Hemophobia by Breanna Lynn (free romance novels txt) 📕

I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that if I did not look at what I was about to drink, I would not have to think about it. But as always, my efforts were futile. I trembled, imagining the crimson liquid pouring down my throat. The more I thought about it, the harder I tried to fight back. Cool, unrelenting hands held me down, pinning my arms and legs as I thrashed and kicked.
“Hush, Stefan,” someone murmured. “It will all be over in a moment.” I pressed my eyes shut even tighter and clenched my hands into fists, stiffening my spine. I tried to sit completely still, focusing on that action alone so that I would not think of what was about to be done to me.
“Very good, Stefan,” another voice whispered somewhat sarcastically, and I heard the familiar sound of liquid sloshing in a glass as it was lifted to my lips. I refused to move a single muscle, knowing that if I did I would try to fight again. I heard a sigh as someone tilted my chin back for me gently. I whimpered as I felt the rim of the glass against my mouth, and then the liquid was being poured down my throat.
At first I gulped greedily, thinking only of my burning thirst. The blood soothed my raw, itching throat as I swallowed. But the euphoria could only last so long. After the first few mouthfuls were down, I remembered what I was drinking. I choked on the blood, gagging and trying to spit it out. I needed it, my throat burned for it, but I couldn’t force myself to swallow it down.
Hands were upon my shoulders and face once more, holding me back and supporting my chin, forcing me to drink the blood or suffocate. A trickle of blood made its way down from the corner of my mouth, and I whimpered again when I felt the blood on my face. I heard another sigh, but gentle hands wiped the liquid off for me. A few painful swallows later, the glass was finally pulled away from my lips.
As soon as the glass was gone, I took a deep breath and opened my eyes slowly. Two pairs of eyes stared back at me. Eliza’s stared at me scornfully, her lips curling in a smirk. Her mate Leon watched me indifferently, his eyes dull and his face devoid of expression as usual. They both turned away when we heard footsteps approaching, hurriedly busying themselves with other tasks.
My sister Annabelle appeared at my side a moment later. Her hair, black as charcoal and perfectly straight, fell down her back and over her forehead in long tresses. Her eyes were wide and the irises were iridescent purple, the color of the sky the moment before the sun rises.
When I looked at her, I did not immediately see my identical twin. I saw a face that was completely different from my own: the cold, unyielding mask of a leader. She led our coven, and she placed her responsibilities as such above anything else.
When I blinked, however, the mask was gone, and I could once again see the kindness in her eyes. Ironically, our eyes were what set us apart. We had identical builds and hair, though mine was cropped much shorter than hers, but my irises were the deep violet of a sunset sky.
At the moment, her eyes shone with a mixture of concern and disgust, both of which she was trying desperately to hide. I told myself not to be offended by either emotion, reminding myself that she was simply bothered by the sharp scent of the bleach she had to dip her hands in to remove the smell of blood. I shuddered at the thought of blood and quickly tried to focus on something else.
“Anna, where is Anton?” I asked.
Her brow furrowed in response. “I don’t know. He should have returned from–”
She broke off abruptly, but I knew what she had been about to say. He should have returned from his hunt. By now, the sun was close to rising. He had had enough time to feed to his content and be well on his way back home hours ago.
“He will return soon,” I said quickly, trying to simultaneously reassure her and take my mind off the fresh reminder of blood.
Annabelle nodded quickly and turned away, pacing around the perimeter of the room and wringing her hands, her brow still creased with concern.
Anton was our oldest friend. He had short blond hair so pale it was hardly distinguishable from his pure white skin, and his irises were the glacial blue of ice. He spoke with a Russian accent, and occasionally we would hear him speaking to himself in his native language, but he had never revealed anything about his human past.
He was shorter than Annabelle and I, but he was thin and more muscular than he appeared. I remembered all too well the sight of him ripping out the throat of an enemy vampire with his teeth, bodies strewn on the frozen ground around him. Venom seeped into the snow, sizzling as it burned its way through the grass beneath the coating of ice that the dead vampires lay on, limbs torn from torsos that had been mangled beyond recognition.
That was the first memory I had of him, and after making a military alliance, our friendship quickly grew until he rose to the position of Annabelle’s lieutenant. He was her second-in-command, and above all, he was my closest and practically my only friend.
The other members of our coven were nomads, a pair that had traveled together for some time before they joined our group, recognizing the benefits of having a large coven as well as any other drifter.
Leon, the male, was taller than all of us and, although he was thin and hardly more muscular than me, he could move like lightning. His hair was long and dark, always pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, and his eyes were dull brown and never seemed to show signs of either emotion or intelligence. He preferred to let his mate Eliza speak for the two of them, hardly ever leaving her side. He spoke only when he had something very important to say, and even then his sentences were usually monosyllabic.
Eliza was my least favorite member of our coven. Her hair fell nearly to her waist in tight red corkscrew curls and her eyes glowed like a cat’s, bright green and serious when they weren’t focused on me. In that case they would almost always be disdainful.
“Stefan,” she began now, her tone promising nothing but pure mortification. With one swift glare, Annabelle silenced her. I was grateful that she had spared me from Eliza’s taunts, but I was humiliated nonetheless.
Despite Annabelle and Anton’s reassurances that my phobia was not to be helped and certainly not my fault, I knew what they all thought of me. I was a freak among vampires, and a danger to the entire coven. I was a hindrance, in need of constant care to survive. I was an invalid in the most ironic sense, crippled by my phobia of the sustenance I needed to live.
Hemophobia. It was the medical term for my fear, and by now the word rolled off my tongue easily. When that single word was uttered, it was laced with a myriad of implications that triggered a rush of memories.
I saw my limbs flailing as Annabelle held me down and poured blood down my throat, barely able to keep me pinned. That had become much easier once Anton joined us, and it was hardly a chore with Eliza and Leon helping as well.
I saw the bright red stream, rushing from the glass in a miniscule waterfall that caused me pain whether I was drinking it or not. The mere sight of blood forced me to close my eyes and turn away. The scent of it had me covering my airways and whirling for an escape route. The taste soothed my thirst, but it caused my throat to burn with fresh pain.
I was the reason we had so few allies. Our alliance with Eliza and Leon was one of convenience, and our friendship with Anton had been nothing short of a miracle. Other members of our race avoided us at all costs for fear that they would catch my disease. It was not contagious, but a handicap I was born into this new life with, one that I must endure for eternity.
My brooding was interrupted suddenly as the door flew open and slammed into the opposite wall, Anton rushing through it and reeking of fresh blood. He was shouting unintelligible phrases, mixing English and Russian swear words as he ran. I instinctively turned away, drawing in as much uncontaminated air as I could before pinching my nose shut and covering my mouth. I began to edge away from him, toward the open doorway on the other side of the room, but he shouted for us to stay where we were.
“We must decide, and quickly,” he said, his eyes darting from side to side as he spoke, as if he were expecting an attack at any moment. He glanced toward the sole window in the room, which had boards nailed over it, and let a few more incoherent Russian words slip through his clenched teeth.
“Decide what?” Annabelle asked in a crisp tone, approaching him swiftly, and he stared at her with unconcealed apprehension.
“Another coven is moving this way,” he explained, steadying himself with a deep breath before speaking again. “Their numbers stand somewhere from ten to fifteen.”
Eliza’s head snapped up upon hearing this, and even Leon’s eyes sparked with interest.
“Impossible,” Annabelle breathed. Indeed, such an enormous number of vampires peacefully assembled in one area was unheard of. They were as liable to turn on us as they were on each other, if they had not done so yet.
They must have been moving swiftly, stopping only to feed before continuing on their journey, leaving little time to war for dominance over to group. But it was clear what they wanted. We lived on a prime feeding ground, one that we had fought for once before. It was only natural to assume that this coven wanted possession of our land.
And once they had it, they would fight each other until there was a victor left standing, ready to settle into the position of leader of whatever members of his coven were left alive.
“We must choose now,” Anton repeated. “We can run, or we can stand our ground and fight.”
“Fight?” Eliza hissed incredulously. “Anton, have you lost your mind? The four of us against fifteen opponents? It’s madness!”
It was true. As difficult as it was to grasp the idea of the sheer number of vampires in the approaching coven, there was no doubt in my mind that we would not stand a chance against them. Six of them could be eradicated without difficulty. Eight might prove challenging, but we had a fair chance of victory. But fifteen? They would destroy us.
“There are five of us, Eliza,” Annabelle snapped without turning. “You would do well to remember that.”
Eliza ignored the warning in my sister’s tone. “He is incapable of holding his own against a vial of blood, Annabelle!” She jabbed a clawed finger in my direction, not bothering to look at me. “You expect him to stand his ground against fifteen of our kind?”
At the mention of blood, my throat seized up. Suddenly, I could not tear my gaze away from the ruby