A Clash of Fangs and Blood

AYA

I was nervously shifting behind Alexander. He had strategically positioned himself between me and the cellar’s trapdoor, his arm gently holding me back, his hand resting on my stomach.

We were frozen in place. Completely silent, straining our ears to the sounds of the turned vampires rummaging through the chalet above us. I could hear their breaths, their footfalls on the wooden floor.

In a matter of seconds, they would discover us. There was no escape, no place to hide.

Alexander was barefoot, his sweater haphazardly thrown on. I could feel his body tensing up. His jaw muscles clenched, and his eyes darted toward the door.

I softly reached out, gripping his solid bicep. His hand on my stomach eased a bit, acknowledging my touch.

I found myself staring at the back of his neck. I had only seen Alexander scared once in my life when he pleaded with his grandfather not to kill me. Not before that, not after.

I had seen him vulnerable, shattered, but never scared. Something about his posture hinted at his unease.

I knew he was powerful enough to escape this cellar, strong enough to rip them all apart, regardless of their training. Alexander was always quicker, always stronger.

But I wasn’t. I wasn’t a fighter. I never had been. Even during my ripper years, I was no match for another vampire.

Alexander wasn’t worried about himself; he was worried about me. He was concerned he wouldn’t be able to get me out. That was the real danger—he could kill them all, but not before they ripped me to shreds.

The tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood up as the footsteps above us grew closer to the trapdoor.

I looked up at the floorboards, the shifting shadows, their attempts at silence, but we were both painfully aware of their location.

There were at least five turned vampires, and more were still approaching from outside.

Alexander gave my hand another squeeze, glancing back at me. I wasn’t sure what my face was revealing, but whatever it was prompted him to offer a comforting smile.

I returned his smile. He could probably sense my anxiety, but I didn’t want to add to his worries.

I would trust him completely.

Moments later, the trapdoor was discovered. They yanked it open violently, the wood shrieking as it splintered. Despite anticipating it, I couldn’t help but startle.

They flooded into the cellar, where Alexander was waiting for them, a wicked smirk playing on his lips.

He moved with a speed I had never seen before.

Before they could even take a second step into the cellar, he seized the first one by the throat and hurled him back up the stairs, simultaneously decapitating him and effectively blocking the others from entering.

The second man lunged at Alexander, knocking him back into the cellar.

Alexander hissed. The smell of his blood filled the confined space as a dark red line appeared across Alexander’s chest.

But he seemed oblivious to it. He disregarded the sword slashing through the air and grabbed the turned vampire’s throat, his fingers sinking into his skin. Blood vessels burst. With a hiss, he ripped the vampire’s throat out.

The vampire gurgled and fell backward, desperately clutching his throat, his blood splattering against the walls, his sword clattering to the ground.

Alexander lifted his head, his fingers dripping with blood.

Four turned vampires descended into the cellar. Their dark green attire, the golden Shahalia insignia, dark skin, and midnight hair easily gave away their identity. Shahalia henchmen. Trained guards. And ruthless fighters. They wielded long, sharp swords, glinting in the moonlight filtering through the chalet above.

I had heard of them but had rarely seen them, except when the Shahalia family visited the mansion. Anthony had always praised their training.

Alex shot them a smirk, then raised his hand and took a leisurely lick of the blood on his thumb.

There was no need for words. They knew who we were, and we knew who they were.

They lunged at us simultaneously. The air in the small space whooshed with their speed.

Alexander was ready for them, pushing me back against the bed as he dodged the first sword. Fangs and red eyes glinted in the darkness. He launched himself at the henchmen, his fangs bared, fists swinging.

The henchmen were quick. They moved in a flawless, lethal formation, instantly surrounding Alexander and attacking him from all sides.

Alex was quicker, more powerful than them, yet he was without a weapon. He moved with a precision that was lethal, lunging with a kind of wild abandon—a reckless bravery.

Even with swords swinging at him, he didn’t seem to care about his own safety. His focus was solely on his target. He put everything he had into each punch, each bite, ripping them to shreds, piece by piece.

He didn’t let a single one get past him. I was perched on the bed, my fangs exposed, ready to join the fight at any moment.

“Get to the cellar, Aya!” Alex commanded, pointing toward the door before sinking his teeth into an attacker’s throat, ripping out his windpipe.

He lifted his head, letting the lifeless body fall, his blood-red eyes meeting mine. Fresh blood was spilling from his lips, staining his chin, his throat, his sweater.

Two more attackers were circling him, swords in hand. But Alex had already snatched a sword from one of them and was fighting back with deadly precision.

I didn’t want him to have to tell me twice, but the thought of leaving him alone with two soldiers hell-bent on killing him was unbearable.

I sprang from the bed and sprinted toward the door. A sword swung through the air, but I managed to duck and roll out of the way.

A turned vampire lunged at me, but stopped abruptly—a sword piercing his chest. Alex barely glanced at him before turning his attention back to the remaining attacker, yanking his sword from the man’s chest.

I raced up the stairs. I could hear more of them approaching. The alarm had been raised. The mountain was suddenly swarming with vampires, Shahalia henchmen, and bounty hunters.

I made my way through the cabin, the sounds of Alex’s battle echoing below. The clash of iron seemed to reverberate through the valleys, drawing attention to our location.

I burst outside. The cool night air enveloped me, carrying with it the scent of the Shahalia men who had set up camp nearby.

I turned to survey the mountain, the valley spread out before me, wildflowers stubbornly pushing through the underbrush.

A sudden noise behind me had me spinning around, fangs bared.

A turned vampire dropped from the pine trees above. Her Shahalia insignia was gold, indicating her rank. She was a general. Her crimson eyes locked onto mine almost instantly, and her red lips pulled back to reveal sharp white fangs.

She lunged at me.

I quickly sidestepped her attack. She crashed into a tree, splintering it. I spun around before she could grab me.

She was fast, her sword slicing through the air, narrowly missing me. I dodged and wove, avoiding her strikes as she lashed out, fangs exposed, hissing. I didn’t have time to think—to counterattack.

I could only defend myself, barely blocking her blows. I grabbed a branch to use as a shield, but it shattered after a few direct hits. When her blade grazed my collarbone, I gasped in pain.

A thin line of blood soaked into my top. Her nostrils flared at the scent of my blood. I hissed, baring my fangs and crouching.

She was twirling her blade between her small hands. I realized I was panting. Behind us, I could hear the silence that followed the fall of Alex’s last attacker and the sound of Alex rushing up through the cabin.

His movements distracted the Shahalia guard long enough for me to launch myself at her. I grabbed her hair, wrapping my legs around her waist, pulling her head back and sinking my fangs into her throat. We fell heavily, her sword swinging toward me.

I rolled off, tearing a chunk of her throat with me. She hissed, blood pouring from her wound. She tried to stand but stumbled back into the dust.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, my chest heaving with exhaustion. She was convulsing on the ground, her blood soaking into the dirt and pine needles. She was staring up at me, clutching her throat.

All she could do was wait to heal.

“Aya!” Alex’s voice was choked.

I turned toward him. Just as I did, three vampires descended on him from the trees above.

He cursed, ducking to avoid their swords. I moved to help him, but a sharp pain sliced through me.

I gasped in surprise, the breath knocked out of me. I swayed on my feet, my vision blurring.

Alexander’s voice echoed in my ears, a desperate cry of my name. Our eyes locked, and the torment etched on his face cut me to the core. He was under attack, four vampires clawing at him, sinking their fangs into his flesh.

I attempted to move, but my body refused to respond. My brows knitted together in frustration. Alexander’s voice continued to ring out, and a sharp pain began to bloom in my chest.

My head dropped, and my gaze fell on the wooden arrow lodged in my chest. It was slick with my blood. My clothes were drenched.

The metallic scent hit my nostrils, and I coughed, blood spilling from my lips. Suddenly, my knees buckled, and I collapsed face-first onto the soft earth.

My mind was a whirlwind of pain and confusion. Alexander’s voice was still there, the urgency in his tone palpable, but he felt so far away. My chest pulsed with pain, my thoughts becoming increasingly muddled as I felt my lifeblood seeping away.

Had the arrow pierced my heart? Was this the end? After one hundred and fifty years, was I finally going to die?

Pain lanced through me in fiery waves as I tried to move. Alexander’s screams filled the air. I managed to tilt my head toward him.

Five vampires now had him pinned, a sword poised at his throat, immobilizing him. “No,” I rasped, my voice barely a whisper. Blood splattered from my mouth.

Another cough wracked my body, intensifying the pain in my chest. Alexander’s blood-red eyes met mine over the blade. I could see my fear reflected in his gaze.

A wave of confusion washed over me. This couldn’t be happening. We were supposed to be safe. We were supposed to be together. He couldn’t die. They couldn’t decapitate him.

I tried to move again, but the arrow shifted inside me, eliciting a whimper of pain. Voices swirled around us. I could hear others approaching, the thud of their boots hitting the ground.

Alexander’s voice was a mix of curses, pleas, and struggles. A figure loomed over me, a crossbow in hand. I didn’t recognize the face, but the Shahalia insignia was unmistakable.

The vampire sneered as I reached for his ankle. He stomped on my chest, forcing the air from my lungs. I gasped in agony.

Anger surged within me. I reached for him again, but he pressed down harder. The sound of my collarbone snapping reached my ears before the pain did. I let out a scream.

Alexander’s voice echoed mine, calling out my name. My vision blurred with bloody tears. The Shahalia guard kept his foot on my chest, reaching down to assist a female whose throat had healed enough for her to speak.

My hands clawed at the dirt. Exhaustion seeped into my bones, weighing me down. Then, a sense of calm washed over me. It was him, trying to soothe me, trying to calm me.

The pain dulled. My body went numb as I surrendered to his power. Images of my family flashed in my mind. Their faces smeared with blood. My greatest sin. The event that shattered me.

Then Alexander’s face appeared, his pain, his hardness, his shattered expression. I had broken him when I destroyed myself. I yearned to reach out to him—to see him.

But my consciousness was fading as his power intensified. My senses dulled. I couldn’t see, couldn’t smell, couldn’t feel anything. It was as if I was enveloped in a soft cloud.

“Alex,” my voice was a mere whisper, unrecognizable even to me. I didn’t hear a response before everything plunged into darkness.