Hunters

Chapter 15

Rach, I'm so sorry.

A small puncture in her neck had Rachel's body tensing like a string. How could she still feel if she was dead? The nip reignited the flames sweeping her. It escalated with a burning intensity that made her scream. It came out ragged and tortured.

With every passing second, the pain heightened, bringing her to the edge of sanity. She wanted to fall into the nothingness again. But a strong sense of determination, disgust, an panic didn't let her. Where did those come from? All she wanted was to just die.

God, I hope this works.

Daniel.

She scrunched her nose at the metallic smell of blood. Something sweet filled her mouth. She tried to fight it, to spit it back out, but the warm liquid forced its way down her throat. The taste of fruit mixed with honey left a shooting trace on her insides. She wanted more. On instinct, she started drinking.

The burning sensation left her veins, retreating toward her stomach. The pain of her injuries replaced the fire, causing her muscles to scream and tense. None of that mattered. As long as the honey liquid touched her tongue, she could bear it. As she drank, she felt her flesh and skin pulling together. Her wounds closed and her blood replenished.

Her fingertips brushed fabric, and warmth radiated under her palms. She clung to someone's shoulders. A familiar scent washed over her, reminding her of forests, earth and trees. Daniel. He was there, next to her, it was his shoulders she had her hands on. Her own heaving breaths rang in her ears, joined by Daniel's controlled inhales and exhales.

Pictures zoomed through her mind, like long forgotten memories. But they weren't hers. Images of Daniel flashed in front of her eyes, like scenes from a fast forwarded movie. She saw Max – she knew it was him. He looked a lot like Daniel, like they were brothers. His face was replaced by Cheryl's, then by hers. And as soon as her own image took over, powerful energy swept through her, expanding beyond her body, contracting every muscle.

Daniel gasped. His body sagged. The skin on Rachel's shoulder stitched together, and when it finished, he groaned. Her eyes popped open as she realized what was really going on. The honey liquid was blood; his blood. And her fangs were stuck in his shoulder, gulping it down.

She yelped and pushed him away. He fell over, arms around his torso, his bloody t-shirt clinging to his skin. A loosely-wrapped bandage partially covered the wound from the stake, but she could still see the hole there, barely healed, and the three long scratches marring his handsome face.

Rachel brought her hand to her cheek and felt for her cuts. They were gone. Her face was intact. How was that possible? Her eyes widened as she took in Daniel's wounds: the scratches, the newly open hole in his shoulder, his bleeding stomach... her wounds. All the wounds were on him. What just happened?

Through her rapid heartbeat, she realized that her feelings were more complex than they had ever been. She could feel her own body, her dull pain, but could also pick up on his much deeper suffering without feeling it per se.

"Daniel, what happened? Are you—?" she scurried toward him on all fours.

It's okay, Rach. I'll be fine. He sat up and leaned his back against the couch.

Rachel froze. They weren't touching. Yet, she'd heard his thoughts as if he'd spoken them out loud. I can hear you.

I know you can. Your link— He groaned. Is wide open now. I-I have a lot of explaining to do.

"No shit! How come we're still alive? How—?" The rest of the question failed to produce itself as she stared around and realized where they were. Back in their apartment, on the floor, in the middle of the living room. "How did we get here?"