Stone Cold

Chapter 6

Metal.

That was the first thing she tasted. Bitter metallic taste of her own blood. Her bottom lip throbbed as she, subconsciously, tried pressing it harder against his. The increasing pain in her bottom lip triggered her to come back to her senses.

She moved away swiftly. Her eyes wide with horror as her reckless actions registered in her mind. Blood trickled down her chin from the open wound. She slowly touched her lips with the tip of her fingers. Dust was sticking to the wet blood.

She quickly wiped her mouth by the back of her sleeve, ignoring the pain from her busted lip. She couldn't believe she did something so stupid. She kissed a centuries old statue for crying out loud!

"Oh My God! Am I turning into a pervert? Do I have some kind of fetish that's finally showing?" Her gaze moved around frantically as weird thoughts circulated inside her mind. In their haste, her eyes settled down on the statue she had completely forgotten in her frenzied state.

She stood still. Her eyes zeroed on his mouth. There was blood smeared on his lips.

Her blood.

Small crimson droplets dripped down his fangs. Some of it had escaped inside his open mouth. The agony on his face was being replaced by malice as the blood on the stone got drier.

The room seemed to have grown darker. Suddenly, she didn't feel comfortable in there anymore. She wanted out. She had unconsciously started backing away. She stopped to take one last look at him. He looked like a real monster in that moment. A blood-thirsty monster. The sight of him made her shiver with fright.

She hurriedly turned around to leave. The door was just in front of her. She was halfway there, when she heard the shuffling of metal behind her. The only metal in the room was silver. A door made of silver and..

Silver chains.

She felt like someone had just knocked the breath out of her. She could hear her heartbeat thumping in her ears. Small beads of sweat fromed on her forehead. She was contemplating her next movement.

'Do I turn around? Do I run?'

The silence of the room was again disturbed by a cracking sound. "Oh God."

She spun around hastily, her eyes connecting once again with the stone statue on the altar. There were cracks forming all around the statue, running haphazardly, covering every inch of it in seconds.

Before she could run, there was a loud booming sound and the force of it threw her across the wall like a rag doll.

Silence followed the loud boom. A deep deadly silence. There was something ominous about it. As if it were the calm before the storm.

She lay motionless on the floor, her head facing the ceiling. Darkness embraced her from every corner of the room. She coughed, clutching her chest. A sharp pain radiated through her ribcage. One or two ribs of her seemed to be broken. Her lungs burnt as tears spilled freely from the corner of her eyes.

She couldn't believe she was going to die so early. Claire was right about a stupid kid getting herself killed in the name of adventure. She was that stupid kid.

She had no idea how much time passed before she finally tried to get up. Every fibre in her body complained as she moved. Placing her hands on the floor, she shifted her weight on them and tried lifting herself up. She succeeded on her third attempt. Leaning back on the wall for support, she breathed heavily. Her insides felt like they were set on fire.

She was still clutching her sides from the pain when she heard footsteps coming from a distance. Fear gripped her heart as her head rose towards the source of sound.

There was a man. He was barefoot. His feet too pale in contrast to the black stone pathway. Black slacks losely covered his long legs. A white torn shirt barely hanging from his body. She noticed the silver chains around his wrists and ankles which were being dragged on the floor behind him.

Her eyes shifted up in a second. Hair as dark as the night. Skin as pale as the moon. His cheeks were hollow, eyes sunken. He looked weaker but there was no doubt that he was the lord in that picture. The rumored vampire lord.

The only remarkable difference that could be seen were his red eyes instead of the glowing emeralds and those sharp white fangs poking out of his mouth. Fangs that had her blood on them. His lips were still smeared with her dried blood. A lone crimson tear slid down his left eye.

She felt her heart stop for a second. That wasn't a rumor. He was indeed a vampire lord. The medieval lord of this manor. He was still alive. And he was approaching her slowly with every passing second.