Chapter 1
The dream always started the same. You’re at the back door, hand around the door handle. There’s a tall man on your back porch. Tall and lean with black hair slicked back. His pale hands rest against his chest as he watches you try to yank yourself away. Indecision and his green-blue stare keep you there. Panting and struggling.
There are tears on your face. One part of you wants to open the door and let the man in. Death impulse in your brain. What kind of man shows up at remote cabins in the middle of the night?
‘Fight this feeling! If he comes in, you’re dead.’ Your true voice whispering in your head.
‘Why resist sweet pet?’ That wasn’t your mental voice. It was soft. It invokes a false calm. ‘I won’t hurt you. I’ll make you know rapture with my teeth in your veins.’
He smiles at you. A throb along your bloodstream as you feel his pleasure with you. Your fingers tighten on the door. Your mind screams, wanting to back away. The handle turns and you sob. Your other arm yanks at the offending limb.
“No, no,” it comes out wounded, like a fishhook down the throat. Each word an intrusion on the dream. “Please go away. Leave me alone.”
“Sweet pet, either let me in or I’ll make you come out here. And trust me, you want me to come in.” His emerald eyes hold yours. A paralyzing ring of red around the pupil and that voice vibrating against her ears.
You shake your head. Some instinct overriding your desire to please him. You wouldn’t please him. If he wanted you, he’d have to work for it.
He beckoned, teeth gleaming under the porch lights. Brown and white moths kiss the lights above his head. A halo of burnt bodies falls around him. Their many shadows filter the light across his sharp features. Past him, the heather on the moors shines silver purple in the night. Where did he come from?
“Let me in.” He has a soft voice, talking to you as if you were a deer about to bolt. You back away shaking your head. He chuckles at your trembling attempt to resist.
“Look at me, pet.” Shivering, you meet his gaze. That red ring in his eyes consumes all conscious control. You’re opening the door and with a smile, you let him in.
Even as your mind screams and a sob escapes your mouth. He comes in like smoke and coils himself around you. One slender hand tilting your head, cool breath against a vein. The other pressing you closer. Until you have his scent in your head, heather and ceder with the underlying scent of iron.
“Such a good pet. So strong until you glance into my eyes.” His lips press against your throat and reality drops into the red. Your arms press him close. Body shaking at the pleasure overtaking your senses.
It is tranquilizing, despite the hurt from his mouth. Under your hands you notice his skin warm up. There is a deep pull along your veins and you cry out, beg for more. Hands flutter along his back like the moths, the moths...
You wake up in bed, red comforter pulled up to your neck. Your neck aches as you sit up. Mouth dry, head aches like it’s too big. You almost stumble when you stand. Another bad dream and you feel you’ve run a marathon. Groaning and yawning, you lurch to your kitchen to turn on your coffee maker.
As you walk across the wooden floors, you bump a table, almost knocking over your host’s vase. You catch it quickly, then you dry heave. The movement was too fast and your head spins. Putting the vase down, you run to the bathroom and pop a Zofran out of your medicine bag. It dissolves under your tongue and the heaving stops.
You stare at yourself in the mirror, wincing at the sight. Raccoon eyes, gaunt face, pallid skin, and a sickly grin on your face. Even the fierce light in your eyes seemed dimmed.
“Wow, you look like hammered dog shite.”
That is when you noticed the hickey on your neck. Dark against your skin, set in the perfect shape of a human mouth. Some blood was on your shirt. You pull the collar of your pajamas down and gasp. Bruises in varying states of healing cover your neck and shoulder. When you poke one, your body breaks out in a sweat. A red haze makes you sway and moan. You put your hand down with terror in your heart.
‘What was happening?’ Ever since you came to this Airbnb for your vacation, you’d been constantly tired. And plagued with the dreams. Dreams of the green-eyed man with dark hair forcing his way into this house and into you. And the red haze, the blissful pain when he bites you.
Was he getting in or were they just dreams? ‘Don’t fret about it, pet. Only silly dreams... There is nothing to worry about.’
You decide to push it out of your mind. You were just having crazy dreams.
Nothing was wrong with you that a doctor couldn’t solve. Wiping at your neck, you limp to the coffeemaker. To pass the time as it sucked the water up to make your needed coffee, you stroll through search results for nearby doctors.
Sure, this cottage was on a moorland. But driving here, you noted a village on your way in. And with how remote this place was, the village had to have a doctor.
You were right. There was a Dr. Somerset Wilson accepting walk-ins after one pm. Over your morning coffee, you get in contact with his nurse. When you mentioned where you were staying, there was a pause in her speech. Set up an appointment for two pm, then contacted your PCP to get your past medical history sent over to them.
Still exhausted, you drank another cup of coffee while making some toast. You finished the rest of the jam and promised yourself to pick some in the village.
“So I keep waking up more tired than before. Like something is sucking the life from me. And then I kept getting these.” The doctor was a kind man. With graying brown hair and soft brown eyes. He’d been nothing but kind as you fussed.
You unbutton your shirt, exposing the strange marks there. In the shower, you’d found one on your thigh.
“They look like hickeys, a special man in your life?” You shake your head. When Dr. Wilson touches one bruise, you shiver. A bolt of rapture rattles you.
You’re being backed up against the stone wall of the cottage. The man’s teeth are too sharp, and even a kiss has your lips bleeding. His hand is between your legs, making you shudder. You run your hand through his hair, too dazed to fight.
“Adorable play at defiance, pet. But even you can’t resist the Kiss.” He licks at the thin line of blood staining your chin. Kisses at your throat. You cry knowing that the next kiss is going to kill you.
“Please! You’ll kill me. I have a condition and it’ll...” He hums against you.
“Convince me not to bite then.”
“No, I don’t... have anyone like yet.” You come out of the memory, confused. What was that? Your mind fills with static. But the terror stops once the doctor takes his finger off your neck.
‘You have someone, but you’re not sure about him. That is where they came from.’ You repeat the same lines softly. That other voice purrs in your head. You enjoy listening to the voice.
“I see. A bit of romance on your vacation. Every woman’s dream. I’m concerned by this anemia, though. I noticed you have a history of it.” You re-button your shirt. Hands trembling despite that foreign voice in your head. Those green eyes in your head, looking through you even during the day. And that memory.
“I have beta-thalassemia. It’s mostly under control, but that’s why I came as soon as I recognized the symptoms. But my bloodwork was normal before I came out here.” Your hands fidget in your lap.
Violated vein in your left hand still throbbed from the nurse’s venipuncture. Head lowered, awaiting the scolding that usually came from most of your doctors in the past.
Don’t go too far. Don’t go out. No risks, nothing to risk aggravating your condition. You knew a dressing down was in order. That was what your PCP had done over the phone. It made you feel like a child instead of the adult you were.
“It doesn’t appear too bad though. No jaundice, and you aren’t completely exhausted. Nothing a good bit of Shepard’s pie, a full night’s sleep, and one of those fancy kale smoothie drinks from Peterson’s can’t help. My goodness, that face. Not used to being treated like a person instead of an invalid, are you?” He pets your head before turning to write in something on his desk.
You shake your head, “Not really, once people see my condition it’s always oh poor dear. Despite me having a mild case. Everyone treats me like I’m made of glass. And this fatigue isn’t helping my case. My PCP wants me to come back right away. Run even more tests.”
His back goes rigid. “There is no need for that, love. We can keep track of you here. Why cut your vacation short?”
“You’re right. I guess I can put off seeing him. Be naughty for once.” He laughs at that. You notice a nervousness about it.
“Good! Start living. Maybe you and that special someone can have more fun. I’m going to put you on some iron. Twice a day.”
“I have some in my medicine bag, so I really don’t need a script. And is Peterson’s that little grocery store I passed on my way over here?”
“Oh, then don’t let me keep you. And yes, that’s the place. Most of the items there are organic, if you care about that sort of thing.” He gave you a warm smile as you stood. As you walked out, you heard Somerset whisper to himself.
“Thank goodness, he picked an outsider this time.”
The super green smoothie was cool against your hand as you pushed the cart down the quaint market lane. Each sip tasted like victory. Especially since you told off your PCP. Well not really told off, more informed him you were going to finish your vacation than come in for an appointment. It wasn’t like you had an emergency.
You’d already picked up some apple butter and fig jelly along with some fruits, rice, and greens. They rattled against each other in the cart as you wheeled up to the meat display.
Your mouth watered at the coppery scent. At the sight of the bloody meat you let out a brief moan. Then clapped a hand over your mouth.
“Well, that’s an interesting reaction to raw meat.” You glanced up and your cheeks grow warm. The butcher was right across from you. He seemed like a stereotypical handsome rural romance lead. Brown hair and eyes, heavily muscular, thick beard adoring his chiseled jawline.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. They just looked fantastic. And so many organ meats. Does my blood good.” You talk fast to cover your embarrassment.
“You’re the Airbnb guest, I’m Ethan Peterson. Hope you enjoyed the little care package the owner had us put together for you.” When he smiled, it felt like the sun shining down on you.
“Y/N. Yes, that apple butter of yours is amazing on wheat bread! Do you have a website so I can order some when I go home?” You take out your phone and type in the website he gave you.
“That’s all good and well, but you seem eager to get some meats. And I’ll even give you a discount okay. I think you’ll like these.” He pointed to a wrapped cow liver, then some filet cuts. “Besides, you definitely need them staying in that place.”
“What?” You pause in mid point and glance up at him.
“I mean, you looked ready to jump the counter and snatch up the meats is all. That place is perfectly all right, I guess. Couldn’t pay me to stay there. Understood it’s haunted.” He wraps your choices with care. He spoke with a thick Yorkie accent.
“Really, are you fucking with me?” You feel amusement in the back of your mind. A stirring excitement as the night approaches.
“Not at all. It’s supposed to have a ghoul up there, walking about the grounds, groaning about not being able to rest or whatever.” Ethan hands you the parceled meats.
“Hey, y/n. Be careful up there, okay? You seem like a nice girl, and that place is so remote. Would you like my number?”
‘No. You are mine and he won’t have you.’ Static fills your head, an increasing urge to run home and be ready. Make yourself ready for... him. He deserved it as he was like a God.
“I’m okay. I can take care of myself but thank you for... the offer.” Even your voice sounded vacant. “I have... to go.”
You feel reality become nebulous. The only thing clear was the crimson braid pulling you to the moor. It is only when you’re switching off the ignition that you come back to yourself. Only thing in your passenger seat was the melted super-green smoothie. You kiss your teeth and look around. The moonlight makes everything silver.
“Where am I? Where the hell is this?” You don’t recognize where you are. The moor makes your voice echo until it’s a cacophony of noise. You feel used, angry that it had interrupted your life. You never asked for this nonsense.
“I’m going to leave now. Understand me mister ghoul? I’m leaving and you’d better fuck off!” You felt brave saying that. Braver than you felt in days. Until your car door opened and powerful arms pulled you out. The keys rattled once against the ground. You screamed and struggled. Trying to hook your nails into your attacker’s arms.
“Pet, don’t fight me.” Instantly, at the sound of his voice, you go still. Heartbeat speeding up as he nuzzles your carotid. Your scream dies in your throat. You try to look anywhere but at his green eyes. One sight of those red rings and you’ll lose all will.
“Why is this happening... Stop.” Even the slap you attempted faltered as he hungrily kisses you. Teeth are too sharp, cuts flare open along your lips. You sob, breath leaving you in a hot cloud. There is no cloud from him even as he presses his forehead against yours.
Your tears trailing mascara down your cheeks. His hands cup your face and despite that frantic voice in your head, you meet his gaze. You sink back against your car, conscious control snatched from you. Relief floods you as the kiss breaks. Your blood on his skin glitters silver in the night Limbs grow limp as he chuckles.
It’s like going under anesthesia, except the bottom hasn’t dropped out into the black. He kneels in front of you, pants splitting open under his touch. You’re falling deeper as the cool air makes you shiver.
“... Stop.” It is the last cry before the crimson haze overtakes you. It has to be said, even if you can’t stop him. Stop his fingers from pulling you open and sliding a thumb over your clit. Your moan is full of despair rather than pleasure.
“You are mine, y/n. No matter how much you struggle and plead. You accepted my invitation, and that makes you mine. And I won’t be denied.” Sharpness presses hard into your left thigh and you wail.
The pain giving into a velvety bliss. You hear his moans at the taste. Shivering apart, you’re going to derail and shatter. It’s going to break you even as you press yourself harder against his mouth. Perfect, you are his! So good to be his! So why was there sadness?
You wake up...
