Irritation flared in my chest. His confidence was infuriating, as if he didn’t care about the world and only he mattered.
Everything about him screamed danger, his deliberate, calculated movements, the way he regarded me with both amusement and disdain. I wasn’t sure whether to be pissed off or terrified.
“You’re a long way from home, vampire,” I grip my dagger tighter.
“Blood mage,” He corrected, his smile never faltering. “Not a vampire.”
I blinked at him, the confusion flickering across my face. “What’s the difference?” I spat, my irritation rising. “You’re both a menace.”
His laugh was low and dark, like the sound of an approaching storm. “A blood mage isn’t bound to the same rules as a vampire, little witch. We aren’t undead. Vampires, on the other hand, are slaves to their thirst.”
I brought my dagger up slightly, ready to fight, but something about his calm confidence, how he seemed so unfazed by the tension in the air, unsettled me more than anything.
“Both are still bloodsuckers.” I retorted.
He chuckled, his voice dark and smooth, as he took another step closer to me. I instinctively stepped back, tightening my grip on my dagger, every muscle in my body tensed for action. My magic was prepared to unleash if he attempted anything.
I had never encountered a blood mage before, and the vampires I had crossed paths with were enough to make my skin crawl, especially the ones who hunted me. I wasn’t about to let another predator get close.
“True,” he mused, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “But I’m particularly picky about who I feed from, and I only feed for power, or when I’m fucking.”
I have no idea why that sounds so appealing.
He slowly licked his lips, his gaze lingering on me as if I were a meal he was savouring.
“I could take so much from you—your magic, your pleasure,” he murmured, nostrils flaring and eyes dark with hunger.
Something snapped inside me, with a flick of my wrist, the earth beneath our feet responded to my call, thick vines bursting from the ground like serpents, twisting and curling towards him with an undeniable force.
He paused, his red eyes scanning the vines as they snaked toward him. His lips curled into a smirk, a hint of curiosity in his expression as he cocked his head.
“Impressive, but I’m not here to kill you.” He said smoothly.
The vines remained coiled, their sharp tips just inches away from him. However, his presence diminished their threat, making them feel more like an afterthought. It was as if I were the one trying to prove something, while he simply waited for me to reveal my hand.
“Could’ve fooled me,” I shot back, my gaze narrowing. Every part of me screamed to strike, to end whatever this was before it escalated, but something in his demeanour kept me grounded.
A nagging feeling that he was more than just a threat. He was closer now, his movements smooth and confident, like he was strolling through his domain. His dark, messy hair fell effortlessly into his face, framing his sharp, striking features, and that smirk of his only seemed to deepen with each passing second. He didn’t seem to care about the vines still thrashing around us. This was no more than a mild inconvenience to him.
“So, you're just an elemental witch, right?” He drawled, leaning back. His red eyes flickered with amusement.
“Pretty basic power, no wonder you’re a lower-level witch.”
I clenched my fists at my side, feeling the crackle of restrained magic just beneath my skin. This arrogant bastard had no idea who he was talking to. Unfortunately for me, he wasn’t entirely wrong. My full power was locked away, sealed by an intricate tattoo that stretched across my spine. The dark ink pulsed faintly, whispering of the magic trapped beneath it, magic that my mother had bound because I was too dangerous.
“Don’t rise to the bait, Raven.”Xarothar's voice slithered through my mind, his tone both amused and warning.
“Raven?”I echoed, my brows furrowing.
“Short for your name.”Huh, I hadn’t realised he could hear my thoughts too.
“You literally just took away one letter.”I pointed out.
He chuckled,“And yet, you suit it well.”
“Are you done talking to your familiar?” the blood mage asked, stepping forward without my noticing. My magic had the vines coiled protectively around me, inching upward like serpents sensing a threat. Their thorns glistened—sharp and eager—waiting for the slightest excuse to lash out.
“I don’t have one.”
