Elias edged closer, despite every instinct screaming to stay back. Alaric didn't just occupy the room; he owned it, even bound to the bedpost. There was a coiled menace in the way he sat—like a lion tolerating the cage only because it amused him. Confidence dripped off him, cold and assured, the kind that didn't need to announce itself. It was the certainty of something ancient, something cruel, and far too patient to rush the inevitable.
Alaric's smile was a wicked, lazy curve—half serenity, half threat. Pale hair tumbled over his face like streaks of silver blood, but nothing hid the sharpness in his gaze. He was studying Elias, dissecting him, already playing out every move, every way this encounter could end—and none of it ended well for Elias.
"You hunters," Alaric drawled, the words dragging out like silk through a blade. His voice was a low hum, dangerous in its casual indifference. "Always the same. Self-righteous, desperate little gnats—clinging to purpose like it'll save you." His lips curled slightly, and the chains groaned as he leaned back, shifting just enough to show how little the restraints mattered. "But you don't, do you? None of you ever live long enough to see how useless you are."
The smile sharpened, a flash of straight teeth hidden beneath a veneer of charm. "I've tasted some of your friends, you know. They screamed so sweetly, clinging to life until there was nothing left to hold onto." He inhaled deeply, as if savoring the scent of a memory. "They were delicious."
Elias's blood surged, fury blooming hot beneath his skin. His fists clenched, knuckles turning white, but Alaric just watched, his pale eyes glittering with amusement—like a cat watching a trapped bird beat itself bloody against the bars of its own cage.
"That one—what was his name? Grant? Or was it George?" Alaric's voice was an idle murmur, thick with mockery. "Funny how the names slip away from me after they die, but the taste?" He exhaled, slow and indulgent, like a man recalling the finest wine. "That stays with yo--."
The slap came without thought—a sharp, resounding crack that echoed through the room. Alaric's head snapped to the side, pale strands of hair spilling across his face.
Elias's chest rose and fell heavily, his hand still stinging from the force of the blow. But whatever satisfaction he expected to feel vanished the moment Alaric turned his head back, a fresh streak of blood glistening on his split lip that was gone in an instant.
And Alaric smiled.
It wasn't just the smile—it was the look in his eyes.A maddening mixture of amusement and desire, as if Elias's anger only fed something deeper inside him.
"Oh, Elias," Alaric whispered, his voice soft and mocking. "You'll have to do better than that if you want me to stop smiling."
With deliberate slowness, Alaric raised his hand to his mouth, smearing the blood across his pale lips.
Then his tongue flicked out, sharp and deliberate, tasting it.The moment the blood touched his tongue, something shifted—his eyes turned black, entirely, a deep, endless void.
Elias's breath hitched, a flicker of fear sparking in his chest. The room seemed to darken, the air thick with a sudden, suffocating tension. But Elias swallowed the fear, refusing to let it show. He held his ground, his expression hard, but his heart was pounding in his chest like a drum.
Alaric's gaze, now pitch-black and inhuman, locked onto him. He licked his lips slowly, savoring the taste with a twisted smile. "You'll taste even better," he whispered, his voice a low, dark promise. "I can almost feel you on my tongue already."
The words were spoken like a lover's confession, but the predatory hunger behind them was unmistakable. Alaric leaned forward slightly, chains rattling as he did, as if testing how close he could get before Elias backed away. But Elias didn't move.
"Not going to happen," Elias said, his voice low but steady, despite the cold sweat gathering on the back of his neck. "The witch controls who you hurt, not you. You've got no say in it."
That struck a nerve.
Alaric's smile faltered for the briefest second, his blackened eyes narrowing with something between frustration and intrigue. Then, to Elias's surprise, the grin returned—wider, sharper, and more dangerous than before. He looked thrilled.
"Oh," Alaric murmured, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "Is that what you think?" His chains rattled again as he shifted forward, closer now, his movements smooth and unsettling. "You think that witch is holding my leash?"
Alaric let out a low, deranged chuckle, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. He was excited—aroused, even.The idea of being controlled only seemed to amuse him, as if the very concept was something he intended to dismantle the moment he felt like it.
"You really believe she can stop me?" Alaric whispered, his voice dipping into something more intimate, more dangerous. "You don't know me at all, do you?"
There was no doubt in Alaric's voice—only the certainty of someone who knew exactly how and when he would break free.
Alaric leaned in closer, his blackened eyes locked on Elias, drinking in every flicker of emotion, every subtle shift in his posture. He enjoyed this—the dance, the tension, the barely-contained fury.
"You think the witch has control?" Alaric purred, his lips brushing the edge of a smirk. "We'll see how long that lasts. And when it doesn't..." He trailed off, the implication hanging heavy in the air. His tongue flicked out again, as if tasting the very thought.
Elias forced himself to hold Alaric's gaze, but the weight of it was almost unbearable. There was something deeply, fundamentally wrong with this man.A madness lurking beneath the surface, barely concealed by the beauty of his face.
"You're insane," Elias muttered, his voice tight with frustration.
Alaric grinned, a wicked, predatory grin that showed the faintest hint of sharp teeth. "You're just figuring that out now?"
Elias took another step closer, defiance burning in his chest. "Whatever you think is going to happen, it won't. The witch owns you."
For a moment, Alaric's smile twisted into something darker—more dangerous. But instead of anger, there was excitement in his eyes, as if the challenge only fueled his desire.
"Yes she does," Alaric whispered, his voice a sultry murmur. "But when I do get free..." His gaze slid down Elias's body, deliberate and hungry. "I'll make sure you're the first one I taste."
Elias's jaw clenched, every muscle in his body coiled tight, but he refused to back down. "Not today."
Alaric's smile deepened, his chains rattling softly as he leaned back against the bedpost, satisfied for now but dangerously patient.
"Not today," Alaric echoed, his voice a soft purr. "But soon."
The tension in the room thickened, heavy and electric, as Elias stared down the beautiful monster before him before turning to leave.
And Alaric, still smiling, watched him.
...
Elias halted mid-step however ,the weight of Alaric's grin digging under his skin, gnawing at the edges of his composure. That smug look—so serene, so sure—ignited a blaze in his chest, something dark and consuming. Every instinct urged him to back away, but the burn of anger—kept him rooted.
He wouldn't walk away. Not this time.
In one swift movement, Elias grabbed a fistful of Alaric's pale hair, yanking it back hard enough to jerk the vampire's head to the side. The chains rattled as Alaric shifted, neck arched and exposed—vulnerable in the way only someone invulnerable could afford to be. His lips parted slightly, and a sharp inhale escaped, more curious than pained.
But Elias leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of Alaric's ear, breath hot and deliberate.
"When the witch hands you over," Elias whispered, his voice low, dangerous, possessive, "I'll use you however I want. To my heart's content." He paused, savoring the way those words hung in the air, suffocating and electric. "And you won't be able to stop me."
Alaric went perfectly still, the silence between them sharpening like a drawn blade. Then, slowly—almost imperceptibly—his smile faded.
His pale eyes gleamed with a flicker of something inhuman, ancient, and ravenous. The stillness of his face cracked as his lips curled back, revealing now ,new rows of sharp, serrated teeth—not the elegant fangs of a vampire, but a predator's maw, jagged and cruel. They glinted in the dim light, more shark than man, each tooth a promise of violence barely restrained.
Elias's grip on Alaric's hair tightened, but he didn't pull away. He saw it—the want, the bloodlust swirling just beneath the vampire's surface. It thrilled him.
Alaric's chest rose and fell with slow, controlled breaths. The sharpness in his eyes grew more dangerous, but something darker held him back—a curse, a leash. He couldn't harm unless commanded. And the knowledge of it twisted in Alaric's gaze, pooling into a fury so deep it felt like drowning.
The predator stared up at Elias, teeth bared in a silent snarl, a beast forced to play human. Chains groaned as Alaric's fingers flexed against the iron, craving release that would never come without permission.
"You think you'll control me?" Alaric whispered, his voice low, crackling with suppressed rage. "Enjoy your fantasy while it lasts, hunter." His voice dropped further, turning into a snarl beneath the veneer of words. "But when that leash slips—" He didn't finish, but the weight of the threat settled like cold iron between them.
Elias's heart pounded, not from fear but exhilaration. He leaned in closer, their faces inches apart.
"I'll make sure it never slips," Elias whispered, his voice soft and mocking. "Because I'm going to enjoy every second of having you at my mercy."
Alaric's jagged teeth clicked softly as his jaw flexed, frustration and fury darkening his features. His expression hollowed, the monster lurking beneath his skin aching to tear free—but bound, forced to remain obedient.
And that was when Elias smiled, a slow, satisfied grin spreading across his face. He'd already won—and they both knew it.
"You're not free, Alaric," Elias continued, his voice steady and deliberate. "You're hers now. And when I decide to, you'll be mine too."
For a moment, Alaric's blackened eyes burned with something unreadable.
He didn't like that. Not one bit.
He leaned forward, even with the chains biting into his wrists, until his lips were almost brushing Elias's.
"You think you'll enjoy me, hunter?" Alaric whispered, his voice low, guttural, dripping with venomous sweetness. His pale lips stretched into a crooked, unsettling grin—too wide, too knowing, too wrong.
"You'll enjoy me right up until the moment you don't. Until I start with the tender parts—" he hissed, each word curling like smoke, "—the skin behind your ears, the meat of your palms. I'll savor every inch of you that you thought no one would ever touch."
His jagged teeth glinted, sharp and wet. "I'll peel you apart, slow, deliberate... like I'm shelling a fruit. And I'll keep going long after you start screaming. Because I know something you don't."
Alaric's grin widened, and his voice dropped into a soft, manic murmur. "Fear only makes it taste better."
The weight of those words slithered into the air between them, thick and suffocating. Alaric's pale eyes gleamed with a twisted sort of delight, as if the very thought of Elias writhing beneath him was a promise worth savoring.
Elias held his ground, but the thrill in his chest flickered, twisted by something colder—the faintest glimpse of the nightmare lurking beneath Alaric's skin.
"And the best part?" Alaric whispered, his grin never faltering. "When I'm done with you—when there's nothing left but sinew and bone—" he paused, his serrated teeth glinting beneath his lips, "I'll smile like this. Just for you."
Elias's hand tightened in Alaric's hair, his knuckles going white. But Alaric only laughed—a sound like brittle glass snapping underfoot—soft, amused, and devoid of sanity.
It was a warning wrapped in madness. And worse than that, it was a promise.