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She let out a hollow laugh, one that felt more like a sob. “Maybe that would be preferable. You didn’t steal all of my choices when you chose to turn me into something you knew I loathed. I had begun to believe you lacked the all-consuming arrogance of your kind. My kind now, I guess, unless I choose to end it. That’s a choice you can’t take from me. Elyria will ensure that.”
Hunter’s expression darkened, the flicker of pain in his eyes turning to something sharper—anger. She knew she was beingunreasonable, but she didn’t care. She wanted to strike out at him, cause him the pain and confusion he had caused her. He set the goblet down on the bedside table with a clink, stepping closer to her, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
“Preferable?” he growled, his voice low and rough. “You think I wanted this for you? You think I would’ve done this if I’d had any other choice?”
Mercy glared up at him, her voice trembling with the force of her resentment. “It should have beenmychoice, Hunter. You took that from me. You made this decision without even consulting me.”
“Because you were dead, Mercy,” Hunter snapped, his voice rising. “I didn’t have time to debate the ethics of it with you. There was barely a spark of life left in you. For all intents and purposes, you were gone. Your heart had stopped. You had ceased to breathe. And I—” His voice cracked slightly, and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I couldn’t let you go.”
She stared at him; her chest tight with emotion. It was hard to argue with that. She had been dying. She remembered the searing pain of the witch’s blow, the darkness closing in around her. She had been slipping away. But that didn’t change the fact that she hadn’t wanted this life—if it could even be called a life.
“You still did it,” she whispered, her voice bitter. “You made that choice.”
Hunter’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and anguish. “I turned my back on everything I’ve believed and held dear since the Neolithic Age to save you,” he growled. “Do you have any idea what that means? Do you know what it’s like to have everything you love, everything you know, ripped away from you? To be turned into something you despise?”
Mercy frowned, taken aback by the raw emotion in his voice. “What are you talking about?”
Hunter let out a harsh breath, his hands flexing as if trying to contain his emotions. “I was born before there was a recorded history. A warrior in a tribe of hunters and gatherers. I was turned by those who destroyed my village. I watched them slaughter everyone I knew, everyone I loved, and then they turned me—made me into one of them, a vampire. It was a punishment. A curse. I spent centuries hating what I was, fighting against it.”
He paused, his gaze locking onto hers, fierce and intense. “But eventually, I realized I had a choice. I could let the darkness consume me, or I could fight back. I could use what I’d become to protect others, to fight for something better. That’s what you have to decide now, Mercy.”
She swallowed hard; her throat tight as his words sank in. She had never thought of it like that—never considered that he might have been through something similar, that he had fought the same battle she was now facing.
“Elyria was right,” Hunter continued, his voice softening slightly. “You can deny what you’ve become, and it will kill you. Or you can embrace it, use it to fight. You’ve always fought on the side of the light; that doesn’t have to change. You think the Shadow Sisters won’t respect you now? You’re stronger than you’ve ever been. You’ll be a force no one can deny.”
Mercy shook her head, her voice trembling. “You still made this decision for me.”
Hunter nodded; his expression grim. “Yes. I did. But only because I couldn’t lose you. From the time I woke as a vampire, I have never loved anyone more than myself… until now.”
His words hit her like a punch to the gut, the weight of his confession settling heavily in the room. She opened her mouth to argue, to yell at him again, but no words came out. Her anger faltered, crumbling under the weight of her confusion and the raw truth of his feelings.
Hunter reached for the goblet again and held it out to her. “Drink,” he said quietly. “I know you don’t want to, but you have to. Trust me… I’ve been where you are. It isn’t human. I killed a deer, drained the blood for you and brought the rest back to the butcher for those here at the abbey.”
Mercy hesitated, staring at the blood with a mixture of fear and disgust. But there was also hunger, a deep, gnawing hunger that made her stomach twist painfully. She hated herself for wanting it—for needing it.
Reluctantly, she took the goblet from his hands, her fingers trembling as she brought it to her lips. The scent of the blood was overwhelming, rich and metallic, and she had to fight the urge to gag.
But when she took a sip, it wasn’t what she had expected. The blood was warm, thick, but instead of the disgusting, coppery taste she had feared, it was… delicious. Her eyes widened in shock as the liquid slid down her throat, the hunger inside her easing slightly with every swallow.
Mercy recoiled, horrified by how good it tasted, and immediately pushed the goblet back at Hunter. “I can’t,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I can’t do this.”
Hunter took the goblet from her and tipped it back toward her lips, his touch gentle but firm. “I understand,” he said quietly. “I felt the same way at first. You’re afraid that if you like it too much, you’ll lose control. That you’ll start killing people for it. I had the same fear.”
She stared at him, hearing her exact fears said out loud, and he nodded.
“But you can master it, Mercy,” he continued. “You don’t have to kill anyone. You don’t have to become a monster. You can take what you need without ever hurting an innocent person. And if you choose to, you can take from those who deserve to die—people who have hurt others.”
His words made too much sense, and it scared her. Everything she had believed about vampires, everything she had feared, was crumbling in the face of what he was telling her. She didn’t want to believe him, but the hunger inside her was so strong, so overwhelming, and the blood had tasted so good…
“I don’t want to become like them,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“You won’t,” Hunter said firmly. “You’re stronger than that. You’ve always been stronger than that.”
She looked at him, really looked at him for the first time since he had entered the room. There was something in his eyes—something she hadn’t noticed before. Compassion. Understanding. Humanity.
“How did you do it?” she asked softly, her voice filled with genuine curiosity. “How did you retain your humanity?”
Hunter’s expression softened. “When they turned me, the vampires who did it thought they had created another of them to be used as fodder in their dreams and plans for conquest. But what they didn’t realize was that they had created their worst enemy. I refused to let them win. I refused to become like them.”
