Mated to a Monster

r way through the underbrush, her boots crunching on the fallen leaves and twigs that littered the ground. The cold night air bit at her exposed skin, but she ignored the discomfort, too focu

, and his expression darkened. "You're a photographer?" She nodded cautiously. "Freelance. I'm here on assignment." The man's jaw tightened, and for a moment, Cassandra thought he might tell her to leave, but instead, he simply stared at her, as if trying to decipher something. "Do you know what this place is?" he asked, his tone softer now, almost contemplative. Cassandra hesitated. "I've heard the stories." "Stories," he echoed, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "They don't even scratch the surface of what really happens here." Cassandra felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold night air. "And what does happen here?" The man took another step closer, his presence dominating the space between them. "Things you're better off not knowing," he said, his voice low and dangerous. Cassandra held her ground, refusing to back down. "Maybe I'm not better off," she challenged. "Maybe I'm exactly where I need to be." His eyes bore into hers, a silent battle of wills playing out between them. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he let out a long, slow breath. "You're stubborn," he said, almost to himself. "So I've been told," Cassandra replied, crossing her arms over her chest. The man shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're going to get yourself killed." "Not if I can help it." He raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly do you plan to help it?" Cassandra shrugged, the movement casual despite the tension in her body. "I'm a survivor. I've been through worse." The man studied her for a long moment, then nodded as if coming to a decision. "Fine," he said. "But don't say I didn't warn you." Before Cassandra could respond, he turned and began walking away, his long strides quickly taking him back into the shadows. She watched him go, a strange mix of relief and disappointment swirling in her chest. She had more questions now than she'd started with, and she wasn't sure if she'd ever get the answers. As the man's figure disappeared into the darkness, Cassandra let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She glanced back at the manor, its dark silhouette still looming ominously in the distance. She was more determined than ever to uncover its secrets, no matter the cost. With a final glance at the spot where the man had stood, Cassandra turned and made her way back to the trail that led to the town. The night was still, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind, and the only sound was the steady crunch of her boots against the earth. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched, but when she looked back over her shoulder, there was nothing there. Only the shadows, and the faint outline of Bloodmoon Manor against the night sky. --- The next day, Cassandra found herself back at the small café in Black Hollow, nursing a cup of coffee as she re