Blood & Power [Book One of The City of Eternity Series] [✔]

1.2: Endure

The fearsome newcomer lingered like a shadow outside the lobby door as I caught up to her, her features barely touched by the nearby streetlight, casting her in an eerie, otherworldly glow. With a primal intensity, she tore open one of the packs I had stowed in her backpack, using her teeth with a savage grace. As the plastic yielded, crimson blood spilt forth onto the pavement before the building, a vibrant contrast against the muted hues of the night. For an instant, she snarled at the lost blood, a fleeting display of frustration, before her focus returned to the remaining contents within the pack, her eyes wide and hollow, gleaming with an insatiable hunger.

In mere moments, her face was transformed into a mask of scarlet. I stood mere arm's length away, a witness to her ravenous consumption as she poured the life-giving fluid into her mouth. The deep richness of her dark complexion became a canvas for the crimson liquid, a decoration that seemed to blend seamlessly with her essence like an accessory.

She raised her head slowly as I approached, her darkened eyes fixing on mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. I struggled to reconcile with the profound changes that had overtaken her in such a short period; the animalistic tendencies she had picked up in the past few months were frightening. What I had met in her humanity, the fragility, the weakness, seemed long gone now.

Blood trickled down her neck, staining the pristine white fabric of her shirt, and saturating the material around the collar. At first, I hadn't noticed the pained expression etched upon her face, a subtle undercurrent of fear. It was her eyes that betrayed her inner turmoil, revealing a profound sense of terror. With each swallow, she seemed to confront the depths of her newfound cravings, it wasn't a sudden understanding of what she had come to be, but rather a realisation that had been tip-toeing towards the door of her consciousness and preparing to knock.

I stood before her as she dropped the empty pack to the ground, my arms outstretched. She hesitated for a fleeting moment before enveloping me in a vice-like grip. Her hug was unexpectedly strong, holding onto me with a desperation that bordered on life-threatening. She pressed her entire being against me, her face nestled tightly against my shoulder. Allowing myself to relax, I slumped slightly, my muscles loosening as I felt her calm against my embrace, seeking solace in my arms. My gaze drifted to the gravel below, a sense of weariness settling over me, the tiny stones bearing witness to our moment of quiet vulnerability. Despite the absence of physical warmth in our embrace, it still allowed me to ignore the sunken feeling in my stomach, replacing it momentarily with a tiresome hunger instead.

My focus shifted to comforting her, knowing she was grappling with the fragile remnants of her humanity, not quite ready to let go. Treating her with the care reserved for a child, like tending to a delicate flower, I understood her need for protection while respecting her fierce determination to assert her independence. She was on the verge of confronting the second phase that most newly turned vampires experience— beyond the awe of newfound strength and the sensory richness of her heightened existence.