Chapter 3

She raised her head and howled at the moon as it rose. How many times had she hoped that she could change her appearance more frequently than once a month, so that she could feel the awe and freedom of this moment whenever she wanted to? She frequently fantasized about being an Alpha like her father, being able to transform whenever she pleased, having her father's unbridled power and authority, and being the one to issue commands rather than having to follow them. Nevertheless, longing for something that could never come true was fruitless.

She gave her head a shake and then launched into a ground-eating run, yipping with delight as she leaped with ease over boulders and brush. She continued this for a while. As she continued to move quickly, she took pleasure in the feeling of invincibility that swept over her.

She hadn't gone very far when all of a sudden, a jackrabbit burst out of its shelter.

The werewolf gave a short yelp before giving chase, taking pleasure in the sting of the wind in her face, the numerous aromas that bombarded her senses from every side, and the unadulterated pleasure of the hunt.

The poor rabbit was doomed from the start and never stood a chance.

While Raquel lazed about on a bed that was covered in plush furs and had a large bowl of exotic fruit at her fingers, two attractive male slaves waited close, ready to carry out whatever Raquel wanted them to do. Her animal companion, Rama, layed down next to her and purred quietly the whole time.

Raquel was aware that some of her fellow witches viewed her way of life as being a little bit on the unusual side because she favored wearing long skirts and peasant blouses rather than clothing that was more contemporary. She would simply smile and tell them that she had an old soul if anyone made a remark about the way she dressed or mentioned that they felt some of her magic was rather childlike. Far older than any of them could have known or even imagined.

There were many different kinds of witches and many different sorts of magic. Some witches were born with the ability to perform magic, while others picked up their skills from another witch. In extremely unusual instances, the magical arts were given as a present to some deserving individual. There was magic based on the earth, magic based on water, magic based on fire, and magic based on the wind. Raquel had inherited her mother's magic, but she desired more power and more knowledge, and as a result, she sought out the same elderly Navajo shaman who had educated her mother. His own people feared and revered Yanaba, and none of them would have dared to accuse him of being a witch in front of him.

Raquel frequently entertained the idea of informing the elderly witch about the magical qualities that were present in Phil's blood; but, whenever she started to do so, she was stopped by an inner voice that cautioned her that such information should not be divulged to anyone else.

Raquel flashed a grin as she took a quick peek at the two images that were arranged adjacent to one another on the nightstand. The first one depicted an elderly lady with yellow teeth, sunken eyes, wrinkled skin, and stringy gray hair. Her skin was also mottled with age spots. The other depiction was of a young woman who had thick, pale blonde hair, porcelain-like skin that was spotless and blemish-free, and bright green eyes; she was a stunning young woman who was at the height of her beauty.

She turned her head to the other side of the bed and looked into the little mirror with the gold-framed mirror that was sitting on the nightstand there. An image of a lovely young woman grinned back at her.

Raquel purred softly as she stroked the cat's head and said, "Oh, Rama." "I know it's hard to believe, but those are both photos of me, right?"

Prior to meeting Phil, Raquel was so self-conscious about the way she looked that she hardly ever ventured out of the house. Extremely self-conscious about her appearance, she turned her back on her friends when she noticed that her beauty was beginning to wane. She hid her face under a veil or cast a spell to disguise her ugliness on the rare times that she was forced to leave the house.

When she thought about the handsome nightwalker who was being held captive in her cellar, a smile spread across her face. Because of him, she was finally able to regain her health. His blood nourished her on the inside and out, bestowing upon her improved health and a greater capacity for resilience. And the young. She touched her cheek with the tips of her fingers. The skin had a velvety texture, although it was still quite firm. Age's unsightly wrinkles and blotches, as well as the awful liver spots that had appeared on her hands, were vanished.

She owed her rejuvenated youth to the vampire blood spell that was discovered in one of the ancient grimoires that belonged to her mother. When Raquel first read the spell, she thought it was complete gibberish and cast it aside. There is no way that something that is so simple and fast could be efficient. But as the passage of time proceeded to rob her of her youth and beauty, and as her body began to deteriorate, she went in quest of a vampire. She reflected on how long it had taken her to locate one, and she realized that it was not a simple process. The fact that he was still young and gorgeous had served as a pleasant added bonus.

She was adamant about putting the age-old magic to the test, so she tracked down the necessary golden chalice, procured the necessary quantity of fresh vampire blood, and recited the essential words before drinking from the cup. The flavor was very horrible. She had no idea what to anticipate, so she was completely taken aback by the results, which were both instant and indisputable.

The best part was that Phil had almost unending life. He would fulfill her requirements, regardless of whether or not he was willing to do so, for as long as she desired, which would be a respectable amount of time.

Her friends and acquaintances took notice of the changes in her appearance almost immediately. Raquel attributed her good fortune to a miraculous elixir that she had discovered, the components of which were, of course, closely held secrets.

News of her amazing elixir quickly traveled over the Internet like wildfire, and soon wealthy ladies were ordering it online. They were willing to pay whatever she wanted for a bottle of the remarkable tonic that was promised to erase ten years or more off of a woman's appearance.

It was obvious that Raquel couldn't let it be known to anyone—witch or mortal—that she had a vampire living in her basement or that, when combined with the spell she had discovered, it had the potential to ensure perpetually good health and a long life. It was famously difficult to track down vampires. And witches are well known for their intelligence. She had no choice but to rule out the possibility of someone abducting Phil. After giving it some thought, she eventually tore the spell out of the grimoire and burnt it, ensuring that no one else would ever be able to replicate it.

She allowed humans to pay with credit cards, but demanded human currency from witches, wizards, and other magical beings.

After all, she was responsible for ensuring that the attractive vampire that was imprisoned in the cellar received the proper nutrition.

Gwen repressed a yawn as she finished filling the food and water dishes for the dogs, cats, and one ferret with a poor disposition who would be spending the weekend at the clinic. Gwen also filled the dishes with food and water for the ferret. When Gwen closed the cage door, a cute little cocker spaniel that had undergone some surgery earlier in the day made a whining sound.

Gwen whispered to Blackie as she scratched behind his ears, "You'll be feeling better very soon." I'll see you on Monday, take care.

While she was walking away from the kennel, she grabbed her sweater and waited by the front entrance for Melissa, who was at that moment turning off the computer.

"I'm starving," Gwen remarked. "Let's go get some dinner at Hebron's. I have a craving for a juicy steak right now." She had a hearty appetite throughout her life, but never more so than in the days leading up to the full moon. It was almost impossible to believe that time of year had come around again.

Melissa responded, "I think that's an excellent idea." "Before we continue, I need to go home and change. I'll be there in twenty minutes to meet you there."

“Okay. After that, you're welcome to join me at my apartment for some dessert. I cooked an apple pie."

Melissa complimented your baking skills while she wiped the last of the crumbles from her lips and remarked, "You make a mean apple pie."

There is more than this.

"Don't tempt me." After Melissa was finished eating, she placed her plate on the coffee table. "So, what are your plans for the evening?"

"I can't say for sure." Gwen took a quick look at the brand-new paperback that was sitting on the end table in anticipation of her. "This has been a very trying week, and"

Melissa looked at her for a moment, before shaking her head. "Oh no, you don't. I am aware of everything that is going through your mind, and you can dismiss those ideas at this very now. It's the weekend, my dear, and it's time for us to put our best foot forward."

Gwen gave a slight nod in response. "I am aware of what you are considering at the same time. Then you can simply forget it. The nightclub is not going to see me there. We are free to do everything else we want, like go to a movie or bowling, but nightclubs are off limits. I don't go out drinking and I don't sleep around, and that's all the guys who hang out at bars like The Roan Horse care about."

"What makes you so sure of that?" Melissa demanded, arms akimbo. "You've never even been there."

"I've been told tales about that location," you said. Gwen took note of Melissa's physical attributes. Melissa looked like she had escaped from a horror movie with her spiked blonde hair, black lipstick, black sweater, and skintight black jeans; yet, this look was currently all the rage. Gwen had given the goth look a shot at one point, but it just wasn't her style.

"Are you someone who believes everything that they hear?" Melissa asked.

"Not everything," Gwen conceded, but there were a great many more peculiar things in heaven and on Earth than Melissa was aware of.

Melissa spoke out in an anxious tone, "Come on!" "At the very least, let's have a look at it. Getting out of the house will be beneficial to you in the long run. You've had plenty of time to wallow in your misery here.

Gwen's thoughts were gloomy as she reflected on the validity of her friend's melancholy. In just a few short months, her father was going to make the announcement that she was going to be engaged to Noahl Grayson, a man who Gwen considered to be a haughty jerk.

Melissa lightly tapped the palms of her fingers on the arm of the couch. If you decide that you don't enjoy the club, I'll suggest that we leave and see a movie instead.