Beauty in Red | NaNoWriMo 2021

Chapter Eight: Marie

Somehow, as I finished saying the Death Rites over the Second I'd killed, I knew I was no longer alone. I could sense him, as if his body were an extension of my own, and that was...well, quite strange, to say the least.

"Nice of you to join the party," I said, turning to face him. He wore an identical outfit to the one he'd been wearing the other night--black tunic and breeches, black leather boots, and a black cloak with its hood pulled up. If I had to guess, he was also wearing that Dohara-forsaken mask again, keeping his features from view. "Who are you, my dear enigmatic stranger?"

He chuckled, coming within striking distance. "No one of import, moila iericeia."

I blinked, frowning slightly at the strange words. "What?"

"Why were you praying over the Second just now?" He asked. My frown deepened at his change of subject. "Didn't you call us monsters just a couple short nights ago?"

I shrugged, my cheeks heating at the knowledge that he'd heard me speaking the Rites. "They were human once, weren't they? Maybe I believe their souls deserve some peace."

The Elite took a step closer, and my body tensed. I wasn't sure, if we were to fight, who would come out on top, but I didn't quite like my chances. I'd put one dagger back in my boot, but I still held the other one.

Though, from what I knew of the Elites, I wasn't sure the weapons I had would do a lot against him.

"For someone who works under the banner of the Light Bringer, that is a strange sentiment," he remarked. He took another step forward, and I took a step back. "You are quite strange, miss."

"I've heard that a time or two," I said, glancing at my cloak. It lay less than five feet away, and without it, I felt entirely too exposed.

He took another step, and I took one towards my cloak. He cocked his head, and I felt his gaze as if it were a lover's caress, from the tips of my soft leather boots, over my entire body, to the top of my head. "You're bleeding."

I quirked a brow, glancing down at my left arm. I'd used the dagger hidden within my cloak to make a small cut along my inner forearm, not deep enough to leave a scar, but enough to get the scent of blood in the air.

"You should cover that," he said, taking another step forward.

"Does it bother you?" I wasn't sure whether his answer would delight me or disturb me.

"It bothers me that you hurt yourself to lure out a dangerous creature," he said, and my heart tumbled in my chest at his dark tone. "That you would be so reckless."

"What does it matter to you?" I snapped, taking another step towards my cloak. "I figure the scent of my blood must be quite tempting."

He shook his head, taking another step forward. "You know nothing, moila iericeia."

There were those strange words again. I narrowed my eyes. "What is it you keep saying?"

"It's a nickname," he said, and I could almost hear a smirk in his tone. "You need to wrap your cut in a bandage, to keep out infection. Who knows what sort of disease you may contract from that Second you just killed, let alone the filth in this city that could get inside."

I rolled my eyes, finally close enough to my cloak to snatch it up and pull it around my shoulders. In just a few seconds, I had the cloak fastened in place, the hood drawn over my head to once again hide my identity. I said, "I'll be fine."

"Does your family know what you are doing?" He asked suddenly. "That you allow Seconds to get close enough to feed before you attack? That you willingly bleed to lure them outside?"

Anger, swift and hot as a branding iron, coursed through me. "They know enough. And what does it matter to you? I should imagine a vampire would be thrilled a hunter would be putting themselves in such danger."

The Elite moved then, faster than my eyes could track, and suddenly he was right before me. I gasped, but before I could even lift the hand holding the dagger, he had disarmed me. He grabbed my wrist and twisted, forcing me to drop the dagger to the ground and spinning me in the same motion. He tugged me backwards, until my back was pressed against his front.

I blinked, my mind slow to catch up with exactly what just happened.

The sound that rumbled from his chest should have turned my knees to jelly, but all it did was start a low, simmering heat in my core, and cause my skin to catch on fire.

"I don't know what you think you're doing--" I started, but his hand, which had been wrapped around my wrist, dropped, his arm wrapping around my waist. His other hand came up and gripped my chin, tilting my head back and to the side. His grip was incredibly gentle, and I couldn't help but compare his touch to the way father had gripped my jaw just yesterday. This male, who had the potential to break my neck without a second thought, held me as if I were fragile and valuable.

My breath caught in my throat as I felt his nose, grazing the column of my neck, sending elicit shivers cascading over my body. Even through the cloth of his mask I could feel the heat of him, and still I could not wrap my head around the fact that a creature such as he was could be as warm as any human.

"Your heart is racing, moila iericeia," he murmured, and I closed my eyes, willing myself to take deep even breaths.

He smelled of sage and rosemary, of dark nights and unholy acts. The scent of him made my head spin, because it was too good. And it was familiar, somehow, in a strange way. I didn't want to look too closely at that.

"Now, listen close," he said, his thumb brushing soothing strokes across my cheek that only stoked the fire building inside me. My eyes fluttered shut, and I wanted to kick myself for the act. But his touch, it was...soothing. And I couldn't remember the last time I felt truly soothed. "You have had someone tailing you all evening. I'd thought my presence would have warned whoever it is off of you, but it seems it has only made them more determined to get you. There are six in total, and not a single one of them is human, moila iericeia."

My eyes popped open, the strange heat of the moment gone with his words. "Will you leave me to them?" I asked, not entirely sure what I wanted him to say.

"I would prefer you run, but I don't imagine you'd run and leave me to fight your battles for you," he said, and he was right. "But I will not leave you to this on your own. They don't want you dead."

My stomach churned at the thought of why, exactly, they would want to keep me alive. The Second from the other night had recognized me, and it was clear whoever he'd been, he had been searching for me.

"The other night," I whispered, and his thumb stilled, "when you said that Second would meet a painful bloody end...did he?"

I didn't know why I was asking, why it mattered. But for some reason, it did.

"Yes," he answered, and his voice was gruff, low and full of a growl I didn't quite understand. "Yes, he did. And so will whoever is stalking you, if that is what you decide."

I closed my eyes, taking one more deep breath before I said, "Then so they shall."