The door opened, and a female walked in. Long blonde hair hung down her back, and she was small in height, too small, but as she dropped her dress to the floor, he found her pleasing to his eye. Without a word, she climbed onto the bed and lay on her back.
She didn’t look at him, and she couldn’t see the other being in the room even if she had stared directly at it.
He looked at the male, and it looked back, mockery in its eyes as always. “Feed yourself,” it instructed as it stepped back.
He was rougher than he should have been but not as brutal as he could have been. He held back, but he didn’t know why. Still the female cried. Still she struggled, and when he sliced across her chest on his release, she screamed.
When he was finished, he stood back and looked at the male. Slowly it began to open its robes. His eyes looked away as he had been taught, never being allowed to see what was under its robes.
“Turn her.”
Reaching over, he flipped the female onto her stomach and stepped back. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched it run its hand gently over her golden tangled locks before travelling slowly down her back, resting lightly on the curve of her hip. Black lines marked her back where it touched her, the female moving in discomfort as the pain started to penetrate her already exhausted body.
Two hands grabbed her waist, and her cry of surprise was loud as she turned her head and saw him standing to the side. She tried to look over her shoulder to see what held her, but there was nothing for her to see.
But she could feel it.
Fear and terror hung heavy in the room as it began. He took another step back, giving it more room to take what had been unknowingly, but freely, offered by her.
In time, her cries lessened, her fear swallowed whole by the one who moved over her.
When it was done, he looked down at the tangled bloody mess on the bed. She had not died easily. The scent of blood pricked his senses and made his desire stir once again.
“More,” it spoke.
With a nod, he opened the door and looked at the line of females outside the room.
Waiting.
Waiting for the honour of lying with him. Hoping to be the female he needed. Thinking thattheycould be the mother to his children. They were not worthy. None here would have the honour or privilege of bearing his offspring.
“That one,” it said behind him, and he looked over the tall female with the dark brown hair, the round face, the blue eyes.
She looked similar, but she wasn’ther.
The dark hair not black enough, the face too round, the eyes not deep enough in colour, but when he stepped back to allow the female to enter the room, he smiled slightly when he heard his Master’s whisper of desire. “Tiger.”
He closed the door and turned to face the female, who was staring at the bed in horror at the still warm corpse on top of it. “On your knees,” he instructed. “You willkneel for me, just asshewill kneel. You will scream asshewill scream, and you will beg even as shewillbeg.” His hand grasped a handful of the female’s hair in his fist, and he wrenched her head back painfully, her soft whimper making his hold tighten sharply. “You are not her, be glad that you are not, because she will not die easily like you will tonight. She will endure, and she will give me what I was promised.” He leaned closer to the female, his tongue licking the side of her face, tasting her fear. “Be glad that you are not her, you are not strong enough for what I plan to take from her, and I plan to take itall.” He thrust the female away from him, causing her to fall back with a cry. He looked down at the female who looked likeherbut was not, before he looked at his master. “Shall we begin?”
The cruel, twisted smile caused him to smile in return. It was going to be a good night.
Cord sat against the cave wall and stared out into the dawning light. He could see the white snow, he could see the starkness of the gorse bushes, and he could even see the white hare that bounded between the snow-covered rocks of the mountain. He could see it all. What he couldn’t do wasfeelthe snow that was falling, he couldn’t feel the sub-zero temperatures, and he couldn’t leave this shallow cave.
Cord was trapped. The presence, which Leonid referred to as the Darkness, kept them in. Turning his head from the outside, he looked over at the Vampyre.
“You look better,” he offered quietly.
“Do I?”
Cord gave a small smile at the Vampyre’s stoic expression. His hair was still loose and dishevelled, his cheeks had filled out more, his eyes were not as sunken in his face as they had been when Cord fell into this hole in the side of the mountain. However, his hand was still wrapped around his throat like a make-shift scarf of protection. “You do, you need more blood.”
“I have taken my fill from you, Castor.” Leonid’s steely eyes watched Cord constantly. “Your healing powers are remarkable but not infallible.”
Cord said nothing as he held the Vampyre’s stare. He saw no advantage in telling Leonid that the Mark had healed his injuries whilst he lay unconscious on the floor of a cave. Not even a decent cave, a shallow dent in the side of a mountain, with barely enough room to move. Cord was severely pissed off. He appreciated that he was healed, but he worried what his Mark may now look like, was it even still there? Of Velvore, he had felt nothing since the small tingle before he passed out the night Leonid dragged him into his hell with him.
Cord was not ungrateful. He knew he had succeeded in finding the Vampyre, he was a step closer to understanding the spell over the Court, and he was also closer to knowing what thatthingwas out there.
What he wasn’t any closer to was getting out of this hole. He was fairly certain an Akrhyn would walk past them both and never see them. He wasn’t entirely sure a Drakhyn would be the same. As he sat there, once again with his stare out at the white of the landscape around him, he tilted his head back and rested it against the wall.