I caught the blade in my hand. Its sharp edge dug into my palm, but I held it firm.

"Do something, Aris!" Samira growled, her white fangs flashing in the moonlight. She pressed harder onto the sword nearly cutting through my hand.

I hated these training sessions. This one, for some reason, was far more intense than any of our others.

"I'm starving!" I growled right back. It had been eleven days since I was given blood and no one, including Roman, would tell me why. I'd found that being cryptic was a common trait of the Ames de la Terre.

She kicked at my chest, her long black ponytail whipping through the darkness. I fell to the ground, nursing my bloodied hand.

"I need some damn blood!" I shouted. I don't get how they expected me to fight a centuries-old vampire when I was hungry.

Blood had been the only thing on my mind for the last five days. The sweet taste of the crimson liquid as it coated my tongue and poured down my throat, filling me with incredible warmth. Without it, I was left cold with a continuous gnawing in my gut as if a rat was eating me from the inside out.

"Just a little," I said, my voice softer. "Please."

Samira reached up and removed her glasses, muttering under her breath a language I'd never heard. She folded them and placed them on a windowsill. Shit. I'd pissed her off.

"Since I met you six months, four days, and seven hours ago, I've had to tell you three times not to yell at me. Have you already forgotten what I did to you the other three times?"

I pulled myself onto all fours, my head down. This was really going to suck, especially since I was so hungry. I thought about not fighting back, but I had already tried that once and had my ass kicked.

I looked up at her. "Anyway, I can beg for your forgiveness?"

"If you can say sorry before I reach you, then I'll consider it."

"I'm—"

Her knee slammed into my jaw, flipping me several feet into the air. I twisted my body so I could land on my feet. I ducked when she swung and spun away. I had to focus if I stood a chance. I couldn't think about things that usually plagued my mind since leaving Coast City, like how desperate I was to return so I could kill Victor for having my aunt murdered in front of me. But no one would let me leave. Not until they felt I was ready and no longer a threat to the outside world. So this is me, jumping through their hoops.

Samira darted for me, faster than any human eye could track, but I moved away just as quick and grabbed hold of her in passing. I tossed her into the old stone wall of Autry Manor, a partially ruined structure on the west side of Bisou Islands. It was the perfect place to train: dirt floors, open spaces mixed in with maze-like corridors, and only the night sky as our roof.

She grunted and fell to the ground. It was my turn to rush her, but when I reached where she had been lying on the floor, she was gone. I turned around just as her foot smashed into my face. I stumbled back, reaching for the scimitar blade in the sheath around my waist. As soon as I removed it, my blade collided with hers.

Around the great hall, we danced, lunging, spinning and leaping, metal clashing together the only sounds in the night. And yet, with all this movement, our footsteps would never be heard. That was not in a vampire's nature. We were a strong wind breathing across the land, ghosts cutting through shadows. Only the clanking of our blades gave us away.

The full moon tracked across the night sky and still we fought. I wasn't given a moment to rest or to allow my wounds to heal before Samira was landing her next blow. I was so focused on trying not to die by her hand that I had forgotten about everything else, even my hunger.

Being the oldest, living vampire I had ever heard of, Samira knew everything there was about vampirism. Same with elemental magic. I’d seen her use all four elements expertly, but it was rare. She preferred to be as she was. “A tiger should not pretend to be a dog,” she’d said once when I’d asked her why she didn’t use magic more. I admit I didn’t understand the analogy, but in a way, I respected her for being true to herself.

“It is enough,” she said, stopping her sword from crashing against mine again.

And just like that our fight was over.

I dropped to my knees sucking in air. My legs felt like the bones had melted inside them, but I refused to sink even further into the earth. I attempted to swallow, but my throat was too dry, reminding me again of how hungry I was. The empty pain filling my gut had spread to the rest of my body, and I flexed my muscles at the sensation.

“May I please have a drink now?”

She regarded me steadily. “You may.”

I looked up at her hopefully. I expected her to walk away to retrieve a blood bag, the only thing I was given since turning into a vampire, but instead she nodded her head toward the darkness. I followed her gaze. Shadows hiding inside stepped forward.

Two vampires each held the hand of a small child with short dark hair. He had big brown eyes and thin lips with an upturned nose. He couldn’t have been more than eight years old.

My stomach lurched at the sight of him, in a good way. I glanced back at Samira, panicked. “What is this?”

“You said you were thirsty. Drink.”

“From a child?” I cried, appalled.

I looked back at him. There was no fear in his eyes, only a blank expression, and I suspected he had been compelled, a power I was still learning. As the boy drew closer, the smell of his perfect and pure blood reached my senses, and my whole body began to tingle with anticipation. Children were the worst to be around. Their blood had yet to become polluted by fats and sodium. I’d heard young blood was like drinking whole milk compared to skim. By the difference in the sweet smell, I’d say the comparison was accurate.

My nails dug into the earth. “Get him away from me.”

“Is that what you really want, Aris?” Samira asked. “Look at that child’s vein. Do you not see how it pulses for you?”

My head snapped back to the boy, my gaze focusing on his neck. I crawled over to him slowly, unable to stop myself. His scent was intoxicating and grew stronger until I could practically taste it on the back of my tongue.

I stared at that vein pulsing strongly, wondering what it would feel like to sink my teeth into his pink flesh. My fangs grew in my mouth at the thought. I moved closer, my breathing quickening. My hands came up and grabbed his arms, more for support than anything else. The pain in my stomach had reached a whole new level. I would welcome a blade to my gut over this sharp sensation.

My face inched toward him until my fangs grazed his skin. He jumped and yelped at the same time. I flinched, and for the first time, gazed into his dark eyes. The image reflecting in the glossy surface was enough to make me forget my hunger. I hissed and leaped backward. "Get him away from me!”

I lowered my head to the ground concentrating hard on ignoring his scent that hung stubbornly in the air.

“Arrrghh!” I yelled and pounded the earth. I was angered by how close I had come to tasting him. Had I not seen my true self in his gaze, my predatory eyes and extended fangs, I feared at what might have happened.

It was at that moment I had finally realized the truth—I had become a monster.