AN: Hello, wonderful people! Another chapter, yay!

I am happy to say that I have mostly planned out the entire story now, so unless more crazy ideas war in my head, we are heading towards our last big rollercoaster dive. Yikes! Thanks again for the big support! <3

Also, I gotta confess. The closer I am to the end, the more nervous I get to post a chapter. I am NOT fishing for compliments. It's just another anxiety-driven hamster here.xx

Your Fearsome Hamster

He was roaming the streets of the town, adrift like a ship without anchor and without a safe harbour. Shoving the unaware donor further in the corner of the alley, he wiped disgusted the crimson liquid staining his lips. Not even the thrill of the chase for blood excited him any more, though he was still starving after the taxing effort it took to summon the snow storm. Having tasted his Margo, everything but her was foul now.

Zachary continued his march in the snow, the dark scowl on his face scaring away the villagers crossing his path.

Were Lazarus to see him, he would accuse the vampire of sulking. Zachary scoffed. Where was the bloody gargoyle anyway? After the wedding reception where he had scolded his winged friend for scaring his mate with his inappropriate behaviour, Lazarus had disappeared into thin air.

Zachary scoffed. And they said vampires were easily offended.

He could certainly use Lazarus's nose now to sniff out those cursed Dark Mages. Wherever they were hiding, it would not be for long. His fangs were itching with the need for revenge as he was certain they were the ones behind his and Margo's dispute. Although, were his beloved's tears this morning also because of them? Or because of his machinations to earn her love?

The vampire stomped viciously, a terrified passer-by yelping and scurrying away on the frozen street. Nevermind, he would kill the bloody spell-casters anyway. Perhaps, this would somehow alleviate the painful tugs of his heart.

Out of the blue, Zachary bowed over, his knees giving out and hitting the frozen ground. Agony erupted in his whole body.

"Sir?" someone called out in the distance.

What the fuck? A quick scan revealed no injuries to himself. Through his pain-addled mind, he remembered reading of this phenomenon long ago, even before his imprisonment; as a youngling he had been avid for any piece of information regarding fated mates while waiting for his. Rejecting the hands trying to help him up, Zachary pushed himself and speeded in the direction of his manor, following Margo's faint scent in the air, while his mind repeated the same piece of knowledge.

Mates of strong connections were able to sense each other's pain in grave danger.

Curse the gods. He would have taken dozens of daggers in the chest than this sinking reality.

Hold on, my love.

.........................

The scent trail followed a twisted path in the very forest he had taken care of to have guarded. The spells around the woodland were strong and were specifically weaved to take care of any under his protection. Especially his mate. Not for the first time he wondered how could Margo get lost inside it since the forest was always meant to show her a safe way back home.

Suddenly, his skin prickled with unease. The sound of rushing water was growing stronger as he neared the river bank. He noted warily that the comforting weight of the protective magic had vanished in this part of the forest.

A growl escaped him, sensing another foreign presence on his territory. A horse nickered in the distance. If any had dared hurt Margo...

Zachary stopped short.

Few were worse moments than seeing a pack of wolves circling one's mate's wounded horse with no sign of the rider in sight. Pure panic caught him into its toxic grips, while his claws curled and his fangs extended. Where was she?

The leader of the pack watched him warily, the other wolves quietly trying to circle him from behind. As if he had not sensed them already. It was time to remind them of the order in the food chain. He had no time for niceties, his mate was out there somewhere in danger.

He pounced hard on the closest animal, violently sinking his fangs into the jugular. Vile blood filled his mouth. The scent of the pack was disguised, but that taste could never be hidden. Dark magic.

To his surprise, the dead wolf transformed into a naked man. A pack of werewolves then. Blue eyes watched him angrily now that he had killed one of their own. Zachary hissed:

"Show yourselves, cowards. Tell me where my mate is. Or do you all want to face your death in your furs?" The alpha wolf charged towards him, slightly bemusing Zachary with its speed. It managed to sink its teeth into his arm, but it was not long till he sent it flying towards a oak tree. The werewolf whined loudly.

The other pack members snapped their jaws at him, not fazing him in the slightest. His arm injury had already healed by the time they all met their deaths one by one. It infuriated Zachary that none told him of his Margo. All they had managed was to delay him. And he was not a patient vampire.

Before him, the wounded alpha wolf released a mournful howl for its fallen comrades but did not turn into its human form. Analysing, Zachary realised it was a she-wolf. She continued to gaze at him calculatingly until the broken voice of a dying werewolf caught his attention.

Maybe this one would shed some light. Willingly or otherwise.

"Your mate," the man whispered, a smirk playing at his lips. "She never had a c-chance. Death was the s-sole salvation," the werewolf spit on his boots "for being your mate."

"Where is she?" Zachary could feel himself giving into the darkness, claws already embedded in the man's chest. Not quite stabbing his heart, but enough to create unimaginable pain for his victim.

The man laughed. "Already dead, bloodsucker." Before he could do anything, the werewolf morphed his hand into claws and stabbed himself in the throat. Shaken, Zachary rose up unsteadily on his feet.

Clutching his hair, he soon collapsed again. It could not be possible. Not his Margo.

Zachary howled to the sky.

What little of his heart remained throughout the centuries, it was with Margo now. His crazed eyes hunted for any glimpse of her. No, he refused to lose her now that he had just found her. The loss of her was incomprehensible.

Around him, mauled bodies of the deceased werewolves littered the ground, their blood staining the pristine snow. Where was that damn she-wolf? Perhaps he could discover the actual truth from her. He refused to believe what the other told him.

Suddenly, a flash of purple caught his gaze amid the infernal whiteness. He ran along the bank of the river watching an odd piece of material get drifted by the current.

It resembled his Margo's shawl.

He acted on impulse, jumping into the freezing cold water. If the temperature drop was a shock even to his own body, the vampire refused to dwell on what his mate was going though. Ducking underwater, he glided though the blocks of ice and heavy branches, desperately searching for a glimpse of Margo.

Then he saw her. Floating near the bottom, like a beautiful water sprite with eyes closed shut, an almost smile upon her lips and chocolate locks flowing to form a crown around her head. Only a hand ever reaching towards the water surface in a desperate plea deemed her as mortal. Kicking his legs harder, the vampire swam towards her, shoving any branches blocking his way. He would not let death claim her for one of its own. They belonged together, him and her.

Reaching her at last, his hand grasped hers. You are safe now, little one. One strong arm encircled her waist and with powerful strokes against the current pulling them under, he resurfaced. On a whim, he also grabbed her purple shawl before bringing them to dry land.

Zachary laid her form gently on the snow. With rough moves, he ripped her corset open, laid his palm on her upper body and sealed his mouth to hers, breathing deeply. Led by instinct, he followed it by chest compressions, being mindful of his force.

Again and again, he repeated the procedure.

Still, Margo showed no sign of coming back. Her plump lips were turning blue and his breaths of life into her were fruitless. She remained unmoving as a frozen statue upon the cold ground, unaware of the pain she had left behind. The harsh wind seemed to sigh a mourning lament into the air for them.

"My love, do not abandon me. There is no me without you," he murmured brokenly, heaving her up into his arms desperately. "I apologise for everything I have done." His horrid actions had pushed her away. A drop of salty water fell on her nose, followed by several others.

Around them, snowflakes began falling softly from the sky, landing on her porcelain skin. 

His prophesy was real. To be cursed without a mate, he had defied destiny by finding his. And now the cruel fates took her away from him after a fleeting blink of knowing her.

A pure soul like hers did not deserve to be chained to him anyhow. He cupped her pale cheeks. Pressed their foreheads together – hers cold, his still stained by the blood of his enemies. Laying his lips on hers for the last time, he tasted his own tears and said his goodbye. His dear, dear Margo. He would soon follow her into the great unknown. Unfortunately, not even there would they find each other. Her heaven had no place for irredeemable souls like his. "You are free now, my sweet love."

An image of him, cold and bitter as a winter night without stars, growing more hallow as his eternity dragged before him chilled his very bones. To be without her as the world carried on would be a never-healing wound, always opened by the ghost of her. Still holding her fine-boned hand, he made his decision. Her family would be taken care of – his immense fortune would see to it.

Rough coughs stopped him then from reaching towards the knife he had grabbed from the Dark Mages. It could not be...

With the speed of thought, his arms wrapped tightly around the shaking form of his mate, lifting her from her feet while raining kisses on the top of her head. Margo was alive! Something wet ran down his cheeks, but he refused to acknowledge it.

"Z-Zachary, I a-apologise," she stuttered, the voice muffled because of the embrace he refused to end. Coming down from his high, he realised tremors wrecked through her body – the danger had not yet passed.

"Let's get you home, Margo."

...........................

After ordering a warm bath to be prepared for his wife in their chambers, Zachary had not let the woman in his arms out of sight. He had taken his time removing her wet clothes, then bundled her up in a soft blanket and currently sat with her on his lap near the fireplace. Her hands were between his being constantly massaged while his thighs were on either side of her, providing the warmth of his body. Contrary to popular belief among the supernaturals, vampires were warm.

She is safe, he kept telling himself.

The steady rise and fall motion of her chest, pressed so closely to his own he could feel it, comforted him. The past event had left its mark on him for certain. He found himself constantly reaching out to touch her –be it arm, neck, cheeks, nose, even those adorable ears– even more often than before. Thank the gods the bleeding scars she had on her temple and leg had already healed thanks to the blood he rubbed on their way back to the manor; otherwise the sight of those would provoke even more of his mania. Already, his sanity was hanging by a thread. It would take a long time, if ever, until the trauma of seeing her lay lifeless on the snow would cease tormenting him so.

He had even panicked when she had fallen asleep exhausted moments ago, and had vigorously shaken her shoulder, earning himself a drowsy glare. Margo had told him he had been ridiculous for that. He still denied it.

Now, the steaming bath had finally arrived in the room – his poor servants had to close their eyes while they delivered the huge tub, his protective instincts not permitting them to gaze upon the creature in his arms. He could feel that Margo was too tired to argue with him on that.

Zachary stood up and neared the bath tub with his mate in his arms.

"Zachary, I am a-alright now, I am able to stand on my own."

He ignored her request to be let down and put her himself in the warm water, blanket and all. She giggled wearily, slightly clumsy on her feet. "Now you got this wet." With sure fingers, he surprised her by pushing the material off of her and throwing it carelessly in a corner.

Margo now stood naked before his eyes. Even exhausted how she was, she still blushed and covered her breasts modestly, swiftly emerging herself in the water. Her rosy nipples still peaked slightly though. Her pulse picked up.

"Stop looking so, please," she whispered, averting her gaze while he crouched near the tub.

"I cannot," he rasped. "I beg you not to ask that of me. Margo, Margo, you had almost d-died," he choked on the last word. "In fact you did for a few infinitely long moments, your heart had stopped beating." He boldly pressed his open palm on her bare chest, feeling the soft beats reverberating though his soul.

More water lapped at his shirt sleeves as he shakingly traced patterns on her now pebbled skin. "Please do not ask me to stop gazing upon you; for every look into your lively eyes, every breath you share, every heartbeat I hear when I am near you; everything heals the bleeding wound in my heart, left when I held you in my arms at death's door."

The vampire closed his eyes, exhaling when the painfully raw memory was relived in his mind. A soft touch caressed the tears away from his cheeks, tears he had not even realised he was shedding.

"I am yours, Zachary," Margo's face leaned into his own, her tender whisper washing over his face.

Before he had a chance to react, she eliminated the distance between them and kissed him. Her lips moved slowly over his and he too, once he overcame his shock, let his mouth lead gently and confess what his heart was feeling. He had been hers from the beginning of time. It was not a kiss borne of lust and need, but one coming from deep within their souls. Souls that recognised each other.

Before he could be overwhelmed by his instincts, Margo ended their caress. She kissed his wet cheeks, her tenderness washing away the horror of the night. With an affectionate smile, she tugged at his hand and welcomed him into the bathtub where they both held each other in a peaceful embrace for a long time.