My Wee Mate

7 - Tremoring Mess

Fraser

As the little human skuttles away, I shake my head and look at my hands that are shaking with uncontrolled tremors. I can't seem to calm down as the poisoned blood in my gut churns unhappily.

I saw her as clear as day in the shadows of my prison. She was like an angel appearing in the middle of my darkness. Her hair looked as if it was spun out of sunshine, her cheeks round and pink like a peach. What I wouldn't give to take a bite of her. I wonder how much like a peach she would smell.

I shove away the guilt I feel at sending her away in a panicked hurry. The girl shouldn't have been here in the first place. She had no clue what danger she was in by being so close. She didn't know what I am. I could've gotten her closer, she would've come to me willingly too. Her bright blue eyes held so much curiosity and naivety.

Oh yes, she would've come quite willingly.

The temptation of her blood was agony. It wafted around the stale cells like a ripe fruit. Sweet, tantalizing. Deadly. Deadly for her, that is.

Even though I don't know her, even though she's a part of this enemy clan, I couldn't get myself to do it. I could've grabbed her the second she got a hairsbreadth away from my bars. I could've had her in my grip and her wrist in my mouth before she could even scream, and scream she would.

Pursing my lips, I rethink that last bit. She seemed oddly brave for a lass of her age.

She would've tasted divine and might have given me the strength to escape. Even though it would've been to my benefit to hurt her, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. No matter how much my mouth watered, and my fangs throbbed incessantly, I just couldn't push myself to lay a hand on her.

Instead, I snapped at her, forcing her to leave with her tail tucked between her legs.

But I find myself wondering things about this human. What's her name? How old is she? Where did she get that gleam of mischief in her face? And why on Earth am I so drawn to her?

She's turned me into a tremoring mess. I should've don't that to her, not her to me. No one has had this affect on me, not even the ones who have tortured me, and there have been a few.

How can someone so small have such a hold on me?

I glare, shaking my head as I look down at my hands again, noticing their much more still now. The color of my skin has grown pale from lack of nutrients and light. Although the sun agitates me, it isn't deadly to me. I'm too ancient to worry about such things.

Clutching my hands into fists, I wonder when the next time I'm even going to see another being. Besides Laird Sinclair that is, he's a regular around here. Besides that portly human man, the earthy drip of water is my only companion.

My mind wanders to Alec, my younger brother who's lost without me. He relies on me for almost everything, too timid to make his own way. Him and my best friend, Sim help me run the clan, keep everyone safe.

We're a small clan of vampires, but much smaller than any other clans know. A scant pack of 16 vampires living in a miniature castle tucked in the forest. Although they are strong, they are still vulnerable to the other species of this world. Faeries, Lycans, Giants, Nymphs, and Banshees, just to name a few. All have been nesciences to us in the past, which is to be expected with how long we've called the highlands home, but I've never had to worry about humans.

And yet, here I am, bested by a pathetic excuse for a life. Not all mortals are as selfish and evil as Laird Sinclair, but that doesn't mean their lives have much value, that's why I should've taken that wee girl when I had the chance.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, shaking my head and raking a hand over my face as I lay back down on the cold, unyielding ground.

As soon as I close my eyes, I see her face, her incredibly brilliant eyes shining back at me. I've never seen eyes like that.

That has to be the reason I protected her.

Ailsa

Clutching the chain close to my chest, I curl up into a tight ball as the memory of what just happened haunts me like a bad dream.

Maybe that's all it was. A nightmare, a figment of my overactive imagination. Mother always said that my creativity was a curse. I never believe her until now.

I blink and he's there. His voice is still hanging heavily in the air around me.

' I might be tempted to kill you.'

Pulling my quilt higher, I yank it over my head and squeeze my eyes shut until they throb.

Those words are still echoing. I've never felt so afraid, but I didn't even want to leave. It was a contradiction that didn't make any sense. I shouldn't be feeling this. It's not right.

That man, he couldn't have been real. He just couldn't have.

The gruffness of his voice had sent a shiver down my back, and a warmth that I just can't describe.

I've never felt this way before. Confusion assaults me and I know that it will be a while before I'll be able to understand this feeling.

Rearing back, I try to examine the silver cross in my palm. In the darkness, I can hardly make out the shape of it.

I put the necklace on, not bothering to untuck my hair from the chain as I grow more and more weary.

Tomorrow I'll give back the necklace, and everything will go back to how it was, and then some. Everything will be better because of this.

Even if I'm traumatized because of this experience, it'll be for the greater good.

If only I can forget about that voice.