His eyes, those beautiful ice blue eyes are coated in red, what almost looks like blood running down his cheeks.
Then everything goes black.
Same Old Song and Dance
Ipace the cabin anxiously, my nerves next to shot as I wait.
I clutch my love's watch to my chest, check the face, make sure the hands still move, anxiously follow their ticking, and with each second that passes beyond our agreed upon time, my heart sinks a little further.
We were to meet twenty-four minutes ago.
He promised, promised he would come, promised we would run away from the prison holding us both captive and yet I still wait.
He will come though; I have faith.
Faith in him, faith in our love, in our bond.
My heart, my love will come and we will leave this place, never to return.
My eyes flick to my beloved dog. Samson's ears twitch as he looks toward the door but I hear nothing.
Henrich is watering the horses; Milos is doing another perimeter check. They have been most vigilant in my protection, taking it very seriously as my heart has instructed. They may not be blood but they are good to my love. My heart has good brothers whom I will surely miss when we leave, the only ones I will miss when we leave.
We will see them again one day though, of that I am sure.
Perhaps we will even live close again, raise our families together.
I clutch the watch to my stomach and smile at the thought of my belly swollen and round with Havok's young. That thought alone makes my heart grow at least three sizes, gives me such joy that I may insist we try for a child as soon as we've properly mated.
Which we cannot do until we leave this place, and since my love has not yet joined me I'm beginning to fear the worst.
Something my sweet canine all but confirms as Samson gets to his feet, hackles raised, a low growl starting deep in his throat.
I reach for the dagger hidden in the pocket of my cloak, clutch it just as tightly as I hold the pocket watch.
If it were Milos or Henrich, Samson would not react in such a way; he adores those men. In his eyes they are his pack. If it were my love he would be dancing with glee, hoping that Havok brought him another sweet treat that will surely make him grow fat. My dog's reaction to whatever he hears is not usual and most definitely means there is a threat approaching, someone unknown and dangerous.
Then suddenly, my sweet and most loving furry companion is hurled through the air, his strong body slammed into the wall before he drops down to the floor with a thud.
"Samson!" I try to run to him, try to go to my beautiful boy but something holds me in place.
My feet don't move, my body goes stark still and just as the door to the tiny cabin blows open, my long braid wraps tightly around my neck and begins to squeeze on its own.
Then I see him.
A man, a long and wiry creature with skin whiter than snow, not a strand of hair on his head or face.
My braid tightens as he moves toward me, his body gliding as if his feet are not even touching the ground.
His eyes are white as well, the pupils tiny red pin pricks in the center of a foggy film that makes them appear dead. Lifeless. Soulless.
His long, black cloak billows around him as he moves closer, a sinister smile pulling at his thin cracked lips.
"You were meant to be mine, Cora.” He stretches out one long, bony finger and runs it along my cheek, the sting of his nail tearing my flesh left in its wake. "You were always meant to be mine."
My vision begins to blur as my braid cuts off my oxygen, my fingers grasp and pull, trying to loosen its hold.
“Useless." He waves his hand dismissively as he begins to circle me, this man that looks more like a monster, an emaciated beast, a corpse brought to life. "It is a pity. You are a fine specimen, one I should have liked to feast upon, one that would have bore me many a young." He fingers the top of my corset, runs the icy tip over my skin. "I can tell you have the genetics of a vampyr in your makeup somewhere, you have the traits that I find necessary for proper breeding. It is unfortunate that you had to go and sully what was mine for the sorry excuse of an immortal—Havok."
