Undying Hate | Book Three

Six | Eat

First, the air was cold—enough for Sylvie's breath to billow blinding white smoke around her head. Then, the groans of pain sharpened her focus, and she sat, blinking against a blinding yellow light. 

No, the sun. 

The sun was so much sharper than she remembered. 

As Mila, Shan, Brodi, and Deacon came into view, she knew something was wrong; the women and Brodi struggled, while Deacon wasn't struggling at all. He wasn't even moving. Instead, he stared into the nothingness of the tree-saturated sky as the red of his eyes slowly leeched away into a dull green.

"Deacon?" Sylvie whispered, crawling closer to squeeze his hand. Its rigid coldness stilled her movements, and tears prickled her eyes. "Wake up..."

Shan sat first, still grimacing in pain, and a sigh escaped as she shuffled towards them. "Your job is done, old friend." She closed his eyes as Sylvie watched on, full of regret. Shame. "Until we meet again."

"I'm sorry," Sylvie whispered to Shan, shaking when she remained still, hunched over her fallen comrade. They probably had centuries of history that were all gone because of her.

Mila sniffled and touched her shoulder with violently trembling hands. "It isn't your fault," she rasped.

Brodi coughed up a puddle of black tar, and a wave of fear crashed through Sylvie. "What's happening to you?"

"All Shan asked Kol for was for us to make it safely to the Earth Realm. Nothing about our fate once we made it."

"Fucking bastard," Sylvie hissed, scrambling on her hands and knees to Mila as she tipped over backwards, convulsing. 

"What do I do?" Her voice rose in pitch, hysteria taking over as Shan crumpled and Brodi's flapping mouth failed to make any words.

"No, no, no. This is not happening." Sylvie looked across the three of them one last time and stared at her shaking hands.

"Fuck it. Please work," she begged, digging her dulled canine into her wrist. Biting until blood flooded her mouth, she poised her arm to drip into theirs when her skin stitched itself back up. That was new. Why the fuck was she healing so fast?

She held the warm liquid in her mouth and shrugged helplessly. 

Oh, what the hell... She crawled to Mila first, looking the worst and pulled her chin down before letting the blood drip against Mila's tightly clenched teeth. Some must have gone down as Mila's convulsions eased and her fangs slowly grew. 

Then, laying Mila down softly, Sylvie moved to Shan, repeating the process and emptying her mouth. She looked at her wrist and whined as she bit down again, suckling and holding the blood inside before moving to Brodi. 

The whole situation felt oddly intimate, and nothing felt more like cheating than when she lowered her mouth above Brodi's and drip-fed him blood from her pursed lips.

His eyes shot open, and she jerked back, spitting a spray of red mist over him in fright before coughing and choking on the tiny drops she inhaled. He pounded her on the back and stared as Mila and Shan sat up slowly, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Did I just fuck up everything?" Sylvie asked. She didn't mean to bind them together; she just wanted to save their lives, and it felt like the right thing... the only thing she could do.

"It's not that," Mila whispered, touching her fingertips to her lips as she licked the last drops of Sylvie.

"Your bloodline is familiar."

"I don't know what that means."

"It means your father-"

The words were cut off by a sorrowful howl in the distance, and Sylvie stood, eyes wide. Were they close to home or somewhere wild wolves might hunt and eat them for dinner? The thought flitted by as dead silence followed, and she shuffled her feet in the dead leaves. "C'mon." Her whispers drew strange glances from the others, but she just ignored them, searching the expanse of trees.