I jerked awake and snapped upright, my neck straining as my head darted around in shock.
A burst of bitter cold wind bit at my skin and I shivered uncontrollably, snaking my arms around myself. My teeth chattered.
I had just closed my eyes for a moment and suddenly…
"Get over here," he warned sternly.
I shifted to find Lord Fashire out of the carriage, braving the harsh snow with stoic resilience. Clad in nothing more than dark breeches and a white undershirt, his fiery red hair danced in the wind, a stark contrast against the white landscape.
His outstretched hand beckoned me, and his impatience was evident in the deep creases on his forehead.
I couldn't go out there.
I trembled and cowered, hunching forward as another blast of cold air chilled me to the bone. The heavy garment I wore provided little protection from the cold. Lord Fashire grunted and grabbed me by my arm.
I flinched at the contact. His touch burned, radiating with heat as he yanked me out. I tripped and stumbled towards the snow only to be held back by his grasp around my wrist.
He released me and I recoiled from the biting cold, all senses fleeing from my mind as I snatched my arms around him and hugged tight, drawing in the warmth his body exuded.
I froze as if just realising what I had just done.
Beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, I felt the ripple of his muscles tense. With disturbing shock, I noticed his lean figure had a lot of them.
Heat flooded my face and I darted away from him, muttering a long string of apologies.
I couldn't believe I had just done that.
"You fool..." his voice trailed off, his words lost amidst the roaring winds that whipped around us.
I stumbled backwards, and the snowstorm swallowed the rest of his insults. I was trying to find my footing against the wind when a pair of strong hands seized my arms, steadying me.
And in the blink of an eye, the blinding white snowstorm transformed into the warm embrace of a carpeted hall.
A chill ran down my spine. These were not Lord Fashire's hands holding me. They were larger, rougher, and filled with an unsettling amount of physical prowess. The owner of the imposing limbs turned me around to face him, and my knees threatened to buckle beneath me.
A monstrous figure held me, a giant among vampires. Though his height matched Lord Fashire's, his sheer size was utterly daunting. My gaze locked with his, and a shiver coursed through me as I beheld his glowing red eyes. A dark sense of foreboding settled in the pit of my stomach. An insatiable hunger burned within this vampire's gaze.
My throat constricted and fear gripped me like a vice.
I would be fine.
I had to be fine.
My blood was toxic to them. It had to be. But what if it was only Lord Fashire who was affected by it?
And even if my blood did hold some deterrent, there was still the excruciating pain I would feel from the bite. My shoulder started to throb as I recalled how Lord Fashire had torn into my flesh.
The vampire's grip on me tightened and I opened my mouth to scream, only for the sound to die in my throat as his mouth twisted open. His jaws revealed a cavernous maw lined with not two, but four rows of sharp, golden-tinted fangs.
Four fangs…
A wave of pure terror washed over me.
There was no room for surrender.
Whether my blood repelled him or not, I would be torn apart before he felt it
My blood rushed to my head and I screamed at the top of my lungs, "No, please! I am not food! Sto—"
A sickening crunch reverberated through the air and I collapsed just as a thunderous shockwave shook the chamber. Lord Fashire stood where the attacker had just been and a resounding crack dragged my attention to the other vampire's massive frame embedded into the wall.
He groaned heavily, his beefy hand pressed against what should have been a jaw but now resembled a pulpy mess. Dark red blood streamed through his fingers and cascaded onto the carpet. Flames from a grand fireplace danced and cast flickering shadows across the hall.
The once-red carpet absorbed the vampire's blood, turning it into a grim, black stain.
Raising his head, the defeated vampire shot Lord Fashire a venomous glare, his vengeful fury overpowering the hunger in his eyes. His gaze flew over to me, and I instinctively recoiled.
The sound of shifting bones and the grotesque stitching crawl of skin piecing together filled the air. I fixated my eyes on Lord Fashire's boots as the other vampire's wounds healed.
I didn't want to touch him, nor did I want him to touch me. I had to believe I was safe enough. Surely, Lord Fashire wouldn't allow the other vampire to harm me, would he?
'Wait—what if Lord Fashire loses?'
Stones crumbled to the carpet as the vampire pried himself off the wall and I glanced up at Lord Fashire in panic. Wasn't he going to get us away from here? Why was he just standing there and staring?!
The burly vampire took a menacing step forward, and the flames in the fireplace roared, their tongues lapping dangerously in my direction. I inched back, seeking refuge from the scorching heat.
The larger vampire hissed, baring his fangs.
Lord Fashire stood calmly still and unaffected by the flames. It almost seemed like he was controlling them.
I looked back at the large vampire. Those golden fangs belonged to the purebred. The vampire royals who ruled over all other nobles.
Lord Fashire was just a noble. What noble could defeat a vampire of royal blood?
My heart caught in my throat as Lord Fashire spoke, his voice brimming with anger, "I thought I told you to never step foot here, brother."
Brother?