AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Subtlety's for those who can afford it," I said, my tone clipped. "I need your help, and it can't fucking wait."
"Another damsel in distress?" she quipped, moving around her cluttered space with the grace of a ghost. She knew damn well it wasn't just 'another' anything. This was Celeste—my Celeste—and everything about her screamed 'mine'.
"Cut the shit, witch. I'm not playing games here." I was pacing now, each step a hammer strike against the growing desperation inside me. "There's a killer out there, hunting people like prey, and Celeste... she could be next."
"Ah, the artist with the haunted eyes," she mused, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. "So, what do you want from me, Nash? A potion? A curse?"
"Neither. I need a contract—a sire contract." The words tasted strange on my tongue, but I forced them out anyway. "It'll bind me to her, keep her safe. Give her control over my powers if it comes to that."
Esmerelda raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge in the gesture. "That's a dark path you're treading, vampiro. Are you sure you want to chain yourself to a mortal like that?"
"Fuck yes, I'm sure." There was no hesitation in my voice, no room for doubt. "Do it."
"Alright then." She turned away, her movements deliberate as she gathered her tools. "But remember, Nash, some chains are harder to break than others."
"Let's just get it done," I growled, the weight of the coming dawn heavy on my mind. Celeste needed protection, and I'd walk through fire and brimstone to give it to her—even if it meant shackling my damned soul to hers.
Esmerelda's cottage was a goddamn fortress of shadows and secrets, the perfect place for dark dealings. She nodded once, silver streaks in her hair catching the moonlight that filtered through the grimy window.
"Fine," she said, her voice layered with old magic and older warnings. "I'll craft your sire contract, but heed this, Nash: Consent is the cornerstone of such enchantments. Without it, you risk tipping the scales toward chaos."
"Consent," I scoffed, rolling my eyes. Celeste's safety was the only law I gave a damn about. "I'll get her consent, but right now, I need to make sure she doesn't end up another fucking statistic."
"Be that as it may," Esmerelda continued, unfazed by my impatience, "a bond forged in deceit can unravel in malice. Are you prepared to face such consequences?"
"Consequences," I muttered bitterly, "are just ghosts waiting to be exorcised. Let's do this."
Esmerelda eyed me sharply, but I could tell she saw right through my tough act. Whatever. I wasn't there to win any approval contests.
With a resigned sigh, she extended her hand. "The contract requires something personal. A token of the one you seek to protect."
"Got it right here." I dug into my pocket, fingers closing around the silky threads I'd taken from Celeste's hairbrush—a lock of hair that held her essence, her art, her soul. As I pulled it out, a jolt shot through me, possessiveness clenching like a fist in my gut. This was more than a token; it was a piece of her, and every fiber screamed at me to keep it safe, keep her safe.
"Will this work?" I asked, though it wasn't really a question. I already knew the power it harbored.
"Perfectly," she took the hair from me with a nod. Her touch was careful, almost reverent, as she placed it on the table that served as her altar. The witch began to weave her spell, the strands of hair a potent catalyst in the alchemy of the supernatural.
"Remember, Nash," Esmerelda warned as she worked, her voice a low hum that vibrated with the energy of the incantations she whispered, "this contract will bind you to her fate. There's no turning back."
"Good," I said, the word as much a growl as it was an affirmation. "That's exactly what I want."
Inside, I wrestled with a cocktail of dread and determination. Betrayal had taught me to expect the worst, but as long as Celeste breathed, I'd fight against whatever cursed fate tried to claim her. Even if it meant chaining myself to her with a magic as relentless and unforgiving as my own vampiric nature.
The witch's fingers danced like spiders over the parchment, a tangle of symbols and words of power blooming beneath her touch. The room was charged with an electric tension, like the moments before a thunderstorm breaks. It prickled against my skin, a sensation I hadn’t felt in centuries, not since I first tasted the night.
"Damn it," I muttered under my breath, feeling the pull of the contract as it began to take shape. It was a fucking anchor, one that would tether me to Celeste with invisible, unbreakable chains. The very idea should've repulsed me, but there I was, feeding the witch every secret, every dark corner of my soul to weave into this spell.
"Concentrate, Nash," the witch hissed without looking up from her work. "Your focus strengthens the bond."
I could feel the stirrings of something darker, something desperate clawing its way up from the depths of my being. I watched the her move with enviable certainty, her conviction a sharp contrast to the tumultuous storm raging within me. There was no question about what I was doing; it was necessary, vital even. But the shadows whispered of deceit, of crossing lines that weren't meant to be crossed.
"Almost there," she murmured, and the air grew heavier, rich with the scent of ancient magic and the metallic tang of my own unease. My heart should have been racing, but instead, it lay still and silent in my chest, a reminder of the monster I'd become—a monster willing to do anything for the woman who haunted his every thought. I was playing goddamn god, deciding another's fate without their say. And wasn't that just the cherry on top of my long list of sins?
"Careful, Nash," the witch warned, her voice a thread woven through the thickening atmosphere of power. "Doubt is poison to the contract."
"Then consider me venomous," I shot back, a bitter laugh escaping me. I was doubt personified, a walking contradiction of bloodlust and chivalry. Yet, for all my reservations, my resolve was ironclad.
Protect her. I breathed, the command a solemn vow to the darkness, to the hunger within me that craved more than blood. Protect her, even if I had to trample over every fucking boundary, every moral code etched into my soul, to do it.
