“I accept to be your chosen mate. I accept to help undo Addelyne’s curse. But for that we need to go back to her resting place to perform the final the ritual.”

The wind has died down and on the still of the night, Gerhart’s words sound ominous. His hand grabs my arm in a vice-like grip, but I hardly notice the pressure. All I can see are his grey eyes glinting in the inky dark. They are so pale, almost pearly white.

“Grandma’s resting place? Do you mean…?”

“I mean the graveyard, Diane. Don’t be so daft as to not even comprehend the most basic statements.”

I do not like his condescending tone. More than that, I do not like the panic building in my chest. There is a pungent smell, like some age-old rot, the source of which I fail to locate. It’s overwhelming and as Gerhart steps closer to grab my wrist, I nearly choke with revulsion.

“That smell…. It’s nauseating!”

"Just a little longer, sweetheart. We'll soon be there."

Grabbing my arm, Gerhart has taken a spin, making my world tilt askew. We both spring into the air as if carried by wind, as a circular motion of a vortex sucks us in. The nausea in my stomach builds to a crescendo as a scream rents my throat. I need a moment. I need to breathe. I need Gerhart to leave me so I can think straight. But it seems it’s too late for it. My panic surges as the stink of corruption takes hold of me and before I could gather my senses, we get pulled into a swirling tornado.

*****

I blink my eyes open to a light patter of raindrops on my face. It’s still dark and the cold wind has returned, whipping across the branches of tall sycamores. It’s still night, and the sky is overcast with pregnant grey clouds. Any moment the rain will start in the earnest, drenching the earth with a watery deluge.

I try to shift, feeling my limbs to get up, but they do not move to my command. It suddenly dawns on me that I am unable to move. There is nothing binding me, yet my body feels heavy as if a boulder in stuffed into it.

What is happening? Where is Gerhart? And why am I lying paralysed on the forest floor in the dead of the night?

A new panic grips me as I try to use the only working organ of my body—my eyes. My pupils do a 360-degree turn to my surroundings. Apart from the sycamores, there are other trees and hedges. In the distance is a lamppost, faintly illuminating in the dark. Through the falling drizzle, I spot white shapes - crosses erected in solemn submission, stony angels silently mourning off the top of polished tombstones.

Graveyard. This is the same place where we buried grandma. We are here already, literally in the blink of an eye, from the Siberian desert to this plush cemetery in LA where grandma bought a prime plot for herself to be buried after her death.

My eyes widen as the realization strikes. As promised, Gerhart has brought us to grandma’s resting place. What I do not understand is where he is and why I am on the cold and hard ground lying like a dead body myself.

“Ah, you came to. Just in time, Diane.”

I flap my eyelids to find a dark figure slouch in front of me. I am on my back with my head slightly raised on a hard stone. My arms are neatly crossed on my stomach as if in a coffin ready to be lowered into a waiting grave.

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I open my mouth to question him, but no words come out. Fear builds in my heart and my breathing starts getting ragged. I do not understand what I have gotten myself into. Gerhart said he’d accepted my proposal and would be my chosen mate. He said he wanted to do some last ritual. What is this ritual that needs me lying here immobile at his mercy?

I do not like this. I do not like the look in his stony eyes that shimmer like silver orbs casting some ancient magic.

The wind whistles eerily as I stare at his face, hoping he gets my questions. All I hear is a faint chuckle for an answer.

“My sweet Diane. Do not be afraid. We are at the cemetery, and I am about to perform the last ritual that makes you mine. And in the presence of your grandmother, no less. I am so happy we have her here to witness our union.”

He speaks the last two words with such relish. My breath hitches in my throat. Despite the chilly drizzle, my face goes clammy. I hope his words do not mean what I think they do. The word mating has only one meaning. I proposed, and he has accepted and brought me here to where grandma is buried. Now lying here in front of her grave while Gerhart looms over me suggestively, I am assaulted by strange thoughts. The scenes from last night’s party crowd my memory as my blood starts churning in a pathetic rush.

Gerhart extends a hand to touch my face with a long finger. My skin prickles like grazed by an icy shard. He is so close and there it is again, the overwhelming stink of death. My stomach churns anew.

I will my body to move. I hate the touch. I hate being so desperately helpless. His finger trails from my cheek to my lips, staying there for a moment. I wince he pokes his nail into my lower lip, a metallic taste filling my mouth.

My brain fuses with fear. What is he doing? Is this the Gerhart I have come to know for the past months? Or was he a sham, and this one is real?

Try as I might, I cannot open my mouth to utter my questions. Suffocation clouds my nostrils, and the pungent smell invades my senses, nearly knocking me out. This close, I can see the while pupils of his grey eyes. They burn like the fiery flames of a funeral pyre.

“I am sorry to shatter your dreams, Diane. The last ritual of mating is just that–mating. And you know what, with this last ritual, I’ll make you mine in every sense. Your body will be mine, your heart will be mine and consequently, your powers too will be mine. I’ll heal your heart as your mate and then suck your soul. Addelyne was too clever and saw through my schemes, but you... my sweet Diane, just fell into my trap. Oh my, how I love you at this moment, little mate. Right here, right in front of her grave, I’ll make you mine.”

His hand suddenly leaves my face to the collar of my shirt. The ripping of the cloth is muffled by the wind, yet I frantically try to resist as the icy wind touches my bare skin. My shirt is in shards, and he grabs my belt buckle to rip it apart when my throat muscles finally give in to an inexplicable scream. The sound echoes through the cemetery in cold ripples. Gerhart laughs, bending his face to mine when a force rips us apart.

“Get back, you filthy scoundrel!”

The voice is raspy, filled with insane anger. I open my scrunched eyes in time to see a towering man yanking Gerhart from me.

The next few minutes go in a blur of motion. Gerhart is bodily thrown a away and a crunch of bones cracking on a stone tells me he has landed on a tombstone. I try to crane my neck to see what’s happening, but I do not get a chance. The next moment I am being hauled up and away as the giant hulk sprints through the cemetery with the speed of wind.

There is only once before that I have been carried like this and that time it was… No, but it cannot be. Through the zipping wind and my bleary eyes, I try to squint. The touch is familiar, and the voice too sounded familiar. But it could not be who I think it is. The man is long in my past. How could Adam Stevens be here to save me in the nick of the time?

The motion makes me sick. I sway on his shoulders like a limp rucksack as he rushes through the dark LA night. All I can feel is the speed with which we are moving. I have never been on a roller coaster ride for the sake of my heart, but this ride makes up for all the joyrides I have missed in my life.

“Hey! Let me down. Who do you think you are…”

“Shut up!”

The answering growl is all I need to confirm the identity of my rescuer. Relief washes over me as I sink deeper in my delirium, to lose my senses for the second time tonight.

TBC...