Is it wrong to love a vampire?

Chapter 39

Sam’s bones ached, her muscles stiff as her eyelids stayed glued together. She groaned, her mind traveling back to the fight at home.

Heels clicking against a stone floor echoed in Sam’s ears.

She opened her eyes to a blurry vision. A blob of yellow and red kneeled down in front of her.

‘Wakey, wakey Nathanial’s EX-girlfriend.’ Isabella’s voice broke into Sam’s mind. ‘Nick said to dispose of you but I want to do it slowly, inflicting as much pain as possible before throwing you into the trash.’ Sam could hear the smile as she spoke.

Sam shook her head, trying to restore her vision. Isabella grabbed her face, her manicured nails dug into Sam’s cheeks.

‘We are going to have so much fun. You and I.’ Isabella said with a sadistic smile.

Isabella let go, pushing Sam’s head into the stone wall behind. A small smile played at Isabella’s lips at the crack that bounced off the walls. She stood up and moved towards the other end of the room, her steps purposefully slow.

Sam tried to follow after her but something pulled her back. She struggled to raise her foggy head to gaze at the rusty chains.

‘Bad girl.’ Isabella said, her dead voice bouncing off the stone.

A plain blood splattered wooden table lay in the middle of the room, a collection of knives, maces and whips were spread across the table. Isabella fingered each weapon, touching the layered blood stains on each one. Sam stiffened as Isabella studied the table. The sound of metal being drawn rang in Sam’s ears. Isabella turned around, a long jaggered blade held delicately in her hand. She ran her thumb across the sharp blade, drawing her own blood.

‘Perfect.’ Isabella purred to the blade.

She made her way back to Sam, the weapon dangling in her hand, Isabella’s eyes roamed, searching for the most painful place to start.

‘I know, I don’t really need this. I could just use my own hands and rip out that dead heart of yours.’ Isabella giggled. ‘But it feels so fitting to destroy you with the blade that ended your family.’

A tidal wave of emotion crashed against Sam, battering her well protected heart again and again. The wall started to crumble and sent Sam to the floor, her knees crashing against the stone and her arms yanked hard against the chains.

A curved blood splatter against the wood wall, two drops racing each other to the floor.

Sam was thrown back to that day with a punch to the gut.

She remembered how orange the sun was as they walked through the door, how she watched it disappear beneath the horizon and dragged the stars behind it.

Her parents were yelling at Jet, calling him irresponsible for taking a six year old to an active battlefield. Jet rebutted with how indestructible he was. This flew her mother into a rage, screaming about Sam’s mortality and how Jet needed to show some responsibility if he was going to survive hidden in this world.

Sam could still feel the rough cotton of her bed sheets as her mother tucked her in that night.

A phantom kiss plastered on her temple.

Her mother’s whispered words about protecting Jet’s heart and keeping him safe from the world.

Words that made no sense to a small child but she readily agreed. Waiting for the smile to take over her mother’s gentle face, which it always did. Lighting up those blue eyes and pale hair.

Sam’s mother was a beauty, with the anger of a beast. Her mother stroked her arm, fussing over her sheets and refusing to move.

‘Samantha.’ Her mother’s mouth moved. ‘You’re not listening to me.’