Chapter 5:

Footsteps.

At first, they’re faint, but as my senses sharpen, I realize they’re coming from above me.

A slow, steady rhythm, like someone pacing back and forth. My eyes remain closed, but I focus on the sound, honing in on every detail—the weight of the steps, the soft patter on marble ground.

Then I notice something else. My throat. It’s unbearably dry, like I’ve swallowed sandpaper. My fingers twitch, and I feel softness beneath me.

A bed. It’s too soft to be mine.

A groan escapes my lips, and I hear a sudden movement. Someone shifts, the scrape of a chair against the floor.

My eyes flutter open, and I’m staring at a ceiling that seems impossibly high.

This isn’t my room.

The air smells of cinnamon, warm and sweet. My room smells like lavender, a comforting scent I’d picked out myself.

I sit up. Or rather, my body moves faster than my brain can process, the motion a blur. One second I’m lying down, the next I’m upright. The disorientation makes me freeze.

“What the hell?” I mutter, looking around.

The room is dark, but my vision is sharper than ever. Every shadow, every line of the furniture is clear. My eyes land on a figure sitting on a couch against the wall.

Valentine.

He’s watching me with a strange expression, like he’s both amused and… curious. “I was wondering when you’d come around,” he says calmly. His legs are crossed elegantly, and there's something about him that suddenly pulls me in.

“What…” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat. “What’s going on?”

“You’ve been out for a while.” He leans back, resting an arm on the couch. “It’s good to see you awake, though.”

The casualness in his tone sets me on edge. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, testing my balance. The marble floor is cool under my feet. “Where am I?”

“Somewhere safe,” he answers cryptically.

I stand, and the motion happens so fast it makes me dizzy. “What is going on with me?”

Before he can answer, I move toward the window.

Again, the movement feels unnatural, like I’m gliding instead of walking. I reach for the curtain, desperate to see where I am.

But Valentine is suddenly there, pulling me back with a grip that’s firm but not painful. “We don’t do that,” he tuts sharply, his grip firm on my fingers.

I twist out of his grasp and glare at him. “Why not?”

“Because unless you want to turn into a pile of ash, I’d recommend staying away from sunlight.”

I blink at him, stunned. “What?”

“You heard me,” he says with a shrug.

I touch my cheeks, noticing for the first time how cold my skin feels. “Why do I feel like this? Why do I feel… cold?”

“Because you are,” he shrugs simply.

My eyes flick back to the window. “And why can’t I open the damn curtain?”

“Sunlight, baby vampire,” he sounds mocking. Maybe it's the way I perceive him, or maybe he is. “It’s not our friend.”

“You’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” His golden eyes lock onto mine, and for the first time, I notice how predatory they look.

I shake my head, taking a step back. “No. No, this is insane. I’m leaving.”

“You can’t,” he says, his voice low and firm.

“Ellie’s going to be worried about me,” I argue, panic rising in my chest. “And I have school. My exams are coming up, and—”

“You can’t leave.”

The finality in his tone makes my stomach drop. “Like hell I can’t!”

I dart for the door, but he’s in front of me before I even make it two steps. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he warns, his tone calm but deadly.

I try again, dodging to the side, but he catches me effortlessly. It’s like trying to outrun a shadow.

My frustration boils over, and I let out a growl of frustration, surprising even myself.

“You can’t keep me here!” I shout, twisting out of his grip and running again.

He doesn’t even look winded as he stops me for the third time. “You’re not thinking clearly,” he says, his tone almost sympathetic now.

“Let me go!” I scream, using all my strength to break free.

When I realize I won’t get past him, I turn to the window. Without thinking, I throw my entire weight into it, shattering the glass and diving headfirst out of the room.

The fall is longer than I expect, the wind whipping past me. I hit the ground hard, the impact jarring every bone in my body. For a moment, I can’t move.

Then I see my arm. It’s bent at an unnatural angle, the bone clearly broken. But I don’t feel pain.

Instead, I watch in stunned silence as the bone shifts, realigning itself. The skin knits back together, and within seconds, my arm is as good as new.

“What the hell?” I whisper, staring at my hands.

The sun beats down on me, warm and bright. It feels… good. Comforting. I look up, squinting against the light.

“I’m not turning to ash,” I murmur, confused. “He lied.”

Or maybe… maybe I’m not what he says I am.

The sound of a lawnmower draws my attention. I look around and realize I’m standing in the middle of a sprawling estate.

A mansion towers behind me, its windows gleaming in the sunlight. Workers are scattered across the property, tending to the gardens and mowing the lawn.

One of them—a gardener pushing a mower—stops and stares at me. His expression is a mix of shock and horror, and I realize it’s because I just jumped out of a window and landed unscathed.

I take a step toward him, and that’s when I hear it.

His heartbeat.

It’s loud and rhythmic, a steady thrum that drowns out everything else. My throat burns, and I instinctively lick my lips.

“I’m thirsty,” I whisper to myself, my voice trembling.

The gardener looks at me like I’m insane, but I can’t tear my eyes away from him. All I can think about is how warm his blood must be, how good it would taste.

Something inside me shifts, a primal hunger taking over. I can feel my teeth lengthening, sharp and ready.

I take another step toward him, my mind screaming at me to stop, but my body refuses to listen.

"I'm thirsty..."