Until we fall: A vampire Au
All around him, they moved, played, danced. He could see them, watched as their bodies turned, folds of fabric, lace and satin brushed over the gleaming floors that stood, flashing, glittering under the low lights of flame and high strung lights that bore on them overhead. They played against his skin, feelings and memories of motion that slid over him like iridescent fingers, pale soft light. He knew from experience that he would never be able to escape it no matter if he chose to play the rebel to his father’s ball, the rowdy prince who could not be bothered to accept a dance from even the prettiest of vampire woman, or if he played the complete prince, the picture perfect example of just what he should be, just what a prince, a man of his stature should portray. Either way ended in the same way, ended with looks cast his way and low mummers under breath, be it rumors of his supposed heart, captured by the vivid blue of a lady of the night or scorn for the cold shoulder he bore like a mantle about his shoulders.
Truthfully, it didn’t matter what he chose… It never did. No matter what he chose he knew that he would not be able to leave, that he would stay, despite all of his minds clamoring and pleading and despite the itch under his skin to find the nearest exit, Carson would not leave until the fire of every single light wilted and dimmed and cast the ballroom back into darkness. All it would take would be a look from the man who had turned him, one look from him to root the Vampire King in his place.
Carson didn’t fear his father. Oh, He was a man to be feared, that was for sure. His Father was ruthless, cunning, showed no mercy to his enemies and held soft spots only for those of his own blood and those who had known him long before he had come to be known as the Lord King. He was a hard man to get to known, all sharp edges and jagged wires stopping those who would wish to harm him from coming too close. He could cut you with a single glance, chips of ice hardened from years of betrayals to match the scars his body bared, but there had never, not once, been a moment when he had turned those glassy dead eyes toward his sons. He had been stern, harsh at times when he trained them but his father had been nothing but silent support in all his years of training. Carson could say that he looked up to his father, and that was why a single glance of disappointment could rip through him harsher and more ravenous then the worst of lectures could do.
And so the band played on, and he was still here, the wall flower in all its glorious splendor, blooming along the edges of the castle walls to add that dark splash of color along its painted walls. The wall flower would never move of its own justification, and so, neither would he. Until he proved himself, he would be forever a pawn to his father’s rule.
Which was what made tonight so special.
He could feel it, a subtle shift in the air as one couple passed by him, The scent of their over fragranced bodies twirling to mingle with the scent of fresh blood that poured smoothly, silently from the necks of those humans still suspended against the wall. His gaze shifted, from the cup in his hand where the dark red clung to the sides in patterns that almost formed the silent screams that were written over the faces of the sill just yet alive humans, their eyes hazing and dimming as they watched his king move to delicately pick up a flute of the life wine they so craved. There was a hum, a low sizzle of energy that had yet to reach the surface of the masses but was growing, the flames edging higher, higher, higher… until he could see it written over the faces of those most familiar to him, the faces of his blood brothers, and the masses that surrounded them.
It was almost time. Even with no prior knowledge of the events about to unfold, the people in the ballroom could feel the shift in the energy that surrounded those who would wear the crown. Carson moved, his body responding to the call of need that rose in his throat as bile, for this was it, the moment he would prove to all those who would whisper his name under candied tongues and falsely flashing eyes about his incompetency, how he was too soft, to kind, too gentle to be a true king…. This was to be his moment when he finally proved there would be no room in his court of those with far too much kindness bubbling in their hearts.
Carson watched his father move, a vision of ease even as the room’s loud rumble of laughter and song dulled into whispers of sinister intent, his smile clean, precise and not an ounce of the friendly nature he knew laid behind that gaze. He spotted his mother, turned away from the masses and directly facing his father, a small movement from her enough to entice his father to reach a hand out to her, tan fingers curling around her smaller lighter ones to entwine them with his. He rose her hand to his mouth, lips brushing over her skin as he invested his whole attention into her, the room silent as they watched the King recognize his Queen. If anyone had something to say about it, the words were not found as Soven pulled her to his side, his hands never leaving her skin, even as he turned to finally address the hush fallen crowd.
“Welcome! Welcome, my precious friends, dear comrades, I welcome you, to the celebration ball. I know, that many of you hold grievances toward me for the blatant short notice of the ball, but it seems that no harm was done… not many of you could resist a good party, now could you?
His voice was dark velvet in the night, a rumbling purr that made shivers run down Carson’s spine. His father looked around, a clear disgust flashing in his eyes as he turned his ice blue eyes toward the masses that had gathered despite the protests of it being to sudden and the complaints of inconsiderate timing.
“But I assure you, this is one party, you will be glad you attended… for those of our community still resting their heads at home, they will miss out on what might possibly be one of the greatest entertainments, this era has yet to see… Bring them out…”
The last words a snap, an order to be obeyed, and the doors on the far end of the ballroom swung open with a soft and almost silent creak. They moved as one, ropes binding their hands and arms to their back, and even from here, Carson could see the painted red across their flesh, the bruises and wounds that spoke of a fight they had not long since lost. The taller one, her brunette hair tumbling down her back, walked with a sort of desperate limp as her body struggle to keep herself upright, her body trembling and falling into her captors hands more than once as she attempted to make the walk from the door to the center of the room on her own, all pride and dignity stripped away as she let out a muffed call of despair. The other was in no better shape, her pale skin covered in a network of bruises and pretty patterns of slashed flesh. Her ink black hair tumbled over her shoulders, obscuring her face from his sharp vision and she moved slowly, jerkily, as if something inside of her was dislodged and pushed into the soft tissue of her organs. She was drawing shallow breaths as she was forced to walk, blood spilling from her lips, her nose, her arms…
She was the most stunning creature he had ever seen.
Carson couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Not for a moment, an instant. It was a marvel, really, at how desperate a man could become in a moment’s notice.
“I would like to introduce, The leaders of the Rebellion, from right here in Heaven’s Falls, USA. We weren’t able to capture them all…. But the leaders…. They decided to drop in for a little bit of entertainment…. Which My son and Nephew have happily offered to lend them a helping hand….”
Carson moved, finally stepping from the masses of people to step into the little walk way of the clearing they had created, leading up to the center of the room where the girls now kneeled. He sighed, breathing in deeply as he ran a hand over his slicked back hair and straightened his suit jacket.
“The black haired one… She’s mine Abram…”
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How had everything gone so wrong?
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
Day, she could recall, days where she had spent countless hours pouring herself over the plans for the riot and the battle plan that she had her sister had settled into place. It wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a simple supply restock. The riot was meant to distract, to pull the vampires toward the source of the violent out break and to take their eyes off the little pharmacies and stores just at the edges of the town. All they had needed was some medicine, some medical supplies and possible a little bit of information, but that was supposed to be the end of it.
The plan had been perfect. At precisely 12:22, she, from her parks stake out station just next to the stores, the police radio in her car sounding off to give a Perfect description of Her friends, the ones place in charge of exposing the riot and fueling the embers of a slowly growing fire, one that, even without the hand of the rebellion, Ashlin was sure would grow into a burning wildfire. At 12: 30, she had stepped out of the car to meet with her Sister, stepped out to see the bright pink of a metal baseball back swing into the air, a low ‘pop’ from her darker sister’s gum more than enough to warn abbot her presence. Ashlin herself simply pulled out the handgun she had strapped to her back loops, a simply caution, not one she had felt she really needed. It was just a simple withdrawal.
She had been wrong.
Ashlin’s mind raced, throbbed with pain that exploded like fireworks behind covered lids, every resounding significant beat of her hear sending yet another fresh wave of pain straight to her temples. Her whole-body trembled, shook with the effort of trying to carry herself on bruised and surly twisted ankles, unable to see the darkening bruise, but she could surely feel them as they screamed their presence with every step she took. Every throb was another desperate scream she swallowed, thick and heavy and bitter as a pill, until finally she felt the jerk, the sudden snap of her body being pulled to a forced stop as fingers that circles her upper arms tightened and pushed, pulled and manipulated her to where they wanted her to go. They pushed down, making her already weak knees buckle, the relief she felt as he legs slammed against the ground and she finally took the weight off of her hurt legs was something of a catch 22.
The pain was only a reminder, an echo, a hint of the pain that had made its way into her veins, visions of it burned along her skin and flash and soul, something she knew she knew she would never forget. It was nowhere near as bright and vivid as it had been in the moments that she had opened the door, only to see an ambush, siting, waiting, who had spared them no mercies as they launched into their attack. They had fought back, of course, and tried to escape and make it out as valiantly as they could, but there had been fore, fire and screams and pain that wove their chains around her neck and squeezed, dragging her back, pulling her into bright white light before all she could see was the darkness of their souls, the hole where their hearts used to be, the blood that was tainted back.
It wasn’t until she was thrown, carelessly, the laughter and mocking jeers of some vampire waking her from her pain induced come, that she felt her heart start to pound, the panic settling in around her. Her hope that her sister, her stronger, more athletic, far more suited for fighting then she was sister, had gotten away was bright, until she could hear her, hear her muffled cries and her feet slamming against the doors to make them give, a futile effort, and all that hope turned to a black sludge that sank into her gut.
She had wondered where they would take her…. If they would simply just kill her when they reached the ostentatious castle the Lord King of all that went bump in the night called his home, or would it be public, a spectacle, the thing to see on this particular Friday night, that her death would be met with popped soda cans and popcorn was a thought that made what little pride she held shrivel and die. They would not give her a funeral, this she knew, and they would not give her time chance at last words, especially now, not here, not in this place….
She could not see, but Ashlin was no fool. She had heard his voice, time and time again as he addressed the people of the nation, the world, Soven Dhouti, King of the vampires. If she was here before him, her chance of making it ot alive had dropped, shattered like the so many hopes she had for her race.
She didn’t hear him after that, tuned him out as she closed her eyes, even behind the blindfold, and rested against screaming knees to will her boy to stop trembling. God, she wished she could reach out and graze of requiem’s hand, that she could touch her, draw from the bottomless pit of strength and determination her sister had, but rope and chains biting into flesh was a hindrance she could not break, and so she settled for listening, hearing her sister’s breath, little short pants of pain.
Footsteps came closer, and that breathing hitch, turned into a muffled scream as the sound of gritting teeth and hair bunching together filled the silence that had surrounded them. She could feel it, another one so closer to her that the body heart from him was almost scorching, a strange though as she had always believed vampires to be frigid like winter, no hearts to beat the blood they needed in their veins.
“I will unblindfold you….” This voice…. It was new, sudden, one she had never heard before. It didn’t come from the one near her, but instead from a foot away, the sound of shifting fabric accompanying it.
“I want to see your eyes…”
The voice was so soft… Almost affectionate, but she could hear Requiem’s muffled screams as something slid along the floor, movement making her head turn, though she could not see it, and a muffle yell rip from her bound lips.
“Let the world see you for who you are…”
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He was shaking. Unadulterated panic fueling that fire that was sparking in his gut. The room was stark quiet, the audience waiting in awe for what the Kings Son and Nephew would do. Their eyes were on his back, burrowing holes into the clothes and straight through his chest, though he knew logically that the same thing was happening to Carson, but he felt alone in his panicked world. Nerves weren’t supposed to get to him. No to a Lee. Not to one of the Kings sons. But here he stood, his eyes on the brunette that kneeled in front of him. And he could hear the blood rushing through his veins, the roar behind his ears causing the room to sound like there was an uproar about to happen. His heart beat so wildly against his chest he felt as if his sternum might snap. He watched every movement with precision, watched as the girl’s chest rose and fell with each breath. Watched her even as she snapped her attention to the girls beside her, watched those thin fingers clench and unclench behind her back. There was something about even the tiniest motions she made that made it hard to pull his eyes away from her.
His movements were slow, calculated in their attempts to cover certain motions. His body crouching over to catch himself on the balls of his feet, elbows catching onto his thighs as his blue eyes moved over the small girl. It shouldn’t be taking this long for him to buck up he knew that, he knew what he had to do.
Carson’s words sparked some sort of interest in the gathering crowd, their attention shifting to his cousin. But his own attention did not shift, instead he took the open opportunity, his fingers moving up to catch the girls chin, his thumb running over her bottom lip as he leaned forward, enough to feel her breath against his own skin. Her trembling caught him off guard, that panic that was filling him turning, molding into a sort of soft resignation. The small hitch of her breath made his heart yank, and he could hear as he swallowed around the lump in his throat. But his hands moved, lingering on the skin of her cheeks as he untied the bound around her eyes.
He could feel the low rumble starting in his chest as he looked into her royal eyes, vivid purple irises staring back at him with unshed tears. His thumb brushed over her bruised cheeks, his own eyes closing as he pressed a kiss to each individual eye, tasting her tears on his lips. The beast in him roared, fought to claw its way out, even as he pressed a finale kiss to the top of her forehead.
Nothing was going to happen to her. Death would not find her this day. But. There was still the matter of pleasing the courts.
“Calm, Khaleen… You’re going to have to bare through this, for me. ….Shhhh, calm, the faster we get started the quicker it is over. ”
There was a moment of woeful silence, and the only thing he could do was suck in his breath and start. His fingers stroked the tendrils of brown silk, letting his thumb run across it for a mere second. Before the reality of the situation had to set in. and with a ragged breath Abram stood, his fist twining around the hair to drag her across the marble floor.
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‘Fuck,… fuck. FUCK!’
The word echoed repeatedly through her mind as the footsteps edged closer and closer to her. Her heart was out of control, thrashing wildly in her chest, warning her to run. Warning her to do something to protect herself. But what could she do with a blind fold on, a gag in her mouth and her hands bound behind her back? The answer? Nothing. There was no retaliation. Not in the presence of what she could only assume was hundreds of vampires. Not in the presence of the vampire king, which if Soven was here, Alder could not have been far.
The person was too close, she could feel the heat radiating off their body, she could feel their gaze as it dragged over her in what she could only assume was disgust. Could not say she blamed them though, she probably did look a hot mess. And she could not say she would not have looked at them the same way. Even through all this, all it did was prove the worth of the leeches. And just to put it into perspective, that worth, was useless.
Air escaped her lungs in a desperate cry as she felt the hand fist into her hair, yanking her head back in display as those words were spoken to her. The tone not matching the actions at all.
“I will unblindfold you….”
Requiem fist clenched behind her back as tears began to burn behind her eyes a sign of weakness she did not want to give to any of these leeches. Even in her past few days of torture, the shame that accompanied those tears was detrimental to her ego, her pride cracking just a bit more with each instance.
“I want to see your eyes…”
The sudden onslaught of the fluorescents caused her to flinch slightly, her eyes squeezing shut at the bright world around her. It took a second for her to force compliance with herself, to force her overly sensitive eyes open to the world around her but all she could see was a world of darkness in a set of multicolored brown eyes. She could feel the tremble wrack her body as she looked him over.
The moment was short lived however, an instant later she felt those fingers dragging her by the roots of her hair. Her hands jerked, trying to snatch at his hands that had found a home in the black tendrils.
“Let the world see you for who you are…”
“FUCK YOU!”
The words were muffled around the gag, her hands yanking on the bounds still.
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It was her voice, a muffled, tiny, strangled little thing, that made him give pause to his actions, a low burn of curiosity in mismatched as he turned his head slowly, languidly toward the now struggling, writhing girl at his feet. He watched her, eyes giving nothing, lips spilling no words as he took her in, the furious bite to her bright blue eyes and the scowl he could see even past the cloth that bit into her cheeks, kept her from speaking freely. His hand was still tangled in her hair, black strands curling around his fingers like they were unwilling to allow him to go, unwilling to part with him for even just that moment. This was something he used to his advantage to yank her to her feet, ripples of pleasure running over him at the sound of her voice, her screams as her head throb, at the sight of her tears starting to spring to pretty lashed eyes.
God, he loved that sound. He didn’t even know there was a sound he could love as much as he loved hearing her shout just for him. He wanted more, needed more of the siren’s call, and Carson was not a man who just allowed what he wanted to flutter away…. Oh no, he was a man of standards, of power and position to reach out and take what he wanted.
And he would do so…. All it would take was a little effort.
Carson didn’t flinch as he slowly detangled his hand from her hair. The girl before him was nothing less then what he expected out of a leader of the rebellion, strong, poised, the kind of girl who took no shit from anyone and would not back down. She was the kind of girl who hated showing weakness, something he could perfectly understand of course, as he was a man of many enemies, and weakness, in any sort…. Would be fatal. She swayed on her feet as he took his hands off of her, determination flashing in her eyes as she looked at him, chest moving, in, out, in, out, in short shallow breaths, anger pulsing through her so painfully he could almost taste it from where he stood. She didn’t want to show him, of all people, any weakness, and Carson only admired her all the more for it.
She such a will full little thing, he mused, watching her struggle to maintain her stance with some dignity, but ultimately, she failed, stumbling as her knees gave out and she fell, just as he knew she would, right into his chest. His expression remained cold, distant, but inside, Carson was drowning, burning in a sea of hot ice that seemed to steal his very breath and set his heart racing with electric touches.
but that just made it all that much sweeter, he supposed, to hear the sound of his fist striking along the already swollen and darkened flesh of her cheek, a bright string in his knuckles as she screamed, involuntarily, of course, and hit the ground with a heavy thud. He gave her a moan, a moment filled with groans and screams as she rolled, stopped only when she hit Carson’s leg, her hands grazing over the black suit of his jacket before he leaned down, reaching out to grab hold of her chin forcibly, harshly, yank her head to the side to face him.
She would look at him.
She would look at him until her dying breath. Of this…. He would make sure of.
“You will respect a King. If you do not find that in you, that’s fine….” He hissed, growled as he lifted her again,
“I will carve the reminder into you. Now say yes, Master.”
His fingers moved, trailing along her body deftly to find the cloth that rested between her lips. He took his time in removing it, allowing his fingers to play over pretty swollen lips and to imagine, to memorize the feel of them against his skin. Such a fascinating girl, beautiful, strong…. Things he had never associated with any female, and yet she had his memories with the abyss in her eyes and the way she snarled. He removed the gag, watching her breath hitch, her lips part to reveal white teeth stained in red, a pretty tongue…. And she spit in his face.
Carson didn’t move. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t think as his brain fizzed out and his thoughts struggled to catch up to him. He was taken back by the action, no doubt, and there was a moment as he simply blinked, his gaze dropping down to her, her body kicking against what might as well be a immovable statue, watching her chest heave and expanded with each scream and curse she flung his way. He whipped away the pink tinted wad of spit, his hands shaking slightly, before his heart hammered once more, his eyes narrowing as he brought his head back and slammed it into hers. Her screams filled the air as he dropped her, his heart hammering with a vengeance and his breath starting to shallow as pure rage filled his being, a kingly pride in him wounded and such a thing was nothing less than a death penalty.
He was angry, infuriated, utterly pissed that this bitch of a leader dare sit at him, but there it was, that strange fascination that was bubbling under the surface. He moved, standing as his hands let her go, dropping her to the floor as he turned away again. His hand moved back to his cheek, touching the still wet spot on his cheek as his eyes widened. Everything was blurry, the whispers of the ghouls around him nothing to his tunneled hearing, the snarl ripping past his lips matching the unhinged look in his eyes.
“You were given fair warning.”
Carson turned on heel, his jacket now open, and he wasted no time in crouching down next to her, his decision made. His fingers found her hair once more, dark black tresses like silk on his hands, yanking her, pulling her into the crowd that’s seemed to stunned to know what to do, only gaped at him as he reached the first like, the people in the very front who were holding one other’s arms in alarm.
They had never seen him like this.
Good.
They would all soon see what happened when you disrespected him.
“Move!”
And order from a King was not to be disobeyed.
The people moved, making a mall path way as he walked, stormed really, his footsteps sure and heavy as his mind wrapped in the darkness that encased his soul. It was only her screams keeping him grounded as his eyes flashed and his mind flickered with vengeance, his whole body and air seeming to change as the man they knew, the Prince they knew as Carson Dhouti unraveled before their eyes.
He made it to his destination, a pillar lining one of the ways toward the stage his father sat on, someone already adorning it. He didn’t mind them, inconsequential, not even worth any last words as he moved toward them. His hand moved to the jacket of his suit, eyes widening as he pulled out the black bladed knife he favored so heavily, a blade about three fourths as long as his forearm and a wooden handle, personally engraved with his name. Walking up to the human still hanging, watching his every move, he threw the small girl against it, at the floor but allowing her hurt side to hit the stone. Her sobs were music, involuntary and sudden, and if he had to he would take everything from her without her consent. There was a magic about it, something about making this girl break that had him on the edges, threatening to tumble over.
His hand moving to the human’s neck, the blade singing as he lifted it to their flesh. It wasn’t anything, a motion he was all too familiar with, something he could do in his sleep, and he slit them, ear to ear, their screams quickly turning to gurgles moans even as his attention moved, to the wrists bound above them, the blood spilling down their chest causing nothing but a mild dull burn in his throat, one that could be easily ignored.
It was this, he mused irritably, that was the hardest part. He hacked, slitting wrist and nerve and bone, until their arms fell, the body dropping like a marionette with its strings broken. He only spared a few moments with it really, picking them up by their hair, the feel of it nowhere as nice as the one he got from the girl at his feet, using his strength to throw the body, unceremoniously, into the crowd.
“A little viewing snack… Before the show really starts…”
It was only after the mummers had died down before he turned to her. She looked up at him, eyes wide, her body still but he could see the fear, lingering, just there in her mind…. There was not much you could hid from a Dhouti, and truly, what a sight he must have been….blood soaking his hands and arms, on his face, dripping from his hair… but there was not an ounce of him that cared.
His hands felt like they were itching for her, like they were calling for her. They were up before he even knew what he was doing, before he even knew what it was he was reaching for, and He lifted her, until she was standing on her very tiptoes, his knife finding the ropes that held her wrist, cutting through them like butter. Her hands fell to her sides, almost useless with the way they thumped against her legs, but before she even got the chance to move them, even just a twitch, Carson was already on her, his hands finding hers to yank them up toward the now free bloody cuffs.
It seemed she didn’t take to kindly to the idea.
The instant she seemed to realize what was going on, It was like someone had resparked her, the fire in her heart and eyes blazing with a sudden fierceness that made her eyes shin and cheeks flush a pretty pink, something that surprised him with the amount of blood she lost. Her body sprang to life, and suddenly she was kicking, scratching, pulling at him, anything she could to try and wrestle his hands away, her teeth finding him as she screeched her displeasure, which sent a bolt of hot vivid lust straight to his dick, and he just barely managed to bite back a moan from her body grazing him.
What was she doing to him?
“Fuck you! FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING LEEC-”
One of Carson’s hands let her arm go, and in a movement too quick for her to stop, almost too quick for her to see, the back of his hand went stinging across her face to draw a sharp gasp and cry from her. Her eyes snapped open, her body freezing before she started again, this time silent, as he was sure he split her lips and tongue on his hit.
“You’re lucky I want to hear you scream so much, Little one…” he growled, before he finally managed to clap her in the cuffs. He moved back, his eyes narrowing again as she dangled there, watching as she breathed again, his hands playing with his knife, thumb running over the still bloody blade.
She was such a picture. A blue and black and red….
The girl didn’t say anything, only glared as he pulled the knife to his lips, running his tongue over the blade, his gaze never once leaving her as he slid his tongue across its length, a slow grin starting on his lips.
“Filthy….” He muttered, moving to her, crossing the distance with a few quick steps to grasp her throat, Fingers finding home on her skin curling to find the flutter of her heart under thin skin along her neck, a pules like butterfly’s wings. His knife ran along her legs, grazing over her inner thigh, and it pleased him, like no other, that she could do nothing about it.
She was his to do with as he pleased.
“Will yours be any sweeter… Or are you nothing but Filth as well?”
“You disgust me.”
It was the first words she said to him that weren’t a yell, a shout, and there was logic, somewhere in the back of his mind, telling him that he should not be responding like this to such a thing. His lips shouldn’t be splitting into a more wicked grin, his eyes locked on her, his vision tunneling, and that laughter shouldn’t be boiling on his lips like bile, threatening to spill, he leaned closer, his breath mingling with hers as he used his thumb to tilt her head up toward him.
“Oh Baby, Just you wait, If I disgust you now, Let me show you absolute repulsion…”
His fingers danced as he spoke, trailing and lightly searching, until they found it, the light bump that was her rib, displaced, painful and all of that showed on her face. He never allowed her gaze to leave his as he started pressing, pressing… pressing…. The sounds of the bone snapping and slicing, ripping through organs and flesh making him shiver. Her scream filled the air once again, music, madness, but he wasn’t done.
He pulled away, watching her as she sobbed, her breath sputtering and a wave of blood spilled past her lips, into her fresh wounds and vaguely he could see the darkness creeping around this pretty little creature. She was dying, death was closing in and with it something like dread, a cold stone in his gut, began to build. He ignored it, ignored this disturbing vison he was seeing of her, dead, gone, lifeless, as that was supposed to be what he wanted right?
He did… He did want this… He had to!
Carson sank the blade into her leg, in that soft skin just above her knee, pale flesh begging to be stained red, not so deep that he caused any real damage, but enough, enough that she could feel it, feel it as he began to pull it up, slowly, slowly, cutting through her, higher, higher, digging deeper as he went.
His knee snapped up, hitting her directly on hers, and there was a delightful feeling as he heard her bone snap, crack under the force of it and to hear her curse his name to the high heavens was a sin he never wanted to end. But he could see it, could see that life se so wanted to break fading from her eyes, the life she had, the vigor, fading with each new wave of blood spilling from her lips and ever degree her body lost, was leaving, fading, and now his whole body was shaking, but with a whole new purpose.
Carson hissed, leaning his face closer to her face, lips brushing over hers for that barest hint of a touch, as he spoke to her, one last time.
“Take your time healing…. I’ll be back to visit you soon... pet.”
And his lips crashed to hers.
His teeth found his own tongue, slicing it to spill rivers of blood into her open mouth, her body shaking as she tried to reject his gift. He didn’t allow her however, nipping at her lips as she tried to pull away and spilled more blood into her, before he ripped away from her with a harsh yank, a grin twisting on his lips to look directly at his father.
“She’s better of to us…. Alive.”
His tone was breathy and harsh, over exerted. His father made no motion to move, only watched his own son before his eyes flicked to the other he thought of as a son, and he simply nodded.
“As you heard all. The show is over…. I hope you enjoyed yourselves, as the show was truly… quite spectacular.”
Soven moved easily, a king through and through. His hand reached for his wife, pulling her closer and walking the few steps down the stage, along the red carpet. He glided like a true god, a being so ancient the powers themselves feared him. Carson watched as he walked up to him, and Soven placed his hand on Carson’s cheek, his speckled eyes narrowing as he murmured to him, forehead resting on his.
“You better know what you were doing.”