Chapter 2

"Stop!" Diana cried out, but the beast only snickered and kept coming, not breaking stride and moving like a predator corralling his prey. The darkness of the concluding shadows and the giant, misshapen trees crowding nearby loudly overwhelmed the gloaming air. Could anyone even hear her? Diana paused, not wanting to go to extremes unless she had to. But what else could she do without her weapon? Not that she was hopeless; of course, she could fight with a sword, a knife, or maybe anything that resembled a weapon. She was, after all, a master swordsman, or whatever those Japanese manga were called. Her grandfather made sure she knew how to use one. But could she fight a gigantic beast? Maybe, but for how long?

Maybe a minute or two.

With no choice, she had to fight it alone and die trying. Does she even have an advantage?

But with this massive beast? She didn't think so.

Her strength was being sucked out. She felt like a loser. A prey.

Two blazing eyes stare at her with an immobilising force, and another crash resonates from its fanged mouth in pure agony. A lush head of hair adorns its bony head, which itself is covered in horrifying piercings.

The beast spoke as he approached, repeatedly stretching and balling up his fingers as if he were preparing for some fishing. "You will be my food, little girl," he sneered. The creature advanced towards her, its two legs gracelessly carrying its draconian body with a terrorising energy. A vine-like tail swirled behind it, and each movement scraped the dirt beneath it.

"Shit!" She murmured and surveyed any possible way out. None! What the fuck is wrong with you, Diana—aren't you supposed to scream for help?

"It looks like you need some company, little one. You're all alone here. There is no time to back away; I'm going to enjoy tasting your blood!" the beast sneered before adding, "Can’t run? Oh! Yeah, I forgot to tell you, this is demon territory. And may I remind you that the treaty existed between you mortals and demons for a reason?" A whistling snort escaped the creature's broad nostrils set within a curved nose. Its bony head sits atop a hard, powerful body. Bizarre tools or weapons dangle at its side, and the creature takes joy in Diana’s questioning eyes.

What the hell was he talking about? What treaty? What demon?

It could be her grandfather, right?

Could his many tales be true?

Damn it! Of course, she didn't know that. But according to her grandfather, this region wasn't a supernatural territory. This was a forbidden mountain. The mountain of her ancestors. And she thought at that time that her grandfather was just delusional or making some story up, but with this beast? Could it be all real?

Were his stories all real?

But in this mountain, shifters couldn't shift and demons couldn't turn into their true selves, which doesn't mean they weren't deadly.

She could fight this beast for a while, but for how long? Without any weapon, she knew it was just suicide.

The beast scoffed; his shadow was a murky silhouette of branches spread out to his sides, clearly intending harm. The man was very tall and dark, with jet black hair and a matching lengthy moustache, yet it was just a honed appearance to convey his true nature. Similarly, he was heavier, with noisy, laboured breathing, the embodiment of a beast rogue, while his eyes were as red as the fire itself and ugly as fuck.

Diana cringed, backing away. "No! Please! I'm not a food, you know! I'm um—human?"

The beast growled again, reaching out a hairy arm towards her. Diana's heart felt like it was going to leap out of her chest. Blood was pounding in her ears. She was horrified. She froze in fear, trying to choose an action while staring wide-eyed at the dark stranger in front of her.

Her strength and senses seem to be fading away. She wanted to run as fast as possible, but her feet wouldn't let her. Now she knew her mind was telling her that these woods were indeed hers.

Then a sudden crash echoed in the darkness, a whisper of wind, and suddenly that was when the ugly man’s face exploded.

Wait what? What the hell happened?

Maybe I’m hallucinating, or did I see it right? She asked herself.

Later, Diana wouldn't be able to narrate precisely what happened. Everything was such a blur, happening so fast that in the blink of an eye, she was in no sort of collected state. It seemed over before it began.

But the handsome, hot, shirtless man suddenly materialised out of nowhere, surging forward past her and driving the heel of his right palm up into the nose of another dark beast.

Andrew!

Her neighbour? What the hell was he doing here anyway?

Diana grumbled under her breath. "Why—"

Then another beast’s face exploded in a red mist of blood, his head snapping back, staggering rearwards. Andrew wasted no time, twisting his torso and hips to deliver a left punch to the solar plexus of the beast.

The beast coughed up blood in a spurt and went toppling over backward, showing his fangs, before landing in a heap on the rooted soil.

Andrew then swung around to his right, closing the distance in an instant to another beast who seemed rather unnoticed by Diana before.

Oh my god, he has a companion? And I didn’t notice? She chastised herself.

Andrew rolled his eyes as if reading her mind. His eyes were still affixed to hers, and Diana could feel their intensity grow with every passing minute.

Then he balled his fist and punched the beast straight in the throat. The creature’s eyes flew open wide, emitting a loud wet gurgling sound, stumbling backward and clutching his throat, staring at the shirtless man, stunned, unable to talk or acknowledge its predicament.

“Demon!” he growled. 

Another beast stumbled, just as Andrew hit another beast in the jaw with a bare right hook, using no spent energy or excessive motions. The "thwack" reverberated in the woods and spun the beast around in a whirling flash, plunging to his knees and then crumpling to the side. Andrew drove his fangs into the beast's chest and threw the beast's body to the side as he looked at the frozen woman.

Diana was shocked. She looked at them wide-eyed, as if she couldn't speculate on what had transpired in front of her. Why was he here? Was he following her the whole time?

And did he just suck his neck? Like Edward Collen kind of shit?

Impossible! 

"Very careless of you, Diana," Andrew blurted as he looked at her. "Why are you here in the woods anyway? Did you know how scary it is to be here without any weapon?" He sighed and looked at her again, asking, "Are you this stupid?"

"I—"

At that moment, Diana was beyond appalled. How did he know that she was here? She couldn't even fathom what had happened, and then, just like that, she succumbed to oblivion and fainted like a sack of potatoes.

"Unbelievable!" Andrew mumbled. "And she calls herself a strong human?" He came down from the small mounds and went to her side. Looking at the unconscious woman, he began to wrinkle his nose in the air and went further to her side.

He sniffed at her. What the hell was she doing here in human territory? Fool!

"Strange, she smells funny," Andrew said, sniffing her again, this time near her collar bone. "Very odd indeed; I didn't know she had this kind of scent so close," Andrew said, raising his brows.

So what happened now? He couldn't bring her to the nearest village just yet, but human border patrol would be scanning the forest.

The roaring wind was raw and unpleasant, in an uproar against the sudden winter blasts; the clear skies were silent; and a quantity of snow that had been blown in his direction was piled up. Andrew carried the woman on his shoulder, not tending an inch of her well-being nonetheless; there were some primitive sentiments and foreign emotions that came out from the deepest part of his mind, somehow making their way out. He runs in a blur towards his old cabin on the far end of the forest. And far from there, he spotted his humble abode.

The small cabin was hunched on the flats near the waterfalls, so musty and poor that it was astonishing how it was still standing. And yet it seemed alive and hearty, a cosy ribbon of smoke soaring from the old chimney. The cabin sat low into the grassy embankment, as though it were trying to hide, but the shapeless slate roof was too huge to go unnoticed. Through the mist of the woods, he could see the coarse, unevenly sized, murky boulders that made up the walls. As he got closer, the slight glow of colour—some yellow and orange—became more noticeable. The walls were the same grey slabs as the low walls in the dales, and the roof was a darker slate.

The cabin was the only thing there; there were no other houses around it, and it would have looked abandoned if not for the smoke. Without a thought, he continued to stroll in, tucking his chins to his chests, and strode right to it against the wind and driving snow. He must hurry; the woman was shivering from the cold, and her dainty hiking clothing wasn't helping her either.

"Winter is coming, and yet she walked with this warm clothing. Such a brain. Does she even realise it's almost winter now?" Andrew murmured to himself as the pouring rain abruptly graced his presence.

He unlocked the fence, went to the entrance door, and laid the woman on the single ancient wooden sofa bed left by the previous owner. In the barely lit, tiny room, a sooty carry-on and his sword hang against the pale yellow wall. He slid down and offered more wood into the chimney to offer more warmth. Now, would he just take off her clothes and offer her a fresh shirt? or leave her shuddering from the chill? With that thought, Andrew began to shed her clothing.

Dian wasn't elegant in a polished way; she had no flowing curls or ivory skin and no piercing green eyes. But with her modest looks and high cheekbones, it was all too natural. She was shorter than average and certainly larger than a catwalk model, but in her ordinariness, she was striking and beautiful. Her hair was straight and long blond; her eyes were so brown that they reminded him of autumn; they were almost as golden as the little summer lights; figure a perfect hourglass. Out of habit, his eyes fell to her finger to look for rings, but he saw none. Good. Of course, he knew this, but it was just his instinct to see if she was dating... or taken.

But he noticed how creamy and glossy her skin was. Even in the twilight of the cabin, he could see her like a shining beacon. The white, pale complexion of her skin reminded him of whisked milk as the late afternoon light shone through the window and on to her. He couldn't help but wonder: if he reached out, would she notice? He must be crazy, yet he had it bad for this young mortal. Everything about her got to him. When he caught himself following a girl's jawline with interest, that was a sign. He will admit to being momentarily thrown when he noticed the enticing vein under the layer again. He hadn't realised that there was some pink in it. Of course, that only lasted until he noticed her neck again. He wanted to drive his fangs into her, drain her life, and taste her blood.

Can a neck be sexy? Well, hers was.