Damned by Him

Xandros did not remember leaving the mansion.

The moment Rosaline’s voice broke through the room, ordering him to get out, something inside him seemed to snap. He remembered the fear in her eyes, the way she had recoiled from him as though the monster he had spent centuries hiding had finally revealed itself, and then everything after that became nothing more than fragments of movement and darkness.

He left.

Not because he wanted to.

Because if he stayed, he was no longer certain that he could trust himself.

His boots barely touched the marble floor before his vampire speed took over. Silver lightning erupted beneath him, racing along the corridor as he disappeared from the chamber, his power responding violently to the emotions he could no longer contain. The mansion blurred around him, servants scattering at what was happening.

Most servant immediately ran in as they thought it was a natural disaster.

He crossed the courtyard and entered the forest without slowing.

Branches snapped as he tore through them, leaves scattering violently in his wake. The darkness of the woods swallowed him, but even the darkness of the trees seemed incapable of hiding the creature he had become. His eyes, once unmistakably grey, had turned completely black, the corruption spreading through his irises like ink poured into clear water.

Xandros finally stopped several miles from the mansion.

His body remained perfectly still, but his breathing was heavy as he stood beneath the towering trees. One hand slowly closed around the trunk of a nearby tree, and his fingers dug into the bark until it cracked beneath his strength.

"Control yourself," he muttered, his voice strained as though he were speaking to something living inside his own body, but the darkness beneath his skin answered with nothing but a pulse of hunger that travelled through his veins.

He closed his eyes and tried to breathe.

He remembered Rosaline lying beneath the water.

He remembered pulling her lifeless body from the bathtub.

He remembered spending three days beside her bed, listening to every fragile breath because he had been terrified that if he looked away for even a moment, she would stop breathing again.

Then he remembered the look she had given him.

Fear.

Not anger.

Not annoyance.

Fear.

His fingers tightened against the tree until another piece of bark crumbled beneath them.

He had spent centuries being feared by others, but none of it had ever mattered.

Rosaline’s fear did.

That was the problem.

The corruption had taken that fear and twisted it into anger, and the anger had awakened something far more dangerous.

His hunger.

Xandros opened his eyes again, and the blackness within them seemed almost alive.

"I won’t hurt her," he whispered, forcing each word through his clenched teeth as though saying it aloud could make it true.

But then the scent reached him.

Blood.

Fresh blood.

Warm blood.

His entire body went still.

The hunger struck so suddenly that his fangs elongated before he could stop them. His breathing became shallow, and every instinct inside him screamed for what his body desperately wanted.

Blood.

Xandros didn’t resist this time.

He vanished into the forest.

The forest eventually opened onto a narrow road where a lonely building stood beneath the cover of thick trees. Its sign was faded, its windows dim, and to an ordinary traveller, it appeared to be nothing more than an old motel used by people passing through the region.

But Xandros knew better.

The moment he stepped inside, the atmosphere changed.

The receptionist looked up from his desk, and his eyes flashed crimson for the briefest moment before he immediately lowered them again. Several patrons sat scattered throughout the dimly lit lounge, speaking quietly among themselves, their pale complexions and unnaturally still movements revealing what they were to anyone capable of seeing beyond the illusion.

Vampires.

Dozens of them.

Some had travelled from distant territories. Others appeared to live within the establishment itself. The motel was one of the hidden sanctuaries scattered throughout the kingdoms, places where vampires could exist without constantly disguising themselves among humans.

Xandros walked through the room without acknowledging anyone.

The other vampires noticed him, however.

Their conversations gradually became quieter as he passed.

There was something about him that made even creatures of the night cautious.

The receptionist stood when Xandros reached the counter and offered a respectful bow. "Your Grace, we weren’t expecting you tonight," he said, his voice careful as he studied the Duke’s completely black eyes and recognized immediately that something was wrong.

"I need blood," Xandros replied, his voice so cold that the receptionist didn’t dare ask questions.

The man immediately understood and summoned one of the women employed by the establishment. She entered the room a few minutes later with the practiced composure of someone familiar with the nature of the place, but the moment she looked into Xandros’ eyes, some of that confidence disappeared.

Xandros stared at her for several seconds without speaking.

He didn’t want her.

He wanted what flowed through her veins.

The corruption had reduced everything else to something meaningless.

When he finally moved, he was too fast for her to react.

His hand caught her shoulder, pulling her toward him as his fangs pierced the side of her neck. Her body stiffened beneath his grip, and whatever protest had been forming died almost immediately as the vampire drank.

The warmth flooded through him.

His hunger quieted.

The pressure in his chest slowly eased.

For several moments, nothing existed except the taste of blood.

When Xandros finally released her, her body became limp in his arms and he dropped it.

His eyes remained black.

The hunger was satisfied, but the corruption was not.

If anything, it seemed more awake now.

Xandros stood beside the bed, staring at the unconscious woman with an expression that revealed nothing. Then he slowly wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and turned toward the window.

Rosaline’s face returned to his thoughts.

His jaw tightened.

He could not go back to her like this, not while the monster inside him was still awake.

Back at the mansion, Rosaline opened the door of her chamber.

She stepped into the corridor slowly, but there was nothing hesitant about her movements anymore.

The tears that had stained her cheeks were gone. Her eyes were still slightly swollen, but the uncertainty that had consumed her earlier had disappeared beneath something colder and far more unsettling.

The woman who walked through the corridor now carried herself differently.

Her shoulders were straight.

Her chin was raised, her gaze did not wander.

A servant saw her approaching and instinctively moved aside, offering a respectful bow. Rosaline didn’t acknowledge him. She simply continued toward the secluded wing of the mansion, each step taking her closer to the woman she had once called Lily.

She knew where she was going and she knew who she wanted to see.

And more importantly, she knew what name she wanted to use.

When she reached the old room lily used, she placed her hand on the door and pushed it open without knocking.

The woman inside looked up.

For several seconds, neither moved.

Then Rosaline’s lips parted, and the name that came from them was not Lily’s.

"Christophine."

The woman’s entire expression changed.

Her eyes widened slightly before narrowing with recognition, and the faint smile that slowly appeared upon her lips carried none of Lily’s innocence.

Instead, it belonged to someone who had just recognized an old enemy.

"So," Christophine murmured, rising slowly from the bed as she studied Rosaline’s face, "you finally came back."

Rosaline remained in the doorway, her expression completely devoid of warmth as she watched the woman wearing Lily’s body rise to her feet. "Don’t sound so happy to see me," she replied, her voice quiet enough to sound almost indifferent, although the sharpness in her eyes made the warning unmistakable.

Christophine’s smile widened as she took another step forward, clearly amused rather than frightened by the woman standing before her. "How could I not welcome you?" she asked, her head tilting slightly as she examined Rosaline with the fascination of someone looking at something she had once believed was dead.

Rosaline’s eyes hardened.

"You thought you killed me."

The amusement in Christophine’s expression faltered for the briefest moment before returning. "I did," she admitted, her voice becoming quieter as an old memory resurfaced.

Rosaline’s lips curved into the faintest smile, but there was nothing pleasant about it. "And that was your mistake," she replied, her gaze remaining fixed upon Christophine as the memory of what had happened long ago stirred somewhere beneath her consciousness.

Christophine stared at her for a moment before recognition fully settled into her expression.

"Saline."

The name seemed to change the atmosphere of the room.

Rosaline’s eyes flashed sharply, and for a fleeting moment, something ancient seemed to look out through them. "Don’t say my name as though we’re old friends," she warned, her voice carrying a coldness that made even Christophine’s amusement falter.

Christophine studied her carefully before letting out a quiet laugh. "Perhaps we are," she replied, although her eyes remained watchful as she began to realize that the woman before her was not entirely Rosaline anymore.

Saline stepped farther into the room, and the movement was accompanied by a strange shift in the air, almost as though the room itself had become aware of her presence. "We were never friends," she said, her expression remaining perfectly composed. "And I’m not here to play games with you."

Christophine’s smile slowly disappeared.

She knew what Saline had been capable of.

And she knew what her own mistake had created.

"What do you want?" Christophine asked, her voice losing its teasing quality as she finally understood that something was different about Saline’s return.

Saline’s gaze moved over her face before settling upon her eyes. "There are things we need to take care of," she answered, her tone so calm that the words sounded more threatening than a shout ever could.

Christophine straightened, and a flicker of anticipation returned to her expression. "Then tell me what you need," she said, her body becoming more alert as though she were already preparing herself for whatever task Saline intended to give her.

Saline’s expression remained cold, but something beneath it shifted.

Time.

That was the one thing she didn’t have.

She could feel Rosaline’s consciousness somewhere beneath her own, faint but present. She could feel the body resisting her presence, reminding her that this was not truly hers to keep.

Unlike Christophine, she could not simply remain inside another person’s body indefinitely.

She could surface.

She could take control.

But she could not stay.

Not for long.

Saline’s fingers tightened slightly at her sides as she looked at Christophine. "I can’t remain here for long," she admitted, her voice quieter now, though the determination in her expression never weakened.

Christophine’s eyes narrowed. "Then you truly are different from me."

"I always was."

The answer came immediately, and Saline’s eyes darkened as she stepped closer. "You can possess a body and make it yours for as long as you desire. I don’t have that luxury. This body is hers."

Her gaze briefly lowered before returning to Christophine.

"And eventually, she will take it back." Christophine studied her in silence.

Then, slowly, she stood fully upright. "Then we don’t have much time."

Saline’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile.

"No."

She turned toward the door, her silver-white hair shifting over her shoulders as she glanced back at Christophine.

"Which is why we’re going to start now."

Christophine watched her for several seconds before finally following.

"Where are we going?"

Saline looked over her shoulder, and the sharp glint in her eyes returned.

"To fix some dishonest things."

The words settled heavily between them.

And somewhere deep inside Rosaline’s consciousness, the real owner of the body stirred again.

For now, however, Saline remained in control.

And she had no intention of wasting the little time she had.

A glint of anticipation passed through Christophine and she smiled with satisfaction.