VIOLA


    Darkness wrapped around me, inescapable and oppressive, while I burrowed deeper into my fleece blanket. My only shield from the memories threatening to crash in with each heartbeat. A thin beam of morning light slipped past the drapes, tempting me to believe that last night was just a nightmare.


    Emery''s voice, cautious and knowing. Matic''s crimson stare, like he could see straight into my soul, his words—cold, claiming, dangerous. He was real, making my pulse skitter as the weight of that reality settled in.


    Even now, I could see his eyes, glowing like embers against the dark backdrop of the forest, that fiery mark blazing on his forehead before fading when I teleported back here. His tall, menacing frame dominated my cramped apartment, making the six hundred square feet feel like a cage.


    But something shifted in the silence, pulling me back to the present—the faint, low hum of the TV in the next room, the only noise breaking the oppressive quiet. I waited, listening, hoping to catch the sound of Emery’s voice, anything familiar to ground me. But there was only that dull, faraway sound and the prickling awareness that maybe Matic harmed her.


    My body had moved on autopilot last night - leaving them alone, brushing my teeth and washing out the taste of Matic’s thumb in my mouth—blood and dirt mingling on my tongue. I changed into pajamas I didn''t remember putting on. But exhaustion does that to you when you''re done with everything.


    Slowly I loosened the fleece from around me, feeling the cool air brush against my skin as I listened again, straining to catch any other sound. Nothing. The silence was complete, thick and pressing.


    Damn it.


    Swallowing back the nerves creeping up my spine, I threw off the blanket and slid out of bed. My bedroom door creaked open, and each step into the hallway felt heavy, the worn floorboards groaning in quiet protest.


    Rounding the corner into the living room, I froze, taking in the chaos from last night: empty snack bags, half-eaten pizza, and a graveyard of energy drinks and soda cans cluttering the coffee table. It looked like the aftermath of a frat party, but I knew better—it was Emery’s attempt to pacify a formidable creature.


    As a born Vampyr, he could tolerate human food; it was the ones who were turned, who couldn''t stomach it. Although, I would have assumed that Matic wasn’t a full bred Vampyr, simply because of his ever present crimson eyes last night.


    Goosebumps prickled across my skin as an unsettling sensation crept over me - someone was behind me.


    “Ah, the little witch has finally awakened,” he drawled, his eyes now a pale, almost grayish blue—not vibrant like Emery’s, but cold and faded, like ice under shadow.


    The sound that left my throat was somewhere between a yelp and pure indignation. "Why are you always naked!"


    There he stood, dripping wet, with only a towel slung across his shoulders. Water traced rivulets down his bare chest and disappeared below, while his shoulder-length blonde hair framed features that looked like they were forged in flame. Clean and free of blood, I could finally see the intricate, dark snake tattoo I’d glimpsed the night I first released him.


    This time, however, it coiled across his chest and swept over his shoulder. It pulsed, in an almost hypnotic rhythm and slithered just beneath Matic’s skin.


    Quickly, I dropped my gaze and took a step back, then another, trying to create as much distance as possible between us. Within seconds, my calf hit the edge of the coffee table. I lost my balance, stumbling as I reached out, desperate to steady myself, but my hand caught only air. Time seemed to slow, and I knew I was going down.


    Before I could fall, Matic''s hand clamped around my forearm and he pulled me upright and against him—too close, too fast—until my face hovered just inches from his chest. The movement knocked the breath from my lungs, and before I could stop myself, I inhaled.


    The scent of him—clean and dangerously masculine—filled my senses, making my head spin.


    Matic''s thumb brushed over my pulse, tracing where his fangs had pierced me last night. The deliberate touch sent warning signals racing down my spine. This close, his blue-gray eyes were deceptively soft and though every instinct screamed at me to run, I remained frozen - a mouse caught in a serpent''s gaze.


    Then I felt it—the unmistakable hardness of him pressing firmly against my lower abdomen. The heat of him seared through the thin barrier of my clothes, a blatant reminder of the creature holding me.


    My throat closed around a sound I didn''t want to acknowledge—half gasp, half plea. "I have a boyfriend!" The words ripped out of me as I stumbled back, my feet tangling in their desperation to escape.


    I climbed over the sofa, stumbling until my back hit the kitchen counter.


    I shouldn’t be that close to him again. Not when the Vampyr had already proven he would take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, with zero regard for my consent.


    Screw that, I shouldn’t even be alone with him right now!


    Where in the hell is Emery?


    My gaze darted around the apartment, frantically scanning for any sign of a struggle, blood, or—God forbid—a bloody corpse.


    When my eyes flicked back to Matic, his expression was unreadable, though his movements were deliberate. He pulled the towel from his shoulders, wrapping it loosely around his waist.


    “Most people, when helped, offer a ‘thank you,’” he remarked, his voice laced with quiet amusement.


    I swallowed, cheeks still burning. “Thank you,” I mumbled, hoping it would end there. Hoping he would poof, disappear.


    “What exactly is this… boyfriend?” His gaze stayed locked on me, sharp and probing.


    But my eyes betrayed me, flicking downward for a split second. The outline of his cock was unmistakable—ready, hungry, a dark promise of what had been interrupted last night. My pulse spiked, and a cold wave of fear crashed over me.


    I was terrified of him. And of that thing between his thighs.


    “He’s my…” I paused, refocusing, and unable to think straight. I glanced anywhere but at him. “He’s my man.”


    “By that, you mean your husband?”


    I shook my head, sidestepping around the countertop and into the kitchen. My eyes landed on the stack of dishes piled in the sink—leftover reminders of a life that now felt worlds away.


    Emery must have picked them up last night. When I yanked the pot from the bottom of the pile to swing at Matic, the entire stack had come crashing down. Now, they sat waiting to be washed—a task that would’ve been done already if I hadn’t been swept into the madness of Phantombrook yesterday.


    “No, not my husband,” I replied, reaching for a plate and rinsing it under the tap, letting the sound of water cover the silence between us. “I’m only twenty one and he’s my boyfriend. He’s… someone I’m dating.”


    The words crumbled as they left my mouth. Matic moved closer, his presence too overwhelming for the cramped space of my apartment. I forced my attention on the dishes, washing and scrubbing, while he loomed nearby, wearing nothing but a towel.


    Matic’s gaze bored into me, while I struggled to keep my gaze fixed on the soapy water.


    His voice was lined with dark curiosity. “So… this boyfriend, who is not your husband, is courting you?” he began slowly, each word feeling like an interrogation.


    “No…” I answered, thrown by his choice of words. I knew the term, but no one in the modern day used it.


    “You sound unsure.”


    “Jamal holds my interest,” I clarified, feeling the weight of his scrutiny.


    “This boyfriend, who is not courting you, holds your interest—and yet you are neither married nor bonded to him.”


    “Yes,” I nodded, annoyed and swallowed as my mouth went dry but I was determined not to lift my eyes and look at the Vampyr. It was impossible to ignore the raw power radiating off him.


    Last night had been easier, barely—blood, chaos and Emery''s presence had kept me anchored. But morning had brought stillness, leaving just us.


    “You know, that’s just how things are now,” I said, my voice softer than I intended, as I kept scrubbing the plate. “People aren’t bonded anymore—not like that. Mates, soulmates... those are so rare nowadays they’re practically myths. And people my age? We don’t marry in our early twenties, let alone talk about belonging to someone.”


    “Interesting,” he murmured, his voice curling around me like smoke. “And what would this boyfriend do if he found out that another man was in his home?”


    I sighed, and replied. “First off, it’s my home. I work my ass off and pay the bills and secondly…”


    Jamal wasn’t the hot-headed type, my thoughts drifted.


    He didn’t start fights—there was too much at stake. In his early thirties and a lawyer, he couldn’t afford a charge on his record. He defused situations with calm, calculated words, the same way he dismantled lawsuits and defended his clients—always knowing exactly what to say and how to say it.


    Apparently not with his personal life.


    “Little witch,” Matic said, his voice dropping low and deliberate, “this boyfriend of yours wouldn’t fight for what’s his.”Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    “There’s nothing to fight for. Nothing is happening,” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended.


    “Are you going to tell him?”


    My eyes shot up, locking with his. “I will tell him,” I said, though the words felt weak even to my own ears. Turning away, I forced my focus on the dishes still stacked in the sink, clinging to anything that felt normal. “Where is Emery?”


    “Out,” Matic replied..


    “Did she say where she was going? Or what she was doing?”


    Just before climbing into bed last night, I''d searched for my cell phone only to realize I must have lost it somewhere in Phantombrook. I felt exposed without it, and with Emery gone, I had no tether to the outside world.


    In my peripheral vision, I caught him shaking his head. “She didn’t share her plans with me,” he replied. After a pause, he added, “Why do you make yourself small?”


    “What are you talking about?” I glanced up at him with furrowed brows.


    “It’s almost as if you don’t want to accept that you, and only you, released me,” he replied, his tone low and unwavering, like he was stating an obvious truth rather than asking a question.


    I blinked, at a loss for words and his comment hitting closer than I wanted to admit. “It’s none of your business,” I muttered, scrubbing the last dish with unnecessary force before turning off the tap.


    I dried my hands, but he pressed on. “On the contrary, you are my business,” Matic said. “If we are to protect each other, I need to understand why you resist accepting what was inherently birthed within you.”


    Ignoring him, I crouched under the sink for a fresh garbage bag. The faint rustle of plastic was the only reply I gave. Pulling it open, I stepped out of the kitchen and began gathering pizza boxes, wrappers, and empty snack containers.


    Matic’s voice filled the room. “If my magik is surging through you, I need you to come to terms with your abilities,” he said, each word weighted. “Because you may be the blocker, hindering me from tapping into my full powers.”


    I crushed and folded a pizza box on itself. “Yes, because that’s exactly what the world needs—you, with full powers, ready to destroy the world.”


    “Not the world.”


    “Well, I wouldn’t know that, would I?” I shot back. “You’ve done an excellent job proving how utterly terrifying you are, and that’s without your full power. I saw the look on the witch''s face, as she watched you strike down her friends, one by one.”


    “They would have turned on you eventually, so why do you care?”


    I shrugged. “I don’t know. But what I do know is that you didn’t save me out of kindness. You saved me because you didn’t want them to kill me. And they feared you.”


    Gathering the boxes and plastic wrappers, I stepped onto the balcony, shoving everything into the recycling bin. When I returned, Matic stood on the far side of the family room, the coffee table between us like an unspoken boundary.


    “People fear what they don’t understand,” he told me.


    “You said that already,” I shot back and didn’t move from the balcony doors. I crossed my arms as frustration bubbled over now. “Cryptic, but it explains nothing. Why won’t you just tell me the truth? Maybe we’ll never know why Katherine Saldana sealed you away—or maybe her brother does. Or maybe you really don’t but I think you do and you just refuse to say.” My voice rose with each word, my questions tumbling out faster than I could stop them.


    Matic’s gaze hardened, something raw and unguarded flickering across his face. Despite the distance, the tight, cramped confines of my six-hundred-square-foot apartment left no room to escape the weight of his presence. Even standing near the balcony doors, I felt suffocated by the intensity of his stare.


    I pressed on, the words spilling out. “The questions won’t go away. What made them fear you enough to post a guard in that library? What exactly happened? The moment you were released, it triggered something—like they knew, like they’d been waiting to come after you. They built an entire cathedral over your prison.”


    “Katherine didn’t see a man,” he gruffly admitted, his voice carrying a raw, unspoken pain. “She saw a monster. Just like everyone else.” Matic looked away from me, his gaze distant. “Fear twists people. Turns them into traitors when you need them most.”


    The sudden pain caught me off guard. For a moment, I saw past the half blood Vampyr who''d terrorized me in the forest, past the predator who''d torn through those witches.


    Matic rounded the coffee table, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey. The towel loosely tucked around his waist did little to diminish the raw, dangerous energy that radiated from him.


    His words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Was he claiming innocence? Or simply that his punishment had been excessive, a cruelty inflicted not for what he had done, but for what he was?


    I didn’t move, didn’t back away, even though every nerve in my body screamed at me to retreat.


    “Matic,” I said. “Who are they?”


    It seemed impossible to imagine someone being sealed away for five centuries without cause. Yet there was something in his voice—an unshakable conviction—that made me hesitate.


    “The Saldanas,” he said, stopping in front of me, the name like a curse on his lips. “And everyone else who judged me simply for existing.”


    This wasn''t just about Fradan or Katherine. His revenge would spread like wildfire, consuming everyone who''d ever wronged him. And I was bound to him, tethered to a creature whose path of destruction was just beginning.


    Before I could press further, my pulse quickened as his hand reached toward me, instinct forced me to flinch. He didn’t withdraw and his fingers curled around my chin, firm yet eerily calm, tilting my face to the side.


    His light eyes traced the two puncture wounds left by his fangs.


    Without a word, he released my face and brought his wrist to his mouth. His teeth sank into his pale skin, tearing just enough for dark, viscous blood to well up.


    “Drink,” he commanded, voice low and unyielding. “It will close the wound.”


    "I know," I murmured, my voice steadier than I felt. The space between us felt charged and each breath drew his scent deeper into my lungs, making the fine hairs on my arms stand on end. His presence surrounded me, overwhelming my senses until all I could focus on was the steady rise and fall of his chest, the heat radiating from his bare skin.


    His eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation breaking through his composure. "Tell me, how often do you let Vampyrs sink their fangs into you?" he growled, the sound vibrating through the air between us.


    "N-not that many, or not too often," I stammered, taken aback by the sudden shift. “I do it a few times a month because it pays well.” But why did Matic suddenly sound so sharp? The possessive edge in his tone wasn''t new, considering that he just came into my life last night, but what did it matter?


    He scoffed. “Little witch, you seem well-versed in bloodletting, yet you’re clueless about Samhain.”


    My brows furrowed as I gripped his wrist, defiance flaring up. "And what is your problem now?" I challenged him.


    When Matic remained silent, I ignored the weight of his glare and lowered my head, my lips brushing against his wrist. The sharp tang of his blood hit my tongue, warm and rich, sending a familiar heat coursing through me.


    I’d done this before—given my blood to Vampyrs and had my own taken—but with Matic, it didn’t feel like the usual exchange. It felt intimate, strangely familiar, as though we’d been here before.


    My fingers tightened involuntarily around his wrist as images flashed behind my eyes – fragments of memories that weren''t mine. The whisper of silk against skin. A woman''s laugh, familiar yet strange.


    Matic, the ever brooding Vampyr, smiling so pleasantly I thought maybe it wasn’t him.


    I jerked back, my heart thundering against my ribs. My lips tingled where his blood had touched them, and heat bloomed across my chest, creeping up my neck. Every nerve ending sang with awareness, my skin hypersensitive, as if the slightest brush of air might shatter me.


    "What was that?" I whispered, more to myself than him, my voice shaky. I''d shared blood before, but never... never like this. Never with this strange sense of déjà vu that made my stomach flip and my hands tremble.


    Matic’s eyes darkened like storm clouds gathering, until only slate gray remained. His gaze locked onto mine, unreadable but intense. I swallowed hard, watching as the wound on his wrist sealed seamlessly, as if he''d never bled. But I could still taste him on my tongue, still feel the echo of whatever had passed between us.


    Did he feel it as well?


    “What was what?” He countered


    Before I could even begin to make sense of it, keys turned in the lock. I turned as Matic’s gaze snapped to the door, his entire body tensing, every inch of him coiled and ready.


    The door swung open, and Emery stepped in, balancing garment bags and duffels like we were heading off on vacation. She leaned against the wall in the foyer, attempting to kick off her Uggs without dropping anything. Her gaze darted between us, eyes narrowing while I wiped Matic''s blood from my lips with the back of my hand.


    "Did something happen again? Were you two playing nice?" She asked, a suspicious frown forming.


    “Everything is fine,” I told her and glanced at Matic, whose expression was unreadable, but his intensity hadn’t faded.


    Emery’s gaze shifted fully to me. "No pots flying this time?” And she arched a brow, humor lacing her voice.


    Clearing my throat, I stepped toward her and asked. “Where did you go?”


    Emery nudged the door closed with her hip. "Dresses for tonight, courtesy of Kaylee and her mom." Walking past me, she dumped the garment bags and the two duffel bags on the sofa.


    I gestured at my living and said, “Thank you for the giant mess I woke up to this morning.”


    She glanced over her shoulder at me, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want him feasting on you or I. He needed to eat, but I see your bite marks are finally healed.” She watched us both.


    My fingers found the healed marks as Emery emptied her bags onto the sofa. Makeup, hair supplies, and everything else we''d need for tonight''s gala scattered across the cushions before she extracted clothes for Matic.


    "These should fit," Emery held out a pair of pants and a shirt, eyeing Matic''s height and build. "But they''re temporary - you''ll need to change again for the gala tonight."


    Without hesitation, he dropped the towel. I yelped and spun around while Emery squealed, slapping a hand over her eyes.


    "Matic!" we yelled in unison.


    "Use the room!" I thrust my finger toward my bedroom. "Change in there."


    Matic''s silence filled the space before his voice cut through, "You''re not going to follow and assist with dressing me?"


    "I already told you this morning, we aren''t servants," Emery cut in.


    "You set the bath before you left."


    “That was the shower, and I was showing you how it works.”


    "And you," his attention turned to me but I couldn’t see Matic because my back was facing the Vampyr, but I could feel his eyes boring into me. "You live in this tiny home and wash dishes."


    "I told you last night, this is my home. Not servant quarters and my kitchen was dirty! Who else would clean it?" I wanted to whirl around just so he could see my frustration, but his nakedness kept me frozen in place.


    "Last night you fetched me food, and now you bring me clothes." His tone carried that aristocratic expectation of someone used to servants at his beck and call. Then again, being from the fifteen hundreds, he probably was.


    "Your stomach growled," Emery shot back.


    "We''re not your servants, Matic! Dress yourself!" I jabbed my finger toward the bedroom again.


    Heartbeats stretched between us before his footsteps finally moved toward the bedroom. Emery and I kept our backs turned until the door clicked shut with deliberate slowness.


    Emery''s laughter burst through the quiet, catching me off guard. I nudged her shoulder, rolling my eyes. “None of this is funny,” I muttered, but a reluctant chuckle escaped me too.


    Her blue gaze softened, and she asked, “While I was gone...how was he?”


    “Very... Matic,” I replied, the understatement carrying more weight than I intended.


    She gave a knowing nod, studying me thoughtfully. “By the way, where’s your phone? I tried calling you earlier and it kept going to voicemail.”


    "I must have lost it in Phantombrook." The words came out casual enough. "I need a shower,” I muttered, slipping away before Emery could stop me.


    As I reached the bathroom, scenarios of tonight''s gala played through my mind.


    Damn it.


    Not only was Matic, the very unpredictable Vampyr, going to confront Fradan, Katherine’s brother and powerful witch, but Jamal was going to be there.


    How in the world was I going to explain any of it?


    George would have a field day with this one. His constant judgment of me being unsuitable for his precious nephew would finally be justified. The trashy girlfriend who wasn''t invited, showing up with a strange man. Perfect.


    My stomach twisted through my entire shower and followed me into my bedroom. I didn''t want to go - for so many reasons. But here I was, walking straight into another nightmare.


    Whether it was Fradan, Jamal, or a group of witches waiting to ambush us, there was no way tonight would end on a good note.