Cain gazed down at Arabella's pale, vulnerable form, her head cradled in his hands. The sight of her delicate neck, the pulsing vein just beneath the surface, was almost too much for him to bear. He felt the familiar ache of his fangs, the insatiable thirst that coursed through his veins. With tremendous effort, he resisted the primal urge to sink his teeth into her soft flesh and drain her dry.
Instead, he carefully tipped her head back, allowing a few more precious drops of blood to trickle down her throat. Arabella was stable now, her fever broken, no longer whimpering in pain. Instead, he carefully tipped her head back, allowing a few more precious drops of blood to trickle down her throat.
He knew he needed to distance himself before he lost all control. Carefully, he laid Arabella back down on the couch, her skin damp with fever-induced sweat. Tearing his gaze away, Cain moved to the other side of the living room, putting as much distance between them as he could. Cain forced himself to drink the fresh blood he had gotten, trying to sate the ravenous hunger that threatened to consume him.
Cain gazed down into the deep crimson liquid that swirled and danced within the delicate crystal wine glass cradled in his hand. The ominous, inky hue of the blood-red wine stirred up a whirlwind of memories he had long tried to suppress, threatening to pull him back into the darkness of his past. He could almost feel the phantom weight of that jagged rock in his palm, the sickening crunch of bone, and the guttural cry that had escaped his brother's lips replaying vividly in his mind's eye. The guilt and shame that had haunted him for years threatened to rise and consume him once more, a heavy, suffocating cloud that threatened to steal the very breath from his lungs. But just as he felt himself beginning to unravel, a soft whimper from beside him jolted him back to the present.
"...Rowan…" Arabella shifted on the couch.
Cain froze, looking at her before standing and leaving the living room, getting so fresh air.
….
Dante sat behind his desk, a soft smile playing across his lips as he contemplated the task at hand. His long, slender fingers intertwined together in a thoughtful gesture, betraying the intense focus that lay beneath his calm exterior. Leaning back in his chair, his light gray eyes scanned the information displayed on his computer screen, absorbing every detail with a keen, analytical gaze.
Dante's beige skin, smooth and unblemished, provided a perfect canvas for his striking features: the soft curls of his blonde hair framing his face, and his full, expressive lips adding an air of quiet confidence. There was an undeniable charisma about him, an effortless poise that commanded attention, even as he sat quietly observing. It was clear that Dante was a man who valued precision and careful consideration.
The door swung open, unveiling the presence of his trusted confidant, Brock. Standing tall and exuding an aura of intimidation, Brock commanded attention with his imposing figure. His dark complexion added an air of mystery, making him an enigmatic force to be reckoned with.
"What is my little bird up to today?" Dante crosses his legs, looking up at Brock.
"She massacred a herd of deer," Brock said in a firm voice. An evil smirk spread across his face.
"but she got sick" Brock cleared his throat, knowing that would happen.
"Good" Dante stood, walking towards his giant window, looking down at the city below. "prepare the plane. It's time to bring my little bird home" he could smell her scent from here.
"Unfortunately, she is being treated," Brock used his words carefully, and the surrounding atmosphere turned dark. "A local coffee producer found her"
"Find out about him" Dante's voice was cold, grinding against his teeth.
"Yes, sir," Brock nodded, leaving Dante's office.
A dark, simmering rage consumed Dante's entire being, a bitter torment that gnawed at his very core. He tried in vain to push down this overwhelming emotion, to quell the rising tide of anger that threatened to engulf him, but the more he fought, the stronger it became. Closing his eyes, he desperately tried to conjure the image of Arabella, to focus on her delicate features and the memory of her intoxicating scent. But visions of assaulting his mind's eye her entwined with another, their bodies intertwined in a passionate embrace that sent Dante's blood boiling.
In a sudden, savage outburst, he seized his desk and hurled it with savage force at the massive window, the heavy wooden furniture shattering the glass with a deafening crash that echoed his internal turmoil. Shards of glass rained down, but Dante was oblivious, his every nerve ending alight with a bitter, agonizing jealousy that threatened to consume him entirely.
….
As Arabella slowly regained consciousness, her vision gradually came into focus, revealing the high, white ceiling and the dark wooden beams that crisscrossed overhead. The bright morning sunlight streamed in through the tall windows, causing her to wince and try to shield her eyes, but even that simple motion proved too much in her weakened state.
She felt disoriented, her head pounding and her body aching, unsure of how she had ended up in this unfamiliar room. But then, a pair of familiar, warm blue eyes appeared above her, and she felt an immediate sense of comfort and relief wash over her. A small, grateful smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she recognized the face of the person gazing down at her, their expression a mix of concern and tenderness.
"Rowan…" Arabella whimpered, trying to reach for him.
"Aww, love, what have you gotten yourself into now?" Rowan whispered before leaving.
"Rowan" Arabella began to panic when Rowan went out of view.
"Shh…" Cain appeared at Arabella's side. "don't move, it might cause you pain," he whispered, trying not to touch her.
"What's happening to me?" Arabella wheezed out of her mouth.
"You are sick, you drank some bad blood," Cain tried to explain through Arabella's haze.
"What?" Arabella couldn't comprehend what he was saying.
"Hold on," Cain said, leaving behind a writhing Arabella in pain. Filled with urgency, Cain swiftly grabbed a bowl and promptly filled it with blood. Without hesitation, he settled back down next to her. "drink"
"What is that?" Arabella tried to push it away.
"Just drink it," Cain insisted, but Arabella shook her head. "Please, you need to drink it," he whispered, helping it to her lips.
The moment Arabella caught the scent of the fresh human blood, her entire demeanor shifted. All thoughts of her pain and weakness vanished as a primal, desperate hunger consumed her. Her eyes fixed hungrily on the bowl, and without a moment's hesitation, she seized it, driven by an overwhelming need to quench her thirst. The aroma of the blood was intoxicating, causing her fangs to ache with a sharp, insistent craving. Arabella's stomach let out a feral growl, and she could think of nothing else but sinking her teeth into the crimson nectar before her.
As she brought the bowl to her lips, Arabella's eyes began to glow with an unearthly light. Her fangs burst forth from her gums, piercing the air with their deadly points. Then, with a ravenous fervor, she drank deeply; the blood sliding down her throat with a sensation more heavenly than the finest vintage.
Unlike the metallic, unsatisfying taste of animal blood, this was pure ambrosia - light and sweet, like water infused with the essence of honey. The revitalizing elixir flooded her body, breaking the fever that had gripped her and chasing away the lingering pain. Arabella felt her strength returning, her mind clearing, as the nourishing blood breathed new life into her veins. In that moment, all her suffering and weakness melted away, leaving only a primal euphoria.
Cain's eyes remained fixed as he watched Arabella hungrily consume the last drops of the crimson liquid, captivated by the feral intensity with which she savored every sip. The sight of her delicate lips parting greedily to draw in the last remnants of the viscous fluid sent a shiver of temptation through Cain's body. He found himself almost overwhelmed by the primal urge to lean in closer, to reach out and trace the path of a stray bead of blood as it trailed down her chin, to capture it on his tongue and savor the sweet taste.
The very thought of pressing his lips to hers, of sucking the life-giving essence directly from the source, was nearly intoxicating. Yet Cain fought to restrain himself, to resist the alluring siren call of his baser instincts. Instead, he watched in rapt fascination as Arabella methodically licked each of her fingers clean, her eyes fluttering shut in obvious ecstasy as she ensured that not a single drop went to waste. The sight of her pink tongue darting out to capture the last remnants from her lips only served to heighten Cain's arousal, to make the temptation all the more palpable.
"What was that?" she asked, still dazed by its intoxication. Redness flooded her cheeks.
"human blood" Cain stood, moving to the open-plan kitchen. "fresh human blood" he looked at her with dark eyes as her body froze.
"you know," Arabella swallowed deeply, the taste of blood still lingering on her tongue.
"I know"