Chasing fireflies

Swamps of bayou

The tall cypress trees emerge from the murky water, their gnarled roots entwined like bony fingers, while moss hangs from the branches like spectral drapes. Frogs maintain a rhythmic croaking, blending with the whispers of the wind and the distant rumble of thunder. This place harbors ghosts and secrets, its beauty intertwined with danger, making everything feel slightly enchanted... or perhaps cursed.

He carried her over his shoulder, her head dangling down, as blood dripped from her hand, leaving a faint trail behind.

"Are you really going to dump her there?" "She's your daughter."

"She's nothing like me.

"You're out of it, man. You don't know what you're saying," the other man replied.

"Just watch my back and keep quiet," he commanded, his boots sloshing through the mud.

He let her fall into the water, or rather, the murky water. He felt nothing, as if she wasn't his own child.

"Let's get out of here,"

"The gators will get her,"

"That's the idea. Her time's up," he laughed, sending chills down the man's spine.

"Cold-hearted bastard,"

A figure slipped out from the shadows of the trees, moving quickly to the body lying motionless in the murky water. He knelt, fingers pressing against her neck, still a pulse, weak but there. Fireflies gathered around her almost like a shield.

He hated this damn job. Hoisting her over his shoulder, he felt the warm trickle of blood from her arm. She smelled like flowers but touching her was off-limits. He dumped her in the car, cranked the engine, and drove off without looking back.

Callum's estate

Chloe woke up starving, her stomach growling like it hadn't been fed in days. She blinked, taking in the red lace draped over the bed and her white outfit-top and skirt. "What the hell?" she mumbled, just as the door creaked open. An old man, stiff and unnerving, shuffled toward her. She grabbed a pillow, scooting back against the headboard.

"Follow me," he said flatly, then turned on his heel.

Against her better judgment, she slid off the bed and trailed after him. Why am I doing this? she thought. It's like my body's on autopilot.

In the next room, five girls stood in a line, their gazes locked on something ahead. Chloe turned to look and froze. "This has to be a dream," she whispered. "Or I'm dead."

The figures seated on the ornate throne looked pale, hollow, like corpses propped up for show.

"Yes, you're dead," one of them said, his voice cold. "But this is your chance to join us."

"Join you? What are you?" Chloe asked, her voice shaky.

Before she could react, one of them was in her face, fangs bared. "Do not interrupt me again," he hissed. "Or you'll be dead before the games even start."

Chloe let out a nervous laugh. "This is just a dream. You're not real." She shoved him, surprised when he stumbled back. The gasp from the crowd snapped her attention to the room, people or dead people were watching, their expressions a mix of shock and amusement.

"Okay," she mumbled. "Maybe not a dream."

The man's anger flared, his fangs out, until a woman touched his shoulder. She was stunning, her smile sharp as a blade, and leaned in to whisper something in his ear. "You're lucky she likes you," he purred, stepping back. He slumped into his throne, waving a hand. "Bring the men."

Ten men filed in, doubling the number of girls. Chloe's mind spun. Vampires? Seriously? Her eyes still on the pale man on that throne. She let out a laugh, quickly masking it with a cough. This had to be some messed-up dream.

"Chloe, you're up first. Choose a mate."

"A mate? Like, a date?" She smiled convinced this nonsense would end any second now.

The vampire on the throne chuckled. "Yes, dear. A date."

Someone once told her to look people in the eyes if you want to see their soul. She stopped in front of each man, studying them, until she landed on number six. He had a jagged cut running from his eyebrow to his jaw, his body lean but strong, not puffed up like the others. His blue eyes were haunted, lost.

"Interesting choice," the vampire remarked, raising an eyebrow.

Dana was called next, then Samantha, Jasmine, Ebony and Olivia, the girls made their picks until only five men remained. What happened next, Chloe wasn't prepared for. A frenzy of feeding erupted, the pairs watching in horror as the vampires descended.

"Welcome to the Love Games," the vampire announced, blood dripping from his lips. "A love story to die for."

Ebony tried to bolt, earning a mark on her arm for her trouble. Chloe reached for her man's hand, and he gripped it tightly.

"Now, the rules," the vampire continued, pacing like a game show host. "You've got six days and nights before you're fully dead. Right now, you're in limbo. Survive, and you can join us or return to your miserable little lives.

Rule two: You must fall in love. This is about romance, and we adore romance. Hell, they write books about us." He laughed, and Chloe felt a chill crawl up her spine.

Rule three: You can't say it with words. Ever.

Rule four: No killing You both die. No cheating. You die."

"Rule five: No quitting, finish the games together, no matter what.

Rule six: One chance to swap mates if you screwed up. Everyone has to agree, though. Got it? Good. Now, go change. We're throwing a party."

The crowd erupted into cheers. Chloe blinked, startled. The man was still gripping her hand like it was a lifeline. They followed the old man to their room where a timer ticked down: one hour.

Hunter finally let go of her hand and started pacing.

"Mind telling me your name?" Chloe asked, breaking the silence.

"What?" He stopped, glancing at her. She was pale, her light brown hair framing dark green eyes. Young, beautiful. "How old are you?"

"Nineteen. Forever, I guess," she said with a nervous laugh.

He let out a dry chuckle. "Hunter. He paused. I've got a reason to live."

"What's that?"

He stepped closer, eyes blazing. "Revenge."

She reached up, her fingers brushing the scar on his face. "Guess that makes two of us."