me twice."
The witch interrupted, "Wrong. You abandoned him."
"Listen to me, Rave." In an instant, Cross closed the distance between them and told her, "This was the only option I could think of to make you happy. Turn him."
She froze. Her heart fell from disbelief upon hearing his bestial logic. Chest heavy and her voice barely audible, she reasoned, "And can you please tell me how a lifetime with the thought that I stole a husband, a father and the monarch of an entire kingdom, is going to make me happy? Don't you understand, Cross? You never ask for what I—"
"I know what you want, Raven! Your blood tells me your innermost desires. I don't need you to tell me because I've always known," he asseverated, his voice gradually getting softer. "What you want was always him."
Tears welled up in her eyes as remorse began arising from deep within her. She leaned onto him for support as her legs gave out from the commotion she caused earlier. "But I truly did love you."
"I knew. And so do I," he replied, calmly. "But I'm the same guy who killed a hundred nobles, including your parents and mine. If Freya wasn't a noble. . . no, it was for my own selfish reasons."
In weeping there hides truth, a story told in tears. They escaped her eyes in such generous streams. Unable to choke them back, she swept her hair out of the way and exposes her neck for him to feed on.
His pupils reflected the color of the moon, a deep crimson red, before switching back to his empty dark ones. "Raven," he warned.
"Confirm my feelings now, love."
He hissed, clearly fighting himself as his eyes flickered back and forth. As a result of holding back for months, the moment he lost to his desires, his fangs sucked on her thin skin without hesitation. A toxic yet sweet combination: a mixture of grief, regret and love. Grief for accepting the passing of a loved one. Regret was directed towards him, from her soul abandoning his. And most of all, love.
He pulled away and just when she thought he was done, another hole on her shoulder was opened.
"Cross," she called, lightheaded from his fast feeding but didn't say anything to follow, empathizing with this being his last supper.
"Sorry," he gulped. "Just go."
Silently, she walked out the door, leaving nothing behind but the lingering scent of her blood on his lips.
