Chapter 182: 182-The offer
The lake was deadly silent. Moonlight stretched across its surface, painting the water silver beneath the enormous blood-red moon.
Just then, a ripple disturbed the reflection as a hand broke through the surface. Freya dragged herself toward the shore, coughing violently as she struggled to pull her body out of the water.
Every movement hurt like hell. Her chest burned. Her limbs felt impossibly heavy, and the wounds across her body throbbed with every beat of her heart.
Her heart? Freya froze over. She pressed a trembling hand against her chest.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Her heart was beating. It was not the weak, faltering rhythm she remembered before sinking beneath the lake, but a powerful, relentless pounding.
She stared at her hand as though it belonged to someone else. "What... happened to me?" She asked, whatever had happened was stubborn and refused to leave her despite her trying to undo it.
Her memories returned in fragments. The forest, maisa and the girl’s fangs buried in her neck. She bitterly recalled the venom entering her veins and the blood moon falling on her. The harder she remembered that impossible moment, the faster her heart raced.
Just then, her mind thought back to the blast that had sent her flying into the lake. Freya touched the spot on her neck where Maisa had bite down on.
It felt as though the bite marks were still there, but something about it felt wrong. The skin around that area was unnaturally warm, and beneath it, she could feel something moving through her veins.
What moved wasn’t the blood of the moon alone but tainted with marks of the night. Fear crawled up her spine. She tried to stand, but her legs gave way.
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. Of all the ways she could have died, being drained by a vampire and thrown into a lake had never crossed her mind.
Perhaps the true alpha would find her body and finally leave her alone. She wanted to die and undo the abomination that she had become.
"You’re not dead," a voice sounded behind her.
Freya’s head snapped up. A man stood beneath the trees a short distance away. She hadn’t heard him approach.
He wore a dark coat that blended into the shadows, and his face was partially obscured by the darkness and yet something about his presence made the hairs on Freya’s arms rise.
He wasn’t an ordinary vampire. She could feel it and she couldn’t help but feel like he looked like the vampire from the disappearing castle.
The man studied her with an interest that made her uncomfortable. "Though, judging by the state of you, death would have been the easier option," he added.
Freya bared her fangs. The voice sounded so familiar and that made a shudder travel down her spine.
"Stay back!" She warned, trying to appear scary. But it came out like a cat baring it’s whiskers at a tiger.
He stopped. A faint smile touched his lips as he stared down at her frame. "Still trying to threaten people when you can barely stand from denial and self-help? How admirable."
"Who are you?" She asked a question that had been bothering her since the first time she saw him.
"Someone who can help you," he said, being as vague as ever.
Freya snorted. "Then you’re wasting your time."
"Am I?" His gaze drifted toward the lake. "You were dying in that water. Again. Your heart had stopped. Your blood was nearly gone, and the venom inside you should have finished what the vampire started but..." he paused like he had all the time in the world to finish his explanation. "And now your undead heart won’t die no matter how hard you try to kill yourself. Do coreect me if I am wrong."
Freya’s stomach tightened. He was spot on as most mysterious figures that show up suddenly usually are.
"How do you know that?" She inquired, her mind racing with trying to pinpoint what the vampire wanted with her.
"Because I know what you are and I might be the only one in this entire world who knows what you are."
"I’m a werewolf."
"No," the man’s voice was calm, almost gentle. "That’s what you were."
Freya went still. She refused to accept the other part of herself. The words settled over her like ice.
"What did you say?"
He took a step closer. "Your body has begun to change. The vampire’s venom should have killed you, but instead, something within you responded to it. Your heart started beating again, faster and stronger than before."
Freya remembered the sensation of the bite, the turning and the impossible rhythm beneath her ribs. The sudden surge of life after everything had gone dark and the heightened senses, speed and predatory feelings.
"What did that vampire do to me?" She asked even though she already knew the answer. She was aware that she had become a mix of werewolf and vampire thanks to that day.
"Perhaps nothing she intended to do," the man tilted his head. "Or perhaps she awakened something that was already waiting inside you."
Freya shook her head. "No. That’s impossible."
There was no way that she was destined to live her life as a blood thirsty person. Being a werewolf, bound by the curse of the moon was already bad enough, she couldn’t add vampire to the pile.
"Is it?" He crouched several feet away, bringing himself closer to her level without entering the reach of her claws. "Tell me, Freya. How long have you spent trying to prove that you’re strong enough to survive among your own kind?"
Her expression hardened. "Don’t talk about things you don’t understand," she warned. The warning sounded like a child raising their weightless voice to an adult.
"I understand more than you think," his eyes sharpened. "The Silver Crest Pack wants your blood. Their True Alpha believes your body holds the power to strengthen his wolves. They don’t see you as one of their own. They see you as a resource."
Freya’s claws dug into the damp earth. She remembered the hunts, the threats and the way the pack had treated her as though her existence belonged to them.
"Shut up!"
"They will never stop hunting you," he made the bitter truth more apparent than ever. "You are a useful resource that they can’t afford to lose.
"I said shut up!"