This is a story about a thousand year old royal vampire and a twenty six year old human woman. They have been bound by fate, the missing half's of their souls belong to each other. Destined lovers with an ending written by the fates themselves.
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Roselynn has been unconscious for four days.
I've had ninety-six hours to overthink every blunder I made that led to this conclusion. I considered every possible outcome, and the worst was perhaps we never would have met. Though that notion was locked away in the darkest confines of my mind. The mere idea that Roselynn may have never become part of my reality was insufferable.
With each passing second she remains motionless on a stiff infirmary mattress, my heart cracks just a little more. Fuck, it nearly shattered when I saw that terrified look on her face after finding out the truth.
I hold her limp hand in mine, doing my best to not tarnish the little life left in her due to my ceaseless worry. Sparks tingle across my skin where our hands make contact, warm and inviting, a side effect of our bond and the only thing keeping me sane.
I massage circles on her wrist with my thumb, repeating the same phrase I have said at least a hundred times in the past hour, "I'm so sorry my love."
I never intended for her to find out the truth this way, never in a way that would endanger her life and leave her hurt. Yet, that fucking mutt just had to make everything about his foolish feelings. If he knew any better, which he evidently did not, then he would have realized that what he was about to do would only put the one he claimed to care about in serious danger.
I had imagined she would come to discover the truth gradually, her curiosity winning over instead of fear and anxiety. I would have had her trust, and maybe even her love. I dreamed of many ways of telling her, and most were under more pleasant circumstances. Never had I envisioned she would find out by spilling her blood.
I should kill that pooch for harming her. How brazen of him to even think of touching her, let alone forcing her hand and slicing it open for the newborns to sniff out. I would have killed every mangy flea-bitten pest of a wolf in that ballroom if it brought certain her safety. But, I knew she would have a hard time forgiving me, let alone ever speaking to me again, so I spared them.
I spared them so she may still look at me with those comforting eyes of hers, and not see a monster. I'm greedy for her acceptance. I want it more than blood, more than anything remotely good in this world. Roselynnis all that is good in the world.
I crave her touch, her voice, her devotion. I want her to look at me as if I am something better than a killer when I know I am not. If she were to believe it then perhaps I could too.
"Alastair, you must feed or you will starve," my sister calls from the open doorway.
This is the third time she's visited and each time she's made an effort of forcing blood down my throat. Overbearing, to say the least.
