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Chapter One
In the darkness of the room, the red glowing eyes in the corner shine brightly. Menacingly. I blink several times, trying to adjust to the dark, so that I can see the creature stalking me in the night. It walks toward my bed, the light of the full moon shining through the window and illuminating the area. As the creature steps into the moonlight, I see him.
Long raven-black hair, pale skin, and those eyes. Red and mere slits. His lips curl into a sneer that has me cowering beneath my covers. It’s no use. There is nowhere for me to hide.
“You can’t run from me, Marina,” the cold, hard voice taunts. “I’ll find you wherever you go. You’ll never be safe.”
My body shakes and my teeth chatter as fear ripples through every synapse. A cold sweat breaks out all over and I can’t help the whimpering that escapes my lips. The covers shielding me begin to slide off my body as I curl into a ball and slam my eyes shut.
An icy finger trails a line down my cheek, and I shudder at the unwanted touch. A cry catches in my throat as two large hands push down on my shoulders, forcing me deeper into the mattress.
A scream finally rips through my chest, rattling off the walls. A sinister laugh echoes my fear. I kick and lash out, without making a connection with the creature. I’m overpowered and surely moments away from death.
“Marina. Marina!”
I jolt upright, heaving in a lungful of air, eyes flying open and hands flying up to cover my head.
“Marina. Calm down. It’s me... Law,” the voice is familiar and soothing, which immediately helps my racing heart to slow and my breathing to even out.
When I’ve finally managed to pull myself together, I open my eyes and am met with a worried Law staring back at me.
“What the hell, Marina? You gave me a heart attack.”
“I-I had a bad dream,” I say, voice slightly shaky as I recall the way Marcellus lurked in the corner.
It had been him, and there was no doubt in my mind that if it had been real, I’d be dead. There are no redeeming qualities in that one, Julian’s brother or no. He’s pure evil. I shiver at the thought.
“Some dream,” he replies absently.
“You could say that.” I wipe the sleep from my eyes and run my hands through my hair. “It was your evil brother.”
“Ah, well... he’s not here. You’re safe,” Law says, patting my back.
My eyes catch on a plain oak door I don’t recognize. “Where is here?” I ask, looking around. Nothing about this place is familiar.
The room is smaller than any back at Julian’s, and it’s far too plain to be amongst the heavily decorated spaces in Law’s mansion. The lone window is shielded by heavy, faded, mustard-colored drapes, which I have no doubt Law would abolish from his home. A thick layer of dust coats the surfaces of the two small tables that make up the whole of the furniture aside from the queen-size bed I sit atop. Nothing hangs on the mundane white walls and there is no ornamentation to be seen. By comparison to both Julian’s and Law’s homes, we’re in a shack.
“We’re at my hideaway,” Law explains. “It’s in the middle of the woods in Louisiana. About two hours northwest of New Orleans. Close to Baton Rouge,” he rambles on. “Nobody but Julian knows about this place.”
I want to ask why he needs a hideaway, but considering his family, I don’t need to. I’ve met crazy people, but Marcellus and his crew take the cake.
“I-I’m having trouble remembering,” I admit, feeling groggy, muscles tight all over. “What happened? Why am I here?”
His brow furrows and his lips press together tightly. He looks at me for what feels like minutes, not saying anything, and unease begins to creep in. I rack my brain, trying to uncover why he’s looking at me like he is. The only thing I know for sure is that something is wrong.Reallywrong.
“What’s going on, Law?” I finally ask, feeling twitchier by the moment.
“You... don’t remember anything?” His eyes are wide.
I shake my head but don’t speak as I try to remember what could possibly have Law, of all people, worked up. He’s the light-hearted, easygoing Bellamy brother, and the man—err, vampire—is seriously shook.
“You’ve been asleep off and on for a week,” he says, staring at me intently.
“H-how is that possible?” I ask, feeling weak.
“I called in a favor to a witch friend.” He winks. “She made some nasty-looking concoction that we had to practically force down your throat. It put you in a sort of coma. Think Snow White or Sleeping Beauty. No kiss from Prince Charming required,” he teases.
“That’s lame,” I chortle. “The least you could’ve done was insist on the kiss.”
