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He was cold.
Everything was cold.
The grass beneath him was all but frozen, sending burgeoning frost creeping up his legs. In the dark of the night, the crisp chill air whispered soft, lulling songs against his bare body that caused him to shiver all over. The biting, agonizing metal of the manacles around his wrists only worsened the intensity of this unbearable, glacial winter that had descended over the forest.
Vox wasn't quite certain whether the frigid temperature had indeed exponentially dropped like a stone in water, or if he had become abnormally sensitive due to the blood loss. He had stopped paying attention to such details a while ago as the night sky gradually darkened and the woods around him grew eerily quiet.
He still bore the blossoming, gruesome bruises the witchfinders had awarded him with when they first captured him. Still, if they hadn't beaten him down so much, Vox would have had no choice but to miserably pay witness to every minute that ticked by. At least, the unpredictable, sporadic bouts of fainting due to the exhaustion and the biting cold precluded him from experiencing the full extent of his iniquitous punishment.
Though, he supposed it wasn't so iniquitous, even though it caused his gut to churn with shame, regret and unbridled fury. The sheer humiliation of it all buried so deep in his soul it felt like it was caving in. He had been respected before, revered even. He had never really believed in God, but he had served him nonetheless. Preaching the Lord's word had earned Vox an image of great renown, divinity and virtue. Every person in that provincial village had valued his opinion and trusted his word.
He had such high expectations and ambitions for himself... He had been so effortlessly masterful at earning people's trust - despite the embezzling, fraud, conning, blackmailing, extortion, theft, bribery, exploiting, murder and overall reprehensible crimes he surreptitiously slipped under their noses to transfer their eager money into his own greedy pockets. None of it had mattered in the end. All of his long years of living, of planning, of fighting, of surviving - gone in a flash.
Not that he had much long to live now. His pain would disappear along with him.
He couldn't wait.
The atmosphere was quaint, the courageous humming and chirping of the few restless birds still swimming in their songs and the blissful rustling of leaves as they played with the wind mollified Vox's despair.
Every few seconds, minutes or hours - he couldn't tell - reality would grip him and drag him back to awareness. He would wake up in agony, his head supported on an arm and his body screaming in anguish from the lacerations and bruises left after the skirmish. His wrists, stretched tightly on either side of him, felt like they were on the brink of detaching from the tautness of his restraints.
Occasionally he would tug at the manacles, but the chains were firmly wound around each tree. His knees had become as petrified as ice, his shoulders stiff from disuse, unable to grow inured from the strain of being torqued in that position for so long. They popped and cracked anytime he tried to roll them. It was excruciating.
His throat had dried up and it hurt every time he tried to swallow around the piece of cloth serving as a gag. The chains chaffed against the raw welts on his skin, further irritating them, but by now, he had become desensitized, almost indurated to the agony.
Goosebumps still rose on his skin intermittently throughout the night every time he remembered how alone he was. He could almost feel the darkness brushing against his body as he sat bound and powerless in its midst, his eyes flitting aimlessly at the foliage around him. It reeked of peril.
The entire forest felt... wrong.
As the unendurable hours dragged on, the trees became more bathed in shadows, silently pitying him as they shrouded the homes where the beasts dwelled.
If he wasn't so tired, panic would have been flaring uncontrollably through him at the heart-splitting danger he had been subjected to.
That still didn't stop the tears from falling down his face all night.
He breathed out, resigned. His knees stung from kneeling as he hung there, boneless, his body growing number to the distilled pain. A part of him prayed for it to end soon, for some wolf or bear to fortuitously stumble upon him and enjoy a little, specially tenderized snack. There was no point in delaying the inevitable:
He was going to die.
Making peace with that had proved less challenging than he had initially assumed. His heart barely protested anymore; he could almost pretend he was floating on a calm, undisturbed lake where no one could reach him, where he was safe. He couldn't be faulted for wishing he was stranded on that lake, for imagining a gentle hand magically reaching out from the cruel abyss to wipe away his tears, for fantasizing of a kind, considerate touch enveloping him in a warm embrace and sparing him from this brutal fate.
For someone to forgive his failures.
For someone to see all of him and not care how worthless he was.
The thought soothed his conscience as he determinedly kept his eyes closed to stave off the fear and horror rising in him anytime he dared look at the endless darkness ready to swallow him whole. He was afraid. He was so fucking afraid that if he allowed himself to think too strongly of his predicament he would scream till his already dry throat grew hoarse and unusable. He wasn't a person anymore. He was a meal served on a silver platter. A fresh, appetizing dish intended for the unseen, vicious monster that lurked within the dark forest.
Vox had never seen it in person. He had heard rumors, dreadful stories of a vile beast inhabiting the area, its insatiable bloodlust only kept at bay through the sacrifice of a soul that shimmered with magic. Not that the decision to condemn any of the preceding, unfortunate victims accused of being witches was anything more than conjecture, but the punishment for witchcraft and meddling in the occult remained standard procedure nonetheless.
He was to be sacrificed to this monster to keep the peace and safety of the town. For what weight had one life against countless others?
The sound of his own sorrow tore another tear from the seemingly infinite pool threatening to burst from his eyes. At least, no one was here to witness him during such weakness. He was all alone.
Not even the watchful stars had bothered to keep him company. The trees blocked their delicate light, caging Vox in an inescapable, odious prison. Through hooded eyes, he risked glancing upwards at the sky, hoping to see at least one star before he died. They shined so bright... Always so out of his reach.
The momentary investment to pay attention slightly revived some energy back into his weary mind.
That was when he noticed it...
The silence.
His heart picked up its pace. The forest was dead silent. The birds had ceased their songs. The small rodents had fled. Even the winds seemed to have halted in fear.
The clearing felt deserted, as though something had forced the silence upon it, something big, something terrifying that the creatures of the forest knew to avoid. An ominous, eerie presence permeated the space. Vox couldn't see it, but he knew it was close which caused the hairs at the back of his neck to stand up in alarm.
There was something out there.
Hiding.
Lurking.
...Watching.
His chains rattled as his body twitched instinctively. The pervasive silence was louder than anything Vox had ever heard as every primal instinct in his body ignited with one clear message:
Run.
His breathing quickened, causing him to feel even more lightheaded. The sudden spike of adrenaline tampered the fatigue, overcome with the urge to run, to run and hide and never look back.
He couldn't imagine what kind of monster could drench its surroundings with such mind-numbing fear. Whatever doubts Vox had harbored in regards to this creature's existence obliterated as he frantically flicked his eyes around him.
He couldn't see it. He couldn't see anything but that oppressive, harrowing darkness, but he knew it was there for he had never experienced panic such as the one exponentially blooming in his heart, further exacerbated by his inability to defend himself.
He was utterly helpless.
The ringing in his head increased tenfold and the pain in his body dulled as horror crashed into his weary soul. His ears strained to catch a sliver of movement, any kind of indicator as to where this beast was hiding.
Then...
The sound of a branch breaking pierced the air.
It erupted from directly behind him which only stirred his dread further and he sharply tilted his head in its direction. The chains dug agonizingly into his skin as he fought to resupply his muscles with residual strength when, suddenly, a bright, luminous light began to rise from the shadows around him.
He squinted, his eyes aching from the adjustment. A frown etched itself onto his face as he watched every bush and blade of grass begin to shine with a glowing green light like a poisonous mist crawling across the forest floor.
The light reeked of a disquieting sense of something alien. It was unnatural. It was something yanked directly out of the deepest corners of the earth and brought to where it didn't belong. An incongruent, powerful presence that wasn't born from humanity, but from a deep, rooted corruption slithering its way from another world.
He was going to die.
He was going to die.
The beast was here. It was here for him.
Oh, god, he was going to die.
He tried to gulp. He thought he had accepted his fate, his mind burdened from the infinite, agonizing hours he had spent bound, freezing and bleeding, but nothing could have prepared him for the moment when it finally arrived.
A low, throaty rumble echoed from behind him.
Vox instinctively began to writhe as he tried to stifle his voice. His vision grew even dizzier from the undiluted panic despite his surroundings being made clearer by the light. Whatever this thing was, it was pulling every basic instinct nature had built in his bones to the surface.
He could hear it now. He could hear the distant thumps as it crept closer and closer to where he knelt.
Thump.
Thump!
Thump!
Vox squeezed his eyes shut as he tried not to move, his body somehow convincing him that any minute, insubstantial movement would draw the beast's attention. So, he sat, paralyzed, his heart beating out of his chest.
"Well, well..." a deep, sonorous voice echoed.
Vox's eyes snapped open.
It was barely a few feet behind him. He hadn't expected its ability to speak; still, he could never have imagined that raw, resonant growl dragged from the very fires of hell itself. Grating. Infernal.
It blazed with unchallenged power. An apex predator catching up to its meal.
Vox was sharply roused from his musings as the monster spoke again. "What a delightful surprise."
It took every ounce of willpower Vox had to prevent himself from whimpering when he felt the beast's breath skittering over his back. He kept his gaze forward as it towered over him. He didn't want to look back. He couldn't even if he tried. He was petrified from fear.
Something lightly brushed over his shoulder.
He violently flinched. The chains rattled, sending a haunting echo through the clearing that caused Vox's bones to shake. His eyes widened in terror when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a single, elongated claw trailing over his arm.
It was a gnarly, spine-chilling talon, almost corpselike in its sinister abnormality, connected to a large hand capable of wrapping itself completely around Vox's head. A brittle sound escaped him as his life flashed before his eyes. Its meticulous movements and agile dexterity informed him just how easily it could rip the arm off his shoulder.
He would be the next sacrifice. His blood would paint those manacles by tomorrow. He would be just another forgotten, unmemorable individual whose body would decay into this exact spot soaked with the blood of hundreds before him.
Terror unlike anything he had experienced before snatched him in its clutches as the claw traced gentle patterns over his skin, manipulating the blood staining it in a grotesque, macabre painting.
"Goodness," it rumbled, impossibly insidious. "Look at what they've done to you, you poor thing."
Vox's shaking amplified. His whole body began to violently tremble beneath the creature's touch and its treacherously honeyed tone. He still hadn't even seen it and yet it mortified him with dread. He didn't need to look to notice the lilt of a smile decorating its voice. He could hear it grinning behind him and it sent another bolt of horror into his heart.
"Now, don't fret," it breathed agonizingly close to Vox’s ear. "You'll find I can be much more considerate than those cruel men who put you in this situation."
Vox shook his head, the motion absentminded as he tried to tune out the implications of what the beast was saying. His breath hitched and he keened when he felt its other hand brushing the side of his waist. It was cold, warmer than him, but still cold. Possessive. Eager.
"Don't worry, darling." It gripped his side a little more firmly, its claws digging into his skin. "It will all be over soon. For your comfort, I'll make it quick."
Vox felt all of his thoughts scatter when a long, thick tongue slowly swiped a trail up his arm. He watched in dismay as the beast began to lick the blood off of him. A pleased hum escaped it before it abruptly stopped.
It pulled back from him and mumbled "Well, that's interesting." A barbed laugh bubbled out of its throat. "You truly are a surprise, indeed."
Its fingers subtly tightened around him, almost subconsciously, as it leaned back down and continued to indulge itself in his blood.
Unable to stand, lean down or fight back in any way, Vox had no choice but to let the creature lick, nip, suck and graze at its skin. It lapped its tongue and lips across his arms, shoulders and back, hot and violating, and he couldn't stop the hushed, scared sobs that kept flowing out of him. The sickening display would have concerned him if the gory aftermath didn't terrify him beyond belief.
The time flew indeterminate, the wet patches the monster left further added to the scalding frost, causing him to feel even colder. When its mouth began to nip at his neck, Vox - unthinkingly - tilted his head to the side, allowing it better access.
If he was at all surprised by his action, he tried not to show it. The monster answered his invite, nuzzling its face against his neck. It freely laved its tongue over his flesh as it continued to consume his blood when suddenly a gasp intermingled with Vox's labored breathing.
He blinked as the creature stopped and leaned back.
"Oh, dear," it said, and Vox could have sworn he heard a trace of discomfort in its voice. "What's this?"
A talon brushed over the bruises decorating Vox's neck and he bristled, all too aware of how close the sharp appendage was to his jugular. They must look gruesome; he could still feel the phantom fingers lingering on his neck where he had been choked until he had passed out.
It's finger dove downward, yet Vox still noted with a flash of relief how the monster evaded the mangled wounds the villagers had inflicted on his back, instead letting its finger navigate in-between them as it took its time tracing him.
He felt the beast shift. Its movements crinkled the grass as it rounded its way in front of him. When it eventually stepped into his view, every residing instinct, reflex and urge to run mercilessly plowed through Vox at the sight.
The beast loomed over him, almost twice his height, supported on all fours like a deer warped from the inside out and morphed into something hideous and grueling. Its long, slender talons effortlessly dug into the moist soil in a perfect, flawless display of grace and danger. Its powerful, strong muscles flexed with every movement. And its face...
Vox didn't know how to describe it. Words didn't exist to describe such an impossible image that deceitfully blended human elements into its guise. Its face was normal, quite charming in fact, framed by rich, ruby middle-length hair tipped black at the ends that starkly contrasted the green glow of its powers. But, its sunken, haunting black eyes coveted a single red dot in their center that pierced straight into Vox's soul, depthless in their malice. Its teeth jutted out in a serrated maw sharper than a knife's edge and its red, bat-like ears flicked occasionally, on alert.
This was a monster created for hunting.
It was an unprecedented predator in every horrifying definition of the word. A macabre deviation of a harmless prey, turned into something driven only by a thirst for blood. A beast born for one purpose and one purpose only:
To kill.
Vox stared at it, his face slacked from shock and terror as he fought not to quail under its daunting leer. The devil himself had risen and was prepared to take Vox back to hell with him.
An involuntary flinch racked him when the monster suddenly raised its hand towards his face. The reaction didn't dissuade it however as it tipped Vox's chin to the side.
Its own head tilted curiously, observing the open line of Vox's exposed neck, its eyes trailing down his abused, naked body.
"What could you have possibly done to deserve this?" The demon inquired, bowing closer. It laughed again before it added "Color me impressed. Here I thought I was enough of an awful punishment."
Vox huffed, the heedless sound barreling through his restraint as his indignation grew.
The demon raised an intrigued eyebrow before carefully dipping his finger over the skin of Vox's neck and its smile grew wider as it grazed it downward in a clean, straight line that caused Vox to shiver.
Vox heaved, willing himself to stay still and not provoke the sadist holding his life in its hands. His head spun, his hands pulled at the chains and his teeth sunk into the gag.
The beast suddenly bit down on the pad of its own thumb and Vox couldn't prevent the whimpers from tearing through his throat as he watched it press its thumb against one of the cuts on his chest.
Vox's jaw clenched on the gag at the sting that pinched him at place of contact, but it disappeared quickly. He risked a glance down and his eyes widened impossibly further when he saw the smooth patch of healed skin, no wound in sight.
He whipped his head to look at the beast who only grinned contentedly at him, the glint of mischief shining in it. It maintained that broad, toothy smile as it bit down on its thumb again and pressed it against a different cut on Vox's chest.
The process repeated itself and now that Vox was familiar with it, he could feel his skin stitching together. It tingled, rather pleasantly, he admitted. The tension in his muscles gradually thawed as the monster healed the other wounds on his front and back, taking its sweet time. Vox didn't protest. Lulled into a false sense of security, he plunged himself in the warm relief that bloomed across his body.
He pointedly prevented himself from acknowledging how his entire form melted into the only tender touch he has received in a long, long time.
He didn’t even notice when the beast had fully healed him, lost in the unplanned respite, his mind drifting to someplace calmer and devoid of pain. The other gave him time to collect himself, knowing Vox wasn't going anywhere.
After a while, it spoke. "There. Isn't that much better?" Its voice resounded from much closer than it had before. "Why didn't you tell me sooner how injured you are? I don't like my food battered. Honestly," it chided. "One might think you actually enjoy suffering."
Vox raised his head to glare at it, his seething stifled by the gag that he knew the demon could see judging by its wicked, taunting expression.
"You're a prickly one, aren't you?" it mused, but its tone wasn't displeased. On the contrary, its eyes acquired an interested shine that wasn't there before. "How riveting it is to be given someone who doesn't just scream in terror. Though, we have time for that as well."
Vox snarled as best he could, more than eager for this torment to end.
The beast only watched him. Its posture exuded control, like someone who knew they held all the cards and could bide their time.
He hated this. He hated how much it resembled a human and how shamelessly it warped captivating traits like generosity, elegance and sophistication while it prolonged his distress for its own amusement.
It brought its face directly in front of Vox's tearstained, tired one. Crimson eyes gazed into Vox's blue and green ones, and he could see his own expression in them, a veil of red seeping across his visage. He fought the urge to recoil.
It maintained eye contact as it slowly inched to peer closer at his neck. Its hand nudged his chin gently, but insistently. Vox didn't resist it - not that he could even if he wanted to; he surrendered to its wishes and dropped his head fully to the side, exposing his neck.
He could feel its chest stutter, perhaps surprised by Vox's action. Its breath softly brushed against his skin and he closed his eyes, stolid, resigning himself to the death it will now deal him. His mouth parted open in a gentle "o" when the demon pressed its lips on a selected spot on his skin before closing them in a silent kiss.
Vox found it increasingly harder to think. The night sky stole glances at them, safe above where the monsters couldn't reach it. The green mist was the only light in this godforsaken place and no matter how unnatural it looked, Vox was glad for it.
He closed his eyes, letting himself get swept into the river of time as the monster peppered kisses on his neck and nipped gently at the sensitive, brutalized flesh with no one in the world there to rush its fun. He wondered whether it would stop if he gave any sign of resistance. He also wondered why he wasn't doing just that when every cell in his body screamed at him to survive.
Vox's confusion confounded with every passing minute as the demon left small, harmless kisses on his neck as softly as snowflakes fell during a beguiling winter. He couldn't even begin to wrap his head around what was happening, if he didn't know any better, he would have guessed this demon was numbing his skin to alleviate the pain when it finally kills him.
The spot on his neck now tingled pleasantly in a shower of warm, tiny pins. Gingerly, the demon closed its jaw over it, but its teeth weren't the jagged, vicious edges of a maw Vox had seen earlier. No. What he felt were two, thorny canines piercing his neck.
He winced, momentarily tensing up. Opening his eyes, he nearly staggered when he saw the beast's form had shrunk. It had knelt down and was now gently resting its hands on Vox's sides. It almost looked completely human now.
As he analyzed its physique and general impossible existence, the demon began to softly stroke up and down his waist. The motions smeared the blood, but Vox didn't care as he relaxed into its comforting touch. God, even the lackluster warmth of his hands felt heavenly against his bare skin that had been exposed for too long to the forest's coldness and he felt no shame in the eagerness with which he arched into the demon's hold.
He was still shaking, but the fear had almost drained out of him, leaving behind nothing but dull, apathetic acceptance.
He fell limp in his restraints, surprised at the sheer... gentleness of this monster. It only bit him once and was now sucking on the wound, a blaringly intimate motion that Vox desperately welcomed.
This demon who appeared sculpted from the blazing core of a furnace treated him with kindness. It didn't even touch him inappropriately; its approach was almost endearing to how one might treat a loved one.
His body sagged further towards it, the exhaustion and terror taking their toll on his endurance as his heart nearly shattered from how careful this monster was with him and no power on this earth could have prevented the bitter laugh that tore through his throat.
He must truly be insane, or the entire dreadful ordeal had irrevocably muddled his mind.
The beast leaned back on its heels. Vox blinked sleepily at it as it assessed him and his brain curled in on itself from the image.
In front of him, now stood a man. He was around Vox's height, perhaps slightly shorter and slimmer, but he was leaner and even the refinery of his stylish, sophisticated red suit and button-up shirt, dark pants and heeled shoes couldn't hide his agility. His eyes glimmered in crimson, effervescent intimidation like the hottest fire the world had ever conjured, pupils uncanny in their sentience, but apart from its ears and the two, shiny teeth poking out of his bloodied mouth he appeared unmistakably human.
Vox gulped, suddenly overcome with the realization of how... beautiful this man looked. His monstrous form was an imposing, incomprehensible entity while his human appearance emanated poise, grace and confidence.
Vox's previous laugh must have caught him off guard, for the demon closed the distance between them again. Almost timidly, he cupped the back of Vox's head before he placed his mouth on the wound on his neck again and carefully resumed draining his blood.
Then... Vox did something he never would have expected he would do in a million years. He lifted his head and softly leant it on top of the demon's. And he nearly shivered from how astonishingly soft his hair was.
Another gasp breezed against his neck. Vox remained still, not caring who this monster was or that he was going to kill him. If this was his last chance to experience comfort, to feel someone's warmth against his, then he would take it. He had wasted his life in pursuit of ambitions that had never been enough; he could afford a little self-indulgence without the pressure to perform before his death.
He would meet his grave with a content heart for this demon was far kinder than Vox had naively been led to believe. He had expected carnage, he had expected bloodshed and violence and screaming and pain. But, not this.
His head felt fuzzy. He relaxed further against the other as his blood dangerously kept being depleted from his body. The man's hands roamed freely over Vox's form, exploring the skin of his waist, his back, his hips and his thighs with equal, devoted fervor.
The demon stopped his ministrations. Vox could feel him breathe, and he wanted to know what inner deliberations he seemed to be battling with. He wanted to see into that mysterious mind and pick apart its experiences, its memories and its thoughts.
The man suddenly pulled back again.
Vox stared at him through hooded eyes as he placed his hands over Vox's thighs and slowly curled his claws over them. He applied pressure against the muscles and dragged his hands down them in one smooth movement.
Vox gaped at him as the stiffness of his legs was coaxed out. He squirmed in his restraints, groaning at the lethargic, weakened feel of his stunted muscles, but before he could accommodate himself to the sparking sensation, the demon raised a clawed hand and briskly snapped his fingers.
The chains holding Vox up instantly unlocked. He pummeled forward with a shocked grunt, but his descent was suddenly stopped by two strong, stable hands catching him.
Vox grappled at the man's arms, not knowing what was happening. He didn't protest when the other slowly lowered him to the ground and gently laid him atop the grass. He held Vox's head the entire time as he deposited him onto his side, mindful not to irritate his bruises.
Vox hissed in pain as blood returned to his arms, the agonizing sensation like boiling water pouring over a brittle block of ice. As the perpetual cold in his arms relented, he tried to test the mobility of his fingers and joints, wincing.
"There you go. Don't rush," the demon crooned and Vox couldn't trust his own mind from how the deep growl of his voice effortlessly transformed into a mellowing, amicable cadence that lured people in with its light flow.
When he eventually looked up, he found the demon standing a few feet away from him once more in its monstrous form. It remained unblinking, steadfast as its gaze bore directly into him.
Unwelcome alarm wormed its way into Vox's veins and he shakily propped himself up. He was tired, he was in pain, he was hurt, but he somehow managed to grit his teeth and lift himself up into a sitting position.
A foreboding aura infused the space as the demon continued to stare at him, unnervingly soundless. Where a chattering, genteel manner clung to him before, now his demeanor was stoic.
Slowly, Vox undid the gag around his head. He threw it unceremoniously on the floor and swallowed before he hushed "You're-" his voice broke into a dry, hoarse cough. After clearing his throat, he tried again. "You're a vampire."
As the word finally left his mouth, he felt a bone-chilling shudder run down his spine.
He received a low, keen rumble of confirmation in response.
Vampires were a myth, a horror story people wielded to frighten children into behaving. An insubstantial lie used to cover inexplicable, unsolved disappearances. An old legend that dug its roots so far into humanity's history every person living knew to fear it. They were rare and unconscionably dangerous.
And one had been hiding near his hometown and praying on its residents this entire time, unbeknownst to anyone. Vampires were monsters, they were a blood-sucking, insatiable species with cold, dead hearts that held no love. In one night, Vox's belief of the former had been solidified, while the latter had been dubiously disputed.
He didn't know what to believe anymore. He nodded his head, refusing to let the inescapable, horrifying reality that he was in the clutches of a vampire from invading his weary mind.
Resigned, he gulped. "Just... just do it already."
The vampire tilted his head, the motion almost habitual in its animalistic idiosyncrasy. Still, he remained uncharacteristically voiceless.
Vox's temper thinned with every martyrizing second. Eventually, frustrated, he barked "What?!"
Again, the vampire didn't say anything.
Vox shook his head and raked his eyes over his unnervingly immovable posture. His claws gripped the ground, his haunches were raised and his pitch-black, nocturnal eyes pierced with an intensity that suffocated Vox's inundated mind.
He looked... poised.
Vox observed the vampire, and his brows knitted as a chilling realization began to whisper in his ear as to what was happening.
A disbelieving, incredulous huff escaped him. Testing his theory he bluntly stated "You want me to run."
The vampire's ever-present smile widened grotesquely, almost tearing his face in half with eagerness.
Vox shook his head, his gaze locked onto the creature prepared to pounce on him. The fear, shock, terror and anguish coursing through his body suddenly turned wrathful.
"No," he deadpanned flatly, his voice echoing through the stillness of the clearing.
The monster raised a brow, whether intrigued or offended Vox didn't care. He just didn't care. He was cold, starving, dehydrated, beaten, chained for hours, and drained of his blood. He didn't have the energy anymore. He was tired. He was so fucking tired.
Seething, he glowered right back at him, ready for all of this to end. "I said no. I'm not playing your stupid game."
He wouldn't embarrass himself by grasping for any feeble, unnecessary hope when they both knew what the outcome of such an unfair hunt would be. Vox wouldn't give this monster the satisfaction.
An annoyed huff escaped the vampire and a twinge of pride rose in Vox that he had at least managed to irk him with his stalwartness before he died. His gaze remained unyielding as the creature slowly moved towards him.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
He didn't say anything as he stopped in front of Vox.
Vox returned his steely gaze in equal, matching his ferocity. Yet, he couldn't prevent himself from instinctually pulling his knees to his chest to preserve some sense of modesty, blatantly aware of his nudity.
He resolutely stared down at Vox, twice his size, before he lifted a hand and pushed him with the back of it.
Vox grappled at the ground as his whole body rocked to the side. When he settled back, he puffed, affronted.
"I said, I'm not doing it!" His words were slurred and his throat hurt both from the outside and from within, but he endured. "I'm not going to run around so you can have your fun."
The vampire remained mute after Vox's outburst. Then, like a cat playing with its food, he repeated his previous, insulting stunt and nudged him again.
Vox released a belligerent yelp. Despite the bullying, he wouldn't let the other get his way.
"Stop! Just-" he trailed off, putting his head in his hands. "Just stop... toying with me. You're going to kill me so just get on with it!"
His breathing grew ragged as he pushed his palms into his eyes, trying to escape the situation. He slammed his hands back down when he felt a petulant poke in his side.
He whipped his head to stare daggers at the vampire currently poking him in a "come on" gesture to get him to move. Did he do this with every victim? If that was the case, Vox's intransigence only bolstered.
"Fuck off," he snapped, caustic.
The vampire's pokes intensified into sharp, uncomfortable jabs.
Vox irritably swatted his hand away, but the vampire ignored him and began to poke again at Vox's shoulder, his arm, his stomach, his ribs, all while still wearing that sly smile, knowing perfectly well how annoying he was being.
Vox felt something in him snap.
He unfurled from his curled up position, his body refilling with strength from the outrage and exasperation infusing it.
"Alright, you brat." On trembling, barely usable legs, Vox managed to stand up, fuming all the way. "You want to have a go, let's fucking go!"
The ground wobbled beneath his unsteady figure as he tried to blink the world into order. Rejuvenated from the indignation the vampire thrust upon him, Vox looked around for some kind of weapon.
He cursed the witchfinders for weakening him. If he was at his full strength he might have actually stood a chance against this surreal entity. Nevermind how delusional that consolation was.
When his gaze landed on a bent branch hanging loosely from a nearby tree, he immediately shot towards it. Vox wouldn't go down easily. If this beast wanted prey, he was not going to get one.
"Old, fucking, red vampire prick - ngh!" His legs gave way beneath him and he fell to his knees. He didn't know where he found the will, but after a few agonizing seconds he managed to get back on his feet.
He was quite certain his limbs were suffering from irreversible nerve damage, but he persisted towards the branch, sluggish and shaking severely. How the vampire expected him to run in this broken down condition, Vox couldn't understand.
"Smug, arrogant, pretentious bastard..." he continued to mumble incoherently, agitated as he wiggled the branch free by leaning his whole body on it. When it finally yielded, Vox raised it triumphantly with both hands.
He spun around to face the other head on, holding the branch up like a sword. "Well? Come on then," he baited, prepared to have his head expeditiously sliced off. "What's the matter? You're not scared now, are you?"
The vampire had the audacity to laugh at him. Evidently, he found Vox's last, dying moments amusing. The thought only fueled Vox's righteous fury.
Feeling bold, he took a valiant swipe at one of its arms.
The branch broke in two with a sharp crack.
The additional half bounced away haphazardly, leaving Vox with little more than a log of wood in his hands. He stared at it dismally, internally disparaging its uselessness.
Another, barely contained cackle rose from the vampire who, unperturbed, only watched Vox's despair in silent mockery.
Vox growled, incensed. "Nothing... about this... is funny!"
In a last, desperate attempt he mustered all of his fleeting strength, swung his hand back, and with a thunderous yell hurled the log at the vampire's face.
It blew past his head, completely missing its mark and getting lost somewhere in the distance.
The vampire's listless gaze followed its descent comically. His ears calmly twitched at the lame sound of the log crashing into some bushes. With an unimpressed huff, he redirected his attention back at Vox.
Vox forcibly swallowed his embarrassment, blaming his fluke on the fact that his body was exhausted and half-way to death. He could hardly focus and his vision was slowly darkening around the edges, but he wouldn't succumb to his fate yet.
Forsaking any and all rational thinking, Vox kicked at the vampire's right arm.
His foot met hard iron and he stumbled back with a pained howl. As he clutched his bruised knee, his remaining leg gave out and he clumsily tumbled to the ground.
His breathing grew even heavier at the brand new torrent of shame that flooded him. It was over. He had squandered his last few moments in a pathetic display to prove he wasn't weak. Not that he ever stood a chance anyway.
He was done.
His fingers shyly swept over the tingling blades of grass, seizing the opportunity to feel them one last time. He inhaled deeply, savoring the taste of fresh air as silence once more perfused the taut space.
The monster didn't say anything as Vox indulged in these small joys. After a while, he raised his head to glance up at him.
He didn't know what his face looked like and he didn't care. Blood-shot, tearstained, bruised, pale, bloody, tired...
...defeated.
He stayed quiet as they stared at each other. He didn't know whether his mind had grown delirious, but he could have sworn he actually detected a sparkle of adoration in the vampire's gaze. Whatever it was, the vampire upheld it as he slowly receded back into his human form.
That same handsome man crouched down next to him, regarding him curiously. Vox couldn't help but to get enamored by the way he moved. His long, slender limbs swayed with an ethereal dexterity that brightly indicated the unfathomable power hiding within them. Lost in his mental elevation of the man, Vox got whisked back to reality when the other shrugged off his coat and softly draped it over Vox's shoulders.
The action took Vox completely off guard and caused his eyes to widen in surprise as his body became frozen, unsure what to do. But, slowly, as the warmth of the fabric seeped into his bones, shielding him from the snapping cold, he couldn't prevent himself from gingerly clasping the lapels and tugging the coat further over himself.
"Even when you're giving up you don't know how," the man whispered. He raised a bloody hand and softly brushed the back of it against Vox's ear, the skin slightly feverish from the adrenaline that had peaked in his bloodstream.
His ministrations were a gentle breeze as he caressed the shell, his icy fingers warming it up.
Vox huffed earnestly. "Yeah, well..." His lips quirked into a solemn, lopsided smile. "Might as well put on a good show."
His voice was quiet, barely audible in the screaming tension between them.
"Hmm..." the vampire mused. His knuckles moved to caress Vox's face, almost lovingly. "I do like a good show. Do you know, I had quite the talent of drawing the attention of jaded minds with my words - long ago when I was but a mere human." His voice was soft, a harmonious melody wafting through the frigid air. He chuckled slightly as he added "You, however, seem to be a man of visual entertainment."
Vox rolled his eyes, but his heart held no resentment. "Hilarious. For your information - mhm," a wave of dizziness washed over him. He gulped before resuming "-For your information, I am a preacher. Or... was."
The vampire's smile grew, lethal as a knife. "Now, that is ironic! You must have been quite the beloved figure."
His tone was mellow, the soothing flow of a song blaring in contrast to Vox’s roughed up, hoarse voice.
Vox found his own tremulous smile widening. "Like you wouldn't believe." He lifted his chin proudly. "I had a red cap. It was quite charming."
"Oh, I'm sure it was."
"-I was never as popular as you, though." When the demon tilted his head inquisitively, Vox fortified his will against the nausea and pain and added "You can terrify them with simple rumors of your presence here far better than I could ever comfort them. You're notorious, and you don't even need to show yourself. You are... quite inspiring," he broke off, unable to wage through the thick lump of shame that wedged itself in his throat. "I just... wanted to be someone. Someone important that people will remember. I took it too far and-" He closed his mouth again as a rising surge of tears welled up in his eyes, choking him with grief.
The vampire listened attentively to him as the pad of his thumb gently wiped away his tears, smearing Vox's own blood on his cheek.
"It doesn't matter now," Vox softly gasped. "I've always been a pathetic fuck up."
"Oh, I don't know." The other nodded pensively, still caressing Vox's face. "Something tells me that's not true. Maybe trying to prove yourself just wasn't what you needed to be truly happy. Maybe you just need to follow a different dream."
Vox absorbed the words, and somehow, the previous chronic despair that had been haunting him, that he thought he could never rid himself of, wheedled out into an imperceptible presence. It was still there; not that Vox actually clung to any hope of returning to his previous life; everyone knew him and news would have undoubtedly spread all throughout by now of his underhanded subterfuge. He could never return to civilization again. A final death at the hands of this man was the least agonizing fate he could have hoped for.
Still, after the vampire’s comforting words Vox could at least breathe again through the crushing grip of that shame. How did he know exactly what to say to calm Vox's mind? It felt like this man has known him all his life as those depthless eyes stared into his very soul, stripping it naked and instead of scowling at the rotten mess residing within, he soothed it.
It could have been Vox's own inexperience with the paranormal, or it could have just been the captivating aura this vampire naturally possessed. All he knew was that he found it increasingly difficult to take his gaze off him.
He was suddenly all too aware of how... intimate this was. Even with past lovers and friends he had never been this vulnerable or open and the realization wailed in his frail consciousness.
Judging by the captivated, searching glaze in the vampire's eyes, Vox surmised the same thoughts sauntered through his mind as well.
"I'm Vox," he offered his hand and grimaced when he noticed how bloody and soiled it was.
The vampire didn't take offense, instead he calmly shook Vox's hand in a greeting that would have been cordial were it occurring in any other circumstance.
"Alastor."
Vox mouthed the name silently, slouching his shoulders as the rush and adrenaline gradually exited his body. "Alastor," he rolled the name on his tongue, testing how it sounded. He tugged the coat tighter, his body relaxing. "Can't say I've met many Alastors. It's not a common name, how old are you?"
"Hmm, quite old, you'll find," he rumbled, not minding the audacious question, his tone compelling in its air of mystery. "I can't say I'm keeping track anymore. I'm definitely older than, ah, I believe five hundred years?"
Vox blanched. Even the mousy whooshing of the forest breeze echoed too loudly.
The vamp- Alastor noticed his mind loitering and he softened his voice when he purred "Does that frighten you?"
Gently, the vampire threaded his fingers through Vox's hair in the fond way one might do to a pet. Vox would have batted his hand away from the ember of humiliation sparking within him, but he didn't want to. He couldn't remember the last time he had been cherished like this without the expectation of commitment or the hovering cloud of distrust. He enjoyed the touch. He needed it.
His face emanated no sincere sympathy and Vox doubted Alastor had any intention of coddling his feelings or to curb any fear.
Still.
"Those teeth of yours are way scarier," he decided eventually, his words not disingenuous. "You don't look a day over thirty five," Vox blurted out which earned him a balmy laugh that was miles more genuine than the previous ones.
Warmth blossomed in his chest.
"Close." Alastor raised a finger, impressed. "I was bitten at thirty eight."
He didn't know why, but a nameless satisfaction swelled in his chest at the achievement of making this man laugh and, feeling risky, he gambled "Were you cast out too?"
Alastor’s expression slacked, but the momentary shock quickly transformed into a wry grin. "Prickly and clever. My my, you are quite the treat. Humans aren't known for their tolerance of the unexplainable and different, as I'm sure you've witnessed. It must have been hard hiding your true nature from them."
The air in Vox's lungs froze.
He gaped at the man, overcome by petrifying shock. A sloshing wave of heat pooled into his gut that he didn't know how to process. Distantly, he felt his soul returning to his body and he swallowed to regain his composure.
"How did you know?" His voice was dreadfully small.
He hadn't told anyone about his true nature before and uttering the words to a vampire who he had just met stirred an odd concoction of conflicting feelings in him.
"Your blood," Alastor said simply. "I could taste the power running in it. It tasted divine. I can't tell you how dull it gets to only be offered regular humans. The fools rarely ever discover a real witch to satisfy me. Humans are exceptional, but they don't compare to the sweetness of a magical being."
If only Alastor knew how badly Vox had fucked up. Fed by the exhilaration and bottomless well of power at his fingertips, Vox's magic had built up in him, rising and crackling and boiling over until it had breached his control. The blinding burst of electricity that had surged out of him had killed the entire congregation; men, women, all faceless, all devoted to him. The army of mindless puppets he had stationed on the board of prestige and chaos to help him climb to the top was gone in a matter of seconds.
The horror had come just as quickly as the divinity soaring through his veins had vanished. A pitiless cavern of despair had split his heart in two after the realization of what had happened had dawned on him and he would never forget the first "Murderer!" or the first "Liar!" that had been hatefully spewed at him. The raucous sounds of an incensed crowd had cornered him from every side. Some he had managed to fight off, most he had managed to burn to a crisp, but little could his magic do against their coalesced fury.
They had overpowered him eventually. They had deprived him of his voice. His entire life's work had slipped from his grasp with a single mistake, an accident.
"Mhm..." Vox hummed, thoughtful as his head subconsciously leaned further into his soon to be killer's caresses. The quiet, devoid of screaming and pain, was welcome. "You've done better at hiding yourself than me, though. You've terrified generations into doing your bidding and offering you sacrifices to keep the peace like pulling strings on a puppet. And all I am is another sacrifice in a long line."
For some reason, the thought displeased him. He didn't want to be a nobody to this man. If he couldn't remember Vox's useless valor then he might at least remember his face, his charm, his grit.
"Indeed," Alastor confirmed, his movements slowing, but not from boredom. Rather, he tentatively played with Vox's hair, doting and tender. "But, I wouldn't put you in that line. Few have been as brave while so afraid in my presence as you. What does a man have to do to get a simple conversation?"
"Maybe don't creep up on helpless people and start licking their backs?" Vox quipped with a teasing, small smile, easily growing bolder with his comments.
"Have custom greetings changed that much?" Alastor responded in equal jest.
Vox's smile widened. "Is it too late to be born in your generation? It sounds ridiculously fun."
He didn't understand what it was that made it so effortless to talk to Alastor. Was it the man's natural charisma, Vox's own, the impending sense of doom loosening Vox's tongue and his emotional inhibitions? Or perhaps, they weren't so different from each other once the outer shells were peeled off. It was almost inappropriate to converse so mundanely in the presence of someone who had seen him more vulnerable and honest than anyone.
The vampire's smile still shone persistently, but his eyes gleamed with something Vox couldn't identify. "Am I to understand that you enjoyed the licking, then?"
An honest to god, impossible laugh bubbled out of Vox's throat. The entire reservoir of magic pooled in his core had expended out of his body after the fight for his life, fritzing into nothing but frail wisps of zapping electricity that had been struggling all night to recharge against the exhaustion. The witch hunters had beaten him down too badly for him to fight back against Alastor, but he mustered up the last dregs of his energy to send a teasing burst of static against the vampire's fingers.
Alastor retracted his hand as transient blue sparks danced along the skin. His eyes blew wide and Vox winked, crinkling his lips into an impish grin. The surprise on Alastor’s face softly morphed into breathy delight, curving his expression into something so beautiful it couldn't be captured with words.
His gaze flicked over Alastor’s features, engraving them into his memory and he couldn't help but wonder how the vampire's astonishingly fluffy-looking ears would feel beneath his hand. On anyone else, they would probably look silly and out of place, but the charming cut of his hair and his velvety locks glossed their peculiarity and made him look rather... cute?
"That's a very neat trick you have there," Alastor drawled contentedly, as if to moderate his slightly winded breathing. He momentarily lifted his hand from Vox's hair to lightly flick his forehead. "You are reckless? Impulsive? Perhaps. Foolish? Definitely. Hot-headed? Absolutely! But, there's a brilliant mind ticking away in that stubborn head of yours."
Vox huffed, surprised that the patronizing gesture evoked no indignation within him. This demon had interacted with him for barely an hour and yet he already knew him better than anyone in Vox's life.
"Is this your attempt at flattery?"
Alastor shrugged innocently. "Well, you said such nice things about me earlier, it's only fair that I return the sentiment."
Vox smirked, sharp with intrigue. "I'd say you've done more than that." His voice turned buttery, plunging himself in flirting with a vampire with worrying ease. "People usually buy me a few drinks before they take me to bed."
"In this case you were the one giving me a drink," the other teased, smiling wider to accent his gleaming fangs. "In fact, your blood was one of the most enjoyable I've ever tasted."
A creeping, violent flush reddened Vox's face and he thanked whatever universal force had intervened to stop him from stammering.
"Oh, yeah?" He hoped he didn't sound too cheerful or smug. "Now, that is flattering. If you have any more I'm all ears."
Alastor slid his hand to cradle Vox's face and leaned even closer until their faces were inches apart. "Plenty." The intensity of his gaze was lethal. "But... something tells me your attention is elsewhere. Oh, listen to me. I've been chattering incessantly and you look exhausted."
"I like your chattering," he sputtered, his body growing far too comfortable for his irrational mind. "I prefer to listen, anyway. You'd be surprised how much information you can gather on someone that way."
Alastor blinked, his riveted gaze hooked. His eyes trailed up and down Vox's figure inspectively, the glimmer in them reeking of an enamored thrill. "As I said. Clever."
Vox's fingers clenched over the coat; he didn't understand why his body reacted so strongly to the other's praise. The vampire seemingly had an exceptional ability to string his emotions without even being aware of it and Vox couldn't fault him for he himself was embarrassingly failing to grasp a meaning for his uncharacteristic responses.
He couldn't pinpoint what the intense chemistry swimming between them was. If he could spend an eternity huddled in front of him on the chilly, soft grass and simply talk he would have. It was fun. It was immersive. It was exhilarating. The danger that followed a creature who could rip Vox apart at any moment but instead was choosing to caress him and have a conversation with him flung his brain into a warm tizzy he didn't have the ability to untangle.
He treated Vox as if he was something precious. Something worth protecting.
No one had ever done that before. No one had ever paid attention to him unless he earned it to the point he was burning himself up.
And this man was giving it freely, with no expectations or conditions. Without Vox having to work for it. It was breathtaking. He appreciated him for the person he was, not for his high standing or his accomplishments, but him. Just him. In all his naked, dirty, bloody, pathetic grandeur.
Suddenly, none of his achievements or failures mattered.
Not when faced with the darkness he wouldn't wake up from.
"Why are you so kind to me?" He couldn't prevent the question from escaping. It had been haunting him for too long and if he couldn't leave this forest alive then he might as well die as his true self, finally accepting who he was, with all his scraping virtues and endless flaws.
Alastor simply laughed and it caused Vox to bit the inside of his cheek to stifle a frown.
"I'm afraid, you'll find the word kindness does not exist in my dead heart," he shook his head earnestly and splayed a hand over his chest, feigning remorse.
Vox merely raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Possibly," he hushed, his voice lowering. "But, it's in your eyes."
For a few moments, Alastor stared at him. The silence soaked into the tense atmosphere that reeked of an unplaced, mutual understanding. When Alastor seemed to be fishing for an answer that wouldn't grace his confusion, Vox pressed his lips into a thin line and exhaled.
"Just... be quick..." he whispered quietly, almost shyly. "Please."
He didn't need to elaborate his request further, they both knew what he was referring to.
The vampire looked down, tearing his eyes off of Vox for the first time since he unchained him. His gaze was pensive as a zoned out sheen overtook his eyes. After a few seconds, he appeared to have come to some sort of conclusion and he raised his head up, resolute. Cold.
Vox didn't resist when Alastor stopped petting him and placed his hands on his shoulders to push him down onto the ground.
He obeyed, laying on his back with a rough exhale. The coat fell beneath him in a makeshift blanket and a resigned, doleful expression sketched on his face as the man saddled his waist, fully covering Vox's upper body with his own.
Yet, through their shared gazes, a profound sense of trust manifested that words were ill-equipped to voice. Their mutual silence spoke with an intensity Vox couldn't emulate even if he shouted into an endless void.
Alastor maintained that eye contact as he lowered his face down to Vox’s neck. Vox stiffened with the expectation that his throat would soon be torn out, but the vampire instead brushed a soft, blissful kiss against his skin.
He breathed out, relieved that Alastor upheld his promise to grant him a peaceful death. Maybe he liked Vox's obedience, maybe he saw how cooperative he could be with the insubstantial price of some respect and a simple kind touch.
He couldn't prevent his arms from wrapping around the man's back and tugging him closer, desperate for his warmth. He clung to Alastor as though he was the last anchor amidst a raging storm and he paid no mind to the fresh tears that fell down the sides of his face.
Alastor answered in equal, laying gentle kisses on his neck in a tantalizing, irresistible trail. Small, delighted moans escaped both of them as Alastor continued to kiss and nip at the sensitive flesh.
"I'm scared..." Vox admitted shakily. A loud sob splintered his voice, reducing it to wordless gasps.
The vampire halted briefly. His hands softly squeezed Vox's shoulders before he connected his forehead to Vox's.
"Trust me, darling," was all he said in response. Warmth blessed Vox's forehead as Alastor placed a deep, tender kiss against it and it spurred another broken sob to erupt from him. "Trust me."
Vox closed his eyes, more than eager to let this be the last thing he felt. He barely flinched when Alastor sunk his fangs into his neck in the same bitten spot. He tightened his hold, his fingers curling into Alastor's shirt, as the remainder of his blood began to gush out in mild rivulets into the vampire's mouth.
He shielded Vox's body protectively, one of his hands continued to rest fondly on Vox's shoulder as the other went to cup the back of his neck, supporting it. Slowly, as his body succumbed to the exhaustion, Vox felt his vision swirling in messy chaos. He could see the stars now, small and twinkling and it swayed the beating of his heart into a calmer tempo. Maybe, no one was ever supposed to reach them. Maybe, some things were meant to simply be appreciated for how beautiful they were.
His arms dropped numbly to the ground, unable to be held up anymore, as the world faded away into a distant memory.
He felt the vampire pull back and Vox could have sworn he saw him prick his finger and dab his blood onto the wound on Vox's neck. The last thing Vox heard before he finally lost consciousness and welcomed that inescapable, awaiting darkness was that ethereal voice whispering in his ear:
"You will not meet the end just yet, my dear." A tender, warm press of lips against his own bid Vox farewell before he passed out. "You have yet to burn bright."