Chapter 1

Her eyelashes fluttered. The dark clouds hindering her consciousness gradually broke. Gray light reflected beneath her eyelids. Her slender fingers twitched at her mind's subtle command. Cautiously, she rubbed her fingertips against the smooth texture of the blanket. The weight of the warm cloth covered her from the chest down to her feet.

With little trouble, she opened her eyes. A white ceiling came into view. Blurred images conflicted with the white wall. She couldn't decipher what the abstract portraits were; they were too distorted. She moved her gaze to the looming brown figures at her right. Her breath quickened in fear. She waited for her heartrate to increase. But it never did. The inside of her chest was quiet. If there was a heart there, it wasn't beating.

A scorching fire attacked her throat. It crawled up the depths of her empty chest and raced up her esophagus. She gasped at the sudden pain. Her hands went to her neck. She scratched at her skin, desperate to stop the fire that had overcome her. The flames crept into her mouth, leaving her tongue dry. She began to choke on the lack of moisture.

She sat up in the bed, still clutching her aching throat. Clumsily, she threw her legs over the bedside. She tested her weight on her feet. Luckily, she was able to hold herself up. She wobbled towards the blurry brown figures. Her vision cleared with each step she took. Instead of fuzzy brown blobs, she could make out tall dressers and a vanity dresser. She walked towards the vanity dresser.

Her palms slammed down on the chestnut wood as a whooping cough escaped her lips. Tears brimmed her eyes. The pain was unbearable. She wasn't sure how to stop it – or if there was a remedy at all. She lay her head down on her hands and took slow, deep breaths.

Sighing, she picked her head up. Her eyes caught her reflection in the mirror, and her deep breaths paused.

Staring back at her in the mirror was a seventeen-year-old girl. Her eyes, filled with fear, were the color of sparkling emeralds. They were wide with long, curled eyelashes. Between her eyes was a small, dwarfish nose. Tiny freckles bombarded her tiny nose and spread onto her rounded cheeks. Plump pink lips sat just above her curved chin. Kinky auburn hair framed her face and sheltered her small shoulders. The fiery color emphasized her brown skin and green eyes.

She stared with wide eyes and a gaping mouth at the girl in the mirror. The girl was beautiful, but she didn't recognize her. She didn't recall ever seeing the mane of curls or the wide eyes or the pouty lips. She didn't know this girl.

Her acknowledgement opened another can of worms. If the girl in the mirror was a stranger, then who was she? Her brain rummaged itself looking for an explanation. At every corner, she found a handful of nothing. No memories. No names. No identity. Her mind was a never-ending black hole. The longer she searched, the murkier her thoughts became.

Footsteps creaked beyond the door. The sweet aroma of jasmine and lavender wafted through the air.

The girl backed away from the door. She turned to the source of the gray light. A large window lay beside the bed she'd been laying in. To her surprise, it wasn't barred. She tiptoed over to the glass. Her thoughts of escape were deterred by the beautiful view of pine trees covered with snow. The icy flakes were still falling from the sky. With her refined vision, she could see the unique shape of each snowflake. Quietly, and slowly, they floated down from the gray clouds onto the white surface of the trees.

Behind her, the door slid open. At the sound, she whipped around. Her innate instincts forced her to crouch down and bare her sharpened teeth. An inhuman hiss escaped her lips. She would've leaped at her intruders if not for her competition.

A man over six feet tall mimicked her stance. The whites of his eyes filled with black, and his irises glowed ruby red. Defined cracks appeared in his porcelain skin. He bared sharp fangs tinged with red. A low hiss rumbled from his throat.

The girl, intimidated and afraid, dropped her defensive stance. She stumbled back and pressed herself against the wall.

"Felix," a warm, southern voice chimed. A brown hand set itself on the man's shoulders. "Relax. You're scaring the poor child."

The man, Felix, held the girl's gaze as he straightened his composure. The cracks in his face disappeared. The whites of his eyes and the blue of his irises gradually appeared. He angled himself in front of his companion. "She would've attacked you," he replied in a hushed tone.

"She's fine. She's just a little frightened." A woman poked her head around Felix's arm. Curly black hair framed the woman's round face. Her almond shaped eyes were crinkled at the ends; a result of the kind smile on her face. "It's alright, sweetheart. We won't hurt ya."

The girl hadn't taken her eyes off the man. Tears brimmed her green eyes. Her small shoulders were trembling from the sobs she was holding inside.

"Oh, Felix, look what you did. Damn near traumatized the poor child," the woman scolded.

"Better her traumatized than you injured." He reluctantly broke his staring contest with the girl. His blue eyes went to the woman. "Give me the cup."

"No." She shoved the man aside. "I'll be fine." She turned her attention to the young girl.

Her green eyes were focused on the large mug in the woman's hands. The scent of sweet berries filled her nose. Her mouth watered from the smell. The ache in her throat she'd momentarily ignored became more prominent. She wanted whatever the woman had. She needed it.

The dark-haired woman slowly approached the younger girl. With a gentle smile, she offered the cup to the girl. "It's alright," she said. "Drink it."

Her hands shook as she took the mug from the woman's hands. Eagerly, she gulped the contents of the mug. The liquid was thick, but it flowed down her throat like water. It tasted like sweet strawberries and raspberries. Each sip doused one of the flames in her throat. She drank and drank until all the pain had disappeared. Even then, she continued to drink. The liquid was addicting; she couldn't get enough of it. When it was all gone, she would've loved more. Yet, a tiny part of her brain knew she was satisfied. She could be grateful for the portion the kind woman had given her. She pulled the mug away from her lips with a sigh.

The woman smiled. "Good girl." She took the mug out of the girl's hands. "Do you feel better?"

She nodded. "Thank you," she whispered.

The woman led her to sit on the bed. She tried to wipe away the excess liquid on the girl's top lip.

At the sight of the woman's raised hand, the girl flinched away.

A frown threatened to appear on the older woman's face. She put her hand into her lap. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm…okay." The teen glanced around the room. Her eyes lingered on the snow wonderland outside of her window. "Where…where am I?"

"Somewhere safe."

Her brows came together. "Safe?" She looked at the woman. "Safe from what?"

The woman shared a worried glance with her companion. "Sweetheart, do you…do you know your name?"

She shook her head.

"Your name is Arielle…Arielle Parker."

The name didn't bring anything to the forefront of her mind. If anything, it made her mind feel emptier. "How do you know my name? Who are you?"

"You told us your name before you passed out." She set a hand on her chest. "I'm Amber." She motioned to the man standing near the door. "This is Felix."

She glanced at Felix. "What is he?"

"The same as you: a vampire."

Arielle's eyebrows shot up. "A vampire," she exclaimed.

"Yes. The liquid you just drank was blood. You need it to sustain yourself."

Arielle shook her head. "No. No. I know what a vampire is. I just… I don't understand. How…" Her voice trailed off. Vampires were supernatural characters in novels and films. Ancient myths to describe cannibals. They weren't real. They couldn't be.

Amber frowned. "I know this is difficult to process, sweetie."

Arielle's brows came together. "This…this doesn't make any sense. How can I be…?" She shook her head. "This is impossible. Vampires aren't real."

"Don't renounce your own existence, honey."

"But…" Arielle rubbed her temples. She combed through her mind for something – anything that would give her some answers. If she remembered correctly, vampires were mythical creatures. They were blood lusting monsters who hunted humans. Anne Rice had written a few books about vampires. Romanticizing them. Humanizing them. But it'd just been fiction. Entertainment. There was no such thing as vampires. Was there?

For theory's sake, if Arielle was a vampire, then someone had made her this way. But who? Why? She searched for answers in the murky depths of her mind and came up empty. She groaned in frustration. How could she remember what a vampire was, but she couldn't remember her damn name? She couldn't remember anything. Not her school. Not her friends. Not her family. Her thoughts momentarily paused.

"My family," she whispered. She looked to Amber. "Where's my family?"

Amber's frown deepened. She gently put her hand on Arielle's shoulder. "I'm sorry, sweetness, but your parents are dead."

The still heart inside of her chest broke into a tiny million pieces. The tears she'd been holding in fell from her eyes. Dead. Her parents were dead. And she couldn't even remember their names. Arielle wanted to scream. She wanted to shout. She wanted to break something. She wanted to run away and never look back. But, she only had the strength to put her face in her hands and cry.

Amber watched the teen break down. Cautiously, she wrapped her arms around the young girl and pulled her close. "I'm sorry," she whispered into Arielle's hair. "I know this is a lot."

"A lot," Arielle exclaimed. She broke free from the woman's hold and stood up. Her eyes, brimmed with red, held a fire that almost matched the dark color of her hair. "My family is dead! I don't know where the hell I am or who I am! And to top it all off, I'm a goddamn freak of nature! That's not 'a lot'; it's a fucking nightmare!"

In an instant, Felix was standing in front of Amber. His expression was stony. "Calm down," he said firmly.

"Calm down," she exclaimed. She could've laughed if her chest wasn't congested with sobs. "You want me to calm down after all of the bombs she just dropped on me? Are you serious? I can't calm down!"

Amber gently pushed Felix aside. "It's alright," she said. "You have a right to be upset, Arielle. But, we need you to relax. Take a deep breath. Can you do that for me?"

Arielle complied. She consumed a large breath and slowly exhaled. It didn't help her feel better, but she could at least begin to control the fire simmering beneath her bones. "What happened to me," she asked.

"Sweetheart, you've heard enough –"

"What happened," Arielle exclaimed. She nodded to Felix. "Did he do it? Did he turn me into this monster?"

Amber pursed her lips. "Neither of us had any part in your transformation or the death of your parents."

"Then who did?"

Amber sighed. "I can't tell you. Not now. Not when your emotions are running like this. When you cool down, we can talk more. For now, we'll give you some space." She grabbed the man's hand and led him to the door. "It's unlocked," she said. "You can come downstairs when you're ready."

Arielle watched the strangers exit her room. The glare on her face fell. Her sobs became uncontrollable. She lay in her bed and suffocated her sobs with a pillow.

A tiny part of her wondered why she was crying. She wasn't in any danger. She hadn't been harmed nor was she being kept captive. So, what was the issue? She didn't remember her family anyway. Hell, she didn't even remember herself. So, what was the use in crying over it?

Perhaps she wasn't crying over losing the people she couldn't remember. She was crying because she'd lost everything she'd ever known. Sure, she was safe, but she was alone. She didn't know the couple she was with. For all she knew, they could've lied about their identities and their roles in her eternal damnation. Maybe the southern hospitality the woman was portraying was just an act. What if they were just trying to trick her into trusting them? She'd seen the look in Felix's eyes; one wrong move and he would've killed her without a second thought. But, he'd only been protecting his companion. He didn't mean her any intentional harm, did he?

Arielle's tears slowed. Maybe the couple wasn't so bad. After all, they'd taken her in. They'd given her a roof over her head, a warm bed to sleep in, and blood to sustain her new diet. She had no reason to doubt them or be upset with them. They were just trying to help.

Arielle wished she could believe that.

She wiped away the remainder of her tears as she got out of bed. She wandered back to the window. The cloudy sky had grown dark. Sparkling snowflakes still fell from the black sky. The white fluff on the ground sparkled in the darkness. Arielle tried to tap into the useless information left in her mind; maybe it'd help her identify where she was. To her disappointment, she came up empty. The snow and the pine trees were novel to her.

She assumed she was away from home. Somewhere safe must've meant somewhere far from where her family died – where she'd been turned into this undead thing.

Arielle turned away from the window. She glanced over the bare dressers. She wasn't surprised at the absence of photos. She didn't know where the couple had found her or how. She'd been knocked out cold for… How long had it been? She couldn't remember. Everything was too dark and murky. She assumed the couple had discovered her alone, and likely wounded, and taken her back here. She must've had an identification card or something on her when they found her. Or she'd used the last of her strength to give them her name and her story before she passed out.

She approached the vanity dresser and stared in the mirror. Hesitantly, she pulled her curls up and examined her neck. Indeed, on the left side of her neck, there were two small puncture marks. She gently touched the spot with her fingertips. She didn't understand why her attacker didn't just kill her. She assumed they'd killed her family. Why keep her alive? Psychological torture? Plans to break her into a submissive servant? Or were they interrupted, and the venom unintentionally spread?

Arielle didn't know, and it frustrated her. She felt useless. Alone. Unhappy. Afraid. Sad. She wished she would've died. Surely whatever lay after death was better than this.

Arielle lay back in bed. She drifted in and out of an uneasy sleep. Each time she woke, her lips were wet with salty tears. Eventually, the scorching flame came crawling up her throat; it crackled and ached for another taste of sweet blood. She ignored the pain the best she could. She didn't want to seek out Amber and Felix. She just wanted to be alone. If that meant suffering by the hands of her own instincts, then so be it. Maybe she'd die if she went long enough with consuming any blood; just like humans do when they starve. She was okay with that.

As expected, the fire did take control over her body. It spread from her neck to her stomach. Then her limbs. Finally, her head. Every inch of her body was burning, and she didn't care. She embraced the pain. She reveled in it. She waited patiently for the day when the fire would douse out whatever was left of her soul. She prayed it'd come soon.

Amber tried to give Arielle blood twice a day. She'd knock on the door and announce she had a large cup of blood for her. Each time, she got no response.

The first few days, Amber understood the teen needed space. She respected her privacy and her mourning process. However, a few days quickly turned into weeks. The weeks turned into months. Amber began to worry. She didn't want to barge in on Arielle, but she didn't want the poor girl to starve; so, she continued her daily meal announcement.

When the fourth month rolled along, Amber knew she couldn't wait any longer. She knew most vampires couldn't go long without blood. From her observations of Felix, the pain of thirst was too much to bear after about a month.

Arielle had gone four.

Amber reluctantly disregarded her values for one day. She gathered the usual large mug of blood and marched up to Arielle's room. Her companion followed close behind her. Amber knocked softly on Arielle's door as a precaution.

Arielle didn't open the door.

Amber gritted her teeth. "Stay out here," she told Felix. With a sigh, she opened the door and barged into the room. She was prepared to scold the girl for putting herself through this unnecessary torture, but her voice got caught in her throat.

Arielle was curled into a ball on the bed. Her limbs were shaking, and short breaths barely came through her lips. Her auburn curls were matted. Tear stains covered her round cheeks. Her green eyes were bloodshot. Her skin was void of any color.

Amber rushed to her side. "Arielle," she began.

"Don't," Arielle snapped at her. "Don't touch me!"

Amber offered the cup of blood. "You need to drink this. It'll help you."

"No."

"Arielle, please. You can't survive like this."

"Good. Let me die."

Amber sighed. "Look, Arielle, I know how you feel."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do. My family was taken away from me too. Murdered. Mother and sister were burned at the stake. My father was stoned. I was the only survivor in my family." She gently put her hand on the teen's shoulder. "I know what it feels like to be alone. To hate yourself for living when the ones you love are dead. To not know what's going to happen next. I understand you're sad; you have every right to be. But, Arielle, you can't torture yourself like this. Your parents wouldn't have wanted you to be in pain. Not when you have the chance they didn't."

Arielle's gaze slowly met Amber's. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "About your family."

Amber scooted closer to Arielle. She set a hand on her shoulder. "Will you please drink?"

"No."

"Arielle," Amber started.

"I want to die," Arielle hissed. "So, you can stop your savior act. It's not working."

"Sweetie, it's not an act. I care about you."

"You don't know me!" Tears slipped down Arielle's cheeks. Her voice lowered. "I don't even know me." She took a shaky breath and closed her eyes. "Just leave me alone. Please."

Amber sighed. "Fine. I'll go." She set the large mug on the nightstand. "I'll leave this here for you. Drink it whenever you're ready."

Arielle rolled onto her stomach and pressed her face into her pillow. She listened to Amber's soft footsteps creak across the carpeted floor to the door. At the click of the closed door, another sob escaped her lips.

At her bedside, the blood sung to her; its aroma slithered from the nightstand to the bed. Like a snake, it wrapped around and suffocated her with its savory smell.

Her mouth watered from the scent. Her dry tongue ached for just one sip of the luscious liquid. But one sip wouldn't be enough. The fire raging in her body would demand more. It'd feast off the blood like a starving beast. With each sip, her body would regenerate. The color would return to her cheeks. Her muscles would be strong enough to lift herself up. Every ounce of the fire tormenting her would be gone. All she had to do was drink.

Arielle told herself she couldn't – she wouldn't fall subject to this temptation.

Little did she know she already had. After only a moment of being alone with the elixir, Arielle had succumbed to her instincts' wishes. Impulsively, she used the little bit of strength left in her bones to grab the mug and bring it to her lips.