Raven walked the cell perimeter one more time. He touched the cold steel bars and then clenched his fists around them. He could feel his own rage roaring throughout his body, and almost through the metal itself.
He inhaled trying to slow his heartbeat down and mumbled some spells in any language he knew. Nothing happened.
He imagined again having his wand in his hand. It was going to be a bloodbath. He was going to take his sweet time with whomever had put him there. At least a dozen of different excruciatingly-painful torture spells came to his mind. It was a marvelous way to keep all his senses alerted.
He looked again at the young woman sharing that unsettling place. Undoubtedly pretty, for everybody’s standard. She had quite a peculiar facial traits, even for someone who had crossed paths with thousands of aesthetically perfect beings.
“Excuse me, M’Lady, what’s your name again?”. Formalities, kindless, courtesy. The last things Raven felt he needed. “Do you know any spell, any magic that could get us out of here?”
He stared at her again. A long, soft, evocative stare, that caressed and embraced her whole body.
The Dhampir could almost feel her blood running through her veins, already dangerously inviting like the sweetest nectar.
At least, he thought, he was not going to starve.