Arabella's heart raced and her mind frantically tried to process the reality that her darkest secret had been exposed, filling the warm, inviting living room with tension. She stared intently at Cain, her eyes searching his face for any hint of his reaction, but he seemed lost in his own troubled thoughts, his gaze distant and unfocused.
Arabella's mind was a whirlwind of questions: how had he discovered her true nature as a vampire? What series of events had led them to this moment? And most importantly, the one question that filled her with dread - had Cain revealed her secret to her brother? She wracked her brain.
"I found you in the woods," Cain said, looking up from his coffee. "Do you remember anything before passing out?"
"No" Arabella lied. She remembered everything before she passed out, but didn't want to face those questions.
Cain nodded, sipping his coffee. "You need to drink fresh human blood. Animal blood will only satisfy your hunger for a moment and it's riddled with bacteria and diseases" he rubbed his face, getting up from his seat. "And you need to keep your stable with you all the time"
Arabella was confused. "Stable?" she asked him.
"The only food you still crave," he tried to explain. "it's the only food you can eat. It stabilizes your hungry urges" he looked at her.
"oh, I don't have one of those," Arabella explained, remembering trying to eat for the first time. "everything tastes rancid in my mouth" She shivered at the thought.
"You have to have one, every vampire does," Cain expressed, sitting in the armchair in front of her.
"Well, I don't" Arabella shrugged at the thought, not really knowing how much clearer to put it.
"You just haven't found it yet" Cain leaned back in his seat, laying his foot on his knee and his finger to his lip.
"Wait, how do you know all of this?" Arabella asked, watching him closely. He didn't answer her, and she realized. "Oh" fell from her lips, and silence fell again.
He took another sip of his coffee. "Where is your mark?" he didn't look up from his cup of coffee. "I couldn't find it earlier"
"Why do you want to know?" Arabella got instantly defensive.
"I need to check it," Cain said nonchalantly.
"Why?" Arabella did not want him to see it.
"it is easier to check your health that way" Cain rubbed his face. He hated answering questions.
"What if I don't have one?" Arabella crossed her arms, her eyes challenging him, but he responded with a bored expression that gradually shifted into a death glare. "my inner thigh" she scratched the back of her head, nervously.
"An intimate position," Cain muttered to himself. He knew the bite was not merely for sustenance.
But a primal act of possession: a vampire's way of claiming Arabella as their own. The pit of his stomach dropped as the gravity of the situation sank in; this was no longer just about a simple feeding, but something far deeper and more complex. Not a random, hungry vampire, but her one true soul mate had marked Arabella. And he knew, with a growing sense of dread, that this was only the beginning. The vampire who had bitten her would be back, drawn by their obsessive need to possess her completely.
"Do you remember how you were turned?" Cain asked softly, trying to be as soft as he could.
Arabella's eyes turned glassy. It was the one memory she could not find. "No…I…" She stared into space, trying to remember. She began to scratch off the dry blood on her skin. "I don't remember," she finally whispered.
Cain looked down at her nails digging up the dry blood off her skin. "You need to clean and change your clothes," he said, standing up.
Arabella's gaze drifted downward, taking in the tattered, stained fabric of her clothes - the once-vibrant colors now muted and faded, marred by splotches of dried blood that had long since crusted over her skin. The sight of that crimson evidence of violence sent a shudder through her, a visceral reaction that flooded her body with a sense of shock and disbelief. Her mind reeled as the harrowing memories came rushing back, the horrific images of the massacre replaying vividly in her consciousness. She could practically hear the agonized cries, the thunderous sounds of slashing, the chaos and terror that had engulfed them all. But then, a voice cut through the haze - Cain's voice, grounding her, bringing her back from the brink of that emotional abyss.
"You need to check that bite." Cain nodded, crossing his name.
Arabella began to stand."I don't know what it's supposed to look like." But as she stood, her legs began to shake under her. She went crumbling down, and Cain caught her.
"It should look normal" Cain lifted her up into his arms.
"I don't know what that means" Arabella looked up at him.
He stopped and looked down at her. "What do you mean?" he asked with a dumbfounded face.
"I never looked at it," Arabella admitted, a bit embarrassed.
"Like ever?" Cain asked, a bit confused. She nodded, looking up at him. "I will get you a reference," he continued to walk towards the guest bedroom.
Arabella couldn't help but notice the warmth radiating from Cain's body as she clung to him, even though she couldn't hear the heart beating within his chest. There was a palpable sense of tranquility and steadiness about him that she found herself drawn to, like a soothing balm for her troubled soul.
As he gently guided her into the sage-colored room and laid her down upon the pristinely made bed, Arabella couldn't help but marvel at the meticulous organization and order of the space. Arabella couldn't help but marvel at the meticulous organization and order of the space, as the doctor gently guided her into the sage-colored room and laid her down upon the pristinely made bed.
"I will get you a basin and cloth" Cain moved into the bathroom, and Arabella watched him move around before he returned, placed next to the bed with the washcloth.
"Thank you" Arabella began to wipe her arms off, but she was shaking, not getting the job done.
"Let me" Cain took the washcloth from her.
Arabella lay motionless on the bed, her eyes fixed on the man tending to stains of blood on a damp washcloth. She could see the concentration etched across his brow as he dipped the cloth into the warm water, wringing it out before slowly, meticulously wiping it across her arms. Though she wished she could feel the comforting warmth of the water, to her, it was nothing more than a textural sensation.
Still, she was grateful for his gentle touch, his caring ministrations. Arabella watched as the water mingled with the dried blood, creating faint pink rivulets that ran down her arms. The sight seemed to captivate him, his mouth parting slightly as he became transfixed by the crimson-tinged liquid. For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze lingering on her thick, curved legs before resuming his task, carefully wiping away the remnants of the dried blood. Arabella could sense his discomfort, the way his hand trembled ever so slightly, but he persisted until her skin was relatively clean.
He dipped the washcloth into the warm water, and he slowly wiped her arms. She wished she could feel the warmth of water, but it was nothing but texture. Arabella watched his brow crease in concentration as he wiped the dry blood off her skin, and then he moved to her legs. He hesitated for a moment before wiping her thick legs, watching the blood and water mix. It made his mouth water, but he kept wiping until she was relatively clean.
"There" he sat back, looking at her. "Wait" he leaned towards her and wiped her hair, causing it to curl even more into even smaller ringlets. He brushed his fingers over it, fascinated with the sight. "We will have to wash your hair another time" he cleared his throat when he realized he was lingering. "let me get you some clothes" he left before coming back with an emerald green kaftan. "Check the bite, yes?" he left.
Arabella stood, her body trembling with a mixture of fear and revulsion. Slowly, with shaking hands, she began to undress, peeling off each layer of clothing as if they were a part of her own skin. Once fully exposed, she took a deep, steadying breath, steeling herself for the sight that lay before her. Yet, she found herself unable to open her eyes, unwilling to confront the very thing that had cursed her - cursed her body, her life, her very capacity to love.
Arabella's entire frame quivered as she bent forward, the muscles in her back and shoulders taut with tension. She could feel the weight of her gaze, the invisible force that compelled her to look, to face the source of her anguish head-on. Despite that, she kept her eyes tightly shut, desperate to deny the reality of her affliction. The joint between her pelvis and inner thigh, once a place of intimacy and vulnerability, was now a distorted thing - bloodied, bruised, and seemed to radiate an agonizing pain that seemed to permeate every fiber of her being but couldn't feel anything.