His Cold Touch II

Blood dripped from his mouth, past his fingers and onto the floor, searing the polished tile as it fell. His skin where the blood touched emitted a smoky fume, sizzling and burning. My eyes widened in disbelief as his skin burned, the reddish hue spreading over the affected skin and half his face. His eyes blazed with a furious silver light, and the room around us froze over in an instant. The bed, the walls, everything was encased in a thin layer of ice, sending shivers coursing through my body. With a killing sneer directed at me, he dashed into another chamber through a smaller door, slamming it shut behind him and shattering the ice that had encashed the chamber.

As though triggered by his exit, the pain in my shoulder didn't just return, it burned with a renewed vigour. I sucked in a sharp breath and tilted my neck to examine the blood in my hands, along with the gaping jagged wound on my shoulder. 

My head swam and I tore my eyes away from my injury, nauseated.

I couldn't help but recall the sight of Lord Fashire's burning skin. Was there something peculiar about my blood? Had the potion somehow altered it? The harm it had caused him, the burning of his mouth... Perhaps I had some hope? A flicker of optimism ignited within me.

I tentatively touched the torn flesh of my wound, wincing at the sharp pain that shot through me. My eyes watered, and I bit down on my lip, refusing to let the tears fall. I couldn't afford to show weakness. I had to find a way to turn this situation to my advantage, to use it as leverage against Lord Fashire. But as I pondered the possibilities, new thoughts dampened my burgeoning hope. He could drain my blood and exploit it as a weapon against other vampires. He might even use it himself. I would be nothing more than a weaponed pet to a vampire.

No. No. No. I couldn't let that happen. How could I manipulate this situation in my favour? I needed to think, to come up with a plan—

Suddenly, Lord Fashire burst back into the chamber, the door flying off its hinges. It crashed against the wall near the bed and landed on the floor with a deafening crack. He darted forward. His hand circled my neck and he tore me from the bed, lifting me effortlessly before ramming me down against the solid floor. The impact knocked the air out of my lungs, and I gasped for breath, a blinding pain radiating through my body as my back and injured shoulder connected with the ground.

My vision spun and a persistent ringing echoed in my ears. 

What was happening to me?

Lord Fashire's face loomed over mine, and a whimper escaped my lips.

"What was that?" he seethed, his voice low and menacing, the only sound breaking through the ringing in my ears.

My lips trembled, but no words emerged. The ringing persisted.

He cupped my chin, his fingers digging into my cheeks as he forced me to meet his gaze. "What was that?" he growled.

I managed to rasp in a hoarse whisper, "I beg of you, please... You're... hurting me."

My plea only seemed to infuriate him more from the unyielding sound of his voice. "You will answer me."

I trembled as Lord Fashire's grip tightened, the pain coursing through my face. The only thing I could now feel as my back and shoulder felt numb. I had to come up with something, anything, to appease him. But my mind felt muddled, my thoughts elusive and intangible.

  "I don't know," I whispered, my voice strained and feeble. My jaw was barely able to move under his iron grasp.

He stared at me in stunned silence, his eyes widening as a persistent twitch formed at his temple. "How do you not know?!" he bellowed, his voice echoing in the chamber.

Tears welled up in my eyes, cascading down my cheeks uncontrollably. I stammered, desperate to explain myself. "I don't know... I can't remember... I don't know. I was made to wander, and... and..."

"Speak clearly," he warned, his grip on my jaw relenting slightly, allowing me to escape his hold. 

I jerked out of his grasp, my back colliding with the edge of the bed, eliciting a whimper of pain. I looked up at him, his towering figure leaning over me, and a surge of adrenaline propelled me to spin a tale so unbelievable even I doubted its authenticity.

"I... I was attacked by a vampire!" I let out in a shrill scream, clutching onto the wooden edge of the bed as if it were my lifeline. "When I was young... I was attacked, and somehow I survived. But... but there were times when I... I actually... I could shift into a vampire and back to a human. It was unpredictable... An old medicine man, he... he created an antidote, a sort of potion, to help me... to prolong my vampiric... existence. It made it easier to live that way. I needed a job, a roof over my head... I admired the vampire Lords, and I came here—"

I wheezed, gasping for breath, my voice punctuated by sobs. Lord Fashire's burning gaze seemed to cut through me, but I pressed on, clutching my throat as if struggling to breathe.

His eyes narrowed, and he straightened his posture to his full height. He raised the glass vial, swirling the liquid inside it. "You mean to tell me there is a drug capable of temporarily turning humans into vampires?"

My heart seized.

"What?" he scoffed, looking down at me, his gaze hardening. "Did you truly believe your story was passable?"