Struck (A Vampire Novel) ✔

Prologue

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Under no circumstances is this story to be replicated, translated, and/or distributed in any way without the permission of the author.

{{Warning: Some scenes may be unsuitable for audiences below the age of 15 and offensive to those of all ages. Read at your own risk.}}

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He was sprinting through the trees as fast as he could, barely touching the ground and twisting past obstacles in a way that seemed as though he was passing through them. The pure panic under his skin prevented him from avoiding some trees, which he then would knock down as though they were nothing. All he knew was that he had to find her, that he could no longer feel her, and that he had to save her.

It was with this desperation that he arrived upon the top of a hill, centered in a clearing, where he finally found her. To him, it felt like he stared at her for hours, as though time no longer existed or mattered. To an outsider, he only hesitated for a fraction of a second before he sprinted forward to lift her off of the stake she'd been bound to and grasped her body in his arms.

Her raven hair was blowing lightly in the wind, strands falling between his fingers as he moved his eyes over her unresponsive face. Her pale blue eyes were glazed over and staring into nothingness. Her fangs peeked under her lips in a long-useless threat, her voice silenced by a silver stake which was still held through her heart.

He felt many things. He felt his coterie closing in on his location, desperate to find both of them. He felt the sun rising slowly over the horizon. He felt the loss of her, forever gone from his life. And he felt the rage. He felt the rage that boiled inside and caused a roar to erupt from his lips which had nothing to do with the sun burning against the flesh of his back.