I reach the base of the mountains by the time the first snowfall begins. The air is sharp, biting into my skin, but I don't stop. I know I'm getting closer.
And then I see him.
A figure standing in the middle of the path, illuminated only by the pale moonlight. His eyes glow red, inhuman. His presence is just as chilling as the air around us.
A vampire.
He doesn't attack. He simply watches me, tilting his head slightly. "You shouldn't be here," he murmurs. "You don't belong in this place."
My breath is uneven. I don't have the strength to fight, but I clench my fists anyway. "I have somewhere I need to be."
The vampire's lips curve into something like a smirk, but there's no amusement in his eyes. "I know where you're going," he says. "And you won't make it."
I tense. "Why?"
His expression darkens. "Because he will never let you."
A cold shiver runs down my spine. "Then I'll fight him."
The vampire lets out a low chuckle. "You don't understand, do you?" He steps forward, slow, calculated. "He doesn't just want you. He needs you. Every time you stab your heart, every time you try to escape, he grows weaker. But he's still a god. And he's not going to let himself fade into nothing."
I already knew this. But hearing it out loud, from someone else, makes the reality hit harder.
The vampire's eyes flicker with something unreadable before he sighs. "You don't have much time. If you really want to reach the God of Life, you need to move faster. He's already coming for you."
The words send a jolt of panic through me.
I don't wait. I run.
I push forward, ignoring the biting cold that seeps through my skin. But the deeper I go, the harder it is to see, the wind blinding, the storm growing angrier with every second.
Then, suddenly—arms.
Cold, strong, unyielding.
Before I can react, I'm pulled back, my body colliding with something solid. The vampire.
"You'll freeze to death before you ever reach the temple," he murmurs, his breath cool against my ear.
I struggle, but his grip is like iron. "Let me go."
He huffs a low chuckle. "Be stubborn all you want. You're not making it through this storm alive."
His words are met with another violent gust of wind, and I know—he's right. My body is already shaking, my limbs growing sluggish from the cold. If I keep pushing forward, I won't survive.
The vampire seems to sense my hesitation. "Come with me."
I don't trust him. I don't trust anyone. But as another gust of wind nearly knocks me off my feet, I realize I don't have a choice.
I hesitantly agree, and he leads me to his place.
The inside of his home is warm. It shouldn't be—nothing about him should be warm. But the fire crackles in the grand stone hearth, bathing the room in flickering golden light. The place is lavish yet untouched, a relic of something ancient.
He sets me down in front of the fire, and I shudder as the warmth seeps into my frozen skin. Snow melts from my hair, dripping onto the wooden floor. I'm too cold to care.
He watches me in silence before turning away. "Your clothes are soaked." His voice is smooth, low, and despite myself, a shiver runs down my spine.
I look up at him warily. His inhuman eyes gleam under the dim light, sharp and unreadable.
He steps closer, peeling off his coat and tossing it onto the chair beside me. "Take them off."
I stiffen. "Excuse me?"
His lips twitch into something like amusement, but there's no kindness in it. Only hunger. "You'll get sick if you stay in them."
I hesitate, my heart hammering against my ribs. His presence is suffocating—too close, too heavy. But he's right. My clothes cling to my body, damp and freezing, my limbs trembling from the cold.
He sighs, as if growing impatient. "Fine. Keep them on. It's not my problem if you—"
I peel off my outer layers before I can think twice, leaving me in just my thin underdress. The fabric clings to me, nearly transparent from the dampness.
A beat of silence.
I feel his gaze drag over me, slow, deliberate.
Heat curls low in my stomach, unwelcome and dangerous.
I shouldn't feel this way. He's a stranger. A monster.
But the way he's looking at me now… It's like I'm something he wants to devour.
He steps forward, his fingers grazing the edge of my sleeve. My breath catches, but I don't pull away.
"You're reckless," he murmurs, his voice like silk, a dark temptation. "Running from one god, straight into the hands of another monster."
My throat goes dry. "I didn't have a choice."
His smirk deepens, his touch trailing higher, barely brushing the skin of my shoulder. "There's always a choice."
I should move. I should shove him away. But the fire crackles behind me, the heat suffocating, and his presence is even more intoxicating than the storm outside.
He leans in, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do you know what I am?"
I swallow hard, my pulse erratic. "A vampire."
His fingers trace higher, brushing the base of my throat. "And do you know what vampires do?"
My breath is shallow now, my body betraying me in ways I don't understand. "They drink blood."
His lips quirk, his sharp canines glinting in the firelight. "Among other things."
He doesn't move closer. He doesn't have to. His presence alone is enough to unravel me, to make my skin burn where his fingers graze.
The fire crackles behind me, casting long shadows across the stone walls. The warmth seeps into my frozen skin, but it does nothing to steady the unrelenting tremor in my chest. I tell myself it's from the cold. I tell myself it's exhaustion.
The vampire stands before me, his gaze like fire and ice, burning through me while keeping me frozen in place. He doesn't move, but I can feel him—feel the weight of his presence, the unspoken challenge between us.
"You're reckless," he murmurs, stepping closer, slow, deliberate. The flames flicker, catching the sharp angles of his face. "Running from one god, straight into the hands of another monster."
I don't answer. I can't. My body is still thawing, but not just from the fire. From him.
His fingers brush against my damp sleeve, barely there, but enough to send a shiver rolling down my spine. "You're shaking."
I swallow hard. "I was in a storm."
A dark chuckle. "Is that the only reason?"
I don't respond, but he knows. Of course, he knows.
His touch trails higher, grazing my shoulder—cool against the lingering heat in my skin. I should move. I should stop this. But the fire isn't the only thing making my breath come shorter, my pulse quicken beneath his fingertips.
He tilts his head, studying me like a puzzle he wants to take apart, piece by piece. His fingers slide from my shoulder to the base of my throat, pressing lightly, feeling the erratic rhythm of my pulse. His touch is neither rough nor gentle—it's something in between. Something that warns of danger, of control, of hunger.
"You're afraid of him," he murmurs, his voice deep, silk laced with something darker. "But are you afraid of me?"
I should be.
I don't answer.
He smirks. "I didn't think so."
His fingers trace lower, over my collarbone, teasing the edge of my underdress. The fabric clings to me, damp and thin, leaving little to the imagination. His gaze flickers downward, and my breath catches as his fingertips barely skim my skin.
"Tell me," he murmurs, his voice a velvet whisper, "do you think he'd be jealous?"
I tense. "What?"
His smirk deepens, his lips now inches from mine. "The god of death. The one who owns you."
I flinch at the word.
His gaze darkens with satisfaction. "He keeps chasing you. And yet, here you are…" His fingers trail down my arm, slow, calculated. "With me."
My stomach tightens. "This isn't—"
"Oh, sweetheart." His voice drops, his breath ghosting over my skin. "This is exactly what it looks like."
The air between us is suffocating, thick with something I don't want to name.
His lips graze my jaw—not quite a kiss, but a warning, a silent taunt. My body betrays me, heat pooling in places that shouldn't react to a monster's touch.
I don't move.
I don't stop him.
And he knows it.