The heat in his eyes could have melted bone with its intensity and how it burned me. Up until then, nothing had hurt more than the scalding pain in those icicle-coloured eyes. Always so cold until I was bleeding out on the floor.

I reached towards him, the tips of my fingers touching his steel toe-capped boot. "Help me," I rasped, the pain in my neck worsening as I detiriorated by the second. My throat hurt from all the screaming.

"Go on," said a voice from elsewhere in the room. "Do it. Change her. Make her your prodigy. Save. Her. Life."

He bit his lip as he stared down at my helpless form, fire flickering off his fingertips. He crouched down to my level and kissed the palm of the hand with which I had gripped his boot.

My mangled body - so painfully alive - was lifted into his arms. A torso with her head and one arm with a burned hand on the end. No legs. No left arm or left fingers.  By then, I should have passed out from shock and bloodloss. Why wasn't I falling through blackness yet?

My sire cradled me to his chest as his underlings gathered up my lost limbs. "Nobody touches her," he thundered, laying me on the stainless steel table I had been amputated on less than an hour ago. Without anesthetic. My face had meen burned there, too, and my back and chest.

"So. The hybrid is precious to you, Malachi," the voice boomed with a vicious laugh.  "I had my doubts for a moment there, that you wouldn't save her."

My sire growled as he was handed a silver dagger. "Get out of my city, you bastard," he spat, glaring at another of his kind over my dying body. "If you ever come near me or my people again, Michael, and I will take off your head with my bare hands."

His attention returned to me when my burnt fingers brushed against his bloody shirt. He stroked my head in silence, my limbs still leaking blood. "I need you to live for me, Angel," he murmured, kissing my forehead.

As Death claimed me and my world went black and silent, my soul falling forever through the darkness, the last thing I heard in my mortal life was a whisper. Just a whisper.

"I love you, Evangeline Darkholme."

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Author guidance for This story

At first, I don't think a lot of people will get this story. I understand that :) You'll find out more as you read along. It's a complex plot.

Evangeline 'Angel' Darkholme remembers nothing before the night she was saved by her cold stranger, Malachai Rose. She remembers every moment of the torture that threatens her sanity but not the face of the sadistic rival of Malachai's who tried to kill her.

updated Dec 12 '11 by ThrallEffie