He's A Monster

Just A Few Scratches

Marshal's perspective (POV)

Her body was slumped forward, curls spilling over her pale face like a curtain. Her lashes rested against her cheeks, too still, too quiet.

"Miss," I whispered, leaning down. My fingers brushed the damp strands from her neck, revealing the dark spill of blood. The scent hit me instantly. I gathered her up, shouldering the door until it gave way, glass shattering under the force. Rain lashed my skin as I carried her against my chest, her warmth faint but still there.

"You'll be fine," I murmured, though my pulse betrayed me.

I moved quickly into the trees, mud sucking at my boots, the air thick with the storm. My hand pressed against her wound, fighting to keep her tethered. When I glanced back, I caught sight of a figure by the wrecked car, blond hair catching what little light there was. Karen. My jaw tightened.

Still, I kept moving. Her pulse fluttered against my fingertips: fragile, intoxicating. The metallic tang clawed at my throat, begging to be tasted.

"Looks like your friend hates me enough to put your life in danger, love," I muttered bitterly, forcing myself to focus on her weakening heartbeat.

By the time I reached the cabin, my chest felt tight. Alex was waiting, his sharp eyes already prying.

"Who is this, Marshal?"

"A girl from school."

"Oh? So you think it's alright to kill a girl and drag her home?"

"I didn't touch her." My voice broke as I lowered her onto the couch, my hands slick with her blood. "We wrecked, alright? I was just taking her home and, damn it, Alex, I can't do this. There's too much blood. I can't."

"You've had years to cope with the scent of blood."

"Well, I can't!" I snapped, teeth aching with restraint.

His warning tone grated. "Watch that mouth."

I ignored him, scooping her up again, carrying her to my room. The clean sheets looked like snow under her broken body. I bent low, unable to resist anymore. My tongue traced the wound, the sharp tang hitting my lips. Her blood filled my mouth, and my hunger pressed to the surface. My teeth grazed her skin before I forced myself to slow, to seal the wound instead of tearing it open.

Her breathing steadied. New skin knitted where the gash had been.

"Marshal?" Her eyes opened wide with terror and wonder.

I met her gaze, lips still stained. "I'm an Upir." The truth slipped out bluntly, almost laughable in its simplicity.

She touched her throat, astonished. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

"Good." My voice came out rough. I looked away, catching my reflection in the dark window, blood across my mouth, eyes blackened with hunger. Why didn't she fear me?

When I turned back, her tank strap had slipped from her pale shoulder, her scratched cheek catching the lamplight.

"Marshal... don't you like me?"

I swallowed the question, staring past her, pulling at my collar as heat rose under my skin. "I don't know how to get you home."

Later, when she called her mother on Alex's phone, I watched her twist and fumble with excuses, her cheeks coloring. Seventeen. Just a girl. Too soft, too kind. And yet, I couldn't tear myself away.

She returned the phone, settling back onto the bed. "So... Upir is like a vampire, right?"

I stripped out of my shirt, smirking as her eyes lingered. "You could say that."

Her blush deepened. I stretched out beside her, staring at the ceiling while the rain drummed steadily above us.

"I love the rain," she whispered.

"I do too," I murmured. "The angels are crying."

"They've seen all the ugliness of the world."

I turned my head, studying her. "Like me?"

"There's nothing ugly about you, Marshal."

"You're too kind," I muttered, almost smiling.

"I'm just honest."

I laughed bitterly. "Look at me."

She did. Her gaze didn't waver. I reached up, thumb brushing her cheek, then the corner of her lips. She closed her eyes, parting them slightly under my touch.

"Oh, Miss," I whispered, leaning close. "You're much too forgiving of me."

Her answer was soft, steady. "Is that such a bad thing?"

I leaned closer still, her heartbeat a calm rhythm under my hand.

"Not for me," I breathed.