The Hunters’ Trap

AYA

I watched him walk away, a part of me yearning to call him back. I could finally breathe again, my heart finding its rhythm. He was gone. Again.

No longer a threat to Tom or me. No longer a temptation. He was on his own path now, a path of self-destruction, away from me, from everything we once were.

I should let him go. It should be easy. But it wasn’t. It never was.

Seeing him again after fifty years only reminded me that time didn’t erase feelings. Leaving him hadn’t been easy then, and it wasn’t easy now. I hated him, but I loved him too.

Despite everything, I always would. He was the best and worst thing that had ever happened to me.

He vanished over the hill, his long strides taking him farther away. He never looked back.

He wouldn’t. That wasn’t his style. And maybe that was for the best.

A vampire who dwells on the past is a vampire doomed to be consumed by it. I should take that lesson to heart.

I glanced down at the man at my feet. His blood was still warm.

I crouched, lifted him, and sank my fangs back into his throat, drinking deeply until there was nothing left. His body fell back to the ground, a lifeless heap of flesh and bones.

I wiped my mouth and tied my hair back, my fingers trembling slightly. Alex’s tongue had been there, moments ago, licking the blood from my skin, his touch still seared into me.

I cursed under my breath, pushing the thought away. I walked around the stone cottage, looking for a patch of softer earth.

When I found it, I dug quickly, the dirt crumbling beneath my fingers. Once the hole was deep enough, I returned to the corpse and slung him over my shoulder.

The weight was nothing, but my mind was elsewhere. I had just begun to carry him toward his grave when I heard voices—low murmurs, human voices—and then the distinct scent of smoke.

My body tensed. I turned sharply, scanning the darkness. The voices grew louder.

I could see them now, emerging through the vineyards. At least fifty of them, their faces lit by the glow of their cell phones.

A dozen of them carried torches—actual medieval torches with fire. I packed the dirt over the grave quickly, my movements swift and methodical.

Then I slipped around the other side of the cottage, staying in the shadows. But my stomach knotted as I realized where they were headed.

One of them spotted me.

“Un succhiasangue!”

The cry sliced through the night, and suddenly they were charging toward me, lowering their torches as they ran. The dry vines caught fire instantly, the flames crackling as they spread through the vineyard.

The air filled with the acrid scent of burning wood and smoke. I understood quickly.

Vampire hunters. I had heard of them—cults descended from the Spanish Inquisition, obsessed with eradicating our kind.

But I had never encountered one before. The idea of humans hunting me had always seemed ridiculous.

We were the apex predators. And yet, humans had always believed they ruled the world. They were foolish, reckless, driven by blind conviction.

But as I met the wild, fanatical gaze of the man wielding a flamethrower, I realized they were dangerous all the same. I turned and ran, my senses sharpening as I listened to their thundering footsteps, their shouted curses, the fire crackling hungrily behind me.

I darted through the vineyard, dodging burning vines. But I was too focused on the threat behind me.

I didn’t see what was ahead. I collided with something solid and staggered back, hitting the ground hard.

My head snapped up, and I froze in shock. A turned vampire towered over me.

He was straight out of a storybook—long, inky black hair, deathly pale skin, a freaking cape with an upturned collar. His crimson eyes gleamed in the firelight, his lips curling back to reveal fangs.

These kinds of vampires always gave us a bad name.

“There are hunters behind me,” I warned, pushing myself up. “I suggest you get out of here.”

He didn’t move.

“Fucking bloodsucker,” he spat.

Before I could react, his hand shot out and struck me hard across the face. I reeled, stunned.

“What the fu—”

His fingers dug into my arms, nails piercing my skin. He was unnaturally strong.

He twisted me, shoving me back. I fought against his grip, but he held firm.

Then he lowered his head and sank his fangs into my arm. A wave of pain crashed over me.

I let out a scream, pushing against him, but he was unyielding. He drew back, a cruel smile on his face, blood trickling from his lips.

“Time to die, vampire.”

Before I could even react, he threw me backward—right into the crowd of humans. I hit the ground with a thud but was on my feet in an instant.

I was encircled. The glow of the fire danced off their weapons—pitchforks, knives, torches.

The heat nipped at my skin. The pounding of their hearts echoed in my ears, their mocking voices echoing in my head.

“Move,” I growled in Italian, “or I’ll tear your throats out.”

Their laughter only grew louder.

I lunged at a man who was unarmed, but he raised his pitchfork in defense. I changed my trajectory mid-air, aiming to jump over him—only for the man with the flamethrower to step forward and unleash a wave of fire at me.

Pain erupted across my skin. I hit the ground, rolling to put out the flames.

The fire was extinguished quickly, but the pain lingered. Enough was enough.

I was done playing their game.

“Do you all have a death wish?” I taunted, flashing my fangs. “Hiding behind your weapons? None of you are brave enough to face me?”

“Don’t look at her!” someone yelled, and the humans turned their eyes away.

Cowards.

Then, the other vampire stepped forward. He spread his ridiculous cape, his blood-red eyes meeting mine.

The humans cheered him on as if he were their savior.

“What’s your problem?” I spat.

“You are an abomination,” he hissed back.

“And what the fuck are you, then?”

“I am a god,” he proclaimed, raising his arms.

The humans erupted in cheers.

“You’re an idiot,” I retorted. “You’re a turned vampire. We’re the same.”

“We are not the same,” he sneered. “You are filth. A whore of the night.”

I lunged at him, but he was quicker. He grabbed the flamethrower from a human and fired.

I dodged, but the heat scorched my skin. I screamed, pain shooting through my body.

Laughter. Applause. The humans were cheering him on.

I wasn’t going to die like this.

Ignoring the pain, I threw myself at him, my fist connecting with his face. He fell to the ground, and I was on him in an instant. I pinned his arm, pressed my foot to his chest, and sank my fangs into his throat.

I would have ripped his head off—

But hands grabbed me. Dozens of them. The humans swarmed me, stabbing, hitting, burning. I shrieked in rage and pain, throwing them off, sending them flying. But more took their place, pinning me down.

Then I smelled it. Gasoline.

It soaked my skin, stinging as it seeped into my wounds. I gasped, terror gripping me as they raised their torches.

The flames inched closer. My skin was on fire, my vision was blurring. I had no other choice.

I closed my eyes and screamed his name.

“Alexander!”

ALEXANDER

I quickened my pace. I had already spent too much time dwelling on the past. Aya was history. She hadn’t betrayed me, and for that, I was grateful.

But she wanted nothing to do with me—she had made that abundantly clear. And I wasn’t one to linger where I wasn’t wanted. I had learned my lesson.

The uneven ground disappeared beneath my feet as I ran, hard and fast. All traces of Caroline’s scent had vanished, leaving me to rely solely on what I knew about her. Milan would be her next stop.

She might stay there for a day before crossing the Alps and heading straight for Lyon. In less than six days, she could be near Tours—dangerously close to Blake Castle.

I increased my speed, sticking to the shadows. The fresh clothes and shower had done wonders, and I’d have to find a way to repay that oaf Aya was hanging around with for his kindness.

Was that why she spent time with him? I had never been generous with her. I was a master at making mistakes.

I clenched my jaw and ran faster, pushing her from my mind. ~Aya left me when I was barely more than a kid. I was too naïve to know how to keep her.~

Cursing my thoughts, I swung my fist at a tree as I passed. The trunk split and exploded into splinters. I glanced at my bleeding knuckles, watching as they healed themselves almost instantly.

I jumped over a highway, avoiding the glare of speeding cars, and vanished into the mountains. Then I felt it.

Fear. A deep, gut-wrenching terror washed over me. I attempted to dismiss the feeling, but it only intensified, washing over me like a tidal wave.

A startling revelation hit me—I wasn’t the one consumed by fear. It was ~her~. Aya.

She was near enough for me to sense her emotions, or maybe she was directly transmitting them to me. But for what reason?

What on earth could she possibly be scared of? Aya was a deadly, undying predator—I had transformed her into that. So, what could possibly instill this level of fear in ~her~?

And even more disturbing… What was that sharp pang of pain slicing through it?