Chapter Eighteen - Part One ▪︎

ahlia tried to ignore the nervous butterflies in her stomach. She was going to actually meet him for the first time- the first proper time, she should say.

A doctor came into her room with two syringes in her hands. She got scared of the sheer size of the needles on those things.

"These aren't for you, sorry. How are you feeling?" Realising her mistake, the doctor put the horrid things away in her back pocket and quickly changed the subject. She wasn't worried about them piercing her skin as they had caps on them.

"Thirsty." Dahlia croaked out. Her throat felt extremely dry and her tounge was scraping against her teeth like sandpaper. She could barely speak.

The doctor immediately took the glass that was sat on her nightstand and filled it up with water in the toilet sink. She gave it to Dahlia and she took it greedily, but her arms felt as though they were asleep. She could barely lift them halfway up before they fell to her side.

"I'll help you." The doctor said as she held the glass up to Dahlia's dry cracked lips. She swallowed slowly, the water painfully going down her throat. She felt the coolnes going down to her empty stomach and through her bowels. She lifted her hand slightly and the doctor put the glass in it's former spot.

"Where is he?" Dahlia asked. Her mood was crushed as she realised she was too weak to even move. She never felt so helpless.

"On his way, probably." The doctor assumed.

"What is your na-me?" Dahlia's voice cracked.

"Arya Shyan. You are Dahlia, right?"

Dahlia nodded. She looked at the doctor's chocolate skin and tightly braided hair put in a big bun at the top of her head. She looked different to the other doctors she saw in her life. Her family had their personal doctor and she always wore a tight ponytail at the back of her head and had an overall neat and clean appearance.

This woman was dangerous, Dahlia concluded. Her eyes were daringly black with seemingly permanent red streaks in them, her lips full and painted in black. Her eyes were angled and rimmed with thick lashes and a black winged eyeliner. Her eyebrows a rich cherry red color, just like the highlights in her braids.

Dahlia knew everyone in this hospital was a vampire, apart from herself.

"What happened to you? Why did you pass out?" Arya asked.

Dahlia's memory was foggy but she remembered everything. Not in great detail, but she remembered. She wasn't sure of what to tell Arya. "You can tell me anything. You have to if you want me to help you."

Dahlia gulped and started telling her story. "He... he made me drink his blood. I was so scared and it tasted awful but then I started liking it, later loving it. I drank from his wrist willingly and I would have drained him but I passed out. I woke up and ate a raw steak but I was still thristy. I wanted more, but he wouldn't give me any and I... I couldn't stop thinking about it. It was all I needed. He looked scared, worried maybe. I somehow managed to knock him out and take some of his blood with me as I decided to escape. I was running from him. Now that I think about it, I was acting very primitive. There was a river that was stopping me from running and I don't remember very much from there. I know I tried to cover my tracks and The King saving me as I fell down from exhaustion." She was sobbing from the horrid experience and the helplessness she felt. Arya was looking at her with a semi-shocked expression on her face.

"You drank his blood?" He gritted through his teeth as she looked up at the opened door where he stood. His eyes were dangerously red as she looked over his angry face. The butterflies returned to her stomach with full force as she panicked. What was he going to do? She should have been more careful with her words, she though panickly.

Blood is sacred to all creatures. Sharing your blood meant much more than simply sharing a meal. It was a sign of ownership and/or bonding between partners. A physical bond of blood, usually performed by mates or life long partners.