Shadowbitten (Shadow & Light 1)

Angelica

The castle gates never creaked. Not for me. Not when I moved like a shadow. But I never trusted the path that was to easy.

I slipped into the night just past sunset, when the light had fully surrendered to dusk. The guards were busy changing shifts. No one saw me scale the ivy-wrapped wall. No one ever did. I’d done it too many times to count—but this time was different.

This time, I wasn’t running for the thrill of it.

I needed air.

I needed silence.

I was suffocating inside those stone walls—inside the weight of the crown I’d never asked for.

War with the werewolves was rising again. They keep causing conflict on the border.

Same territory. Same blood. Same endless hunger.

But none of that compared to the rage building in my chest ever since I’d heard the news.

Promised.

To him. The Vampire Prince of Velbinr. Five centuries older than me. Arrogant. Cruel. The kind of monster who smiled when he made others bleed.

And apparently, my fate.

I was too distracted and wasn’t paying attention until it was to late.

I didn’t scream when I heard it.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t breathe.

A rustle—too heavy to be wind.

A growl—low, wet, guttural.

I stilled. My hand slid instinctively to the sword strapped across my back. My other hand curled into a fist. I could already smell them.

Fae hounds.

I shouldn’t have been here.

The boundary between vampire territory and the Fae realm was marked by more than just stones or spells—it was felt. A chill in the bones. A shift in the quiet. I had crossed it without even noticing, distracted by the storm inside my head.

Normally I was careful.

Normally I wouldn’t be this stupid.

But tonight, I didn’t care. I welcomed the distraction. Even if it meant facing down something that could tear me limb from limb.

The first hound lunged from the shadows—black as pitch, eyes like dying stars. I ducked low, spun, and drew my sword in one smooth motion. Its head rolled before it even hit the ground.

The others came faster.

One bit into my shoulder. I hissed in pain, driving my blade through its gut, wrenching it free with a sickening twist. Another lunged for my throat—I let it get close before I ripped it away and slammed it into the trunk of a tree so hard it cracked.

Blood dripped down my arm. Not theirs. Mine. The bite burned, even more than I expected. Maybe Fae poison? Maybe something worse. But I wouldn’t let them take me down.

Not tonight.

I stood in the clearing surrounded by steaming bodies. Chest heaving. Muscles coiled.

Then I felt it.

A presence.

Not like the beasts.

Sharper. Brighter. Older.

Fae.

I turned, ready to run. Ready to vanish into speed and mist.

But a voice stopped me—smooth as silk, threaded with amusement.

“So… you butcher my mutts… and depart?”

I turned slowly.

He stood at the edge of the clearing, half in shadow, half bathed in moonlight. Tall. Regal. Every inch of him screamed Fae lord. But not like the stories. Not the cruel forest tricksters or flame-eyed devourers.

He was…light.

But no less lethal for it.

His hair shimmered gold, just brushing his shoulders, a few strands caught in the wind like threads of firelight. His tunic was deep blue—clean, tailored, far too refined for battle—and belted at the waist, where a long steel blade hung on his left hip. A dagger gleamed from his boot. The way he stood, I could tell he knew how to use them.

His eyes met mine—sharp and pale like starlight on snow.

Amused. Curious. Unafraid.

“I expected thieves or scouts,” he said, tilting his head. “But instead I find a vampire princess trespassing on sacred ground, gnawing on my hounds.”

I rolled my eyes. “If you trained them better, maybe they wouldn’t die so easily.”

That made him smile—just barely. “You’re bold.”

“And you’re bleeding,” I said coolly, pointing the tip of my sword toward a small cut on his forearm. He probably got that rushing through the woods. “I could extend that.”

“Oh, I think you’ve done enough.” He stepped forward, one boot crunching softly against dead leaves. “The last vampire who crossed this line didn’t make it back across.”

“I’m not most vampires.”

“No,” he said, voice dropping to something nearly reverent. “You’re not.”

I moved first.

My sword cut through the air, a flash of silver in the moonlight. He parried with fluid grace, drawing his own blade in a motion so smooth it was almost lazy.

Steel clashed. Sparks sang.

We circled.

He struck low. I dodged, pivoting, and aimed for his ribs. He twisted out of reach, blade glancing off mine with a hiss.

“You’re fast,” he noted, eyes glittering.

“You’re slow,” I countered.

He grinned—and lunged. This time he caught the edge of my sleeve, slicing fabric but not skin. I spun, dropped low, and swept his legs from under him.

He didn’t fall.

Instead, he bent backward unnaturally, flipping back to his feet with almost feline grace. Fae reflexes. Show-off.

“You’re enjoying this,” I said, breathing heavier now.

“Wouldn’t you, if death danced so beautifully before you?”

That made something dark in me stir.

I blinked. He was behind me.

No—he was trying to be.

But I was faster.

I blurred past him, my speed pulling the wind with me, and reappeared with my sword pressed to his throat. Just hard enough to break skin.

A single drop of blood welled along the blade.

And the scent of it—

Gods.

I staggered. Just slightly.

It was calling to me. Sweet and sharp and wrong in every way. My throat burned. My fangs ached.

Fae blood was poison.

Lethal.

And yet—this wasn’t like anything I’d ever smelled before. It didn’t burn my senses. It pulled at them. Like gravity. Like fate.

He looked up at me, still kneeling, calm despite the blade at his throat.

“You’re trembling,” he said softly.

I clenched my jaw. “Because I’m starving.”

“Then feed.”

I flinched. “Are you suicidal?”

“Maybe,” he murmured. “Or maybe I want to know why my blood calls to you… the way yours calls to me.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” I hissed, though my grip on the sword had begun to falter. “Fae blood will kill me. And you… you’ll beg for death by the time I’m done.”

His lips parted slightly, eyes not leaving mine. “Then let that be my end.”

My jaw clenched. I could hear the blood pumping in his veins—each beat louder than the last, echoing in my skull like war drums. It was maddening. Wrong. Impossible.

“You think this is a game?” I snapped, stepping back just enough to draw air into my lungs, though the scent of him clung like smoke. “You have no idea what happens when a vampire gives in to bloodlust.”

“And yet, here you are. Shaking.” His voice was steady, but lower now. Rougher. “Fangs out. Eyes glowing. Is it fear, or hunger?”

I didn’t answer.

Because it was both.

The sword dropped slightly in my hand. I couldn’t keep it steady. Every second I stared at the tiny line of blood on his throat, my control slipped further. My mouth was already watering.

“You don’t understand,” I whispered. “I don’t want to die.”

He raised a single golden brow. “Who said I cared?”

A low, trembling sound left my throat. My body moved before I gave it permission. One step. Then another. The sword clattered to the ground.

I hated how much I wanted him.

Not his touch. Not his voice. His blood.

It shimmered inside me like moonlight in a dark room—something sacred and profane all at once.

I grabbed the front of his tunic and shoved him back against the nearest tree. Bark splintered. He didn’t resist. Just looked at me with that same steady, maddening calm.

“This is your last chance to change your mind,” I breathed.

His voice was low. “Take what you came for.”

I snarled—and sank my fangs into his neck.

My fangs sank deep.

His blood hit my tongue like lightning.

Hot. Bright. Alive.

I braced for the burn, the poison that should’ve torn through my veins like fire. But it didn’t come. Instead, heat blossomed in my chest—spreading out like golden embers, tracing paths through dead flesh and dormant nerve endings. I felt my heart flutter. I could feel the pain on my arm. What is happening to me?

I gasped against his throat. My fingers dug into his tunic, clutching at something I didn’t understand. His breath hitched. Not in agony. But…

Gods.

Was he moaning?

His hands found my waist—not to push me away, but to steady himself. He tipped his head back farther, exposing his neck to me completely, offering himself like some willing martyr.

And I took.

I drank like I’d never tasted blood before. Because I hadn’t. Not like this. His blood was moonlight and firelight. Soft earth and sun-warmed metal. It was wrong—and it was everything.

The more I drank, the deeper it pulled me. The more I felt….alive.

And then—

Something inside me snapped.

Not pain. Not hunger.

A pull.

A tether.

Suddenly, I could feel him—his heartbeat stuttering to match mine. My heartbeat? The heat in my throat blazed into my chest, spiraling down into something deeper. I tore my mouth away with a cry, stumbling back like I’d been struck.

My lips were red. His blood painted them like war paint.

He collapsed to one knee, breathing hard, hand pressed to the bite mark. But his eyes never left mine.

Glowing.

Golden.

Changed.

I blinked—and felt it. A warmth, building low on the side of my neck. I reached up, fingertips grazing heat beneath my skin.

A mark. I could feel it forming even though I couldn’t see it yet.

“What… did you do to me?” I whispered.

The fae stood slowly, eyes wide with something close to awe.

“I could ask you the same,” he said, voice ragged.

Then his gaze dipped to my neck. His expression shifted—sharpening with something darker.

“That mark…” he murmured, eyes locked on the glow blooming at my throat. “It shouldn’t exist. Not unless…” His brow furrowed. “I”ve only heard stories. Whispers,”

My heart shuttered. The warmth beneath my skin flared like a live brand.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, voice barely more than a rasp.

But he didn’t answer. He was still staring—no, studying—me, like I was some ancient script finally decoded.

I staggered back a step, breathing hard, still tasting his blood on my tongue.

This was wrong.

This was impossible.

This was—

“I should be dead,” I whispered.

Neither of us were.

And that terrified me more than anything.

The glow on my neck pulsed.

I didn’t wait for his answer. I turned and vanished into the trees, faster than breath. I didn’t look back. I had to get away.

⚔️

Back at the castle…

The castle cellar swallowed me whole.

The heavy door slammed behind me, echoing like judgment. I collapsed against the wall, panting, my hands stained crimson. My limbs were shaking.

What the hell just happened?

I’d lost control.

I never lose control.

And that mark…

I tore at my cloak and stumbled toward the mirror. Shoved my collar down.

There—just below my jawline, glowing faintly like a whisper from the gods—a crescent moon.

“What is this?” I breathed.

I reached for it. Heat pulsed beneath my fingertips. Not painful—just present. Like it had always been there, waiting for this moment.

And then his voice echoed in my mind.

“That mark… it shouldn’t exist. Not unless…” “ I’ve only heard stories. Whispers.”

My chest ached. Not just from the mark. From everything. The pressure. The lies.

My mind twisted back to my father’s voice.

“You are betrothed, to Midus Prince of Velbinr. You will be bound the next full-moon.”

“I can’t believe he promised me to that prick,” I whispered bitterly.

Velbinr’s spoiled little tyrant. Five hundred years older and twice as cruel. My father called it duty. A legacy.

But all I saw was a gilded cage.

I wasn’t made to smile and bleed quietly on a throne beside a man who would never see me.

I was made for more than a silent vampire crown.

And whatever just happened in that forest—with him—proved it.

⚔️

The horn blew above.

Dawn.

I ran up the stairs, to my door. I sealed myself inside my chamber and collapsed into the dark. My fingers found the mark again, still pulsing like a second heartbeat.

I closed my eyes.

But the memory of his voice stayed with me.

And the taste of his blood still burned on my tongue.

“This should have killed me. It didn’t, why?”