Under the vampire Lord's protection-Chapter 155: On a foreign territory

It was nature’s will that the body of a vampire be able to withstand extreme temperatures. They stood as one of the only species that had the ability to live in any place they wanted. Silas’s biology was especially advanced thus shrinking the list of many weaknesses that plagues his kind. freewёbnoνel-com

The sun, for one, allowed him to bathe in its rays without the risk of combustion, didn’t render his skin and flesh into cinders and certainly did not calcinate his bones.

However, on that first of Ostara, that very same sun treated him differently, threatening to set him ablaze at any second all the while exceptionally never gracing his nerve endings which kept on freezing the lower among his guts his heart sank.

At every failure, every place he turned to that didn’t have Arabella further exacerbated his condition.

And those were a lot of places as everywhere he turned; there were zero traces of her.

For every hour that passed, Silas imagined Arabella to slip further away as the chances of recovering her before it was too late dwindled lower.

From time to time, the vampire would stop in his tracks and attempt to catch her scent, hoping against all hope it’d linger within his mile radius, but to no avail.

That streak of bad luck followed until he traveled further east, closer to the valley where his olfaction finally picked up on a strong and familiar odor.

Metallic, but in a unique way. A smell Silas would recognize among billions. Trailing the scent of Arabella’s blood, a feeble sense of relief washed over him when more of her essence reached his nostrils.

The aroma of lavender from her hair and the sweet fruity hints that usually wafted from her skin.

Many more mingled and twined together, but Silas was more focused on the fact that the smell of blood meant the young woman had undoubtedly been injured.

His mind immediately leaped to weaving the first purls from the storm of hellfire he’d rain upon her assailants once his hands would wrap around their throats.

Speeding through the valley, the trees and everything that stood in his way, the forest of lost souls was his next stop.

The zimmerlarks sang merrily as his nose led him near one specific tree trunk where her scent seemed to be the most prominent.

Kneeling down before it, Silas picked a piece of wood that had fallen at its foot, buried among the napiel.

Painted red it was, unmistakably with blood. Her blood... He fondled the piece between his fingers, bringing it closer to his face in order to inhale every whiff of it in.

Clenching his fist around it, the vampire sprung into a standing position and sped off once more, tracking the line of perfumes she’d left behind herself, making sure to put an ear out for her voice.

The journey through the forest was put on hold when his eyes landed upon a scene from hell.

A group of seven men, mutilated and disfigured beyond recognition. Their blood continuously escaped their veins and draped the ground, bathing almost all of the greenery around them.

By all means, it was an image that would have instilled terror in a normal person, fueling their nightmares for years and years to come, but Silas was no regular person.

He did not flinch or hesitate one bit before the sight. On the contrary, his feet led him even closer to the corpses.

One by one, all dead and mute safe for their injuries which told the same exact story. Their flesh had practically been ripped off their bones at parts, visibly torn with a great amount of force applied.

Clear traces of large claw marks sinking deep into their prey, accompanied by the equally gruesome and profound bite marks.

Those were most certainly human men. Moreover, and with pronounced ease, Silas recognized their clothing style as the one belonging to the handymen that had traveled with them from the manor, but their faces or what was left of them were all so foreign, thus confirming Floriel’s words.

They’d used magic to infiltrate their ranks at some point during their journey, presumably somewhere around the second tunnel they’d sealed. Otherwise, the fairies would have noticed the difference in their auras much sooner.

That little ripple of relief that had graced him, all washed away in an instant. Someone had gotten to the kidnappers before him and that someone left their scent behind; strong, dominant and animalistic.

The injuries those corpses had sustained also left no room for speculation. Only one person and his people were capable of such a thing... Alpha Cynric.

There still was no sign of Arabella and that too only meant one thing. One dreadful thing.

No matter how hard Silas strained his hearing, not the hint of a familiar voice reached him, leaving the vampire with no other alternative but to go straight for Cynric’s territory, knowing full well it could cost him his life.

That threatened to happen as soon as he crossed the delimitation marking the perimeter of his land, for Cynric’s pack members jumped to Silas’ throat at once before asking any sort of questions.

With very little effort, he’d managed to throw the lot of them off himself. Sensing their lack of better judgement and inconsistent fighting discipline, Silas concluded that those hadn’t yet reached their first hundred years under the moon.

They’d surrounded him from every side and yet still hadn’t managed to inflict the slightest scratch on him.

His eyes darting from one target to another, he braced himself to reciprocate their attacks, but everything grinded to a halt when Cynric’s voice blared from behind them.

"Finally! I wondered how much longer it’d take you to get here," Cynric stood confident, eyes strictly on Silas before drifting towards his injured pack members, "You come as a... Uninvited guest and this is how you treat my people," he growled.

"Where is she?" Silas beat around no bush.

"You have some nerve," the Alpha had lowered his pitch, earning him a menacing tone that made the ground rumble.

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