Her Blood

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑷𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕:

𝑆𝑜𝑓𝑡𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑒 - 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑁𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑟ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑑

𝑁𝑒𝑔𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑡 - 𝐴𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑘

𝑀𝑜𝑛𝑜𝑙𝑖𝑡ℎ - 𝑇𝑤𝑖𝑛 𝑇𝑟𝑖𝑏𝑒𝑠

𝐹𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒/𝐿𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑆𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 - 𝑀𝑖𝑡𝑠𝑘𝑖

***

CHAPTER 1

DINNER TIME

      Zeno stood rigid, his breathing erratic, every exhale coming out trembling. It was hard to focus on the clutter around – it all blended together and faded into the background as he stared at his hands. Those thick, strong weapons that could hit and rip and strangle, now hung there, covered in bubbly foam and gripping a wet cleaning sponge. The man tried hard to keep his mind from wandering off to that sweet, calling scent of blood that seemed to fill the entire kitchen. Nobody taught him patience – when Zeno sensed blood, he took it, and he drank it. But at that moment, he felt obligated to keep his fangs in check and face her presence with a steadfast restraint.       “Sweet Jesus, Azrielle, I am an otherworldly creature!” His booming baritone came out hoarse.“I was born to rule, not to… not to wash the goddamn dishes!”       It was unfair. The mere thought of disrespecting the vampire blood and lowering himself to the role of some miserable servant was atrocious to Zeno. And yes, he considered it a mighty high price to have a fill of her precious blood. In fact, he could’ve just grabbed her by the back of her neck, tug towards him, and take what he craved without a care in the world… Except that he couldn’t. She was special. Too special to become just another one of his victims, drained down and rotting somewhere beneath the cold, unforgiving earth.       Zeno snapped out of his musings when he felt Azrielle’s hand descend onto his broad shoulder. Her touch was always gentle, as if the presence of a monster in her house didn’t bother her in the slightest.       “I know, kitty.” Her voice sounded so composed, as if mocking the vampire’s restlessness. He never understood that nickname she gave him – what in the world could be similar between him and a weak, mewling animal? – but that was the last thing on his mind right now. Azrielle shifted closer to him, murmuring,“You know I’m not trying to diminish your glory. You signed up for it yourself, didn’t you?”       “Yeah, I suppose I did,” Zeno grumbled like a naughty child, shifting from one foot to another. “But I thought that I deserved to be handling more… serious issues in your dwelling rather than scrubbing dirty plates and playing a househusband.” His voice was dripping with hurt and disdain.       “Serious issues? Like what?” She cocked her head like a confused bird.       “Like protecting your precious property from evil mortals.” The vampire hissed, puffing out his chest. “Don’t you think I look like a proper guard dog?”       The woman just giggled, handing him another dirty utensil to clean.“You do, but I think that’s more of a passive job. You can just sit here, do nothing, and still, nobody would dare disturb my peace.”       The vampire scoffed. That was new of her, admitting so casually that he was, in fact, scary to be around. He almost started thinking she only saw him as a blood-dependent parasite who held no power.       “Oh? So now you consider me a scarecrow?” He snatched the dirty spoon from her hands, bathing it in the soapy water and scrubbing hard. Zeno wasn’t bitching because he found the housework hard or irritating – it was just making him more pliable and… domesticated. And, considering that this lovely lady and her sweet haven were just temporary fruits in this cruel world, the man couldn’t let himself become too comfortable. He couldn’t let himself forget his true nature.       And that nature was already irritating his fangs.       “Oh, stop it,” Azrielle’s voice became more subdued. Zeno knew for sure he was starting to bore her with his idle chattering and complaining.“You’re not a scarecrow. You’re just a… strong creature that can keep all the harm at bay, and I’m grateful to you for that. Aren’t I?” She looked at him expectantly, searching his face for reassurance that her gratitude was enough.       Oh, but it was enough. More than enough, maybe. Her blood tasted like something unusually sweet and spicy – like nothing he had ever tried before. Every drop that fell on the vampire’s tongue felt holy, as if he were stranded in the desert, gulping down water for the first time in centuries. Oh, how easy it was to forget himself in the pursuit of satiation, to lose count of time, swallowing each generous portion of her nectar and filling his belly to the brim. And oh, how dangerous it was to drain her body, when with each greedy sip her spark of life threatened to be extinguished forever. But Zeno always made sure to be careful, though when he failed, the inexplicable feeling of guilt began to suffocate him, dragging him down into the dark place in his heart he had never known existed before.       “Course you’re grateful, you foolish girl”, Zeno scoffed, still battling with the last plates floating in the sink.“You give me your blood, you let me sleep in your majestically soft bed, and you’re always prancing around being so fuckin’ cute I start questioning whether I might be…” Human, after all – that’s what he wanted to say. But that would sound way too emotional for someone as cruel as him. So, he just shrugged, letting the phrase stay unfinished and up to her imagination. Not that Azrielle was that interested in his existential thoughts, anyway.       Babbling helped the vampire suppress his hunger for a while, but when the dishes were crystal clean and drier than old bones left in the sun, the only thought simmering in his head was that of sinking his teeth into her soft flesh.       “Need a snack?” he mused, snatching the first towel he could find and drying his hands.“You always pass out when losing blood on an empty stomach…” That sounded way too caring, and he quickly added, sounding even more like an idiot,“I mean, not that I care ‘bout that. Just… Your fuckin’ blood tastes better when you’re not starving.”       Azrielle couldn’t suppress a chuckle at Zeno’s words, as if she could see right through him. No matter how much he tried to appear cold-blooded, the safe environment around him made the vampire’s heart way too warm for his liking.       “I’ve already had a snack. You know I never skip munching on something before my dinner,” she replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Zeno saw it – that slight tremble in her fingers, the way her body tensed just shy of being apparent. Azrielle was still getting used to the whole process of being a vessel for his satiation, and the way she always braced herself for the inevitable made his stomach queasy for some reason.       But then again, it was a consensual agreement, wasn’t it…? That thought sobered him up; his bloodthirst once again overriding any remaining emotions. Zeno was already treating her with too much care and humanity, even though the concepts weren’t that familiar to him – so why did she keep acting like a goddamn cornered animal every time it came to his calls of nature?       The vampire stepped closer, placing a firm hand on the back of her neck. She was even more tense than he thought – every muscle inside was weeping from the intense pressure. That unnerved him. And Azrielle knew damn well that irritation mixed with hunger was not the cocktail he could digest.       “I thought we were past this,” he whispered ominously.       “Past what…?” She whispered back, almost like a mouse would squeak when trapped.       “Past your fuckin’ cowardice.” Zeno pressed, fingers curling around the nape of her neck. That was ironic of him, in a way – accusing a woman of being scared when all that he did was scare her further.“You said I wasn’t a monster in your eyes, didn’t you? Then why the fuck do you keep acting like this is about me hurtin’ you?”       Azrielle’s body stood there, frozen. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. That stupor of hers was really testing his patience, and it was already on the brink of snapping like an old rope.       He shook her slightly, as if trying to elicit some sort of reaction from her.“Azrielle, can you relax for once?” Zeno tried again, softer this time.“It’s the way my body functions, we already talked ‘bout that. I’ll just take a bit of your blood, that’s it. I have no desire to… revel in your pain, or whatever you think this is.”       Finally, this terrified doe decided to answer, her voice breaking like fragile china,“No, no… I just… I can’t help it, Zeno. I can’t help the way my body reacts.” Her breathing hitched almost every other word, and it seemed like panic was getting to her faster than usual.       “Can’t help it, huh?” The man sneered.       “Y-yes!” Azrielle finally sobbed, barely able to form a coherent thought. Well, kudos to her for trying. “I never meant to give you the impression that I judge your natural reactions… But… But maybe you could try to do the same for me, you know. I’m trying my best not to freak out.”       The longer this conversation continued, the worse Zeno felt. Not that her words weren’t making sense – they were, and it only made him more irritated. He wasn’t in the mood for reflecting on human biology and their fragile stress levels. That’s why he finally let himself think “Fuck it” and scoop her body up in his arms.       “I think it’s already past my dinner time, baby.”

***

      “… Tomorrow is promising to be a sunny day, with little to no clouds and a twenty percent chance of rain… average temperature levels are going to rise to approximately… expect clear skies and…”       The weather report currently unfolding on the TV screen was muffled by a bunch of disturbing noises to an unprepared ear. Soft, gentle flicks of wet muscle were accompanied by weak, strangled moans, which sounded like choking on liquid. The living room was dark, save for occasional flickers of the television that surrounded the busy couch. Every few seconds of stillness were interrupted by rapid shuffling on the cushions, which seemed to weaken at times, only to intensify later. It smelled no less frightening inside – a sharp odor of blood, flesh, and fear, all combined into a dangerous, intoxicating aphrodisiac.       “Breathe.”       The poor girl tried to inhale, but her lungs didn’t seem to obey. Her body was sprawled on the soft upholstery, trembling from cold and a strong, instinctual sense of impending doom. The bleeding wound on her delicate, pale neck felt too deep, too unbearable, and whether it was placebo or not – she didn’t know anymore – it felt like her throat was flooding with crimson liquid. The way her lungs rasped with each attempt to breathe only heightened that illusion, making Azrielle spiral even further.       “I said breathe.”       She wasn’t sure if that phrase was a part of her distorted consciousness or Zeno’s order anymore. It didn’t seem like the latter – the gulping continued echoing through the room, a sound of pure greed and insatiability. Her vision started to blur at the edges, like a sickening vignette on an old Polaroid photograph. Azrielle wasn’t sure she was under any control of her body anymore, lost in a vortex of overwhelming sensation.       “Ah, fuck! Breathe, goddamn it!”       Zeno finally came to his senses, and it took tremendous force to rip his aching fangs from her calling flesh. The only thing that kept him tethered to the ground in the moments of his monstrosity was a habit he had only picked up recently – breathing control. He checked in on her every few minutes, as if that made the whole ordeal any less gruesome; when her chest stilled completely, the vampire forced himself to stop and bring his paralyzed bird back to consciousness.       “Hey, hey, baby, breathe with me,” the man stared at her with a frenzied gaze, his mouth and jaw stained with crimson,“Azrielle, you hear me? Azrielle!”       The situation was already dire, but his mind decided to torture him with that familiar, nauseating mix of unwanted emotions.       Hunger, because that lustful nature inside could never be fully satisfied.       Panic that surged up from staring at her barely conscious body, fighting to stay sane.       And that sharp, probing guilt, sawing his soul and making Zeno question his entire existence.       He was never given a choice to become someone else rather than such a vile, dependent animal. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know how to take with gratitude – he only knew how to rip off and run away. That was in his blood, in his genes, in his entire fucking being. But now, hovering over another vessel – no, another living human – Zeno wanted to disappear. To hide in the dark corner, curl up in a ball, and weep for forgiveness that would never come.       Bites turned into desperate kisses, his lips pressing against her bruised skin as if trying to heal it somehow.       “You make me hate myself…” He choked out against Azrielle’s neck, fingers curling and uncurling around her pale wrists. Those powerless moans and whimpers of hers morphed into a sickening orchestra of suffering, grating on his ears and fraying the edges of his sanity.“You make me hate myself, you stupid girl!”       If Zeno knew how to cry, he would be wailing like an animal now. The closest sound to that was a strange, distorted croak that cut into his every word.       “Stop looking so damn pathetic!” He shouted, body trembling against another.“You’re supposed to scream! To rage, to fight against me! Scream! Rage! Fight!”       The man started losing it after her face shifted unnaturally, a macabre caricature of that lovely expression he had grown used to. Ears filled with a deafening noise, and he clamped his sweaty palms over them, his eyelids shutting so tight that Zeno started seeing colorful patterns.       “I’m sorry…”       What power did that word even hold? Just a hollow cry that barely penetrated the air.       “I’m sorry—”       The room started to spin before his eyes, his nostrils clogging with a putrid scent of decay.       “I’M SORRY!”       But there was no one to hear his screams.       No one to tell him how to handle this.       No one to explain why his bloodlust suddenly felt so wrong and foreign that all he craved was to purge every drop of her blood out of his body.       Zeno was a prisoner of his own carnal needs, an addict to the sweet narcotics that demanded his constant love. And the more he squeezed the fragile heart splayed beneath him, the stronger he pumped that delicious nectar out of it, the nearer he drifted to his own undoing.       “Wake up, supergirl. Come back to me before I fall with you.”

END OF CHAPTER 1