Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate
Chapter 250: A Spear of Darkness

Chapter 250: A Spear of Darkness

"Flo! Come here!" Riona’s voice called to him, cutting through the haze like a distant melody. She extended her hand toward him, her smile as bright and warm as sunlight.

Florian blinked, dazed. He had to tilt his head back to see her. Why was she so big? Why did everything feel so... wrong?

Her hand was steady, waiting, and though a small voice in the back of his mind whispered for him to stay still, his body moved on its own. He took her hand.

The world shifted as she led him deeper into the garden. The trees loomed impossibly tall, their branches tangled with the sky. Bushes and flowers stretched toward him, vibrant and alive, brushing against him like they wanted him to remember.

Everything felt enormous, overwhelming, too much. The air smelled sweet, like something stolen from a dream.

It was that rare time—once every ten years—when life fought back against the cold, when the Kingdom of Eira warmed up just enough for the earth to breathe.

The snow had stopped falling a few months ago, leaving the kingdom in a fleeting reprieve before winter’s icy grip would return. Though the sun peeked shyly through the clouds each day, the air was crisp and clear—a perfect season for vampires to savor the rare light without fear.

"Isn’t it beautiful? I just found it!" Riona said, her voice lilting, high-pitched, and filled with innocent joy.

It stopped him in his tracks. It wasn’t her voice—at least, not the one he remembered. It was softer, younger.

He followed her pointing finger, his gaze settling on a bed of vibrant, colorful flowers nestled among the frost-kissed greenery. It was a breathtaking sight.

In the Kingdom of Eira, perched high in the mountains and blanketed in constant snow, flowers were a miracle. They weren’t meant to exist here, and yet, here they were—bold, alive, and unbroken.

"Wow," Florian thought, the word echoing in his mind like it was coming from someone else.

His legs carried him forward, unsteady, until he was kneeling before the flowers. He reached out, his fingers trembling as they brushed against the delicate petals.

And then it struck him.

The world seemed to shatter around him.

This wasn’t real. This had already happened. This was a memory, buried so deep it had been lost to him, buried beneath years of torment and madness.

He froze, his fingers hovering just above the flowers. Riona’s laughter rang out behind him, sweet and carefree, but it felt like knives cutting through his chest.

He had been here before. He had held her hand. He had seen these flowers. A long, long time ago. Back when he was still... himself.

The demon stirred within him, a shadow clawing at the edges of his mind. What are you doing? it snarled, its voice venomous and sharp.

Florian gasped, clutching his head as the world began to warp. The flowers faded, their colors bleeding into the snow like spilled ink.

"No! Please!" Don’t disturb me! Let me savor this moment—just a little longer. "Riona... don’t go! No! Don’t leave me!"

Riona’s laughter grew distant, distorted. His hand fell away from the petals, and when he looked up, she was no longer a girl—just a figure cloaked in blinding light.

Help me...

He clawed at the memory, desperate to hold onto it, but it slipped through his fingers like water. He wasn’t a young vampire kneeling in a garden anymore. He was a monster, chained to the shadows, and this memory was a cruel fragment of what he’d lost.

For a fleeting moment, he remembered her—her voice, her touch, her light.

And then it was gone.

***

"Where do you think you’re going?" Lisbeth demanded, her voice tight with strain as she blocked the doorway to Florian’s chamber.

Her nails dug into her palms, fists clenched at her sides. It was baffling—and utterly terrifying—how he had managed to escape. That room had been sealed with layers of spells and dark magic, each one designed to bind him inside.

Yet here he stood, as if none of it mattered, stepping past the threshold like a predator released from its cage.

Lisbeth’s breath hitched as she forced herself to hold her ground. She felt like the last barrier between Florian and the kingdom—no, the world. Her father was preoccupied with other affairs, and her mother... her mother had disappeared, leaving Lisbeth to face this alone.

Florian paused, his gaze sliding lazily to meet hers. His raised eyebrow carried an air of mockery, and Lisbeth’s stomach churned. That expression—it wasn’t him. His once-gentle face now twisted into a smug grin, stretching unnervingly from ear to ear.

"Wherever I want," he growled, his voice like silk draped over steel. He stepped closer, looming over her, his shadow stretching down the dim corridor. "Why? Are you afraid I’ll hunt again?"

That word—hunt—sent a chill stabbing through her. It dripped with malice, dredging up the memories she had tried so hard to suppress. The shadow, that formless darkness that had haunted her, now stood before her with a body. She flinched but didn’t move aside.

Yes, I’m afraid, she thought. But she swallowed her fear, forcing herself to meet his gaze. His eyes were wrong—too sharp, too knowing, and far too delighted in her unease.

"I won’t let you through," she declared, her voice steady despite the trembling in her knees.

He chuckled—a low, menacing sound that echoed off the cold stone walls. "Oh? And what do you plan to do, Princess? Stop me?"

This wasn’t a battlefield of swords and shields. It was a battle of wills—a clash of light and shadow. And though every instinct in her body screamed for her to run, she knew she couldn’t. If she failed now, there would be no one left to stand in his way.

"I don’t plan to stop you," Lisbeth said, squaring her shoulders. Her trembling stopped, and she exhaled slowly, blue aura stirring faintly at her fingertips. "I will stop you."

For a fleeting moment, her courage wavered as his grin widened. His eyes gleamed with an unsettling, otherworldly hunger. The thing wearing Florian’s face didn’t look the least bit worried—it looked entertained.

She raised her arm, summoning sharp blue stakes of ice, and hurled them toward Florian. But he was too fast. A blur of motion, and before she could even register it, he was behind her. His hand struck the back of her neck like a hammer, sending pain searing down her spine.

Lisbeth stumbled but spun around quickly, ready to grab him while he was still close. Her fingers clawed through the air—but he was gone.

Across the hallway, Florian reappeared several feet away, his laughter echoing off the frozen walls. At first, it was a low chuckle, but it grew louder, sharper, until it filled the chamber like a cacophony of mockery.

"You’re no match for me, Princess," he sneered.

Lisbeth growled under her breath. With a sharp stomp, she lunged at him, her movements swift.

As she charged, blue ice erupted from the floor, the walls, the ceiling—all at once, frost spiraling outward in a desperate attempt to trap him. The hallway turned into a long, frozen cage, its sharp edges reaching hungrily for him.

But Florian didn’t flinch. He raised a hand, dark energy coalescing in his palm. The air around him rippled as the black mass solidified into a massive, diamond-like spear.

Lisbeth’s heart froze in her chest, but she kept moving, her blue ice pushing her forward even as the black spear shot toward her.

The impact came before she could react.