The Dead Rose
Chapter One
Summary: Thistle Hollow is a vampire. Her newborn daughter is not. Baby Rois should not exist, but Thistle won't let anyone hurt her. Not now. Not ever.
Author's Notes: I know its bad to beg for reviews, but. pretty please? With cherries on top?
*******
Thistle Hollow knew instantly that Rayne was dead.
He fell to the ground with a thud, his limbs lifeless on the tarmac road; grey eyes dark and sightless. The vampire hunter leaned forward and wrenched the stake from his chest. Blood seeped through his clothing and pooled about him in a dark shadow of colour.
Thistle was shaking. Fear coursed through her veins in a heady mix of anger and adrenaline. She wanted to run, but her feet felt as if they were rooted to the spot.
Dead, she thought, Rayne's dead.
The vampire hunter stood, stake held carelessly in one gloved hand. Beneath the masked face, his brown eyes were hard.
"Are you ready to die little vampire?" His voice was soft. Dangerously so. He took a step forward.
"No." She said shakily. "No, I'm not ready."
Her hand rested gently against the swell of her stomach. Usually she was swift, agile. A creature born to lord over the night. But now, in her condition. She couldn't escape.
He was still watching her. She could not see his face beneath the mask, but she thought he was smiling.
"Tough." He said. And attacked.
Thistle snarled, her fangs glinting in the moonlight. He may have had the advantage, but she was still strong and she was stubborn. Thistle had no intention of dying.
She leapt, her movements touched with an animal grace. The stake swiped sharply against her face, leaving a gaping wounds in its wake. A hiss of pain forced its way out of her throat.
There was a concentrated force in her enemy's strikes that scared her. His eyes were bright and cold, filled with an icy hate which burned her to the bone. He attacked mechanically, without an ounce of mercy.
Thistle didn't stand a chance.
Maybe he sensed her despair, she wasn't sure. But the next thing she knew, Thistle was lying on her back, face covered with dirt and a stake held only inches from her chest.
The only sound she could hear was the shallow rasp of his breath. Thistle closed her eyes.
This was it. This was the end. Rayne would be waiting for her. She wished their child had had a chance to live. But it was too late now.
I love you.
She tensed, ready for the final blow. It never came.
The vampire hunter stumbled, dropping the stake with a sharp clatter. Thistle opened her eyes.
"Go." He hissed.
She scrambled to her feet, eyes wide with confusion.
"What-"
"Just go!"
Thistle looked into his eyes. They were shattered and chaotic, like the shards of broken mirror. It was frightening, disconcerting. She took in one long, shuddering breath.
Thistle wrenched her gaze from his, and ran.
Summary: Thistle Hollow is a vampire. Her newborn daughter is not. Baby Rois should not exist, but Thistle won't let anyone hurt her. Not now. Not ever.
Author's Notes: I know its bad to beg for reviews, but. pretty please? With cherries on top?
*******
Thistle Hollow knew instantly that Rayne was dead.
He fell to the ground with a thud, his limbs lifeless on the tarmac road; grey eyes dark and sightless. The vampire hunter leaned forward and wrenched the stake from his chest. Blood seeped through his clothing and pooled about him in a dark shadow of colour.
Thistle was shaking. Fear coursed through her veins in a heady mix of anger and adrenaline. She wanted to run, but her feet felt as if they were rooted to the spot.
Dead, she thought, Rayne's dead.
The vampire hunter stood, stake held carelessly in one gloved hand. Beneath the masked face, his brown eyes were hard.
"Are you ready to die little vampire?" His voice was soft. Dangerously so. He took a step forward.
"No." She said shakily. "No, I'm not ready."
Her hand rested gently against the swell of her stomach. Usually she was swift, agile. A creature born to lord over the night. But now, in her condition. She couldn't escape.
He was still watching her. She could not see his face beneath the mask, but she thought he was smiling.
"Tough." He said. And attacked.
Thistle snarled, her fangs glinting in the moonlight. He may have had the advantage, but she was still strong and she was stubborn. Thistle had no intention of dying.
She leapt, her movements touched with an animal grace. The stake swiped sharply against her face, leaving a gaping wounds in its wake. A hiss of pain forced its way out of her throat.
There was a concentrated force in her enemy's strikes that scared her. His eyes were bright and cold, filled with an icy hate which burned her to the bone. He attacked mechanically, without an ounce of mercy.
Thistle didn't stand a chance.
Maybe he sensed her despair, she wasn't sure. But the next thing she knew, Thistle was lying on her back, face covered with dirt and a stake held only inches from her chest.
The only sound she could hear was the shallow rasp of his breath. Thistle closed her eyes.
This was it. This was the end. Rayne would be waiting for her. She wished their child had had a chance to live. But it was too late now.
I love you.
She tensed, ready for the final blow. It never came.
The vampire hunter stumbled, dropping the stake with a sharp clatter. Thistle opened her eyes.
"Go." He hissed.
She scrambled to her feet, eyes wide with confusion.
"What-"
"Just go!"
Thistle looked into his eyes. They were shattered and chaotic, like the shards of broken mirror. It was frightening, disconcerting. She took in one long, shuddering breath.
Thistle wrenched her gaze from his, and ran.