2 • Mourir

867 49 55
                                    

Mourir (verb) to die

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

Mourir (verb) to die

The barbs dug deeper, and the pain was all consuming. I reached for the stone railing to steady myself, even though nothing inside me felt steady.

Especially when something warm and wet rolled down my neck and landed in a splatter beside my hand.

I sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of red. As hard as I tried not to think about it, the word rushed into my head.

Blood.

My knees turned to pudding, and a sickening dizziness swept over me.

I'd thought the spell on the lace choker would provide a quick death, but apparently, Mama hadn't granted me that kindness.

Good, I thought meekly. If I pass out, I can slip away peacefully.

Another splatter landed on the stone, and the world around me spun like a top. A sheen of sweat coated my skin, which left me trembling from more than just the chilly air.

This was it. I was going to die right here, at Chateau Corbin, on some Diana-forsaken balcony. Miles away from my family home where my spirit could be at peace and roam the family graveyard.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I gripped the railing harder. I had so many regrets. Most about my failings as a sister and a daughter, but at least Seraphina wouldn't need to see me like this.

A sharp sound sounded behind me, like a cane against stone, and slowly, I turned to find Bastien Allard mere inches away. Staring at me with those cool blue eyes of his.

He was back. Why? Was it the smell of my blood? Had it drawn him to me like a vulture?

The vampire made it clear that he never wanted to see me again.

Despite that assertion, he was here. And if he was here, maybe I could save myself. Hope bloomed inside of me once again.

"What happened to you?" the prince asked.

I might be losing my grip on reality, but I swore I heard a note of concern in his voice. If vampires showed any concern at all.

Before I could answer, he grabbed my chin in his cold hand and tilted my head to the side, examining my neck, which caused the searing pain to spread and more sticky hot liquid to drip down my neck.

"Stop! You're hurting me!" I managed to grit out, and he immediately released me.

I touched my neck, willing the pain to calm like my sisters could, but it wouldn't. I wasn't a witch. I was just a girl who was bleeding in front of a vampire. Thinking about the blood and my impending death made me dizzy all over again, and I stumbled right into his hard chest.

Faster than I thought possible, the vampire prince steadied my shoulder with one hand and, with the other, extracted a dagger from the black leather holster strapped to his chest. Long, skilled fingers slid the cold blade against the thin skin covering my throat. The steel tip coming to rest beneath the choker.

Fated to the Vampire PrinceWhere stories live. Discover now