Kian sat on the edge of the bed, gazing through the narrow window that only teased him with glimpses of the world beyond.
Days had bled into weeks, and his time in Viktor's lair had become an endless, monotonous loop: wake, eat, bathe, read, and sleep. Over and over, each day blending into the next until he was almost numb to it. The room was comfortable, even lavish by Kain's standards, but it felt like a prison all the same.
Though the walls didn't physically confine him, their very presence weighed on him, a reminder of his captivity.
Viktor had given him everything he could ask for: warm, satisfying meals, a bed softer than any he'd known, and shelves lined with books to occupy his idle hours. Whatever he wanted, it seemed Viktor was eager to provide it, as if his comfort was somehow essential. Yet, despite the luxuries, Kian's soul was restless, hungry for something more than just comfort. He craved freedom. He craved answers. And more than anything, he wanted clarity, an explanation for the strange, unyielding pull between him and the vampire.
Even when Viktor wasn't there, Kian could sense his presence, lingering in the room like a shadow that refused to fade. It wasn't merely the silence that filled the room when Viktor left, nor the memories of their brief, charged encounters. It was something deeper, something invisible yet unbreakable, that tugged at him relentlessly. At first, he'd fought it with every fiber of his being, resisting this unnatural bond that seemed to tie them together. He had hated Viktor for keeping him here, for biting him, for dragging him into a life he hadn't chosen. That hatred had been strong, almost comforting in its certainty. But over time, it had faded, leaving something else in its place, something far more confusing.
Kian couldn't deny that Viktor had treated him with nothing but kindness. The vampire seemed to know what he needed before Kian even realized it himself. If he was hungry, a meal would appear almost like magic, perfectly suited to his tastes. When boredom threatened to suffocate him, Viktor would bring books, stacks of them, each one selected with a strange, precise intuition that left Kian wondering if Viktor somehow knew his thoughts. The first time Kian had mentioned wanting something to read, Viktor had appeared moments later, his arms laden with enough books to fill a small library. Kian had been speechless, overwhelmed by the sheer thoughtfulness of the gesture.
But then there was Viktor himself. Controlled, distant, almost detached in the way he moved and spoke. He would bring what Kian needed, his visits always brief, and then vanish as though he were avoiding Kian's presence. Their interactions were infuriatingly polite, devoid of the confrontation or answers Kian yearned for. Yet, as frustrating as Viktor's behavior was, Kian couldn't help but feel unsettled by it, not from fear, but from something else entirely. A feeling he couldn't name but sensed deep within him.
It was a feeling he had tried, at first, to dismiss. An irrational flicker of interest that he'd told himself was mere curiosity. But with each passing day, that flicker grew, stubbornly refusing to be ignored. Viktor's cold, pale face, once the stuff of his nightmares, now brought him an inexplicable sense of comfort. He found himself anticipating Viktor's visits, watching for him, waiting for the faint sound of footsteps in the hallway, the creak of the door as it opened. The sight of Viktor entering the room no longer sent shivers down his spine in fear; instead, it made his heart race for entirely different reasons.
And yet, the more drawn he felt to Viktor, the more confused he became. How could he possibly feel anything but anger for his captor? How could he be attracted to the very creature who had taken him against his will? The questions spun through his mind endlessly, tangled up in emotions he didn't want to face.
Today was no different. He'd just finished another meal, a strange mix of flavors he wouldn't have chosen for himself, yet each bite seemed perfectly suited to his tastes, as if Viktor somehow knew what he would enjoy even before he did. He set the empty plate aside and sighed, his mind drifting back to that night in the alley, the night when everything had changed.
Viktor hadn't fed on him since that night. Weeks had passed, and though Kian had read enough about vampires to understand their need for blood, Viktor hadn't once asked for it, hadn't once forced him to offer anything. But Kian could see the toll it was taking on him. Viktor's pale skin had grown almost translucent, and there was a new hollowness in his eyes, a hint of weakness that hadn't been there before. He moved slower, with less of the effortless grace he once had, and Kian found himself wondering how much longer Viktor could go on like this.
The more Kian dwelled on it, the more the idea of Viktor feeding from him felt strangely... enticing. The thought no longer struck fear into him; instead, it stirred something deep and dark within, a thrill that sent a shiver coursing through his veins. Somewhere along the way, his fear had quietly transformed, slipping into fascination and sinking its roots deep before he could even recognize the change.
Just then, the door creaked open, jolting Kian out of his reverie. Viktor entered, moving gracefully to clear the plates. Kian blinked, quickly composing himself.
As always, Viktor's movements were a mesmerizing blend of control and elegance, each step precise as he crossed the room and set the tray on the table beside the bed. But this time, something felt different.
Viktor lingered, his crimson gaze lingering on Kian with an intensity that made his pulse quicken. There was something raw in Viktor's eyes, a softness, an unguarded vulnerability that Kian had never seen in him before.
In the charged silence, Kian felt the tension between them coil even tighter, as if an invisible thread was pulling them closer, binding them in a way words couldn't explain. The connection between them was no longer just a whisper; it pulsed, alive and undeniable. Kian wondered, his heart racing, if Viktor felt it too.
He hesitated, the words he'd been rehearsing in his mind all day suddenly caught in his throat. He felt the weight of them pressing on his chest, yet he couldn't seem to force them out. He knew he couldn't keep pretending, couldn't let this silent question gnaw at him any longer. He needed to understand.
"Don't vampires need to feed daily?" he blurted, his voice slicing through the silence of the room. The moment the words left his mouth, his heart thudded in his chest, but there was no going back now.
Viktor froze, his hand hovering above the tray, his entire posture stiffening. His crimson eyes locked onto Kian, narrowing slightly as though assessing every detail of his expression, every flicker of emotion. For a long, charged moment, he said nothing, and the air between them grew thick with an unspoken tension. Kian could feel his pulse quickening, each beat echoing in his ears as he waited, dreading and hoping for Viktor's response.
Finally, Viktor's voice broke the silence, low and measured, carrying an edge of caution. "We do." His gaze didn't waver, but Kian noticed a glimmer of something in his eyes, curiosity, perhaps, or maybe wariness, as if Viktor were wondering what had prompted the question. "Why do you ask?"
Kian swallowed, nerves knotting in his stomach. He hadn't expected this to feel so… intimate, so vulnerable.
Under Viktor's intense scrutiny, he felt exposed, as though his very thoughts were laid bare. His fingers found the edge of the blanket, fidgeting with it as he tried to gather the courage to continue. He avoided Viktor's gaze, letting the silence stretch between them for another heartbeat before finally lifting his head and meeting those crimson eyes.
"Then why haven't you asked me for any?" His voice was barely a whisper, each word a struggle to push out.
Viktor's expression shifted ever so subtly, the cold mask he typically wore cracking just enough for Kian to glimpse the turmoil brewing beneath it. There was something vulnerable, almost human, lurking in his gaze, a hint of conflict that stirred something deep within Kian. He could see that this question, simple as it was, had touched something raw.
Slowly, Viktor took a step closer, his towering presence casting a shadow over Kian.
A shiver ran down Kian's spine, not out of fear, but out of something far more complex, a tension that buzzed beneath his skin. Viktor's movements were measured, controlled, and he stopped just short of Kian, close enough that Kian could feel the subtle chill radiating from him. Yet Viktor didn't seem threatening; instead, his expression softened, a tenderness slipping through as if he were carefully weighing each word before he spoke.
"Kian," Viktor murmured, his voice so low it was barely more than a breath, "I told you, I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do." His gaze bore into Kian's, filled with a sincerity that made Kian's heart skip a beat. "I would never want to hurt you."
Kian's chest tightened, his heart hammering with a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability he couldn't quite explain. He had braced himself for some cold, detached response, but Viktor's words were unexpectedly gentle, revealing a depth of restraint that left Kian momentarily speechless. The vampire was close now, his features softened in the dim light, and Kian could feel the electric charge between them, humming with an intensity neither seemed able to ignore.
Viktor's eyes, still locked on his, were bright with that strange mixture of hunger and restraint, and in that moment, Kian felt himself being drawn in, almost against his will. The connection between them was undeniable, like an invisible tether binding them together. Every part of him was telling him to look away, to break the spell, yet he couldn't. Instead, he found himself leaning into that magnetic pull, his body responding to the unspoken invitation in Viktor's gaze.
It was subtle at first, but as Viktor's gaze lingered, Kian's breathing quickened, matching the rhythm of his pounding heart. He could feel his pulse thrumming beneath his skin, every beat echoing louder as the silence stretched on. The air was thick with anticipation, an energy so intense it felt as though it might crackle and spark at any moment. Kian's lips parted, but no words came, there was nothing to say. The language between them was unspoken, a silent understanding that passed in the flicker of Viktor's gaze, the slightest tilt of his head.
And in that silence, Kian felt a sense of inevitability, as though he were standing on the edge of something vast and unknown, ready to take the plunge.