"Enough." Eric's voice, colder now, cut through her words, a command edged with desperation. He sensed her satisfaction beneath it all—how his anger only fed her, sharpening the darkness she now wielded. Hunger gnawed at him, turning from a dull ache to a fierce craving as he struggled to hold onto what little restraint he had left.
"Why are you here, Isabella?" he demanded, taking a single step forward. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Why toy with me like this? Why bring up this if you aren't going to tell me why I'm here?" He fought to keep his hands at his sides, fists clenched tight enough to draw blood, fighting the vicious urges clawing inside him.
Isabella's smile widened, her eyes gleaming like a venomous ember. "It's simple," she purred, slipping a porcelain mask over her face, hiding the face he once knew. "Because, dear Eric… you're still that same frightened, selfish creature who thought he could escape what he was. I'm here to see you finally broken."
She lifted her hand, and a faint shimmer rippled between them like a barrier. The air thickened, humming with a low, dark energy as she pressed her hand forward, sealing the space between them with a force as unyielding as stone.
Eric's jaw tightened. "So, that's it?" he said, a bitter laugh slipping through clenched teeth. "You're no different than the rest. Just another weapon for them, after all. Was this the power you wanted?"
Though the mask hid her expression, he could hear the faint laugh behind it. "I've embraced what I am, Eric," she murmured, almost tenderly. "Can you?"
The dim light cast an eerie glow over her, and her eyes seemed to glint as if hiding secrets he'd never understand. But what froze him was that mask—the hollow eye sockets, black voids that pierced through him. A part of him, long-suppressed, began to fray. His control slipped, and a primal hunger rose, fierce and undeniable.
She stood silent, gaze—or what he imagined to be her gaze—locked on him, and his anger swelled at the thought that she knew what was happening, yet said nothing, taunting him with her mere presence.
His fists clenched tighter, nails biting into his palms until the metallic scent of blood filled the room, stoking his craving. He imagined her skin tearing under his nails, his teeth sinking in. The fantasy edged close to reality, the beast within clawing to break free.
But she didn't move. She only tilted her head, a taunt, a challenge, coaxing him to act. It was too much. His vision blurred, the room narrowing until all he could see was her, standing there, waiting.
A growl rumbled in his chest as he stepped forward, his restraint shattered, hunger fully unleashed.
The moment he moved, something snapped inside Eric. Shadows seemed to swell around him, cloaking everything in darkness except her. He was drawn to her, compelled to devour every part of her. A sharp pain seared through his eyes, warping his vision into a blood-red haze. His teeth ached as his canines sharpened, extending until they grazed the inside of his mouth. Every nerve screamed to sink his fangs into something warm, something alive.
His senses sharpened as the transformation took over. He could smell her pulse, each beat taunting him, luring him closer. The scent filled the room, thick and intoxicating, fueling his hunger. His fingers twitched, reaching unconsciously toward her neck, that inviting line of flesh he longed to tear open.
She didn't flinch. If anything, she stepped forward, her masked face tilting slightly, daring him to lose control. He could sense her satisfaction, almost taste it.
With a snarl, he closed the distance, his world narrowing to the red haze of her blood and the promise of release.
But just as he prepared to pounce, her voice, soft and threaded with something unreadable, slipped through the haze.
"It will all make sense in time," she murmured, a hint of sadness threading her tone.
The words jolted Eric, cutting through his bloodlust for a fleeting second. He barely registered the sorrow in her voice before shadows stirred at the room's edges. Two figures stepped into the dim light, flanking her side. They were tall, grim-faced, cloaked in dark leather and silver that glinted ominously.
Danger prickled at the edge of Eric's awareness, but before he could react, one of the men snapped a silver-threaded rope around his wrist. The instant it touched his skin, searing pain shot through him, and he let out a hiss as smoke rose from the burning contact. Silver—hunters had come for him.
He thrashed against the binds, but the more he struggled, the tighter the ropes dug in, the silver threads biting deep. His muscles screamed, but every movement brought fresh waves of agony, the scent of scorched skin filling the air. The other man moved in, looping a second rope around his chest, forcing him down, their grip relentless.
The pain was overwhelming, dulling his thoughts, making it hard to focus. Fury surged within him, but helplessness overpowered it, leaving him bitterly aware of his own weakness.
As the last coil of silver-bound rope tightened, Isabella leaned closer, her mask casting hollow shadows over her face, her gaze meeting his one final time.
"This is how it must be,this is what my master desires" she whispered, her voice barely audible over his labored breathing. "For now."
Her gaze lingered, regret visible through the mask's hollow eyes, but her tone held a chilling finality.
"Take him to the immortal demon," she commanded, her words slicing through the air. "Let him feast."
The shock of her words hit harder than the silver. Alaric. She was condemning him to Alaric.
The hunters tightened their grip, hauling him to his feet. Each movement sent fresh pain spiraling through his body as the silver pressed harder into his skin, as if trying to brand him. He looked at Isabella, searching her masked face for some hint of mercy, some sign she hadn't truly betrayed him. But the mask remained impassive, hiding whatever humanity might be left within her.
With that, she stepped back, melting into the shadows as the hunters pulled him forward. One of them secured another length of rope around his neck, a silver-threaded leash that bit into his throat with each step. Eric's strength was fading fast, his vision blurring as he stumbled forward, dragged ever closer to the horrors awaiting him at Alaric's hands.