Chapter 8: Safe House - Osiah

An animai. A fucking animai. Has Zarseti lost her fucking mind?! How is that even remotely possible? This was meant to be a simple retrieval; how did this all happen?

I had sensed the newly made sanguidae as soon as they turned. As the first, I am connected to each and every one, so I can feel when another comes into being. A fact that shames and disgusts me to my core. They had someone guiding them, so I didn’t interfere right away, but once I knew their supposed leader was as dumb as a doornail with the traits of a serial killer, I knew I had to step in.

For thousands of years, I’ve managed to get to them before the Delegation could, but for once they beat me to it, but I never could have expected things to turn out this way. The moment I appeared; her scent overtook me. It nearly threw thousands of years of self-control out the window. Her scent was the most glorious thing I’ve ever smelt in my entire existence. She smelled of warm vanilla and orchids fresh on the vine at the peak of their bloom. Her blood sang to the curse that rages within me and the monster that I am craved nothing more than to sink my teeth into her flesh and taste her blood on my tongue. I knew if I did it would be the most divine thing I had ever tasted, but I resisted. Animai or not, I would not do that to her.

When I saw her for the first time I almost lost my resolve. She stood at 5’5”, her gorgeous frame dwarfed by my own. She had the most gorgeous mocha skin with glitters of gold. The way the gold in her skin reflected the sun she looked like a rare firefly, guiding me towards her like a moth to a flame. She had an adorable dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks and as her golden eyes looked upon me she was completely unaware of how my eyes were drawn to her thick full lips that were begging me to devour them. Her long thick black braids were tied up high in a ponytail and I will admit, her clothes did not make it difficult to envision what was hiding beneath. I could see the curve of her hips, the shape of her voluptuous ass and the fullness of her breasts. Everything inside me screamed to reach out and touch her and taste her, but I knew that would be a mistake.

Everything about her was like a siren, but it would be she who would be led to her doom. I am already condemned; I won’t drag her with me. For Zarseti to pair her to me, to pair anyone to me is an act of cruelty I cannot forgive, and she will answer for what she has done. That I can promise. I never thought leaving someone could be so unbearably painful and yet it was, but I have my responsibilities. Responsibilities that run deeper than some trick from a Goddess.

The sanguidae from today are lost and confused, consumed by their hunger, and being led into a dark pit that some never come out of because of one sanguidae on a power trip. Honestly, I would love to rip the little shit's heart out, but Zarseti – once again in her supposed divine wisdom – gave the psychopath an animai and for that sweet girl’s sake, the fucker gets to live. For now.

As I appear inside the safe house I use to give rogue sanguidae sanctuary, I look at the six new additions around me. Four are writhing in inexplicable pain - a result of cadmium from the smell of it - while their leader remains unconscious, and the sweet girl Amber stays close comforting him. Despite this curse that has befallen her, her sweetness still shines through. Perhaps if they complete the bond it might rub off on the prick, at the very least it might tame his hunger. I have seen animai bonds make sanguidae become more controlled once the bond is completed. Maybe that’s what Zarseti had in mind for me, but if that’s the case, she’s an idiot. I’m not like any of them and she knows that.

I snap my fingers placing the wounded into a state of unconsciousness. I decide it would be best to let their wounds heal naturally; teach them a valuable lesson that they’re not as indestructible as they think they are, but I don’t want them to suffer. With another snap of my fingers, I send their bodies to respective bedrooms to sleep.

Young Amber looks up at me with shock. Despite her blood-red eyes, she has a very innocent face. Narrow jaw, doe eyes, button nose and brown hair just past her shoulders. She’d make quite the honey trap. She has a slim frame and is 5’3”, wearing skinny light blue denim jeans and a man’s white collared long-sleeve shirt, both of which are covered in blood.

“There is a bathroom down the hall. There is another upstairs and each bedroom has its own ensuite. You can pick any available room you wish. You will find clean clothes, so you can get cleaned up and dressed,” I say softly.

“Why are you helping us?” she signs.

“Because it’s my fault you’re like this. Helping you is the least I can do,” I confess.

She frowns, “You didn’t make me this way,” she signs.

I sigh, running my fingers through my hair, “It’s a long complicated story. Just know you’re safe here, but I’m afraid you can’t leave.”

Her eyes widen in alarm as her fingers move with newfound speed, “Are we prisoners?”

I shake my head and sit on the coffee table, “None of you are prisoners. But if I let you out in your current state you are a danger to others and you know this. You’re also now aware you’re not the only supernatural beings in the world. There are beings you don’t know about and laws you don’t understand, and there are punishments for breaking those laws. I can help you learn control. Help you understand what you are and teach you the laws you need to follow. That’s why you need to stay here. Do you understand?”

She nods in understanding, “I don’t want to kill any more people,” she says, her face etched in remorse and shame. It’s like looking in a mirror.

“I know,” I say, reaching out to stroke her hair, “It won’t be forever. Just until you learn control.”

“What do I do if I get hungry?” she signs as she anxiously bites her lip. A good question. I offer her my hand and she takes it without hesitation. I lead her through the living room and into the kitchen, walking over to a large, reinforced door and place my hand on it.

“This is a cooler. Inside are donated blood bags. All the blood you need is inside. But, it has a magical lock. This door will only open for each person once a day, and you can only remove two bags. Trust me, you can’t trick the system. It will be hard. The hunger you’re feeling never goes away, but you can learn to push it from your mind. You don’t need to feed as often as you think you do. You can go weeks before the blood craze sets in.” I explain. She looks at me in confusion, once again reminding me how green she is. “I’ll explain later. Just know, you won’t die from lack of blood. Would you like me to get you a bag now?” I gently ask. Her blood-red eyes shine bright with hunger, and as she steps forward her teeth form sharp points. Four canines on the top row and six together on the bottom row. She quickly covers her mouth, and I watch as she fights against her own instincts.

She shakes her head furiously stepping back, “No. I want it, but I understand I don’t need it. I want to learn control. So no,” she signs with strength and determination in her actions. I smile feeling proud of the young one. I can tell she’ll handle this just fine. Hopefully, she can help her animai through this.

I squeeze her shoulders, “You’re going to do fine. How about you go upstairs and get cleaned up?”

She looks herself over and cringes, but nods in agreement. “What about Simon?” she signs, I’m getting better at translating the longer I’m around her. Remembering languages stored in my head is like riding a bike… not that I’ve ever actually ridden a bike.

“He and the others will remain asleep until I wake them. For now, it’s for the best. Now when I say you can’t leave, I mean you can’t leave. There is a magical barrier around the house. As soon as you and the others have learned control you’ll be free to leave.”

“How long will that take?” she signs.

“It’s different for everyone, so I can’t say,” I answer honestly.

She nods and begins to walk off, but stops and turns towards me, “Thank you. For saving us,” she signs with a sweet smile on her face.

“Trust me, I don’t deserve your thanks,” I say flatly. She frowns but walks off. I listen as she makes her way upstairs, and I hear her get in the shower. Now that that is handled, onto the next.