When Love Bleeds in the Dark PART Three

She Was Immortal, I Was Already Dying

I woke up alone.

The bed was cold.
Not just empty—abandoned.

For a moment, I hoped it had all been a dream. A fevered fantasy stitched together by desire and loneliness. But my neck throbbed with a dull ache, tender to the touch, and when I stood in front of the mirror, I saw it.

Two faint marks.

Perfect.
Intimate.
Real.


---

The apartment felt different in daylight.

Less seductive.
More haunted.

The candles had burned down to waxy skeletons. The paintings on the walls looked crueler now—lovers locked in eternal embraces, faces frozen between ecstasy and despair. I noticed details I had missed before: the clothes in the wardrobe that belonged to different centuries, the absence of mirrors in certain corners, the silence that felt… practiced.

She had lived here for a long time.

Too long.


---

On the bedside table lay the note.

This is where the danger begins.

No name.
No goodbye.

Just a warning.


---

I should have run.

I should have told myself this was madness and fled back into the safety of ordinary life. But something inside me had already crossed a threshold. I felt it—a subtle shift, like gravity pulling me toward something inevitable.

She had marked me.

And not just with her teeth.


---

That night, the hunger started.

Not for food.

For her.

It settled beneath my ribs, a low ache that grew sharper with every passing hour. My senses felt heightened—sounds too loud, colors too vivid, emotions too close to the surface.

I could hear my own heartbeat like a drum.

I could almost feel hers.


---

I returned to the club.

Again.

And again.

On the fourth night, she finally appeared.


---

She was waiting for me outside this time, leaning against the brick wall as if she had always been there. The streetlight caught her features, making her look almost human—almost.

Her eyes softened when she saw me.

“You shouldn’t have come back,” she said.

“You shouldn’t have left.”

Her jaw tightened.

“I did it to protect you.”

“From what?” I demanded. “From yourself?”

She stepped closer, lowering her voice.

“From me.”


---

We walked in silence, the city watching us with indifferent eyes.

“You fed on me,” I said finally.

“I tasted you,” she corrected. “And I stopped.”

“Why?”

Her answer came too quickly.

“Because I wanted you alive.”


---

We reached a park, empty at that hour, mist curling around the iron benches like something alive. She sat beside me, keeping a careful distance.

“I didn’t choose this life,” she began. “And I never choose my feelings lightly.”

“How old are you?” I asked.

She smiled faintly.

“I stopped counting after my third war.”


---

She told me her story.

Not all of it—but enough.

Born in a century that no longer existed. Married young. In love once, deeply, disastrously. Turned not by choice, but by betrayal. She spoke of decades as if they were seasons, of lovers who aged and died while she remained unchanged.

“I watched them wither,” she said. “I buried them all.”

The pain in her voice was not dramatic.

It was exhausted.


---

“Then why me?” I asked again.

This time, her silence lasted longer.

“Because you look at me like I’m still alive,” she said softly.
“And I forgot how dangerous that is.”


---

I reached for her hand.

She hesitated—but didn’t pull away.

Her skin was cold.

Mine burned.

“You’re changing,” she warned.

“I feel it.”

“What does that mean?”

She met my gaze.

“It means your body is reacting to my blood. You’re not turning—not yet. But the bond… it’s awakening something.”

Fear crawled up my spine.

“Can you stop it?”

She shook her head slowly.

“Not without losing you.”


---

That night, I dreamed of blood and stars.

I dreamed of her standing over me, eyes glowing, whispering my name like a prayer and a curse at the same time. I woke up gasping, heart racing, every nerve alive.

I was no longer entirely human.


---

The days became unbearable.

Sunlight hurt my eyes. Food tasted bland. Sleep brought visions I couldn’t control. I felt her presence even when she wasn’t near—like a thread tied tightly around my soul.

When she finally returned, I was shaking.

“You’re fading,” she said, fear breaking through her composure.

“I’m not fading,” I replied. “I’m becoming.”


---

She pressed her forehead to mine.

“I swore I would never do this again,” she whispered.

“Do what?”

“Fall in love with someone who can die.”


---

Her words shattered something inside me.

“You love me?”

Her silence was answer enough.


---

The night she fed again was different.

Slower.
Intentional.
Sacred.

She held me as if I might disappear, her restraint trembling, her control hanging by a thread. When she pulled away, tears glistened in her eyes—red, not clear.

“I will not turn you,” she said firmly. “Not unless you ask.”

“And if I don’t?” I asked.

“Then I will watch you age,” she replied.
“And I will hate myself forever.”


---

That was when I understood the truth.

Loving her meant choosing between two deaths:

A human one…
or a monstrous eternity.


---

As dawn approached, she dressed silently.

“They’re watching now,” she said.

“Who?”

“Others like me. The bond made you visible.”

She looked at me with urgency.

“You are no longer safe.”


---

Before she left, she kissed me—softly, painfully, like a farewell she wasn’t ready to say.

“Next time,” she whispered, “you won’t be able to pretend this is just love.”


---

When she vanished into the coming light, I realized something terrifying.

I wasn’t afraid of dying.

I was afraid of living without her.


If loving her means losing my humanity… is humanity still worth keeping?


👉 Read Part Four to discover the hidden vampire coven—and the choice that will seal his fate.


#ImmortalLove
#DarkRomance
#VampireBond