I look up and find myself in a garden. It is clear that no one has entered it in years. Everything is either dead or overgrown. What was that? I think to myself. I was trying to save his life. That was my first kiss. My first kiss was with a beast. I blush, still thinking about his warm, reddish lips that devoured mine. I convince myself that it was a mistake on his part. He was not conscious enough. He must have thought I was someone else. That had to be it. I find a low stone wall and pull myself up to sit on it. Breathing slowly, I focus my unsteady mind on seeing how much spirit energy I have remaining. I had given him a large portion in my panic, and he took even more when he sucked more blood than I thought he would. I gaze at the clear night sky. For a moment, I had forgotten the danger we were running from. My spirit energy is still lingering in the forest, and so I can feel its pain as whatever demonic force rips through it. I can hear the devastation left behind. This sensation widens my despair. The only way to disconnect from the forest is to kill the part of me that I left behind. Tears find their way to my cheeks. The wind shifts, and I smell a familiar sweet scent of flowers. I look up to see Draven standing a distance from me.

“How long have you been standing there?” I question him in a shallow tone.

“Not too long,” he says, closing the gap between us. The tears keep streaming more violently, but I make no sound. I cannot bring myself to wallow.

“Is your name even Draven?” I angrily ask.

“Draven Artemis Rain, that’s my name.” He places his palm on my face and wipes away the tears; his hand is seemingly larger than my face. I grab his hand; it’s warm. He takes it away, looking apologetic.

“This place is my mother’s, was my mother’s mansion,” he says, perching himself on the wall next to me, keeping a clear distance. “The things we were running from,” he starts to say grimly but stops to glance at the clouds with a sad smile on his lips, “did not kill the animals in the forest. I did. I needed to feed. Sorry about what I did. I have never tasted human blood before.”

“What are we running from?” I question, angrier than before at the thought that he might be avoiding telling me.

He takes a deep breath. “It’s a creature summoned by the Umbra. I managed to kill it, but through death, it took a large portion of the forest with it. After I used up most of my spirit energy, I was attacked by the members. I was feeding when you discovered me.” He holds back his hair in his left hand and pushes it to the side, seeming angry with himself.

“You didn’t know killing it would kill so much more, did you?” I ask, already knowing the answer. He shakes his head. I look at his glowing eyes. “How can a night crawler have spirit energy?” I question, knowing that his kind are timeless beings forsaken by the higher power.

He turns to look at me more intently. I turn to look at the stars again. He mumbles under his breath, and, knowing that I cannot hear him, he repeats, “I am a half-blood.” He says, pushing himself off the wall. He begins to walk slowly and swings around to face me. “I am sorry for what I did to you, but no more questions tonight, please. It’s not every month that one escapes death twice in a week.” He puts his hands into his pockets, and I jump down to follow behind him.

“Were you poisoned? Is that why your bloodlust was slowly killing you?” I ask out of curiosity, lacking thought about his feelings. He grins.

“You know a lot, it seems,” he says, shaking his head and displacing his hair again. “It’s both,” he finally answers. “I couldn’t heal because I was poisoned, but animal blood could not heal me.” Draven looks content to leave the conversation behind as he picks up his pace, his long muscular legs flexing through his trousers.

“You would rather die than feed? You strange man.” Draven stops in his tracks. He takes me in his arms and bends his shoulder and head down to meet my face. Looking at my swollen lips, he runs his finger past them.

“If I ask to feed on you, Ave, would you let me?” he says, forcing me to meet his eyes. I try to turn away from his gaze, but he pulls my head back. “Would you?” he repeats. What was going through his mind? He had a look of sadness and confusion in his eyes.

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***

Watching her question me in this way made me want to tease her. I did not want to explain myself to a stranger I had just met, but it was clear from the day I woke up with her in my arms that our destinies were entangled forever. Her blood was sweet, her lips even sweeter. The question had left my mouth before I could even think. She turns away from me yet again, and I bring her eyes back to mine.

“If you need it,” she shyly replies. I cannot hide my shock as I quickly release her from my grip and take a step back. I look to the ground, half shy, half expectant, as I continue to walk in silence. I can feel her gaze on my back as we continue towards the mansion. This graveyard of a garden had never felt so ominous. I will answer her questions when the time comes. She is clearly stronger than she lets on. The colour of her core suggests that she is a dual spirit user. So she must be a product of one of the ancient houses. Does she know this, or is she really just a talented spirit user who lived in isolation in a dying forest? These thoughts persist in my mind until we reach the mansion. I turn to see that she is a few steps behind me. I had forgotten that she is much smaller than I am. Every step is clearly her third. I hold the door open for her; she makes no effort to quicken her strides, and I snicker at her resolve. I find myself displaying more emotions with her around than I have in my whole twenty-five years of living.

Lysander approaches. “Dinner is ready, sir,” he says in his usual cold disposition. Ave smiles brightly at Lysander. My heart sinks.

“Sander,” she says, walking towards him with a different smile than I have ever seen on her. Did they get close while I was gone these past four days? “Sander, what’s for dinner, please? I am famished,” she adds. Lysander gives her a genuine smile.

“Gammon,” he says, offering her his hand. She takes it and asks what is for dessert. Lysander leads her to the dining room and pulls a chair for her. Now seated, Lysander brings out the food and serves us. Ave looks grateful, and Lysander serves her, meticulously making sure that she has even portions of everything.

“Thank you, Sander,” she says as she digs in. Her shyness has left her as she continues to eat. I had not noticed during our first meal together, but she has impeccable table manners. Better than any noble I have ever met. The questions I have about her origins grow. Does she care to have as many questions about me as I do about her? Probably not; she seems to have forgotten that I am here as she indulges in her meal.

“When did you and Sander get so close?” I say, sarcastically emphasising “Sander.”

“We’re not,” Ave says, not even looking up at me. “You left me here for four days.” She seems angry as she mutters to herself. “I just started calling him that because he said I could when I asked him where he got his name from,” she adds.

“His mother,” I cut her mid-sentence.

She puts her fork down. “Very funny,” she says, standing, taking the bowl of cakes, and turning to leave. I remain silent as I watch her back disappear into the darkness of the hall. She learnt how to use the manipulation magic on this house surprisingly fast. Her every action seems to intrigue me. Lysander stays behind, allowing her to leave.

“Must you be so mean?” Lysander questions as he clears her plates. “She seems to have been lacking human contact,” he affirms.

“You seem to really like her,” I remark.

“No, master, I just know how to be kind,” Lysander utters with an even colder voice than ever. I smirk at the very idea that the man knows what kindness is.

“So she’s a spirit user?” Lysander laments.

“Looks like it.”

“What will you do?”

“For now, nothing. I need to keep her safe.”

“Why ever so, sir?” Lysander quips.

Of course, he already knew the answer to that question; he has known me long enough to know that my scent has changed.

“What, the lycanthrope doesn’t know?” I groan back.

“You really did bond with her.” He has a look of shock on his face.

I pull my sleeves to show him my mate mark.

“Does she have one?”

“How would I know? She clearly does not feel the same about me, or she would. After all, that’s the curse of love,” I add. Centuries ago, a curse was placed on all night crawlers that meant we needed to find our true mates to survive the crushing strength of our power. A mate with a core that could safely absorb your spirit energy.

“Is it possible to form a mark with someone who is not a lycan or crawler, Lysander?”

Lysander shrugs. “If she doesn’t have a mark or feel the burn, does that make you her slave?” My eyes widen as he asks such an obvious question that I had never thought about. The rules were that you either bond as lovers or as master and servant. I bonded with her fully when I received her blood and that kiss; if I was her destined mate, she would not have refused my kiss so easily.

“Being a servant is better than being dead, Lysander,” I say, standing up, now lost in a storm of confusion. The idea of being owned by her does not scare me; that much worries me. How much of me actually belongs to her? I question myself as I walk towards her room instinctively. I stop short of her door, coming back to reality. What was I about to do? Get a grip, Raven. I walk away to my room.

Lysander has already changed my covers. Sleep will definitely not find me tonight. I take to exercising. I start an incantation to check my spirit core. It glows black, and then a purple hue mixes in. Is that her core? I think to myself. We really are bonded. Does she know? Will she know?

***