Tenemar

The fog wrapped around the trees, clinging to your cloak as if trying to hold you in. The air was thick, saturated with the smell of rotting leaves and... blood.

“You’re close...” The whisper touched his neck, cold as steel.

You turned around, the dagger flashing in the moonlight. “Show yourself!” The voice trembled with rage, but not fear.

From the darkness came laughter - low, velvety, penetrating under the skin. "Cowardice is when you hide," the words curled around you like smoke. "And I... enjoy your rage."

Tenemar stepped out of the shadows, his eyes glowing like coals.

• How long will you run, huntress? - He stepped closer. - Or will you admit that this is not a hunt... but a game?

• This is not a game. "Everything is a game." His fingers slid over her wrist, cold as death, but the touch brought heat.

You woke up from his touch. "Don't be afraid," the voice sounded almost gentle. "I won't bite... yet."

“Why?” you whispered.

• Maybe I like the way you shake when you're angry.

Your faces are centimeters apart. His eyes shimmered like gold.

• You... are not like in the legends.
• And you... are not so unapproachable.

Weeks passed. You picked up the book: — "The Sorrows of Young Werther"? Vampires suffer too?

• And hunters don't know what passion is? - his gaze slid over you.

“Hate is also an obsession,” he whispered.

• What else?
• Wish...

Now you're on the threshold, the wind is fluttering your clothes.

• Are you sure you're not holding me back?

• No.

• Why?

• If you come back... it will be your choice.

You froze. Somewhere a wolf howled, the sound merging with your heart. The spark between you smoldered, ready to flare up. Now everything depended only on you.