Bound By Shadows

Chapter One

Onyx

Blood splatters all over my face, and the cheering in the stands is almost loud enough to drown out the internal screams inside my head. I pay the audience no mind as I proceed to beat the fuck out of my opponent. My fists land against her body fast and hard as I back her into a corner and let loose on her.

I can hear the cracking of her ribs, the laboured breaths she takes, her blood rushing through her body. I can see her pupils dilate as that sweet smell of her fear fills my nose. “Is this how I’m going to die?” The poor thing thinks as she uselessly wipes the blood off her lips, though it pours from her nose like a spigot, the sight and smell of it making me hungrier. “No, sweet girl, this isn’t how you die. Next time, slide to the left when an opponent comes at you,” I whisper before punching her square in the face, watching her body fall to the floor of the ring with a thump.

I lick the sweet blood from my lips and smile before turning to the crowd. The first fight of this night was but a warm-up; the poor girl didn’t know what she signed up for.

Two ring-watchers slide in and drag the unconscious girl out of the ring and drag her out before laying her on a stretcher and taking her straight to the healer’s office in the back. Her face is covered in her own sweet-tasting blood, which also drips from my fists and lips, which I lick even more. It’s like a drug. Witches’ blood is like candy.

Corthon, an impressively big and strong Gargoyle, drops into the ring from the ceiling where he’d been hanging, watching the whole fight. “Corthon the Gargoyle versus The Black Death! Place your bets, ladies and gents! The fight begins… now!” Chua’s expertise in exciting the crowd sends us off to fight until we’re bloodied and broken. Well, until Corthon is bloodied and broken.

Corthon’s fists fly at my face, but I dodge, and he nearly faceplants on the floor. I chuckle, leaning against the chords that keep us in the ring. “You alright, Corthon?” I ask, smiling dangerously at him. The smeared blood on my face makes me look even more terrifying than the pure joy in my eyes, and I know it as I see a twinge of fear and regret in his eyes. He’s eight feet tall, made of living stone, and he can fly, yet I’m scarier than he is. As always, that fact thrills me like nothing else. There’s nothing I enjoy more in life than scaring the Supernaturals that should be scarier than me.

I could drink his fear, it’s so thick in the air as I slowly approach him, my fists raised. “You’re the one they whisper about in the locker rooms,” Corthon grunts out after he delivers a sharp jab to my ribs and notices that I don’t react other than flying a couple of feet away. I smile at that, though. I like that they’re too afraid of me to speak regularly. Instead, they think they have to whisper.

“No one has to whisper about me; of course, they would have to deal with eating through a straw if I heard them talking about those stupid rumors.” His eyes widen with glee when he notices that I hate the rumors. A trigger point he thinks he can use to win against me. He won’t, but it’s a cute thought. Corthon strikes hard and fast, unbelievably fast for a beast of his size, but I dodge each hit because I’m faster. “What did you do in Willowlia, Black Death?” Corthon asks me, trying to hit a nerve. I ignore his question and smirk at him, deciding to show a hidden power of mine for the first time in the ring.

Fire bursts from the palms of my hands, warming my skin. The look of fear on his face is worth the stupid act of showing some of what I’ve got hidden up my sleeves. The crowd erupts in cheers and screams, encouraging me to do the horrible act of violence I’m about to commit against this idiotic gargoyle. I rush him, and he blocks his face. No matter, he won’t be much worried about that when I’m done.

His torso cracks under my fists, small chips and bits of his body fall to the floor and lose colour, dying as they’re separated from his living stone flesh. He grunts as the fire burns through the stone that makes him. Finally, he can’t take it anymore after I’ve punched chunks out of his abdomen, and he grabs my shoulders, screaming in pain when it burns him even worse. He falls to the floor, and I step back to watch as he convulses, his body curling in pain. I can barely make out the shape of his bones, illuminated by his glowing blood. The healers rush out to heal him, sliding into the ring and pressing healing rocks against his flesh.

“Ladies and gentlemen, The Black Death!” Chua announces in his box above us all. I bow to the crowd like everyone else does and quickly make my way to the locker room, where all the other ladies are.

My supervisor is the first one to approach me, as usual. “Congratulations, Onyx. Yet again, you’ve got a big win on your record,” Wynter teases me relentlessly about my record. I’ve never been beaten, which makes her and everyone else think I need bigger and better challenges with every fight. I don’t disagree, but I don’t agree either. It’s not that fair to pit others against me, knowing they will likely be leaving the ring on a stretcher.

“Ah, yes, my perfect record.”

“Your annoyingly perfect record.”

“You’re just jealous.”

I tease back as I strip down to nothing and make my way to the showers. Wynter follows me, reading through her little electronic pad. “So it seems that this fight has won you four hundred and sixty-five silver claws,” Wynter states from the other side of the curtain. I nod my head, not that she can see it, and turn on the water. “Okay, what has it won for the Arena?” I ask her over the loud rush of the water.

A pause tells me she’s reading through the records of tonight on her little electronic pad. “It earned the Arena over six thousand claws. Lots of people have paid extreme amounts to bet on you in the Arena and others. People online across the realm have also paid a lot to see your fight tonight,” Wynter rambles. I roll my eyes, fighting the urge to tell her it’s not just me they paid to watch, but I know there’s no point.

The woman seems to put me on a pedestal of greatness, all because I can win with very little effort. “You know there’s more and more rumours about your time in Willowlia,” Wynter says in a sing-songy voice. I grit my teeth and let out a warning growl. “They have no merit, Wynter. Drop it already,” I demand as I wash the glowing red soap out of my hair. Blood mixes with water as I scrub it off my skin. My stomach growls in hunger as I glance down at the sweet, enticing blood. I need to hunt soon, but I just don’t want to.

Animals aren’t the tastiest, but they are a fun chase. Wynter’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts almost immediately. “No way, girl! There are way too many to not have merit. Some, if not most, of them are true, and I know it,” I hear her say. I’m going to snap your neck if you don’t quit pushing for answers. Whoa, calm down, Onyx. She’s just being annoying. I like Wynter; I do not want to kill her… most of the time.

I shut the water off and wrap myself in a towel before stepping out. I open my mouth to say something snarky, but my comment dies on my tongue as I see the look of fear on Wynter’s face, something I’ve never seen from her before. “Wynter, what’s wrong?” I ask, gently touching her arm. She jolts out of her head and steps away from me. “I’ll be right back, don’t worry, it’s nothing. Get dressed, we’re going out tonight, remember?” Wynter says before running off. Whatever’s wrong with her, I intend to root it out sometime soon.

“I wish I could fight like her. Onyx has so much raw strength… if she learned to fight like a warrior, she’d be unstoppable,” I fight the intense urge to roll my eyes at the thoughts of jealousy that float around this locker room. If only they knew what I could do. There’s a reason my name is “The Black Death” in Willowlia. I’m neither Hero nor villain in Willowlia. I’m something in between.

I scare the strongest of Heroes and the darkest of villains in Willowlia. No one wants to fight me unless they truly think they can win. I pull out the tight little dress from my locker and slip into it after drying my hair, and slip into my chunky heels. “Never ever go out in an outfit you can’t fight in, Onyx. Be smart and cute. Not cute and dead,” I hear my aunt’s voice resonate in my head once again. I pull the small shorts up and under my dress before hiding my knives within my jacket and belt.

Marnie, a werewolf and fellow fighter in the Arena, slides up next to my locker and leans against the open locker door. “I’ve heard the most interesting rumour about you from some of my Willowlian friends,” she giggles, trying her hardest to get on my nerves.

Rolling my eyes, I slowly turn to her and smile dangerously, tilting my head slightly to the side. “Oh, really? What’d they tell you, Marnie?” I ask, pretending to be interested. Her little doe eyes widen, and she giggles profusely. Gods, I want to rip those giggles from her throat with my teeth and lap up the blood inside her body. “I heard that you were once a Hero in Willowlia… yeah, and that you were high ranking too,” she teases.

Little Miss Marnie likes to stir drama around this Arena, like a moth to a flame; she can’t help herself. She certainly can’t help save her face from the locker door as I slam it against her face faster than anyone in this room can blink with the hidden power of my telekinesis. Her head whips back, and blood pours from her nose, now broken from the rough force of the locker door.

I quickly fake shock and grab her arm to help steady her as I push her against the wall of lockers. “Gods, Marnie, are you okay?” I ask, pretending to be worried. The other ladies come running to her aid and crowd us. I fight the urge to smirk at her. She doesn’t know that I did that. None of them do, and they can’t know. They don’t know I have telekinesis. She splutters, trying to speak, but is too stunned. Blood drips down her chest, and I can feel the hunger in me increasing.

The urge to lick every drop of blood off her pale skin is becoming too overwhelming. I grab my things and rush out of the locker rooms, smiling to myself when I’m out of sight from the locker room doors. The lady at the desk signs me out as I walk past her and bids her goodnight. The doors give a little as I push them open and step outside into the warm night air, a slight breeze being the only reprieve any of us have from the cruel summer warmth of Noveraellia.

I see Wynter standing at the far side of the car park, talking to someone in a car with almost-blackout windows. I need their car shop to tint my windows so no one can see when I’m screaming at people for their terrible driving skills.

“Wynter! Come on, let’s go!” I shout, cupping my hands around my mouth. Her head whips in my direction before turning back to the mysterious people in the car that I can’t see the inside of. I zero in on her and listen to her rapid heartbeat.

“Go home, now.” She orders. The car speeds off into the night, merging into the traffic of cars leaving the Arena.

I walk up to her as she meets me halfway. “What was that?” I ask. She shakes her head, and I nod. We have a silent understanding with each other. If one of us doesn’t want to talk about something, they shake their head, and the other drops the subject. If we decide to push for answers, we fight it out on our own time in the woods. The winner asks a question, and the loser has to answer honestly and to the fullest extent.

We get into her car, and she speeds off into the busy road. “So which club are we going to tonight?” The almost evil smile on her lips sent tendrils of excitement down my spine. “We’re going to the Nova Royale,” Wynter smiles. Gods, the woman is going to get me killed. I can’t contain the excited squeal that leaves my mouth. I quickly compose myself and shake off the previous outburst before smiling widely. “Oh, I fucking love you,” I say. She flips her hair at me and smiles sarcastically. “Oh, I know.”

Pulling up into the car park, I pull out my wrist cuffs and secure them around my wrists. Wynter eyes me suspiciously. “Expecting a fight?” She asks, half jokingly. I smile at her and shrug my shoulders. “You never know with werewolves. Their tempers are just so tempting to play with.” I don’t miss the way her eyes narrow at me. “Onyx, do not start a fight tonight, please,” Wynter pleads. Rolling my eyes, I slide out of the car. “Onyx! Onyx, please!” Wynter begs. I can’t help but laugh and nod my head, putting my hands up in defeat. “Okay, okay, I won’t start a fight,” I sigh.

We wait by the car for Alexei to pull in, and when he does, he steps out of his truck and walks up to us, arms open for a bone-crushing hug. “How are my favourite fighters?” Alexei asks us. We both giggle, rolling our eyes at him. “We’re great, Alexei. Are you ready to tear up the dance floor?” Wynter asks him. He nods his head, hands on his hips. “Always, Tiny Warrior,” he teases, using his favourite nickname for me. Something about him screams warrior or soldier, which is how he can tell I’m the same, dark and scarred, my soul forever marred by my actions, my bloodlust never fully sated.

Wynter hooks her arms with Alexei’s arm and mine, and we walk up to the doors, ignoring the very long line of Supernaturals and humans. The strong scent of werewolves and bear-shifters fills my nose. The sweeter scent of Faeries is also heavy in the air. I don’t know how the security guards in these places can live their lives smelling the mix of hundreds of different scents each night. I certainly couldn’t; it would get too distracting for me.

I notice, though, that there are two different scents ever so present in the air. One smells like a campfire on the mountainside, and the other smells like chocolate and mint. They’re strong scents, overwhelming scents, I can’t get enough of them. I breathe in the air, filling my lungs with the smells that surround me like a cloud. Wynter notices but doesn’t say anything and drags me away from the line directly to the doors. The guard at the door stops us with a hand on the shoulder. “Back of the line,” he says.

“Wynter Novillia,” Wynter says in a hushed tone. The guard’s eyes widen, and he yanks the door open, bowing his head to her. “I apologise, Miss Novillia, please forgive me on behalf of the Nova Royale,” he grovels as we walk past him, but Wynter gives him a polite smile on the way, winking at him. “It’s all good, handsome. It’s all good,” she says before we step inside. “Wynter, is your family rich?” Alexei asks, confused by his reaction to her name.

She nods her head and laughs. “Something like that. It’s a bit of a complicated matter,” is all she says before dragging me up to the bar. I don’t care much to find out what’s so terrifying about her family name, which is why I don’t question his reaction. “What’ll it be?” The barkeep asks loudly over the music. “I’ll have a firebond, neat, with a little bit of nicarulta in it. Onyx?” Wynter turns to me expectantly.

Looking up past the barkeep’s head, I read through the menu. My mouth waters when I see they have blood options here. “I’ll take a warm drink of Grandier’s blood. And a double shot of Hunter's Charm,” I say. Wynter gags, and I shake my head at her. “What?”

“What about you, handsome?” He asks Alexei. Alexei smirks, leaning over the counter. “I’ll take the strongest alcohol you have here,” Alexei huskily says to him.

“You got it, handsome.” Olyvar’s glimmering yellow eyes take in every inch that is Alexei, settling on the not-so-expertly generous package located in his pants. If I had a claw for every time this man has been ogled and admired because of his size, I’d be richer than the stupid fucks organising Rebellion against the Crown.

“Thank you,” he reads the nametag on the lad before looking up into his glowing amber eyes, “Olyvar,” Alexei rasps his name. I try not to roll my eyes too hard at Alexei’s blatant flirtation with the barkeeper. The young shifter lad’s cute face blushes a bright pink as he gets to work on our drinks, moving away from us.

“You really can’t keep it in your pants, can you, Alexei?” I tease, leaning against the bar. Alexei shrugs and smiles at me, flashing his sharp bear-shifter fangs. “What’s the point in life if you’re not going to live it to the fullest, and taste all the delicacies you find?” Alexei asks, his thick and guttural Morashkian accent adding more beauty to his accidental philosophical question. I roll my eyes at him and his sincere question. I don’t have the interest in trying new things this time around.

“You can taste all the delicacies you want, Alexei. I’m fine with fighting to my heart’s content. That’s my life, and that’s all it’ll ever be,” I answer his question, knowing it’s a dangerous game to start with him. The barkeep, Olyvar, sets our drinks down, and Alexei turns to me, sliding mine towards my hand. “As fun and fulfilling as fighting is, it is not a life. It is a profession. There is more for you, Onyx. There is always more,” He gruffly tells me, trying his hardest to gently knock that into my thick skull. I see right past his comforting efforts and ignore them.

As much as I love and trust him, I can’t let him all the way in. No one here knows what my past is, and I want it to stay that way. If they happen to find out, I might just move again, and this time to somewhere far more secluded and desolate, maybe somewhere in the Elven Continent, they’ve got loads of small towns.

Instead of seeking answers inside his head, I stare at him blankly for a moment before taking a sip of my drink. The warm and smooth drink spreads a heat within my body. A man comes up next to Wynter, smiling warmly at her with all the charm in his tall Fae body, his magick tattoos moving on his skin like silken ink-y print. I’ve never actually seen magick tattoos this close before. I wonder what it feels like to get one.

“Oh gods, here comes another one,” I whisper to Alexei. He slightly turns his head and looks back at me, laughing quietly. Wynter gently touches his arm and smiles up at him, teasing him with a peek of her fangs. “Oh, she likes him,” Alexei smirks, looking between the two of them. “Gods, this woman is beautiful. How did I earn the pleasure of finding her?” I smile to myself at his thought.

He is indeed a lucky man. After a few more minutes of flirting, Wynter grabs his hand and drags him over to us. Rather than placing an arm around her, he carefully stands beside her, positioning himself so he’s not touching her, polite for a man, but unusual for a Fae. Fae are very sensual and physical beings; they need to touch what attracts them.

“Guys, this is Deyah. He’s a… sorry, what was it you said?”

Wynter turns to him, looking up into his eyes. He smiles down at her, playing her little game, before looking back up to us. “I’m a Fae war rider,” Deyah tells us. “Oh? What’s a Fae war rider doing here?” I ask, feeling Alexei step a little closer to me when the dancing crowd gets too close to the bar.

“We’re integrating into packs, due to our alliance with the Novaraellians,” Deyah gives a short explanation. “I wonder how long it’ll take to get to the Castle from this area. I’m due to the Novaralli Pack tomorrow morning, and all the others want to do is party the night before the meeting. Though I did find this beautiful Goddess-given miracle, so I suppose it’s alright,” Deyah worries. He should be worried; his warriors shouldn’t appear in front of royalty hungover or going through a drunken stupor.

I suppress the urge to chuckle at him, noticing that he doesn’t have a drink. Smart boy wants to be sober and clear-minded for his meeting with the King and Queen. “What pack have you been assigned to?” Alexei asks. Deyah’s eyes snap up to the giant behind me, and they gleam with a kind of joy I know all too well. He can see what I see in Alexei, unlike nearly everyone else that comes into contact with the giant bear-shifter who stands behind me, shielding me from the partiers inside the club.

“I’ve been assigned to a high-ranking pack. I’m not allowed to know until tomorrow,” he swiftly lies. He’s a good liar. Not his heartbeat, not his eyes, not even his body language gives away his lie. “Oh, Deyah. You’re an exceptional liar,” I think, smiling when his jaw twitches upon hearing me inside his head. He knows not to expose my secret as I show him the things I’ve done to people who talk about my business to others.

“Well, that’s enough chatter for me. Come, come, Deyah, dance with me, big boy,” Wynter says before downing her drink and dragging him off to the dance floor, leaving Alexei and me alone. I turn to him, smiling before we both laugh. “How long do you think that will last?” Alexei asks.

Tilting my head to the side, watching Deyah twirl Wynter around and catch her in his arms. “I give it until tomorrow morning when he realises he has to sneak out of her flat and walk home like the rest of them,” I state. Alexei turns to me and stares at me silently while we stand side by side at the bar, mutually enjoying our drinks. “I meant what I said earlier, Onyx,” Alexei says before drinking the rest of his alcohol.

“I don’t want more, Alexei. I’m perfectly fine with what I have,” I say to him before downing the rest of my drink. A little bit of blood pools in the corner of my mouth, and I lick it away before making my way to the dance floor, moving through the crowd of people.

“Great. He pissed her off again, and now she’s going to do something characteristically stupid,” I hear Wynter’s voice resonate in my head. I chuckle as I dance by myself, surrounded by heated bodies. Her thought isn’t entirely wrong. I am pissed.

Alexei did piss me off, but I don’t plan on doing anything stupid. Or I wasn’t until I felt a pair of hands grab onto my hips. Spinning around in the stranger’s arms, I look him dead in the eyes, not stunned to see that he’s clearly drunk.

“Either you fuck off on your own, or I can assist you,” I growl, my eyes turning from their hazel colour to a glowing amber in warning. “Oh shit, no, you stupid idiot! Get away from her!” Wynter nearly shouts in her and my own head. Those two scents from outside are wafting in the air, ever so present now in this moment of my aggression. The man who has grabbed onto me looks dead into my eyes and drunkenly smiles, showing his short but sharp fangs. A drunken Beta, lucky me. Whichever Alpha he belongs to will be picking his body parts up off the floor of this nice club if he doesn’t let go of me.

“O-or what? Whatcha gonna do?” He slurs, his hands tightening their grip on my waist. I hear a familiar deep growl in the crowd, coupled with booming footsteps. I slowly look up at the looming presence behind the drunken idiot holding me to find my neighbour and friend, Alexei, glaring down at the drunken Beta.

Alexei’s eyes have turned from their usual warm and comforting brown to a threatening pitch black. His pupils have blown so wide there’s no colour in his eyes. His scent, which is usually that of sandalwood and smoke, is now full of anger. It’s all I can smell on him. It wafts around us like a thick cloud of smoke, suffocating us and the people around us, who all move further and further away upon sensing the menacing aura seeping through his pores and stifling the air.

The drunken idiot is not that stupid because he sniffs the acrid air surrounding us and nearly chokes, turning around before his eyes widen. “I believe my friend told you to let her go,” he growls in a harsh tone. His hands are clenched in fists at his side, shaking furiously. Wynter and Deyah approach him carefully, not wanting to overwhelm his senses that are slowly spiralling out of control. The people around us move away, sensing an incoming fight.

“Sh-she didn’t say that… she s-said-” Oh, you poor idiot, you’re dumber than I thought. Alexei cut him off by grabbing his hands and wrenching them off of me before crushing them in his grip. The drunken idiot yelps and whines, trying to pull away from Alexei’s harsh grip. I hear the cracking of bones before a pained scream tears through his throat. Alexei has just broken the drunken idiot’s hands. Deyah chuckles, drawing the attention of Wynter. She looks at him with a touch of concern before turning back to the crying Beta in Alexei’s grip.

“Do not touch anyone without their permission, whether it is man or woman. Do it again, I will find you, and I will break the rest of your tiny weak Beta bones,” Alexei promises before letting go of the young, drunken idiot Beta. He runs off towards the front doors, exiting the club and likely going to find his Alpha.

Alexei’s hands tentatively brush against where the little drunken idiot had grabbed me, his face twisted in both worry and anger. I wrap my arms around his neck, continuing to dance in my relaxed haze. Wynter and Deyah resume dancing next to us, arms wrapped loosely around one another.

“Did he hurt you?” Alexei asks, his lips brushing against my ear. I shake my head, smiling before pulling away. “Oh, don’t worry about me, Medvedev. I’ll be just fine. But thank you for coming to my rescue, though I didn’t need it. I do hope you realise whoever that little Beta belongs to is coming inside to handle you,” I chuckle. He chuckles back before sliding his hands up my back and dancing with me.

“Oh, I know, Tiny Warrior. I can handle an Alpha easily,” He rasps. Wynter shakes her head, leaning over and hitting him on the shoulder. “Alexei! That was the Beta of the Nexus Pack! The Alpha is a very widely known Alpha!” Wynter exclaims as she wraps an arm around Deyah’s neck. Alexei only rolls his eyes, grabbing my hand before twirling me around and pulling me back against his body. “Oh! Ease up on the pull, Medvedev!” I giggle as he and I dance around each other. Wynter and Deyah dance wildly, pushing up against one another, grabbing each other, holding each other close.

We dance together, occasionally laughing at Wynter and Deyah, who dance with the grace of toddlers. The scents from outside the Arena have followed inside to the club, lingering for a while before fading until all I can smell is the scents of everyone else mixed with sweat and alcohol.

Wynter grabs onto me breathlessly and giggles. “I am going to take the tall, handsome Fae home tonight,” Wynter whispers. I laugh, looking back at Alexei with a bright smile and wink at him, our sign that we were right. She rolls her eyes and giggles once again. “Well, I can’t wait to hear all about it tomorrow night at the Arena,” I smile, resting my forehead against hers before she pulls away and grabs Deyah’s hands, pulling him with her outside. I laugh so hard it hurts before Alexei, and I turn and head to the bar. “Olyvar, two for the road, please,” Alexei calls out to him over the crowd. He nods his head, winking at him before pouring us another drink each.

I down mine the second he hands it to me and then set the glass down on the counter once it’s gone before turning to Alexei, who’s still gulping down his. “I don’t know how you do that so fast,” Alexei groans before wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

We make our way out to the car park and to his truck. “Deyah is in for one hell of a night with Wynter,” Alexei jokes. I scoff and laugh, shaking my head as I bend down to take my heels off. “Oh, you have no idea. On our first night out, not only did we get into a fight, but she brought a man home, and I stayed over at her place because I couldn’t drive and we weren’t friends yet…”

“The man was as vocal as she was, and she’s pretty fucking vocal,” I retell the story once again. He nods his head with a bewildered smile and offers me his hand to help me into his truck. I sigh, reluctantly taking his hand as he helps boost me up into the cabin of his truck. I don’t hate it when he does that, but I don’t like it either.

“I’m not-”

“A helpless little woman who needs extra help. I know, Tiny Warrior. But, as a man, it is my duty to help my friends,” he cuts me off before shutting the door for me and rounding to the other side of his truck. He gets into the other side and buckles in before starting the car and driving off. The drive to our neighbourhood is long, but we talk most of the way before quieting down to listen to the music playing on the radio. He pulls up the little road before my cottage and stops the car. “Good night, Onyx,” he says. I smile and lean over, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Good night, Alexei,” I yawn before jumping out of his truck and shutting the door, watching as he drives off to the end of the street and pulls into the driveway of his own little house.

The cold grass under my feet is a soothing contrast to the heat of my body as I walk up to my porch, taking careful steps up the stairs to my front door. The hunger I feel in my stomach is almost debilitating. I make my way inside, locking the door behind me as I groan. I can hear my stomach rumbling, begging for blood.

Something under my skin pushes, and I cry out at the searing heat. It doesn’t hurt; it feels odd, but each time is like a cruel shock to my system.

It keeps pushing, and I tear at my clothes, trying to take them off. My body is sweating; it’s so hot. I crawl to the kitchen, yanking out the cold blood I’d stored inside it and grab a giant cup of it, downing the whole thing, careful not to spill a drop. This should tide me over until tomorrow morning. I sit in my kitchen on the floor, dressed only in my bra and shorts, panting. Tomorrow will be a very early day, starting with the hunt for blood.