Destiny has left its mark (Vampire Romance) +

16 ~ Hero

"She's awake," a soft, gentle female voice whispers, floating through the haze of my foggy mind as I blink my eyes open. The unfamiliar ceiling above me is the first clue that I'm not at home; I came here with Elijah. Suddenly, memories come rushing back, a flood of vivid flashbacks about what happened before I passed out. I remember the intense surge of power that coursed through me... but how could that be? I'm a reject, someone who shouldn't possess magic. I need to talk to Elijah, to get answers about everything that's happened.

As I slowly sit up, taking in my surroundings, I realize I'm on a plush couch in a cosy living room. The scent of lavender and fresh linen hangs in the air, mixing with the warmth of the crackling fireplace nearby. A woman with a kind smile stands close by, dressed in a neat maid uniform, her long salt-and-pepper hair tied back meticulously. Her presence feels gentle, yet there's an undercurrent of unease in this place. My eyes drift to Abraham, who is seated in a nearby armchair, watching me with an expression I can't quite decipher.

"When did you get here?" I ask, expecting a friendly smile, but he doesn't return it. The absence of warmth in his gaze is unsettling, a cold reminder of the distance that has grown between us.

"I can't get used to you looking like this. You look better than before, but..." His tone is laced with regret, and I feel my heart sink. "You're not the person I knew."

"You're treating me like a stranger now?" I shoot back, my voice sharp. His eyes, once so animated and filled with trust, now appear sad and tired. He avoids my gaze, which hurts more than I can express.

I glance over at the woman, trying to regain some control over this conversation. "Can you give us a minute? Alone?" I hope to create a space where we can talk without interruptions.

She hesitates, looking somewhat uncomfortable. "I don't think that would be proper," she replies gently, as if trying to maintain some kind of decorum.

Abraham stands up, a flicker of impatience crossing his face. "I have something to do," he says flatly, avoiding my eyes.

"Why do I feel like you don't want to know me anymore? Did something happen while I was out?" My voice trembles, desperation leaking through.

"I'm sorry," he replies, his tone distant. "Maybe I liked the old you too much." Hearing that stings sharper than any physical wound.

"I am still me," I press, standing my ground.

"You aren't the person I knew, Daniella. You are the king's mate now," he says it like a final verdict, and I feel the weight of his words crashing down on me.

Tears start streaming down my cheeks, unbidden. "I didn't say I'm his mate. I am still me," I insist, my heart aching at the thought of losing not just my identity but him as well.

"I have to go," he states simply, starting to walk out. He leaves the door open, a physical representation of the emotional gulf that's growing between us.

"Wait." I rush to catch up with him, panic rising within me. "Where's Ellie?" I ask, hoping for good news.

"She's been caught. Turns out she's Beverly's niece. They found each other when they were younger," he says without turning back, his hands shoved in his pockets like they always are when he's troubled.

Have I lost his friendship? The thought is overwhelming, and I hug myself tightly, wanting to run after him, to bring back the connection we once shared. I need a friend right now. I promised myself I'd get out of this mess, and now it feels like I'm losing everything. I wipe a tear from my cheek, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

The young woman speaks behind me, pulling me from my spiralling thoughts. "The king is waiting for you, ma'am." Her voice is polite but firm, reminding me of the gravity of my situation.