Into the Light

Chapter 5

[Alpha]

"Alpha! A-Alpha!"

Daryl's fur tipped ears twitched at the distant call. Teran? Digging down on the heels of his thick paws, he skidded to a stop. Did he hear wrong? His large gold speckled eyes darted between the trees and shrubs of the forest floor, hoping to find the young familiar face of his nephew.

Silence.

His nostrils flared in annoyance, he had just started his search for Teran, he couldn't be having hallucinations as if he had been searching for weeks. Teran, the pride of joy of Merle, had only turned fifteen just last month. He was too young to meet his maker. Hell, Merle was too… and the three others that died with him.

The dynamics of the pack changed, naturally. Daryl, being the younger brother of the Alpha, assumed Merle's role as leader the night he died. Without an Alpha, the pack will fall. Always the one who was content with looking from the shadows, happy with being Merle's support, he had been forced into the helm of leadership, a role he knew he was ill-fitted to be in. Still, despite what he lacked, he was fiercely loyal to his pack. No matter the sacrifice, he will protect them.

"Alpha!"

Daryl's head snapped towards the direction of the sound, he wasn't hallucinating after all. Teran, where have you been? He called to his nephew, slightly annoyed that the teen preferred his human form to his natural wolf. Just knowing that Teran was safe dampened his ire. He trotted southbound, towards Teran's emerging scent. As he closed the distance between them, a familiar scent caught him by surprise.

Blood. The intoxicating scent of blood from the nightwalker who had helped him.

With a snarl, Daryl leaped towards Teran as he came into view. What happened?!

"Rogues! Two of them," Teran gasped, his forehead was peppered with beads of sweat. "They were too strong, I-I couldn't help."

Where?! A sense of dread filled his heart. Could she have possibly… no, not yet. She couldn't die yet… he had yet to thank her for saving his sorry ass just last night. His dismissive behavior towards her before he waved her away earlier this morning, replayed before his eyes. Fuck. He was a fucking asshole. He wouldn't be able to forgive his sorry self if she died before he apologized to her, properly.

"The path by the river, her truck veered off the road," Teran turned and pointed towards the direction he came from.

Without another moment to spare, Daryl hurtled past the teenage in a fit of howls, summoning the remaining warriors of the pack. Protect our territory, drive out the fucking Rogues. Don't hurt the girl, he communed to them. Daryl barreled through the forest, diving and leaping around fallen trees and any obstacles he came across.

The scent of the blonde nightwalker grew stronger, and so did the stench of two rotting Rogues.

Daryl burst through from the cover of the trees, sending silvers of branches and leaves flying onto the ground before home. His chest heaved with exertion, his nostrils flared with every breath he took. As he briefly caught his breath, he surveyed the scene before him. The female nightwalker was faced down, unmoved, and possibly, not breathing.

Despite the heavy scent of the two Rogue intruders, they were nowhere in sight. Guardedly, Daryl padded over to the fallen female. As he neared her, he saw the slight rise and fall of her back, a sign that she still lived. Barely. He could scarcely hear the rhythm of her heart over the thundering beats of his own. He walked around her head, careful to not step on her sprawled arms and hair, and dipped his snout closer to her face.

Blood matted her golden hair, concealing her face and neck. Her breaths came in shallow, pained pants. Upon closer inspection, he spied dark veins marring a part of her cheek. Concerned, he nuzzled her matted hair from her face with his nose. The scent of the Rogues then doubled, Daryl stepped back, a haunted look dawned on his eyes.

Black veins crept like vines on her skin from two sets of puncture sites, one at the junction of her neck, the other closer to her collar bone. Fucking hell, he snarled. The Rogues injected their black venom as they feasted on her blood. They had drained her nearly dry, leaving her within an inch of death so she can writhe pain. Damn those heartless bastards, he leaned in and nuzzled her cheek with his muzzle, in an uncharacteristic gesture of compassion.

A soft whimpered escaped her lips at the contact, she had said something. Daryl leaned in closer, initially unable to decipher her soft mumbles.

"Am... bush," she warned, her sky-blue eyes focused on something behind him, before she closed her eyes, her life slowly slipping away.

Ambush. Behind you.

A ghoulish shriek roar behind him, and sharp claws sank into his fur. Daryl reared onto his hind legs and snapped at his attacker with his barred fangs. The stench of the Rogues permeated the air, Daryl had no doubt these were the nightwalker and Teran's attackers.

"Well, well, sister… What is this I smell?" The taller of the two cloaked Rogues crackled.

"Yes… yes, brother. How peculiar," the gnarled voice of the female Rogue pipped, her glowing red eyes widen with curiousity. "A wolf and a halfbreed… bonded? Is someone playing a trick on us?"

Daryl's eyes narrowed at the pair, What the hell did they mean, bonded? He was half-tempted to shift back to his human form to question them, but his interest in their words quickly faded away when the nightwalker beside him shifted and pushed herself onto her back.

"Oh look, she yet lives," the male Rogue taunted, clicking his blood covered bluish tongue.

The nightwalker turned her head from her position on the ground, silently, she lifted a hand, protruding her middle finger towards the two vampyr.

If the situation wasn't so serious, Daryl would've probably laughed at the obscurity of it all. He bent his head low and nudged her free arm ontop of his nose, then lifted his head up to slide her arm around his neck. He was concerned and curious, all at the same time, as to why the two Rogues were stalling. The Rogues that had invaded his territory in the past often attacked first, and usually until they perished. Just what exactly, is so different about these two? Whatever the case is, she needs treatment, it shouldn't be delayed any further.

The silver lining was that the blonde dhampir catches on quickly, despite her weakened state. She wrapped her arms around his neck tightly and accepted his offer of help. He pulled her towards him as gently as he could, leaning her body against his frame. In his wolf form, he spanned nearly four and a half feet tall on all fours, a hereditary quality of his alpha bloodline that had provided them with superior strength and speed. If his wolf form could be of assistance to her, he wouldn't object to it. She sighed as her body sagged against him, the motion of sitting up drained already her depleted energy.

"She lives yet, brother… she is… recovering?" The female whispered not so quietly, somewhat concerned at the prospect the dhampir still breathed.

"Hmm, yes, it appears so. Perhaps our venom is ineffective against the prophesied halfbreed," the tall male responded, nodding his head. "Her blood is stronger than we thought."

"Shall we bring her with us? To Master… Master will … find the heights of her limits," the Rogues cackled at the thought of bringing more torture on the weakened dhampir.

Daryl growled from deep within his chest, a warning, as the two started to advanced towards them. Stay the fuck back, he wanted to say. He hunched down low and shrugged the blonde female over his back, intent on spiriting her away. Despite his good intentions, the female resisted. Instead, she slide off his back, and lifted her dry lips towards his furry ear.

"Will… not get far… with me," she whispered. "You… go." She pushed herself against him, staggering to her feet. She lifted her head and faced her attackers, her eyes still bright and eager to fight despite her weakened form.

What the hell, I'm not going to just leave you! Daryl grunted in annoyance, he knew she was right. He wouldn't have gotten far carrying an injured person on his back. If she wanted to fight, he will fight along side of her. Though he would never admit it, her determination slowly earned his admiration. He squared his shoulders and strengthened his stance, readying himself for a fight… possibly to the death.

The two cloaked Rogues sneered, "You are stains in our noble existence. The both of you! The stench that dog's seed covers your scent. You soil your blood with his taint."

The dhampir beside him chortled, instead of replying, she lengthened her fangs and nails, and prepared herself for another fight.

The simple act of her defiance finally set off the two Rogues. With a piercing shriek, they leaped into the air, fangs and talons dripping with black vampyr venom. It was easy enough for Daryl to dodge their attacks. But their attack wasn't aimed to kill, it was to distract. To separate.

The dhampir lurched to the side with a groan, her movements slow but calculated, landing in a crouched position. Daryl side glanced her as he dodged another attack from the male Rogue, he knew she wouldn't hold up for long. He had to finish this fight soon, if he were to try and save her. With a roar, Daryl lunged forward, snapping his teeth firmly into the left thigh of the vampyr.

The male let out a guttural cry of pain, and stumbled backwards with Daryl ripping into the blue flesh of his leg. Upon hearing her brother's cry, the female Rogue hissed at the female and turned away from the dhampir. She leaped into the air with a screech, her talons poised for an attack. Daryl spit out the revolting pieces of flesh from his mouth and tried to dodge her attack. Unfortunately for him, he noticed the female Rogue's assault a fraction of a second too late to dodge it completely without harm.

He threw himself to his left, slamming his back against a tree trunk with a slight whine, narrowly avoiding the dripping claws of the female Rogue. Daryl grunted, picking himself off of the forest ground, gearing himself up for another attack.

Instead, ungodly screeches pierced his ears.

He turned his head to find the dhampir hunched on the ground, clutching onto a dark robe of the female Rogue. His gold speckled eyes darted over to the blue fleshed vampyr, the female was screeching in a ghastly cry for help as the sunlight that permeated through the gaps of the canopy burned her flesh as soon as it touched her skin.

Just then, the warriors of his pack howled behind him, reassuring him that they were just mere moments away. Good, help is on the way. He grunted at the sharp pain in the left hind leg, certain he sprained something when he dodge the last attack from the female Rogue. Despite this, he limped around the gasping Rogue as she struggled to stay away from the sunlight burning into her flesh. The smell of burning decayed flesh assaulted his nose, he chuffed, limping around the disintegrating vampyr.

Daryl reached the side of the fallen dhampir, her breathing even more labored and shallow than before. He dipped his head low and nuzzled her cheek in a soft greeting. A pair of bright blue eyes fluttered open, acknowledging his presence. Her hand reached up to caress the thick fur of his neck in response. The gentleness of her caress comforted him, sending a pleasurable shiver up his spine.

Her eyes locked onto his, peering deeply within each other, each lost in their own thoughts.

His ears perked at the rustling of running steps of his pack, the reinforcements have arrived. His relief was short lived, it gave him a false of security and he had let down his guard prematurely.

A shrill wail sounded behind him, the sound of a creature in mourning, the remaining male Rogue leaped at them, his fangs barred and ready to kill. The blonde nightwalker beside him, in a last ditched effort, rolled under him to put herself in front of the attack and shoved him to the side by throwing her body weight on him. The gesture threw Daryl off his balance, the attacker's talons narrowed missed his throat, but it tore into the white flesh of his nightwalker's shoulder.

She let out a muted cry as she fell unceremoniously onto the ground, unable to do much else.

Jack's and Genna's wolf forms barreled above his head, tackling the remaining Rogue into the ground. The male Rogue hissed and reared his ugly head, as he peered at the group of shifters before him, aware that he is outnumbered.

"The Eviantius child will die, wolf, and so will her prophecy," he jeered, his black teeth barred in hatred. "You will not have the satisfaction in revenge, either, you mangy mutt." He threw his head back and belted out an inhumane roar, and ripped his cloak from his body and threw it aside. The sunlight seemed to have gotten brighter then, as if the sky itself was punishing the remaining Rogue. More light streamed through the cracks of the canopy, alighting the vampyr's skin onto fire. Moments later, the remains of the two Rogues were reduced to ashes.

Daryl turned his attention back to his fallen comrade. Black blood oozed from the gashes in her shoulder, her breathing and heartbeat barely audible to their sensitive ears. She had saved him— again. At the risk of her life, she had saved him. But why?

An overwhelming sense to protect the selfless female engulfed him. His very being called to protect her, demanding him to ensure her safety above all else. Why? And now, more than ever, he needed to to treat her injuries. He wasn't much of a healer, but Carol would be able to help.

Move her onto my back, he called to Genna. Move out, return home, he howled to the rest of his pack.

Genna shifted back to her humanoid form as she jogged to his side, "Who is she, Alpha?" she asked, as she hoisted the fair-haired female onto his back.

… Someone important, he replied cryptically as he started making his way to their den, being mindful not to drop her. He felt her hands clench onto his fur tighter out of instinct.

Good, he hummed contently at the thought, his female is a smart one.

-0-

The trek home was a quick one, Daryl made the trip swift and eventless. With each passing moment, he could feel the nightwalker's life slipping away, her grip on his fur slackening. A part of him feared that he wouldn't be able to save her. That he would be too late. The very thought struck terror deep into his soul.

As he approached his pack's main house with the fair female on his back, Carol rushed out, concern etched all over face.

"Daryl! Here!" The salt and peppered hair female called to him, bottles of tonics in her hand, ready to be consumed. Although she couldn't always forsee the future, she was able to sense certain emotions and thoughts from those around her — an empath with the gift of Sight.

Grunting painfully, he shifted back into his human form, carrying the nearly listless body in his arms. He brushed past Carol, nodding at her but did not say a word. Ignoring the pain in left leg, he kicked the front door to the cabin open and doubled his steps up to his private bedroom. Carol followed quietly behind him, her jaw tense and her brows furrowed.

"What do we do?" he all but growled, as he sat the bleeding nightwalker atop his bed.

Carol didn't say much, but handed the tonics to him. In her hands were the tonics that their healers crafted in case of injuries, not emergencies. There were three of them, all were Regenerative tonics, made of various herbs and minerals that were beneficial to shifters like them.

He stared at his sister-in-law, momentarily perplexed. "She needs to drink that? She ain't like us, it won't work," he gruffed, and turned away from her, refocusing his attention on the slumbering from on his bed.

"No," Carol replied, her all-knowing gaze bore into him. "These are for you," she nodded at the bottles, then tilted her head towards the female on the bed. "Drink. Your blood blond can save her. Not much else will..."

There is that word again, bond — blood bond. "What?"

"Don't be daft, Daryl! You're losing time!" Carol shoved the bottles into his hands and stared at him intently. "Drink, and give her your blood. She haven't got much time left," she whispered before casting another look at bloodied nightwalker, before nodding to Daryl and stepped out of his room, shutting the door securely behind her.

Confused, though compliant, Daryl pressed a bottle to his lips and threw his head back, guzzling down the bitter liquid. He drank all three in rapid succession. Fuck, he prayed Carol knew what she was talking about. A warming sensation began brewing from his stomach as the tonic began take effect.

What now? How the hell was he supposed to feed her his blood?

A sudden memory of the girl in question, stroking his fangs to elongate them, popped through his head. Wasn't this how she saved him? Would it work for a vampyr? Correction — half vampyr. Reaching over her, he parted her pale rose petal like lips. Her fangs were already elongated in her most natural, vulnerable state. Easy enough, he thought. He brought his wrist to her mouth, angling his wrist until his radial artery pulsated right below one of her sharp fangs.

With a quick jerk of his arm, he pierced her fangs deep into flesh. Deep red blood dribbled into her mouth. The life liquid pooled in her mouth, but she made no motion to drink. Seconds passed, yet she remained motionless, blood began to seep out from the corner of her mouth.

"Fuck," he barked, quickly retracting his bleeding arm. He snatched a towel that had been conveniently left there from his shower a few nights ago, and gently wiped the blood from her face. In her mouth, his blood sat thick, and unmoving.

Why wasn't she responding? Panic began to set in. He stared at the black veins continues to spread on her skin. She wasn't expelling the venom like vampyr were fabled to do. In fact, she was not responsive at all. He gritted his teeth, the veins at his temple bubbled against his temple. "Dammit," he hissed. "Just fucking swallow the blood," he all but commanded, his dominating nature reared its head, driven by his frustration at the lack of her response.

Silence met his ears — nothing has changed, nothing has moved.

As if taunting him, her faint heartbeat began slowing even further — signaling a critical moment for him to act. In a fit of panic, lifted her limp form onto his lap, exposing her poisoned neck to him. With nothing left to lose, he sank his own fangs over one set of puncture marks on her neck, drawing her poisoned blood into his mouth with big gulps. The noxious tasting blood invaded his senses, he retracted his fangs, shocked by the putrid taste that invaded his mouth.

"Don't," a voice rasped under him after he heard her gulp down the mouthful of blood that she was unable to drink just moments ago.

His back straightened, turning his head to meet her blue eyes, shocked that the female had waken at all.

"Venom," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "Will… hurt you."

Daryl shifted again, this time he propped her up in his arms, supporting her head with his chest. He lifted his wrist back to her lips, "Drink."

She shook her head ever so slightly.

"Drink," he offered again, positioning his artery below her sharp fangs once more. "Or I will pulled the damn venom out of you myself," he growled, fully determined to feed her his life saving blood.

The female in his arms fell silent at his demand, though still somewhat lucid. He briefly wondered if she was balancing her options with the way she temporarily zoned out at the wall behind him.

After a pregnant pause, Daryl shook her gentle. "Please," he whispered, finally at a loss, his voice imploring. "You need to heal. I… don't know how else to help."

Her hand, tremoring, trailed up to his face, cupping his cheek in a weak gesture of compliance. "Don't want to — hurt you," she whispered between a gasping breath.

"It's fine," he grounded, feeling frustrated once more at her hesitation. "Don't worry, I don't plan on dying. I'll stop you if you're taking too much." His wolf hummed with contentment at the thought of his female worrying that she would hurt him. A fleeting thought popped into his head, did his wolf just claim this female as theirs — his?

"Sure?" She whispered, tilting her towards his neck, nuzzling the bounding pulse deep within his thick neck with her nose and brushing her cool lips against his heated skin. It was almost a submissive gesture; like a female wanting to please her mate.

The thought of razor sharp, blood sucking fangs at his throat gave him a moments pause. Had it been another creature, he would've tore that person to shreds without even batting an eyelash. But this female in his arms had saved him on multiple occasions, including offering her blood — and body, to feed his blood lust.

He could smell the anticipation mingling in her intoxicating scent, she finally wanted to feed after hearing his absolution that he will not be hurt. Nearly drunk on her scent, he tilted his head a little more, further exposing his neck to his female.

"It will please your Alpha," he drummed in words he didn't know he would ever say, his deep baritone voice vibrating between their bodies.

Daryl felt the female in his arms shiver, from excitement or the cold, he couldn't tell. He felt her arms encircle his shoulders as she positioned herself against him.

With her warm breaths fanning against his skin, she parted her lips. Before sinking her elongated fangs into his neck, she planted a feather light kiss to his pulse and whispered, "… my Alpha."

/

JR – Hello! Long time no update folks! I had a tickle under me butt and thought I should revisit my fanfic account… I really would like to finish this story. I've lost a lot of transitioning material since I haven't written anything in so long, but I was able to crank it out. Man, it's weird writing again, but I enjoy it so much!

I'm hoping to update regularly again, but no promises. Thanks for being so patient!

Thanks for reading, please review!!