Her Immortal Protector

5. Christos

5

CHRISTOS

I soar through the night sky, my wings cutting through the cool air. I'm surprised how easily I took to flight when everything else has been difficult, but it feels natural.

The hunt calls to me, a primal urge I can't ignore. My heightened senses pick up every rustle of leaves, every scurry of small creatures below. But it's not enough. I need more.

Then it hits me. A scent so potent, so intoxicating, it makes my head spin. Fear. Adrenaline. Human. My body reacts instantly, every fiber of my being drawn to it like a moth to flame.

But it's not just hunger that propels me forward. It's an underlying pull, something that demands I come.

I dive, following the scent trail. It leads me to a remote part of the island, near a cliff overlooking the sea. As I get closer, I hear voices. Angry shouts. Rapid footsteps.

I land silently in a nearby tree, my eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness. That's when I see her. A woman, cornered by a group of men in dark uniforms. She's breathless, her back against the cliff edge, nowhere to run.

"Give us the evidence, and maybe we'll let you live," one of the men snarls.

The woman's eyes flash with defiance. "Go to hell."

Something stirs inside me. Admiration? Hunger? Both? I can't tell. All I know is that I want her. Not just her blood, but her. Her bravery calls to me in a way I've never experienced before.

The men move closer, their intentions clear. I should leave. This isn't my fight. But I can't. Every instinct screams at me to intervene.

I move without thinking, my body acting on pure instinct. In a blur of motion, I'm among the attackers. My newfound strength and speed are terrifying, even to me.

The first man doesn't even see me coming. I grab him by the throat, lifting him off the ground. His eyes widen in shock and fear. I bare my fangs, sinking them into his neck. The rush of warm blood floods my mouth, and I drink deeply, desperately. His struggles weaken, then cease altogether.

I drop his lifeless body and turn to the others. They're frozen in disbelief, their weapons forgotten in their hands. I snarl, a sound so inhuman it startles even me.

Two of them try to run. It's futile. I'm on them in seconds, my wings propelling me forward with impossible speed. I take them down easily, my hands crushing their windpipes before I feed.

The last man, the one who threatened the woman, stands his ground. He fires his weapon, but I barely feel the impact. The bullets can't penetrate my new, hardened skin.

"What... what are you?" he gasps.

I don't answer. I'm beyond words now, consumed by bloodlust and rage. I lunge at him, my teeth tearing into his flesh. His screams are cut short as I drain him dry.

When it's over, I stand among the bodies, panting. Blood drips from my mouth, staining my shirt. For the first time since my transformation, I feel truly satiated. The constant gnawing hunger that's been my companion is finally silent.

But as the red haze of bloodlust fades, horror sets in. I look at my hands, covered in blood. At the lifeless bodies strewn around me. What have I done? I'm a monster. A killer.

I turn slowly, remembering the woman I came to save. She's still there, pressed against the cliff face, her eyes wide with terror. Not of her attackers anymore, but of me.

I stare at the woman, my emotions a tumultuous storm. The scent of her fear is intoxicating, but it's not just her blood that calls to me. There's something else, something I can't quite explain.

She's beautiful, even in her terror. Her long dark hair whips around her face in the sea breeze, and her hazel eyes, though wide with fright, hold a spark of defiance. It's that spark that captivates me, that draws me in despite every instinct screaming at me to flee.

I take a step towards her, and she flinches. The movement sends a pang through my chest. I don't want her to fear me, even though I know she should.

"I won't hurt you," I say, my voice hoarse. It's the first time I've spoken since my transformation, and the words feel strange in my mouth.

She doesn't respond, her eyes darting between me and the bodies on the ground. I can hear her heart racing, smell the adrenaline coursing through her veins. It's intoxicating, and I have to fight to keep control.

"Who... what are you?" she finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

I hesitate. How can I explain what I am when I barely understand it myself? Not to mention I shouldn't give myself up…even if she knows I'm not human. "I just wanted to save you."

Her eyebrows furrow, confusion mixing with her fear. "But what are you?"

She shifts back as I turn to face her. But this time, I don't answer. I don't know how to.

She nods slowly, her gaze roaming over me. I feel exposed under her scrutiny, but I can't bring myself to move away. There's something about her, something that calls to me on a level I don't understand.

"You saved me," she says softly.

I look away, shame washing over me. "I killed them."

"They were going to kill me," she counters, her voice stronger now. "You saved my life."

I meet her eyes again, surprised by the lack of judgment I see there. Instead, there's a mix of gratitude and... something else. Something that makes a human emotion come tumbling forward — even after I feared I lost all humanity.

I stare at the woman, torn between conflicting instincts. Nyx's voice echoes in my mind, reminding me of the importance of secrecy, that we should be building an army of vrakken. I should kill her or Change her. Either way, she's seen too much.

But something holds me back.

"I... I can't let you go," I say, my voice rough. "You've seen too much."

She takes a shaky breath. "I understand. But I won't tell anyone. I swear."

I laugh bitterly. "And why should I believe you?"

"Because I'm a journalist," she says, her chin lifting slightly. "I know how to keep secrets when it matters."

Her bravery impresses me, even as it frustrates me. It would be easier if she begged or tried to run. But she stands her ground, facing me despite her fear.

I take a step closer, inhaling deeply. Her scent is intoxicating, a mix of adrenaline and something uniquely her. My fangs ache, and I have to fight the urge to sink them into her neck.

"You don't understand," I growl. "I can't trust you."

She swallows hard but doesn't back down. "Then don't trust me. Keep me with you if you have to. But please... don't kill me."

Her words surprise me. Keep her with me? The idea is both tempting and terrifying. I shouldn't even consider it. And yet...

"I…I can't."

"Please." Her body is starting to tremble, and I'm not sure if it's from fear or adrenaline. "Please just don't-"

I open my mouth to respond, but before I can, her eyes roll back in her head. The stress and fear finally catch up with her, and she crumples to the ground in a dead faint.

I catch her before she hits the rocky ground, my enhanced reflexes kicking in. Her body is warm against mine, her heartbeat strong but erratic. I hold her, frozen in indecision.

What do I do now? I can't leave her here, unconscious and vulnerable. But taking her with me feels like crossing a line I can't uncross.

As I stand there, cradling her unconscious form, I realize I've already made my decision. I can't kill her. And I can't leave her. Which means I have only one choice left.