Chapter 14: The Obsessed
The fairy lights cast a weak, honeyed glow across Samantha's bedroom, painting the walls in shifting amber and shadow. She lay on her stomach across the rumpled duvet, chin propped on her fists, staring at the collage pinned above her desk. Newspaper clippings, grainy phone photos, a sketch she'd drawn from a blurry frame of security footage. Five women, sometimes six, moving through the woods outside Maple Hollow with a fluid grace no human possessed.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. It always did when she looked at them.
She'd been tracking the coven for three weeks now. It had started with a whisper at the farmer's market, an old woman muttering about pale ladies who walked the treeline at night. Samantha had laughed it off, bought her apples, gone home. But the thought had burrowed into her skull like a splinter, and the more she tried to ignore it, the deeper it went.
She'd seen the redhead first. Two weeks ago, through the window of a house on Cedar Lane, a woman with hair like autumn fire and skin pale as moonlight. She'd been drinking something dark from a crystal glass, and when she'd turned toward the window, Samantha had seen her eyes. Crimson, glowing faintly in the dim room, with pupils that narrowed to slits.
Samantha had nearly pissed herself right there on the sidewalk. Not from fear. From joy.
The fantasy had consumed her since she was fourteen and first snuck into the horror section of the library. She'd devoured every vampire novel, every film, every scrap of folklore she could find. She knew the rules, the lore, the rituals. She knew that the bite could turn you, that blood was the currency of immortality, that the hunt was the purest form of ecstasy. And she wanted it. God, she wanted it so badly it ached in her chest.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She ignored it. Some guy from her art history class, probably, asking about the midterm. She didn't care about midterms. She cared about the woman in the red dress who had walked through the fall festival with a coven of pale sisters at her side, selecting prey with the casual confidence of a predator who knew she was at the top of the food chain.
Samantha sat up, running a hand through her cropped red hair. Her reflection in the mirror across the room showed a young woman with sharp cheekbones and restless green eyes, her skin dotted with freckles from too many afternoons spent at open-air markets. She wasn't beautiful, not in the way those vampire women were beautiful. She was vivid. Alive. And right now, she was terrified and thrilled in equal measure.
Tonight she was going to do it.
The thought had been building for days, hardening into certainty. She couldn't just keep watching them from the treeline, tracking their movements like some pathetic fan girl. She had to approach them. Had to show them she wasn't prey, that she understood what they were and wanted to be part of it.
Her hands shook as she pulled on her leather jacket. The night air would be cold, but she'd be running hot with adrenaline anyway. She grabbed her flashlight, then thought better of it and tossed it on the bed. If she was going to find them, she needed to move like them. Silently. Watchfully.
She slipped out her bedroom window and dropped onto the dew-wet grass of the backyard.
The woods behind Maple Hollow were a tangle of oak and birch, the canopy thick enough to block most of the moonlight. Samantha moved through them with practiced care, her footsteps quiet, her breath shallow. She knew this territory now. Every fallen log, every dip in the earth, every spot where the ground was soft and dangerous.
She could smell them before she saw them. Blood. Old blood and new blood, coppery and sweet, mixed with something else. Something warm and female and musky. The scent made her mouth water, made her steps quicken, made her heart race with a hunger she'd never felt on raw meat or sugar.
And then she saw the den.
A low house at the edge of the woods, its windows glowing with a warm, amber light. She'd seen it before, from a distance, but never this close. The front door was open, a figure silhouetted against the light inside. The redhead. Nancy.
Samantha's breath caught in her throat.
Nancy stepped out onto the porch, barefoot, wearing nothing but a loose silk robe that left one leg bare. Her hair was disheveled, her skin pale as pearl, her eyes glowing crimson in the dark. She looked at the treeline with a predator's stillness, and Samantha knew, with a sinking certainty, that she had been sensed.
"Nancy," Samantha whispered, though she knew the vampire couldn't hear her. She stepped out from behind the oak tree, her hands raised, her heart pounding so loud she was sure it would give her away.
Nancy's head tilted. A slow, interested smile curved her lips, revealing the points of her fangs.
"Well, well," she said, her voice low and smoky. "A little hunter. I was wondering when you'd stop lurking and say hello."
Nancy's smile widened, slow and languid, like a cat stretching in the sun. She made no move to approach, simply stood there in the doorway, the silk robe clinging to the curves of her body, her bare foot tapping once against the wooden porch.
"You've been watching for a while now," she said, and it wasn't a question. "Three weeks, give or take. I counted."
Samantha's mouth went dry. "You knew?"
"Of course I knew." Nancy laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down Samantha's spine. "I've been waiting to see if you'd work up the nerve. Most people don't. They get close, they smell the blood on the air, and they run." She tilted her head, her crimson eyes gleaming. "You didn't run."
"I'm not like most people."
"No," Nancy agreed, "you're not. That's why you're still breathing." She gestured with one pale hand, a lazy, inviting curl of her fingers. "Come inside. I'd offer you a drink, but I suspect you're not here for wine."
Samantha's legs moved before her brain caught up. She crossed the dew-soaked grass, her boots silent on the path, and stepped up onto the porch. Up close, Nancy was even more striking. Her skin was pale as bone, practically luminous in the amber light spilling from the open door. Her eyes burned like embers, and her fangs were just visible behind her parted lips.
"Good girl," Nancy murmured, and the words made Samantha's stomach flip. "Follow me."
She turned and walked inside, her hips swaying with a fluid, predatory grace. Samantha followed, her heart hammering in her chest, her palms slick with sweat. The house was warm, heavy with the scent of blood and something floral, something that made her think of crushed petals and deep, dark earth.
The den was a sprawling space in the basement, lit by candles that threw dancing shadows across the walls. Velvet couches in deep red and purple ringed a low table scattered with empty glasses. And on those couches, lounging like a pride of great cats, were the others. The pale, beautiful women Samantha had been tracking for weeks.
Carol, with her honey-blonde hair and soft, welcoming smile, lay sprawled across one couch, naked from the waist up, her skin glowing in the candlelight. Jenna, the one with the glasses who had seemed so nervous in her human life, sat in a corner, her legs crossed, watching Samantha with an unreadable expression. Denise, silver-streaked and athletic, reclined with her arms behind her head, a lazy smile playing on her lips. Emily, young and dark-haired, perched on the arm of the couch beside Denise, her fingers absently tracing patterns on her thigh.
And there were others, too. Women Samantha recognized from the festival, their features hazy in the dim light. Ivy, with her auburn braid, curled up with a newer woman, dark-haired and fragile-looking, pressed against her side.
Samantha's breath caught. She felt like she'd stumbled into a painting, something ancient and sacred and deeply forbidden.
"These are my sisters," Nancy said, gesturing to the room at large. "My coven. And you..." She stepped close, so close that Samantha could feel the cold radiating from her body, could smell the blood on her breath. "You've been watching us, following us, dreaming of us. Haven't you?"
"Yes," Samantha whispered. There was no point in lying. The truth was written all over her face, in the trembling of her hands, in the way her heart was racing.
Nancy reached out and traced a finger along Samantha's jaw. Her touch was cold, but it sent a spark of heat through Samantha's skin. "And what is it you want, little hunter? Tell me. Say it out loud."
Samantha swallowed hard. Her voice came out rough, raw, stripped of all pretense. "I want to be like you. I want the gift. I want..." She licked her lips. "I want to be one of you. Not prey. Not a victim. A sister."
Nancy's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "And you're not afraid?"
"I'm terrified," Samantha admitted. "But I've wanted this longer than I can remember. I've read every book, watched every film. I know what the bite costs. I know what the blood does. I want it anyway. I want it more than anything."
Nancy's smile grew, slow and feral. "Good," she said. "Fear is the spice of life, isn't it? It makes the feast sweeter." She looked over her shoulder at the coven. "She's bold. I like her. What do you think, my darlings?"
"She has nerve," Carol said, sitting up and letting her blonde hair spill over her shoulders. "I like the eyes. They're hungry."
"I smell no hesitation on her," Denise added, her silver-streaked hair catching the candlelight. "Only desire."
"Please." The word came from Ivy's companion, the dark-haired woman, Rachel, who had been pressed against Ivy's side. She sat up, her crimson eyes shining with something like recognition. "Please. I remember what it was like. Wanting it so badly I could taste it. Let her have it."
Nancy turned back to Samantha, her gaze burning. "You heard them. The coven has spoken. But understand this, little hunter: the gift is not given lightly. It is earned. And once you have it, you will never be human again. You will hunger. You will hunt. You will kill." She leaned in, her lips brushing Samantha's ear, her breath cold and sweet. "And you will love every single moment of it."
"Show me," Samantha breathed. "Please. Show me."
Nancy's eyes flashed with something dark and triumphant. She reached out, hooking a finger through the collar of Samantha's leather jacket, and pulled her deeper into the den, into the circle of watching women, into the warmth and the blood and the hunger.
The door clicked shut behind them.
Nancy led her into the center of the den, past the lounging coven, their eyes tracking her like lanterns in the dark. The candlelight caught the gleam of fangs, the sheen of pale skin, the lazy, knowing smiles. Samantha felt like a moth drawn into a flame, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears.
Nancy stopped in the middle of the room, turning to face her. The silk robe hung loose on her frame, the neckline dipping low, revealing the pale curve of her breasts. She looked Samantha up and down, her crimson eyes predatory and pleased.
"Strip," Nancy said. It wasn't a request.
Samantha's hands moved before her mind caught up. She shrugged off her leather jacket, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud. Then her shirt, her jeans, her underwear, each article discarded until she stood naked in the circle of watching women, her skin flushed with a mixture of fear and arousal.
"Good girl," Nancy murmured. She reached up and untied the sash of her robe, letting the silk slither down her body and pool at her feet. And there it was: her cock, already hard, thick and glistening at the tip, rising from a nest of red curls. Samantha's breath caught. She'd heard the stories, read the old texts, but seeing it in the flesh was something else entirely. It was beautiful in a terrible, primal way.
"On your hands and knees," Nancy commanded.
Samantha dropped to the floor, the rough weave of the rug scratching her palms. She settled onto all fours, her knees spread, her back arched, her ass raised in silent offering. She could feel the eyes of the coven on her, hear their soft, appreciative murmurs.
Nancy moved behind her, her footsteps silent on the floor. Samantha felt her cool hands settle on her hips, felt the head of her cock press against her wet slit, teasing, just barely pushing in.
"Look at you," Nancy breathed, her voice thick with hunger. "So ready. So eager. You've been dreaming of this, haven't you? Dreaming of me."
"Yes," Samantha gasped. "God, yes."
Nancy thrust forward, burying her cock to the hilt in one smooth, deliberate motion. Samantha cried out, her fingers curling into the rug, her back arching as the fullness spread through her. Nancy was thick, and the stretch was exquisite, a burning pleasure that made her vision blur.
Nancy began to move, slow and deep at first, each thrust grinding against her walls. Samantha's moans filled the den, mingling with the soft, approving sounds of the watching women. Nancy's hands gripped her hips, steadying her as she picked up the pace, driving into her with a rhythm that was both brutal and precise.
"You feel so good," Nancy growled, her voice rough. "So tight. So fucking perfect."
Samantha could barely speak, her words dissolving into breathless whimpers. She could feel herself getting close, the pressure building low in her belly, her body clenched around Nancy's cock with every stroke.
And then Nancy leaned forward, her lips brushing Samantha's neck, her fangs grazing the skin. Samantha shivered, knowing what was coming, craving it with a desperation that surprised her.
"Now," Nancy whispered, "you feed me."
Her fangs sank into Samantha's throat.
The pain was sharp, bright, and then gone, replaced by a wave of pleasure so intense it made Samantha's vision go white. She felt her blood being drawn from her, felt Nancy drinking in long, greedy pulls, and the sensation was indescribable. It was like being unmade and remade all at once, every nerve ending singing with electric fire.
Nancy continued to fuck her, her cock driving deeper with each thrust even as she fed. Samantha could feel herself spiraling, her orgasm building, crashing, building again. The room swam around her, the candlelight bleeding into streaks of gold and red, the faces of the coven blurring into a sea of approving smiles.
"Oh god," Samantha sobbed. "Oh god, oh god—"
Nancy pulled her mouth away with a wet, satisfied sound, her fangs slick with blood. She kept thrusting, her hips slamming against Samantha's ass, driving her to the edge and beyond. Samantha came with a scream, her body convulsing around Nancy's cock, her vision going dark with the force of it.
Nancy fucked her through it, riding her climax until she was spent and trembling, then pulled out with a groan, her cock glistening with Samantha's juices. Samantha collapsed onto her forearms, panting, her body shaking, her neck throbbing where Nancy had fed.
But she wasn't done. She knew it even before Nancy moved.
Nancy knelt beside her, bringing her wrist to her mouth. She bit down, her fangs sinking into her own flesh, and a bead of dark blood welled up, rich and thick, catching the candlelight like liquid ruby.
"Drink," Nancy said, pressing her wrist to Samantha's lips. "Drink, and become one of us."