A Shade of Vampire 22: A Fork of Paths Read Free

wonderment.
    “How did you get here?” I asked breathlessly.
    He reached a hand beneath my chin and tilted my head up. His lips brushed against mine in a slow, tender kiss.
    “What matters is that I’m here,” he replied, his voice deep.
    I didn’t understand where he’d come from, but I didn’t need to. His touch was the only thing I needed, his presence what my soul ached for.
    “Will you stay with me now?” I asked.
    A flicker of pain crossed his face, and as he looked down at me, there was a sadness in his gaze. A sadness I didn’t understand. A sadness that disturbed me. He dipped down and kissed my cheek before saying:
    “I’ll stay with you… for as long as you need me.”

    I woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. My eyes shot open, reality returning to me.
    I was still in the hunters’ submarine. Still bound by my wrists and ankles. Still trapped.
    I wasn’t sure how I’d even managed to fall asleep in the first place. There must’ve been something in the tranquilizer they’d shot me with. And how long had I been sleeping? There were no clocks in this room. How far away am I now from The Shade? The thought sent shivers down my spine. It felt like the submarine was still moving.
    Now what?
    Gathering my bound ankles and wrists together, I inched closer to the wall until my back was against it. I stared around the bare room. Fluorescent light strips glowed above me. Everything around me appeared to be made of steel—the door, the walls, the bed frame—giving the cabin a pristine feel. As depressing as it looked, I couldn’t fault the hunters for their hygiene. The room almost felt like… an operating room.
    What did these hunters want with me? I didn’t understand it. When one of them had spotted me in the waves and pulled me aboard his boat, I’d expected him to try to kill me, same as had happened during my last encounter with the hunters. I had been hit by one of their bullets. I likely would’ve died if not for Ben saving me. But now they wanted to keep me alive. What for?
    As the cobwebs of sleep lifted from me, I realized what had brought me to consciousness. I needed to pee. Great. I scanned the room. Aside from the main door, there was another narrow one that led to a cramped bathroom. Using the toilet with my hands and feet bound like this would be no easy feat. I rolled off the bed, hitting the floor with a grimace. At least I’d managed to land on my side and avoided banging my head too badly. Stretching out my legs and arms, I crawled to the bathroom and awkwardly went about my business.
    As I was drying my hands, a key clicked in the front door. Dropping the towel, I froze. The door swung open. In stepped a tall, wiry man clad in black pants and a long black polo shirt. His short-cropped, coal-black hair accentuated his pale complexion, and his face was just as narrow and angular as the rest of his body. With a shadow of stubble around his jawline, he appeared to be quite young—I would have guessed in his early thirties. I recognized this man. I’d caught sight of him on the speedboat as the other hunters had carried me as a prisoner to the lower deck.
    Clutched in one of his hands was a small, silver gun, and in the other was a syringe. He eyed me before gesturing toward the bed. “Take a seat, please,” he said.
    I remained glued to my spot. “Why did you take me?” I asked, my throat feeling drier than the Sahara desert.
    “Take a seat,” he repeated calmly.
    He didn’t have the build of a soldier or a fighter—he had more the build of a scientist—but despite the slightness of his physique, there was something imposing about his demeanor. I didn’t want to test his willingness to use his gun.
    In my move to obey, I forgot that my feet were tied. I tripped and fell, my elbows grazing the metal floor. He tucked the syringe into his pocket, though he kept hold of the gun as he moved to my side. His free hand grabbed my shoulder and he tugged me upward. As he