Cold One

Four: Rosaline Winter

I open my eyes slowly, remembering faintly about what happened last night.

How I regenerated so painfully hard.

That was the first time I regenerate that much. I've lived for hundred years but it was very new to me to have my ribcages broken, my chest painted with deep colored bruises and my skin painted with so much blood from myself. And all those pain were carved by just one species; human.

Listen to me. Hold on. Just hold on. Who was the voice belong to? So gentle and soothing.

Fully opening my eyes, to say that I'm surprised with my surroundings would be an understatement.

A room. A bedroom. I've been here for two nights and all I've ever seen is the basement with hard, cold floor. And here I am now, in this dim lighted room and a very comfortable bed. At least the most comfortable ones I've ever been on for the last couple of tenths years.

And what surprises me most is the creature sleeping next to me.

I'm thinking of quickly getting up and run as fast as I can when a symbol tattooed to the skin of her right shoulder blade catches my attention.

The symbol, I recognize it so well.

It frightens me and amazes me all at once.

Vixen.

I've imagined making encounter with them before, imagining how I'd snap their heads from their body and spit at their blood. I'd heard a lot from them, even once seeing them from far.

They're no men, rumors told about them. But they're able to shatter their enemies into tiny little pieces and burn their ashes to the ground.

But I've never heard anyone said that they would look this young and... angelic.

My hand, it moves toward the symbol as it was moving by itself.

What are you doing?! My subconscious hisses inside me. But I ignore it. I just need to know if this is real, if this is really happening. I want to prove myself that the Vixen really exists, and one of them is sleeping beside me.

One light touch.

Her skin feels warm against my fingertips, and touching the Vixen symbol on her skin sends shiver down my spines.

But this is probably a very bad decision to touch her. Because in a split second, she opens her eyes, making me pull my hand as fast as I can and freeze in my place with fear in my eyes.

Her grey eyes stare up to my face, her expression and her eyes are unreadable.

Seconds ticking. I would say my heartbeat feels quicken but my heart doesn't even have a beat anymore. Dead people don't have heartbeats.

She gets up from the bed into a sitting position as well and her eyes scan over me.

Her hand, it moves toward my face, making me flinch in bad thoughts. The last time human's hand touched my face was to punch me. But this human, however, she places her hand gently in the side of my face, tilt it barely to the side, just to have a good look at the bruise in my skin.

"Are you alright?" She asks me, barely having any specific tone. Her voice, it's not warm and friendly, but not rough either. It sounds smooth and icy. A little too cold. Deep and a little raspy.

My voice feels like it's trapped under my throat.

Instead of answering, I move my face away from her hand and move myself as far as I can from her. "Don't touch me." I wish the words sound as a threat, but it sounds like a scared little child instead.