The Warrior Within

Prey or predator. Ally or enemy. To protect or to kill. Is the boundary always so easy to to define?


1. Prologue

They've been around for centuries. They've been feared, worshipped, loathed, hunted, loved. Vampires.

Now they've been made into teenage novels, into romance novels. Adapted into movies and tv shows. 

We've been portrayed as pathetic creatures, lusting over a human, afraid to feed on them because 'it is wrong so it is wrong'. 

We are not born. We are made. We kill because it is what we were made to do.

 My maker and master, Andre, made me one today. He is admired, respected and even feared by the others for he is one of the strongest, most merciless of them all. And I will be like him. 

"When I took you from your human family, I could see it in your eyes. You were one of us. You were like me. And you will finally join me today," he whispered into my ear, his familiar heavy accent causing a multitude of human emotions to rush to the surface. "I am sorry for the pain I must cause you, my sweet fille." He pressed his lips to mine briefly, not as a sign of love but as a sign of ownership. 

Andre caressed my cheek with his thumb, his eyes fixed on mine as he let me watch him turn. I found it fascinating - first his pupils would dilate and enlarge, the dark red ring around the iris pushing away the white. The veins near his eyes were a menacing black as he transitioned. His lips pulled back to bare his teeth, his canines elongating slightly, culminating in two sharp hypodermic needles that would draw blood if one were too curious. He gently tilted my head up to reveal my naked neck, sweeping my hair over my shoulder, his hand pulling gently on the ends until it came to rest on my back. He laid me down gently and leaned in. 

He snarled softly as his teeth penetrated my skin. He sighed in satisfaction as he tasted blood, relishing in the power that it gave him. His fingers dug into my skin as he fed. He pulled away, his lips stained cerise with my blood to kiss me again. My eyelids were heavy, I was weak.  He cut his own neck, the blood dripping from the wound. He lifted my heavy head so I could drink from him as he stroked my hair. The metallic tasting liquid burned my throat. 

He laid me to rest, his face once again assuming a human appearance. He kissed my forehead, one hand still on the back of my neck, his grip tightening. 

"Goodbye, Lorelai." 

And then I felt nothing.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...