“The only living thing on this island is you, I am afraid.” Dante snapped a twig from a nearby branch crumbling it between his fingers.
Fallon became mindful of how her words must sound to the vampire in her midst. He had told her often how his existence was not a life at all, but merely a holding place between living and death. His electric blue eyes dulled against the 3 a.m. moon, a harsh reminder her rant had put the dimness there.
Deep in her heart she could feel the pain of his hell. “I’m sorry, Dante.” Fallon brushed her fingertips across the hard muscles of his forearm igniting within her a strange warmth. Burgundy began to swim in the blue orbs until the cobalt coloring of his eyes was mere specks. From past interactions with this large vampire she knew his blood lust was on the surface now. Dante turned from her, ripping a dead tree from the ground by its roots, throwing it against another tree. Both trees splintered before falling to the ground.
“You did not make me the monster I am today, so there is no need for you to be sorry,” he growled.
His back heaved with a weighty sigh when she touched his shoulder. “You’re not a monster,” Fallon whispered.
Dante turned to face her. Pearl white fangs glistened against the night. Eyes dark as blood stared back at her. “Look at me. Truly look at me. What else would you call a man who steals you away in the dead of night from all you are accustomed too? A man who survives solely on the blood running through the veins of humans. A man who should long have been buried in the ground with the rest of his people. Whose island died with the people who once walked these very grounds.”
Fallon rested her hand over his heart. “Your heart still beats within your chest. I feel the emotions coursing through you, just as if they were my own. Dead men don’t feel in such a manner.”
He closed his hand over hers, sending a sudden charge of heat to her fingertips. For the first time in months, Fallon could feel her magic returning.
She slipped from his grasp, concentrating on the energy filling her. She lifted her palms heavenward. Suddenly reddish orange bubbles began to seep from her palms, rising upward. She opened her eyes wide with surprise.
“Your magic is returning,” Dante exclaimed.
“If I were a Water witch I would be thrilled,” Fallon laughed. “Unfortunately, I’m a Fire witch.”