Damien Vladermer's Arc

Chapter 5 of 13

Damien made the call from the car. One name in his contacts, one ring, and it was done. He named a park and hung up. The thirst clawed at his throat while he drove. Skylar's blue dot still glowed on his screen, tucked inside the academy walls. He had time. He would feed, then be back on the steps before her hour ended. He pulled up to the park. Glass arches curved above a clean white floor. Green plants sat in trimmed beds along the smooth walkways. He walked past them to a secluded corner, where a woman waited. She sat with her hands folded in her lap. Brown hair pinned back, a pressed blue shirt, a dark skirt. She did not flinch when he stepped close. She had done this before. She knew why she was here, and she knew her place in it. She tilted her head and offered her wrist without a word. Damien knelt. He was quick and clean. Her blood was ordinary, thin compared to the one scent that haunted him, but it filled the burning and steadied his hands. When he finished, the woman pressed a cloth to her wrist. A few drops fell to the pale floor and pooled there, dark and glossy against the white. He left money in her palm and turned away. Back in the car, he checked his phone. The dot had moved. It slid out of the academy, down toward the front doors. Skylar was leaving early. He had minutes, not an hour. He gripped the wheel and drove hard, watching the blue dot creep across the map toward the steps he had promised to be waiting on. He reached the academy as she pushed through the tall glass doors. She stopped at the top of the steps and searched the curb. Then she saw his car. Her shoulders dropped. Damien got out and opened her door. Skylar did not get in. She crossed the space between them and hugged him hard. She pressed her face into his chest and held on. Her fingers gripped the back of his coat. He stood still and held her. Whatever happened inside, it had gone wrong. He could feel it in the way she shook. He did not ask. He let her stay there against him, warm and close, the one thing he wanted more than blood. Her scent rose off her skin, sharp and impossible. His throat did not burn. The feeding had bought him this, the chance to hold her without becoming what he hid. He waited. At last she pulled back. Her eyes were red. She wiped them with the back of her hand and said nothing about it. "Take me home," she said. She climbed into the car. Damien closed the door. She had called his tower home. She had walked past his open door and into his arms. He had kept his promise, and she had come back to him.