"I made a point of letting you know that my acts are not dictated by fear to dissatisfy such or such person, such as you, but only by the safety of the people and the Republic. Admittedly, it will be very hard to live without your forgiveness, but I think that with a little chance, I will arrive there."
~Maximilien Robespierre
***
Merrick strode forward, his presence as natural and commanding as the night itself. His arms lifted with a fluid grace, and Caralee relinquished the girl into his keeping without hesitation. With infinite gentleness, Merrick cradled the sleeping girl against his chest, his free hand rising to cup Caralee's cheek. His thumb brushed the soft curve of her face, and he leaned in, planting a tender kiss upon her lips—a kiss that lingered, sweet and warm, and spoke volumes without a word.
His fingers slid down to lightly grasp her chin, tilting her face upward until their eyes locked. His gaze, deep and fathomless, bore into hers with a quiet, devastating intensity.
"You did beautifully, my sweet," he murmured, his voice low and velvet-rich. "Congratulations on your first successful hunt."
Heat blossomed across Caralee's cheeks, blooming like roses in the moonlight. She beamed under his praise, feeling a giddy pride swell inside her chest.
Merrick shifted the sleeping girl in his arms, holding her as if she were made of the finest porcelain. "Wait here, Cara," he said softly, his mouth brushing her ear. "Savor the high of your first feed. I shall return your new friend safely to her world—and be back before you even miss me."
And just like that, he was gone. One moment a shadow in the starlight, the next a wisp carried off into the darkness. His speed was supernatural, beyond anything mortal eyes could hope to track.
He moved through the night with purpose, carrying the slumbering girl through the veils of trees and mist. When he laid her carefully upon her own bed, there would be no sign of what had transpired. No wounds, no lingering pain—only the hazy fragments of what her mind would surely dismiss as a vivid and beautiful dream. Caralee's natural vampiric gift had seen to that. Her saliva, laced with ancient, instinctive magic, numbed memory and sensation, weaving a web of protection over their secret existence.
Back at the glade, Caralee had slumped down against the base of a wide oak tree, her body humming with an exquisite, effervescent energy. The blood she had taken now coursed through her, igniting every nerve ending with a vibrant tingling that made her toes curl and her fingertips twitch. She had to bite her lip to suppress the sudden, irrepressible urge to giggle like a schoolgirl.
A heady warmth flooded her veins, stretching outward in lazy, luxurious waves. She had never felt so alive, so aware. The stars above seemed closer, the very air around her shimmered with hidden colors and textures her human mind had never been able to perceive.
And then, like a phantom conjured from mist, Merrick returned.
He emerged from behind a nearby tree, his stride slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment. The sight of him sent a thrill racing down Caralee's spine. She tilted her head back to look up at him, a mischievous, sultry grin curving her lips.
But there was a different kind of hunger in her gaze now.
It burned hotter, fiercer, a wildfire stoked not by bloodlust but by something more primal—more human. Her body, still electrified from the hunt, yearned for him. For his touch, his strength, his closeness.
Merrick, ever perceptive, smiled knowingly. His dark eyes glittered with amusement—and something darker, more possessive—as he reached down and, with ease, pulled her to her feet. She swayed, and he chuckled low in his throat, wrapping his arms securely around her waist to steady her.
"You're feeling it, aren't you?" he asked, his voice a deep, affectionate rumble.
Caralee nodded eagerly, her cheeks flushed with exhilaration. Her body buzzed like a violin string, straining with barely-contained energy.
Merrick's smile deepened, his thumb tracing lazy circles along the small of her back. "That is because you fed from one who was highly aroused," he explained, his voice heavy with meaning.
Instantly, her grin vanished, replaced by wide-eyed panic. Her hand flew to her mouth, a blush staining her cheeks crimson as the realization of what she had done struck her fully.
She stammered, struggling to form an apology, but Merrick silenced her with a single touch—a finger lightly placed against her lips.
"Say nothing, my sweet," he soothed. "You did nothing wrong. Quite the contrary—you were brilliant."
"But—" she faltered, her voice small, "was that... normal? What I did?"
"Perfectly normal," he assured her, stroking her hair with a tenderness that melted her fears. "Especially when you find a blood that calls to you, as hers did. Certain states of mind are induced—pleasure, acceptance, even desire. They are usually quite pleasurable. Especially if your feeder is accepting of your spell, of your glamour. It's instinctual. It's natural."
Caralee frowned slightly, confusion clouding her delicate features. "You mentioned glamour... a spell? I—I don't know magic."
Merrick chuckled, the sound rich and affectionate. "Oh, but you do, my darling. It's woven into your very being now. I'll explain everything in due time." He pressed another kiss, feather-light, to her forehead. Then, stepping back, he grew serious.
"As a vampire you have many abilities, of a supernatural quality one might say. You will learn all of these in time, and with the natural ability you showed tonight, I have no doubt you will master them all quickly." He placed a soft kiss lovingly on her forehead.
"For now, let us just focus on one that we can use right now. Speed. We can move unimaginably fast, some even can move so fast as to be nearly imperceptible to humans. As you have seen. Let us take advantage of the power singing in your veins. We are strongest right after a feed, while the blood's energy still burns brightly within us." He surveyed her, ensuring she stood steady. Then he turned, pointing ahead into the trees, where the sea's scent carried on the night breeze.
He stood just a step away, pointing ahead of them. "That is the direction of the sea. The direction of home. That is where we are headed. I want you to take a moment. Feel the blood coursing through your veins. Feel the power it gives you, surging within your muscles and fueling your abilities."
Caralee closed her eyes, she paid attention to all the sensations within her body, just as he instructed. He studied her for a moment, then continued.
"Listen to the call of night. Feel the pull towards darkness. The sun rises in the east and so once the night is nearest its end, the sun is preparing to rise and thus your body will try to flee the light, you should feel a natural pull towards the west, to chase the darkness. Listen to the call of night." His hands rested warmly on her shoulders. He kissed the back of her head, whispering, "When you feel it—run. Trust yourself."
He stepped away.
Panic flickered in her chest. "What if I get lost?"
"You won't," Merrick promised, his smile serene. "I will be with you. You will not stray from me, my precious one."
Caralee turned back toward the sea. She calmed her racing thoughts, recalling every lesson he had given her that night. She shed her fear like an old, ill-fitting coat. There was no room now for human frailty—only instinct, power, and purpose.
And then she felt it: a pull. Gentle but insistent. A current tugging at her soul, urging her westward. It was as if the earth itself leaned to whisper secrets in her ear, promising freedom if she would only surrender.
The blood in her veins—Auralia's sweet, potent blood—sang a song of possibility. With a sharp exhale, Caralee let go.
She ceased fighting. She allowed her spirit to lead, and her body followed. The world around her exploded into a blur.
The ground vanished beneath her feet, the trees became streaks of green and black, the stars above melted into silver rivers. She wasn't running—she was soaring. Moving so fast that the very air bent around her, howling past in an ecstatic rush.
Far behind her, Merrick stood frozen in shock.
He had seen fledglings run before. He had seen centuries-old vampires move with great speed. But this—this was something else.
The moment she surrendered, he felt the pulse of her raw power shudder through the night. His mouth parted in stunned disbelief.
That—shouldn't—be possible
He thought numbly, a chill lacing his spine. She was already gone, a comet streaking through the forest. Faster than his eyes could track, faster than he could follow.
Snapping from his stupor, Merrick gave chase, his body blurring into motion. But even at his full, supernatural speed, he could barely hope to catch her now. And deep in his ancient heart, for the first time in longer than he could remember, Merrick felt the faint, exhilarating sting—of fear.