Chapter 8 : Awakened

*Gwen’s POV*

I awoke the next morning to an excruciating pain in my neck and brushed my fingers across my wound. It felt like Darick had taken a piece of my flesh from me.

He wouldn’t—would he?

My eyes widened at the thought but then returned to their normal size when I realized that the wound was too small and insignificant.

Then it came back to me in a wave. Darick had bitten me…he drank from me. He actually drank from me. But how much did he take to render me unconscious?

I was momentarily distracted from my pain by the surroundings of a dark and chilly room.

Where in the world was I?

“Hello?!” I called out, my voice loud enough for anyone with and without supernatural to hear.

Did vampires have advanced hearing? Clearly not, since no one came for me.

After waiting a few more minutes, I sighed and jumped out of bed. I stumbled in the darkness as I searched for a light of some sort. Eventually, once I found a small flashlight stored in the nightstand, I made my way to the door, grabbed the knob, and tried to open it.

Only, it wouldn’t budge.

Dammit. Darick must have locked me in here.

"Let me out of here!" I shouted this time as I kicked the door repeatedly.

I quickly found myself completely consumed by a wave of frustration that seemed to wash over me in a torrent of turbulent emotions.

In a fit of pure desperation, I forcefully kicked the door in front of me one final time, channeling my fierce and unrelenting determination to break free. The sensation of my foot heavily striking the hard surface eventually led to a numb feeling that spread through my entire body.

As someone who valued freedom and independence above all else, the feeling of being confined within a small space was almost too much to bear, and it filled me with a sense of profound unease and anger.

After some time had passed, I decided to take a moment to collect myself. I lowered myself to the ground, with my back pressed firmly against the door, trying to find solace in the simple act of deep breathing.

Truthfully, I was terrified. I was in a house with creatures that up until tonight, I believed only existed in works of ficiton.

My heart rate increased. What were they going to do with me? How was I going to get out of here? I sobbed as I couldn't escape the feeling that breaking into Darick's home was a foolish idea. A horrible idea—and one that could very well result in the end of my life.

Finally, I heard footsteps approaching and someone unlocking the door. Wiping away my tears, I jumped up and stood a few feet away from the door until it opened. My body trembled, and I felt a tightening sensation in my chest. As the door slowly creaked open, my body froze with fear.

Darick entered the room with two candles in his hand and placed them on an old wooden dresser. He then walked to the window and opened the blinds slightly, a beam of light from the streetlight piercing through the blinds.

He didn’t even acknowledge me.

The light from the candles illuminated the room, adorned with a lavish chamber, canopy bed, and fancy French furniture.

I kept my eyes on him as I stood, returned to the door, and gripped the knob from behind my back. I wanted to be ready to make a run the minute the opportunity presented itself without alerting anyone.

While observing Darick, I noticed he had changed his clothes and was no longer wearing the previous blood-stained garments he had on earlier. Instead, he was dressed in a black silk button-up shirt and grey khaki pants.

My gaze drifted to how his shirt accentuated the muscles in his arms. I didn't notice how tall he was before, but staring at him now, I would bet he was about six foot three and his frame was complimented by a tight ass.

However, no matter how good he looked, his complete disregard for me was infuriating me.

"Aren't you afraid of the light?" I asked sarcastically, breaking the silence. If he wasn’t going to speak first, then I sure as hell would.

"How's your neck?" he responded, ignoring my question, and still not looking at me as he moved about the room.

"My neck is fine. Your bite felt like a mosquito bite.”

I smiled as I saw his eyes finally meet mine for the first time that morning. I couldn't let Darick know I was scared and in pain. His fangs were as sharp as a fucking knife. But his eyes on the other hand…

Darick regarded me for a moment and then moved to sit on the bed. He stared at me as if he were trying to put me under a spell. Why was he staring at me like that?

"Why are you here?" he asked softly.

"I already told you why I'm here," I responded dryly, tired of the back and forth with him.

Why wouldn’t he just believe me already?

At my answer, I heard a small growl come from his chest. His eyes broke their stare as he composed himself and then looked back to me again. When he spoke, his tone had changed. It was now stern, cold, and callous.

"Who are you working for?"

"I work for the Brooklyn Enquirer,” I replied, exasperatedly. “How many times do I have to tell you this? God, I thought vampire’s would be smarter than this. Fricken dumbass," I responded, adding the last bit under my breath as I slapped my hands against my face.

I could no longer hide my anger. I realized I was wrong for breaking into Darick's home, but holding me hostage was unreasonable. I no longer cared that he was the leader of one of the most dangerous mafia gangs in New York. I just wanted to go home.

Besides, he had already taken a bite out of my neck. What else could he possibly want from me?

I looked up to see his eyes wide—not out of anger, but bewilderment. "What did you just call me?" he asked.

"I called you a dumbass,” I repeated more clearly, my anger forcing itself through again. “Now let me out of this fucking house.”

Darick shook his head.

"What’s wrong with you?” I pressed, noting the change in his emotions yet again. “Why do you keep looking at me strangely?"

"I-I don't understand. You're supposed to be obeying my commands…” he muttered more to himself then me.

"Obey?! Are you serious?” I exclaimed followed by a laugh.

Darick sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "When I bit your neck, I put a blood oath on you,” he stated.

"A…what?”

"A blood oath,” he repeated. “So I would have mind control over you."

He said it so casually, like it was a common occurrence in his world.

I could barely find the words…and when I did, all that came out was: "Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

I felt the urge to run, but my legs wouldn't move. The last time I tried to run away, Darick was at the door faster than the speed of light. There was no way I’d win against him.

"I needed to know if you were telling me the truth," he continued. Darick's eyes glazed over my body as my hand gripped the doorhandle even tighter.

"What else does this blood oath do?" I asked once I found my center again.

I tried to restrain my anger and gain as much information as possible about this hex Darick had put on me. Maybe if I had enough insight into it, I could use it to my advantage somehow.

"You will be under my command but don't worry, I'll take it easy on you and won't do anything to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable," he replied as he continued to study my every move. “I moreso did it so you couldn’t try anything…stupid.”

Fuck. He knew. I let go of the doorknob and looked him square in the face.

"Are you listening to yourself right now?!” I yelled. “You say that you won't do anything to hurt me, but you put me under some fucking spell! Am I supposed to be happy that you'll take it easy on me?!"

"You broke into my house. You should be happy that I haven't killed you,” he noted as he straightened his back and asserted himself.

Darick was right, and in a brief moment of guilt, I felt embarrassed by my careless actions and avoided eye contact with him. I had engaged in some interesting behaviors while chasing headlines in the past, but I had never done anything to this extent.

I wanted to explain my actions to Darick and let him know I wasn't some rogue journalist who didn't care about people's feelings. I was just an overly ambitious, passionate lover of captivating stories. But he was a vampire. How could he possibly understand?

Wait! What was I thinking?! His crime was worse than mine. I shouldn't be the one feeling guilty. He should! I snapped out of my thoughts, determined to find some way out.

If I couldn’t sneak out, I’d have to make him let me go free on his own accord.

"Just because I broke into your house doesn't give you a reason to kidnap me and put me under a blood oath. I told you I was sorry and wouldn't say anything to anyone."

I softened my voice in an attempt to ease the tension in the air, hoping it would cause him to release me.

"And yet, I still don’t trust you entirely—but I do believe what you said about who you really are," Darick noted.

"Why do you think I'm telling the truth now?" I questioned him.

"Because I can see it in your eyes. The idea that liars never look at the person they’re lying to is right—and you…well, you haven’t looked away. I sense the passion in your answers. That’s how I know.”

With a deep exhale, I raised my hand to my forehead, taking in the surreal situation before me. It was almost unbelievable that I found myself in a house with vampires possessing supernatural powers beyond human understanding, but here I was.

My emotions consumed me, and I felt my heart racing as the anger dwindled just a little. I leaned against the door, letting my body relax momentarily. But the second my mind wandered to the absurdity of it all, I was fired up again.

I pushed myself off the door frame and took a step toward him.

"So, is this what you do to your victims?” I pressed. “You put them under your control and then kill them? Well, Darick, you can shove that stupid blood oath up your ass and go to hell! You are barbaric.”

This clearly made him angry. Good. He deserved to feel half of what I was.

"You don't know what you're talking about. You know nothing about me," he growled.

"I know you are the leader of the Blood Brother's mafia, a gang of vampires, and I now understand why you're called Darick the Bloodthirsty," I replied, pointing to the bite mark on my neck.

"Stop talking!" he commanded.

"I came here to try and talk to you!” I clarified loudly. “But you're nothing but a monster, Darick. A cold blooded killer."

As Darick's emotions escalated, a noticeable change occurred in the color of his eyes. They appeared to take on a reddish hue, and I had to plant myself firmly into the ground to stop my body from shaking of fear.

"Shut your mouth," he snarled, his fangs protruding from behind his lips.

But I couldn’t. My brain yelled at me to stop, but my mouth kept running.

"No! Your little mind control games don't work on me, remember?!" I shouted.

He walked toward me slowly and clenched his fists.

"I'm trying not to hurt you, Gwen, but you're testing my patience."

The veins in his neck were starting to pop out. I was still afraid, but too pissed to let terror grip me.

"What are you going to do to me, huh?! Bite me again and pray that your blood oath works this time?" I dug deeper.

"You think you know everything, don't you?! Well, I haven't told you the best part about our blood oath."

He continued to make his way toward me. With every step, my heart beat faster, but I was determined to hold my ground.

"And what's that?" I demanded.

"You are tied to me for life," he whispered.

A icy chill could be felt throughout the room and permeated through my body.

My heart leapt into my throat. "W-What? What do you mean I'm tied to you for life?”

"In modern times, a blood oath was typically done in a ceremony, where each person made a small cut—usually on a finger, hand, or forearm—and then the two cuts were pressed together and bound. The idea was that each person's blood now flowed in the other participant's veins," he explained.

"W-we didn’t have a ceremony pressing our blood together,” I observed, my lip quivering. “You bit my n-neck. I didn't bite yours in return. Our blood isn't intermingled. Maybe that's why your blood oath isn't working," I added, feeling confident in my hypothesis.

But Darick only smirked. "Oh, but you're wrong. The human blood ceremonies don't apply to vampires. Traditionally, humans had to drink the blood of vampires three times before the blood bond would take effect; however, that was for vampires with no supernatural powers. I, on the other hand, am no ordinary vampire.

“For those of us with power, we can discharge blood from our mouth before we bite our victim, ensuring our blood is intermingled. Therefore, Gwen, we are now one."

He stroked his finger underneath my chin, and my body tingled from head to toe.

"Y-You can't hurt me, Darick.”

Darick’s breath was hot on my face as he spoke. “Oh? And why is that?”

I gulped. He had the upper hand now, and he knew it. I was screwed. So, I thought of the only arsenal I had left.

“B-Because if you do, I'm going to expose you and your gang to all of New York. The whole world is going to know you're a vampire.”