HUNTRESS PREY: Bonded by Blood and Magic by Selene Kallan

Preface and the first chapter of HUNTRESS PREY: Bonded by Blood and Magic 1.

PREFACE.

VALENTINE

After almost three centuries of running from my past, I should be used to loneliness. Being a mythological monster isn’t compatible with relationships. My heart bears the burning wounds of the times I’ve forgotten this. But the craving for company grows stronger every day, turning routine into an endless nightmare, consuming what’s left of me, and making me wish for an end to my immortality.

The explosive encounter with someone who knows what I am and how to destroy me reminded me of that proverb: be careful what you wish for.

AXEL

I thought fate could not surprise me after almost six hundred years. And then there she is. The echo of the brave young woman I’ve heard legends about. Only she isn’t human anymore, but a vampire—the greatest enemy of my species. After a fight that could have killed us both, and an uneasy truce, I am left with burning curiosity and so is she.

But will curiosity be enough to quench her thirst for my blood and my impulse to kill her before she strikes?

CHAPTER 1

Faster, faster; I thought desperately, silently urging my trembling, exhausted body to move. 

The sodden, muddy, heavy skirts did not help what was already a difficult trek across the forest. Barefoot and sore. Parched and terrified. 

“You can’t run away from me, little girl, I can smell you!” the bastard mocked.

I bit my tongue to avoid crying out as my right foot slid on a sharp rock and pain lanced up my leg. Bleeding was the worst thing that could happen right now.

Please, please.

But who was I begging for help?

Long ago, had I forsaken the idea of a merciful god. 

“Where are you?” he chanted. His voice sent yet another bolt of fear down my spine. 

I knew what he was, what kind of monster had hidden behind the refined appearance of a wealthy man. I had seen it so many times before, cruelty and evil wrapped in an attractive package, but not like him. Not like the beast that preyed on innocents and was now determined to destroy me.

Something hit my side and sent me flying. I crashed down against a tree trunk, sprawled on the wet ground, unable to draw air to my lungs, a cry trapped in my burning throat.

I fought against the heavy press of unconsciousness; feared being at his mercy without being able to fight.

A groan left my raw throat as I gulped air and forced my body up. Frantic, I looked around, back against the rough bark of the tree. It was an eerie night, with no moon or stars to illuminate the dense expanse of the forest. I flexed my knees, reaching out and desperately trying to find something, anything, that could serve as a weapon. 

My hand closed around a rock just as I saw a flash of bright feline eyes in the gloom. 

“Got you,” came the rough, inhuman voice.

Faster than I could react, he was standing in front of me. 

Unbidden, a cry left my lips, cut off by the hand that closed around my throat. He was almost a foot taller than me, something bizarre considering I was almost six-foot-tall. I tried to hit him with the rock, but he trapped my wrist, squeezing. His strength was colossal, impossible. He clenched his hand tighter, and I heard the crack of my bones. My hand opened reflexively, letting go of the useless rock. A strangled sound left my lips. It would have been a piercing cry if not for the pressure around my neck.

Fetid breath hit my face, my eyes locking with the beast’s eyes. As if by some thrall, I couldn’t look away.

“Do you know how much it cost me to get such high-quality cattle?” he growled.

Cattle. People, they were people, you miserable bastard! I wanted to scream.

He came closer to my face, growling low. Painful fear ran down my spine, my whole body shook, my heart thundered. His hand tightened around my neck and I began to drift.

He violently shook me back to consciousness. My head throbbed.

“Not so fast,” the beast said, upper lip curling to expose sharp, inch-long fangs that glinted like blades in the gloom. “Let’s see how you taste first.”

My eyes widened. I kicked out and smacked with my left hand, but it was as useful as hitting a wall of rock. He released my neck, and I drew in enough air to let out a weak croak just as he savagely bit me and lancing pain cut through the base of my throat. 

It burned. 

I could feel the beast’s sharp fangs embedded deep in my vein; hear his long gulps. My body became paralyzed with fear as my lifeblood was taken. The beast growled and released me. I fell to the ground like a discarded rag doll.

The beast snarled and spat my blood. “Disgusting,” he sneered. “A complete waste of time and money.”

An echo of pain pulsed in my heart. The knowledge that the man I had called father not only trafficked with the lives of innocent people but was also willing to sell his own daughter to the best bidder was sickening.

I supported part of my weight with my left hand and tried to move, fueled by fear and the desire to live. 

A blow to the side had me flying again. My chest smashed against another tree. All the air left my lungs, a few of my ribs cracked. I couldn’t scream, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Could do nothing but watch as the beast neared me. And I could see him now, see the muscular frame and the wind-ruffled black hair, the disturbingly handsome face, and wicked silver eyes with cat-like pupils. There was so much malice in him I would have retched if my stomach hadn’t been empty; if I could move.

“Should I just kill you now or take you with me?” he pretended to muse. A cruel smile spread across his face, making him look demonic. “I do not think you have received the punishment you deserve.”

Why am I not dead yet? I agonized.

I didn’t have the energy to stand. The sharp ends of my broken ribs stabbed me with every ragged breath; I could taste blood on my tongue. 

“Yes, I think we can still have some fun together,” the beast said, taking a step closer. 

I hated the tears that clouded my sight, the sheer terror that made me want to beg for mercy. But I wouldn’t. I knew that would please him and the last thing I wanted was to give any satisfaction to that monster. 

He knelt beside me, silver eyes bright with repugnant excitement. A surge of adrenaline shot through my body, giving me the strength to rise on my elbows and stand, barely managing one step before being yanked off my feet to fall face-first onto the ground, my skin breaking and burning as the bastard dragged me to his side. He turned me roughly to face him, his hand clamping down on my throat. I kicked and scratched, no air entering my lungs. My chest was heaving, my broken ribs an unrelenting agony that blackened my sight. Slowly, my body went limp.

The beast shook me roughly to keep me from drifting. A shivery sensation wrapped around my skull. 

“Open your eyes,” he commanded.

I did at once, knowing he was invading my mind, hating it even though I had the terrifying suspicion that was the least he was going to do to me. 

Still, I fought back against his clutch in my mind, imagining talons tearing through the invisible hands choking my will; throwing every bit of mental force I could summon against him.

His eyes widened, and his upper lip curled to expose those huge fangs. “Interesting, such a waste of potential,” he jeered, looking down at me as if I were an item on a shelf. “Who knows? Maybe after you receive your deserved punishment, I might still find a purpose for you. What do you say?”

An unbidden cry rose in my throat. His iron clutch turned it into a barely-there whimper. 

His other hand took hold of my corset, tugging. Panic flooded my veins, chilling me to the bone. His eyes locked with mine, holding me prisoner so I couldn’t fight. I gagged, not wanting to imagine what it meant that he was tearing my clothes off, begging the universe my body would break and give up soon.

Please let me die, let me die, let me die—

***

I woke up with a jolt, kicking the blankets and backing down. The back of my head smashed against the solid wall of my dark bedroom. An undignified meow came from inside the room. My eyes grew accustomed to the dark at once, but the shadow near my bedroom door seemed to move, to be walking closer. I lurched for the lamp on the bedside table, turning it on. The sudden yellow light made me flinch. I squinted as I examined my empty room, save by the chubby, multicolored cat flicking his tail by the foot of my bed. The ajar door had produced the shadow that had seemed so terrifying.

Nevertheless, my eyes darted frantically around, looking for danger. I let go of my empathic skills as well, casting a web of awareness that stretched out nearly half a mile away. My heart thundered in my chest for the ten seconds it took me to fully realize the fear clutching my gut came from the nightmare. 

Well, the memory.

The memory of the night I became a vampiress. 

I swallowed hard against my parched throat, my body trembling with the vivid sense-memory of that beast breaking my bones, invading my mind. Of the long hours of torture that had left me speechless for days. 

And then when he left—thinking I’d be mauled by a mountain lion—a new searing pain invaded every shattered bone, torn muscle, and destroyed joint. The scorching agony lasted for hours, even in unconsciousness, as my mortal body healed and changed into something else. 

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, focusing instead on the bittersweet pang of nostalgia that remembering the mountain lion elicited. He had kept me warm while I woke up and had stayed with me long after that. Even though I had turned into a monster, despite the wariness I knew he sometimes felt.

Freckles, my thirty-four-pound Maine Coon, jumped on the bed, yellow eyes reproachful as he moved his tail. 

“Sorry about that,” I said. 

He kept the baleful look for a couple more seconds and then sat on my lap, purring softly. 

I caressed him with still slightly trembling hands and decided all cats were nuts, big or small. Dogs were smarter, they could tell something was off with me and either barked at me until I hissed at them or cowered and fled.

Freckles meowed and jumped off my lap.

“What?” I asked. 

He pointedly looked towards the door and walked outside of the room, fluffy tail up.

I sighed and got up, following him to the kitchen. He was already waiting for me, sitting on the quartz kitchen island.

I rolled my eyes at him. “You are a spoiled brat.”

“Meow?”

“Yes, you,” I grumbled, but still went to fetch a can of premium salmon. I couldn’t help but wrinkle my nose as I poured the stinky meat into a porcelain plate and placed it in front of the chubby cat. 

“Enjoy.”

Freckles made a contented sound and dug in with relish. My throat was dry. I opened the fridge and took a bottle of cold water, gulping the cool liquid as I looked at the unappetizing bags of A+. They were never particularly tasty, but at that moment, the idea was almost repugnant. Perhaps because of the memories I was trying to ignore, or because every once in a while my body demanded I fed on the source. 

Bagged blood wasn’t quite as nutritious, and wasn’t that a creepy thing to know?

I closed the fridge door and slid to the floor, closing my eyes. Unbidden, the questions formed inside my head, as they usually did.

What if the beast found out I was still alive? What if he came after me? What if one day I woke up, and it wasn’t the shadow of my door, but a six-foot-ten vampire?

I snorted. After all the people I had killed in the last two, almost three centuries, I didn’t have the right to fear my own kind. But fear is rarely a rational thing, is it?

A heavy someone landed on my legs and I opened my eyes, meeting the worried yellow gaze of the only being who knew the truth about me.

Maybe that was part of the problem. The only friend I had was a cat. A smart one, admittedly, but some days I worried about my sanity. And others, I hated being weak and craving for human interaction. The last time I’d tried to pretend I was normal and taken a human for a lover had ended horribly.

I hugged Freckles and kissed the fluffy spot behind one ear, where his scent was stronger and comforting. He let me; purring and licking my cheek. When Freckles gently pulled away, I released him and he left, full and content, towards the bedroom. 

Just the thought of trying to sleep again made me anxious.

I sighed and got up. 

After washing the dish, I grabbed the sneakers I’d left by the door. I had the habit of sleeping in leggings and T-shirts, so I didn’t need extra clothes. Instead of going for the door, I opened the living room window. My apartment was on the fourth floor of a fairly new building. A narrow stretch of grass and then a ten-foot-tall iron fence separated the building from a road next to a large park, which suited me fine since I often suffered from insomnia. Taking a minimum impulse to avoid the fence, I jumped forward, twisting in the air and landing on the road, silent as a cat. There was always something exhilarating about those seconds of weightlessness. 

Ever since the change, I was only able to sleep three times a week tops. I didn’t tire, thankfully. It seemed to be one of the aspects that had changed with my new biology. Along with the lack of sweating, the superior senses, speed, strength. Oh, and that pesky hunger for blood. 

I shook my head, deciding to keep the maudlin thoughts at bay. Yes, I was a bloodsucking monster, but others had it worse. I didn’t have the right to complain. I kept a slightly faster pace than most humans were capable of; the park was deserted at such a late or early hour.

My stomach clenched with the almost painful hunger. Just that morning, I had consumed two bags, and I had actually bothered to heat them. But when was the last time I had fed on a human? 

I cast my mind back and winced, remembering the filthy basement and the scared teenage boy. A low growl left my throat. I’d made the degenerate bastard who’d kidnapped the boy scream. I had almost been too late. The cops would have certainly never arrived in time. 

That had been four months ago.

I felt no remorse whatsoever for taking the lives of degenerates. Not only did they seem to be an unlimited source of food, but their death brought safety to good people. A monster I might be, but oftentimes it takes a monster to destroy another. 

My thoughts spiraled down towards the insidious fear that had been a constant and unwanted companion for centuries: what if he came back for me? I was certain immortals could hold grudges forever, I certainly could. So, what if I ran into another like me, and what if this hypothetical vampire knew him and told him I’d survived? What if he captured me and tortured me again? 

I was stronger than several dozen humans, something I had discovered in the most violent way, but something told me he was even stronger. 

And what if, instead of being found and killed, I ended up losing my sanity, or what was left of it? 

It wasn’t such a distant possibility. More than half a century had passed since I’d had close company; since I had allowed myself to care for someone. It had ended horribly, and I promised myself to never allow it to happen again. The closest thing I had to a friend was a young woman at work, and of course, Freckles. 

But I still felt empty and each day more. Selfish as it was, in my moments of weakness, I craved for someone who knew my truth, someone I didn’t have to hide from behind a facade of humanity.

It was more than selfish; it was irresponsible. What if I became close to someone, and they died in the hands of the beast who turned me? 

And what if I became an even worse monster because of the loneliness eating me up inside? 

My stomach clenched violently again, leaving me breathless. My heart kicked into a race, something unusual unless I was scared or in pain. I placed my hands on my knees and breathed deeply. A hysterical laugh bubbled up in my throat. I was having a panic attack. A vampiress having a panic attack. There was irony there, I was certain of that. 

A muffled cry echoed in the distance. I stood straight, opening my senses. And there it was, another faint cry that was distinctly feminine. 

My body was moving before the decision was fully formed. I would be little more than a blur to human eyes at that moment, my speed more than doubled that of a cougar. 

It took me less than half a minute to find the origin of the sounds. A man straddling a young woman wearing pink sports clothes; he had a knife pressed to her neck. 

I yanked him off her by the collar and sent him flying away. The moon was bright enough for the pervert to see my silhouette, but I hardly cared. I turned my attention to the young woman, crouching beside her. She had a cut in her forehead that was bleeding copiously and her pink hoodie was half torn, but she seemed to be unharmed otherwise. The feeble light of the lamp that marked the path about ten yards away wasn’t enough for her eyes to distinguish me clearly. She cried out and landed a few feeble blows to my chest.

“Easy,” I said. My voice was slightly scratchy thanks to the thirst. 

“Please,” she begged, wide brown eyes full of tears. 

“Shh, I won’t hurt you,” I promised, even as the clean scent of her blood twisted my stomach further. 

“Watch out!” she cried, looking over my shoulder. I stood and turned, grabbing hold of the man’s wrist, squeezing hard enough to make him lose the knife. Not that it could actually hurt me much. He cried out, eyes wide with shock. I delivered a punch to his solar plexus that made him fly back and land with a thud, unconscious. 

The woman’s eyes grew wider. She must’ve gotten used to the dark enough to see what I’d just done. Her wound dripped more blood, a crimson rivulet running down her face and staining her clothes as she recoiled and her back found a tree. My mouth watered, but I pushed the hunger down; it would soon be satisfied, but not with her.

Still, she needed to leave before I unleashed the monster stirring inside me. 

“Listen,” I commanded, my voice turning icy as it always did when I used hypnosis. She obeyed at once, even as her heart thundered and I smelled the metallic tang of her fear. “Stay still, I will not hurt you.”

She watched with wide eyes as I approached and crouched in front of her, cradling her face. Her velvety, dark skin was hot under my hands. My temperature was usually ten degrees lower than a human’s, and it cooled further depending on the weather. I licked my parched lips and braced myself as I lowered my head and licked her open wound. It was bad enough to need stitches, and she would lose consciousness unless I stopped the bleeding. My saliva was excellent at coagulating and healing wounds, something I had discovered out of desperation long ago.

She let out a muffled sound of surprise and fear. I ignored the way my mouth watered and my stomach clenched with the clean taste, swiping my tongue over the wound again and pulling back to examine the result. The cut began to knit back; the blood flow effectively staunched.

I released her and met her wide, dark eyes. “You will leave straight home, clean yourself up, and then go to the doctor. You fell and hit your head because you tripped, the lighting was poor. But you won’t do that again. You will subscribe to a gym or buy a walking machine. It is dangerous to be out there alone. Repeat what you’ll do.”

Her eyes lost most of the fear as she recited my instructions, and I hated having to push her like that. And I hated even more that no matter how much the world supposedly improved, some humans remained the same repugnant beasts. 

“Good,” I approved, helping her to stand. “How far away do you live?”

I looked back to see the man still sprawled on the ground, unconscious. 

“Not so far. My building is just a block away,” she responded.

“All right, go,” I instructed. “Once you get home, you will forget about me.”

She nodded, waking steady enough for me not to worry. I trailed after her for a few yards, then waited by the path until she disappeared from sight. It was highly unlikely she would run into yet another predator. 

She had found two tonight, after all.

A groan sounded behind my back, followed by clumsy, hurried steps. I waited for a heartbeat and then trailed back towards the human predator. Less than ten seconds later, there he was, reeking of fear and looking around him frantically, his dark eyes landing on me. 

He was holding his knife in the hand I hadn’t broken.

He curled his lips, leering at me, hesitation and revolting lust mixing in him.

It was always the same. 

They saw me as prey even after I’d stopped them from harming innocents. Their feeble minds tried to find a logical explanation for what had happened.

I waited, keeping my shift in check, letting him think he had even the slightest chance of overpowering me.

The fear his ilk felt once they realized they’d fallen into the clutches of an inhuman monster amused me. I could not deny it. 

I could read the confusion, fear, and anger warring in him. His breathing sped up, the clutch he had on the knife so strong his knuckles were bone-white. The instinctive fear that came from being in my presence mingled with something darker, repugnant. 

I stayed still and let him get closer.

“Wanna dance, bitch?” he asked, still torn. 

Unbidden, his muddled thoughts reached my mind. 

‘She’s tall, but she can’t be that strong. It must’ve been just a lucky blow. Yeah, I can take her down. She looks even better than the other bitch—’

I clenched my teeth, blocking the repugnant thoughts. Over the last half-century, it had become harder to keep my empathy and telepathy leashed. My stomach ached with hunger again, and this time I didn’t bother stopping the impulse. I let my sight grow sharper, embraced the slight pressure as my sharp canines lengthened into even sharper fangs, let my upper lip curl, and relished the unearthly growl that crawled out of my throat.

“Oh, shit!” the man cried. 

I knew what he saw. 

My eyes were shining in the dark; pupils vertical, and teal-silver irises enlarged.

He tried to bolt, but I wasn’t in the mood for playing cat and mouse. I held him by the neck, lifting him off the ground to my height.

“Not so brave now, are we?” I hissed, my voice reverberating in a chilly timbre. 

I stopped his weak attempt to stab me and tossed the knife away. 

“No, please!” he cried, the scent of his fear disgustingly tantalizing.

“How many women have begged you before?” I asked.

I didn’t wait for an answer. My fangs were deep in his carotid in less than a blink. The first gulp of blood was bittersweet, something I was fully expecting. The slightly salty, metallic taste was never particularly palatable, but it served its purpose. I let the anticoagulant my fangs injected flow free and took every last drop the pervert had to offer. 

Despite my attempts to block that wretched telepathy, the images reached my mind. His memories, the visions of all the women he’d terrified before, ever since he was strong enough to force a girl. His first victim had been a classmate. Female faces contorted in fear flashed in my mind’s eye on a dizzying display.

I growled, drinking faster, hating the repugnant images, relishing the replenishment of my full strength. 

Faster than I thought, he died. The images mercifully disappeared after that, but so did my hunger. I dropped his body to the ground, cleaning the corners of my mouth with the back of my hand. I closed my eyes, forcing the fangs up and waiting for a couple of minutes while my system assimilated the blood weighing in my stomach. 

I hated the fullness sensation; I hated the visions and the taste. But I couldn’t deny the baser, primal part of me that felt like roaring in satisfaction. Couldn’t deny the sharp relief of feeling at full strength and the disappearance of the discomfort that had plagued me for days.

I opened my eyes, looking down at the empty carcass of the predator-turned-prey. It was time for my less favorite part of feeding, getting rid of the evidence. 

I tossed the body over my shoulder and moved, entering deeper into the park. I would have taken a shovel with me, but I hadn’t planned to kill anyone. I rarely did anymore. Decades ago I had hunted down human predators on purpose, two a week sometimes. I’d stopped, noticing how with every premeditated kill I sank deeper into maudlin states. Now I killed the ones I ran into.

It took me nearly half an hour to find the rickety little shed I’d discover during previous walks.

And hunts.

Inside, there was a shovel and gasoline.

I chose a spot near a tree and began to dig.

I hated digging, but I had seen enough movies, read enough books, and dealt with plenty of humans to know leaving evidence was a bad idea. 

If someone found out about my true nature, I would be in danger. I knew that from experience. 

I could see myself tied to a metal table and cut open to see how I worked. Not that I didn’t often wonder that myself, but I preferred to find out that with less disturbing methods. 

I truly hated digging, however. 

The scent of damp earth, the roots, and rocks made the process harder, the claustrophobic sensation that came from being inside a hole in the ground.

That’s what you get for losing control and killing the fucker; I thought ruefully.

If I had controlled myself enough, I could have sealed the wound and commanded him to jump off a cliff or something, but too long had passed since a proper feed. Not to mention, sometimes the rage I felt when I saw such disgusting thoughts didn’t allow me to think clearly. Not even after almost three centuries. 

So I dug, being careful not to break the shovel with the renewed burst of strength running wild through my veins.

In a short time, I had a nine-foot deep, four feet wide hole.

It was harder to find a body if you buried it vertically, after all.

I jumped out of the hole and tossed the body inside.

It took a bit of pressure to get all the dirt back in place, but I managed it.

I stepped back, examining the ground, making sure there wasn’t an obvious disturbance.

It was unlikely someone actually bothered using a radar detector to find the bastard. People disappear all the time, and human law enforcement is too overwhelmed to look too hard. Still, if someone bothered using radar, it was unlikely they found the body.

I looked down at my muddy self, wrinkling my nose. I needed a long, long shower.

The sun rose, bathing the trees in creamy light and stirring memories. I didn’t turn into ashes under the sunlight, fortunately. It could burn if I wasn’t wearing sunscreen and was exposed for a long period, but first-degree burns at most. Nothing like the movies in which vampires turned into ash, not even bones remaining. 

Still, I wasn’t ready for the full force of the Northern California sun. Granted, it wasn’t quite as bad in early October, but I didn’t have my contacts, and my eyes were hypersensitive to light. It took me a matter of minutes to reach my apartment at full speed. Making sure no one was watching, I climbed my way up using window sills. I managed to crawl inside through my window just in time to avoid the worst of the sun. Freckles was waiting for me on the counter, bushy tail wrapped around his chubby body as he peered curiously at my no doubt messy hair.

“Yours is worse,” I argued.

“Meow,” he called back.

I shook my head and headed to the bathroom. Locking the door to keep the voyeur cat out. I wrinkled my nose as I looked at my reflection. My hair was actually worse than Freckles’, though thick and straight it had the habit of getting tangled. It was slightly shorter than usual, barely reaching past my shoulder blades. My eyes—pale blue with a thin teal ring on the outer edge of the irises when my savage side was under control—were surrounded by slightly dark circles that stood out against my pale skin. Too bad sleeping pills had little to no effect on me. 

There was a smudge of blood on my cheek. The sight paralyzed me as my mind’s eye supplied me with an image of how I looked centuries ago; of the round cheeks and the bright innocence in my eyes.

I swallowed hard and undressed quickly, throwing the clothes in the washing machine under the sink and jumping inside the shower, not caring the water was too hot. 

She was dead. 

The naïve daughter of the merchant had died long ago. 

I was all that remained. 

Monster and victim.

Predator and survivor. 

Huntress and prey.

Each day more numb than alive.

And to make matters worse, it was Tuesday, and I had to go to work.

©Selene Kallan, 2021. 

____________________

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