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Description
(This New Hunger)

It was dark and he felt cold…so cold. It was the type of cold that got down to your core and made your bones rattle, made your soul fucking shiver. No matter how he tried he couldn’t get warm….and his neck ached something foul. The pain was as deep as the cold, like a sick infection. It throbbed nonstop for a while now, a rabid animal’s bite. He sat slumped on the floor on his knees. He stared down at the floor. There was nothing else near him except a few skittering bugs. He’d been placed here for punishment, not wanting to eat his meals. What meals?

Tears stung his eyes again. He had been kidnapped…yes that was it. Stolen right from the damned brothel and brought here by a crazy man. These beasts didn’t exist!! Beasts with blood-red eyes and darkness so cold that it scared you to look right at them, felt like probing fingers teasing around in your brain. The tears fell this time, Dante let out a low muffled cry. That sight…that fucking sight! It would be forever burned into his memory…that screaming. He woke up in cold sweats because of that sound, always a different dream, too. Sometimes he even managed to save the poor baby. He couldn’t look at the far corner of the room; its corpse had started to decay, causing the bugs to collect in the small room now. The crazed man thought it ‘added’ to his punishment.

His stomach ached for food, for days now he’d had nothing. The baby was meant for him but instead he vomited on his own feet fearing himself going mad then. The infant’s neck had been broken before being tossed aside. It had been three days now, three days for him to finally collapse under his own weight. He looked paled and sickly. He had thrown up again just hours earlier. This time there was nothing except bile and his stomach retched even more.

“Mum…,” he whimpered to himself not caring he was fully grown. He huddled into the tightest ball possible and tried to sleep.

The brush of a hand against his back woke him sometime later. His head was groggy from a restless sleep and pain gnawed in his gut. He turned and stared with bleary eyes, looking miserable.

“My poor Little One,” his captor crooned in a voice so sweet it made his stomach turn and chills take hold of his body. He scooted back as much as he could, but his back pressed against the cold stone wall, keeping them both uncomfortably close.

“You should be over this by now….”

Dante shivered just wishing his unnerving eyes would look away already. His mouth still ached and he wanted to bite on things. For a while he’d been chewing the inside of his mouth. His captor must have noticed because his hand roamed his jaw, lifting his head up. Fingers pried his lips open before he could protest.

“Your fangs are fine,” his captor whispered as he inspected his mouth. His eyes flickered over him shrewdly.

“Yet you still do not eat…”

“Are you purposely trying to defy me?”

Dante’s voice hitched and died in his throat. His lips were red and wet and his thumb ached from near constantly suckling on it during his fitful sleep. What use was it to explain anything to this madman…if he was even a man? He hated looking so close into his eyes, but his face drew so near to his own that such a thing as looking away was impossible. He winced when the hand tracing his jaw tightened suddenly.

“Answer me!” his captor roared violently, making him jolt back so hard he nearly knocked himself unconscious against the stone wall. He wanted to answer….but all that would spill out was frightened whimpers….like a sad beaten puppy. Dante steeled himself for a strike, perhaps another one would land on his already showing bruises, adding to the pain.

But instead of a beating, it was something worse…much worse.

His captor…smiled.

“Fine,” he hissed hotly by his ear, but what made it even creepier was the soothing tone of his voice. It was like honey and Dante had to fight a shudder, snap his eyes shut, and suck in a breath. Lately his lungs had been growing weaker and it felt harder and harder to draw breathe into them. His knees shook as his captor’s hand roamed from his jaw to his shoulder. His nails were like claws, scrapping his skin.

“But you must stop nursing your thumb, Little One…it’s nothing but a bad habit,”

Dante flexed his hand out of reflex, feeling the wetness of his thumb touch the palm of his hand. It was so sore and pricked with blood from where instinct had become too much for him. His captor’s mouth twitched softly.

“Still, that does tell me your instincts are working….yet you still defy them,” he sighed in a dejected manner, clicking his tongue with disapproval.

Dante had shrunk closer to the stone wall; the soft ‘chink’ of rattling chains was heard somewhere far off. His blood ran cold. Was someone else down here with him that he didn’t know about!? His tongue wet his lips nervously, eyes kept down on the floor. This man was insane, and surely he would eventually kill him! His neck injury pained him bad as of late, most times it was hard to see through the haze of pain. He blinked back tears.

“You…..you killed a baby you bloody monster!”

His body shook with rage; fists clenching so hard his nails pricked the skin and made them bleed. Sobs racked his body and this time he was unable to stop the tears from falling. Cold lips pressed on his neck, soft crooning met his ears.

“Mm poor baby…”
Dante shivered, unsure if the words were meant for the baby’s corpse or for him. He swallowed thickly.

“Why do you care?” his voice caressed his ear smooth like velvet. You could practically hear the smile in it.

Dante sat stock still, completely stunned by the question. Why should he care? Bile rose into his throat again, he retched up the sick this time, his vision spotted with flecks of white. He was going to faint, the rotted stench of flesh turning his stomach.

But hands caught him before he could hit the ground, clawed hands that scrapped against his skin like knives. There was a sharp twinge of pain, he had been cut and felt the sticky ooze of blood start to pool from the wound. The feel of a tongue lashed against the wound.

“Get your bloody hands off me!” Dante shuddered, not seeing the flash of rage in the madman’s eyes. He felt himself being jerked forward so hard his arm almost was torn from the socket. The smell of death hit his nose strong now and he gagged, terrified.

“You are mine to do with as I please,” the voice crooned in his ear. The creepy thing was he didn’t sound angry at all, rather disappointed.

“And you further anger me by not eating…I will let you’re outburst go for now, as you are just hungry….” He leaned forward closer, lips pressing against skin.

“But do it again, and your eyes will be torn out of your skull, Fledgling.”

.Fledgling.

For some reason that word made his blood chill him to the core. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard it muttered in feverish rantings. His voice was a hoarse whisper, but it still greatly affected him. His eyes flickered back on the infant’s corpse, stomach turning. He would not! He tried to think hard on what to do. It was clear he wasn’t dealing with the ordinary crazed person. This man was…..something else. His head spun with sickness and fear. If only he had something sharp, maybe he could pierce its heart? But as soon as that thought crossed his mind he saw his captor sneer.

“Try stabbing me if you like, Little One, but it won’t work.”

Dante’s palms started to sweat and his bowls turned to water then. How could this man have known what he was thinking?? The more scared he became the more that twisted smile seemed to grow. He pressed hard into the wall, shivering. There was nowhere to run; he had no idea where he was, having been brought here under a veil of blackness. For all he knew he was in some dungeon somewhere….it felt like one. Tears fell again and he rubbed them away furiously.

He was going to die here…

“Oh, Little One,” his captor whispered, dragging him close suddenly with a vice-like grip.

“You’ve already done that.”

“How can you know my thoughts!?”

Dante screamed, thrashing in a futile attempt of escape. The more he squirmed the tighter his captor’s grip became, until breathing became near impossible. The pressure against his ribs was tremendous and he struggled for air, gagging as he felt stars prick his darkening vision.

“Haven’t you realized by now? I can read your mind, your very emotions flow into me like a beautiful river…..it pleases me very much,” the fading voice crooned by his ear and he thought he felt the sensation of cold lips on his before finally fading to darkness.

~**~

He woke with a pounding headache sometime later. Cold water had been splashed on his face, evident by the dampness of his skin as he roused himself. He tried gathering his bearings, but all that came to him was a blur. From what he could tell his surroundings were the same, it held that same putrid stench of rot and he felt bugs skittering all around. The only difference was the intense gnawing hunger in his gut now. The trilling of a raven brought him out of his stupor. He blinked, feeling cold. The blackened bird stared right through him, its beady eyes gleaming with intent. Dante’s blood was chilled to the bone at the sight, his mouth dry. Suddenly retching he coughed up sick. The smell of rot still permeated the air. He was still trapped.

‘So you are awake again….’

The wheezing voice hissed near his ears, yet he saw no one.

‘I mean you no harm…’
The voice crooned in a sickly mocking attempt at comfort. But Dante was too weak to do much else except lay there. He was so weak he barely could hold his eyes open anymore. His tongue flicked at his lips, searching, desperate. He thought he was moved suddenly, lifted and carried to a darker part of where ever he was, or maybe he had just blacked out momentarily.

Whatever the case he felt himself being cradled now and the arms felt inhuman, ice cold with their touch. He tried to shiver but even that was too much now. The voice mumbled something again but Dante’s head had lolled back, eyes fluttered shut, barely conscious. The arms holding him tried tousling him gently but he did not wake again. Cold fingers pressed to his lips and his tongue tasted a sweetness that brought him back from the brink. He lapped again, wanting more. His head lifted forward; still braced against what he that was an arm. His lips met that cold skin and he kissed weakly, more out of a strange instinct than anything else. He thought he saw claws rake against the flesh and his mouth was pressed firmly to a wound. With a sudden starved fervor he gave in, whimpering when he realized with fogginess what was happening. He was lapping up blood….

He tried to fight but the urge was too strong. His tongue lashed out again, tasting the sweetness. The smell of candles burned his nose. He was so shaky, tired and weak and the taste was just too good to ignore. He went from lapping to nipping with his teeth. A soft groaning laugh met his ears, guttural as he was pulled closer, lips teasing neck. They worked more, teeth nipping harder. In the frenzied needing moment the rotting smell no longer mattered. A desperate whine escaped him, almost gnawing on his Captor’s neck. He wasn’t sure what happened next but in a flurry of movement blood spurted hard into his mouth. Moaning he drank it down in gulps, licking and mewling as it smeared all over his lips and chin. Slowly the fogginess in his brain was clearing, hands held him like a vice, claws pricking his skin, leaving blood-marks.

He was pulled away violently, staring in a dumb stupor as blood dripped off his chin, mouth drooped open.

His Captor smiled as he leaned closer licking away all the extra blood, purring. He suddenly kissed his mouth, Dante nearly gagging at the rotted smell.

“Mmm so pretty,” the voice crooned, but he still would not release him. Blood kept dripping off the wound onto Dante’s lips and each time he licked away the droplets as best he could. He felt so full and sated now….more than food could have given him. His actions were out of instinct now, even as his body screamed in revulsion. He stared up dumbly, not able to comprehend what had just happened. Slowly he whispered the first thing that came to his mind.

“Why did you kill the baby? Why?” he whispered, tears pricking his eyes once more.

There was no answer, only the kissing away of tears and shushing when his cries became soft hiccups. Biting his tongue Dante decided not to go any further on the issue. For now, his Captor was relaxed.

In a brief moment of peace and trying to ignore the burning smell in his nostrils Dante regarded the man with quiet disinterest. He hoped he would just leave him there and maybe whatever hellish nightmare this was he would eventually wake from. He rubbed the tears away trying not to break down again. But the body of the poor infant kept haunting him, chilling his bones. The man didn’t seem to care and was busier attending to the dark raven trilling at his hand, pecking for food. It was then Dante noticed there were bits of corn in his hand. He also took noticed of the sickly rot that was his fingers and he paled a little, quickly glancing away.

The bird pecked at a few kernels, cooing to it-self. Its burning eyes kept on Dante’s form at all times. The man still did not gaze in his direction.

“You ask why I killed the child?” his raspy voice finally broke the silence. Dante’s eyes widened. It sounded like Death speaking. Maybe he was Death…

“Because YOU….were….are more important than them…..humans. I made you and I now care for you, at least for the time being Little One,” His dark eyes flashed in his direction finally. Spots of red met the coal black were white should have been, making it oddly difficult to turn away from his gaze. Dante felt himself drawn to those eyes….pulled into them.

His tongue swiped over his teeth nervously, finding some of them to be slightly sharper than usual. The taste of blood still lingered in his mouth.

He breathed a little quicker now, eyes full of terror.

“Please sir just let me go, please!” he finally broke down.

“I swear I’ll not tell anyone just leave me in peace! Whatever you want I’ll find a way I give it to you. Please just….”

His voice faltered into a hushed whisper realizing the man had no interest in what he was saying, regarding him with a growing cold stare. He was testing his luck again. He fell silent, sitting on his backside with his legs folded.

His Captor was coming closer and before Dante could squirm away he was pressed against him with crushing force. He gasped daring not to pull away this time lest the pain get any worse.

“You’re thinking of running away?” the cold voice hissing at his throat. Lips brushed his neck again as he spoke.

“Then I can chain you here until you learn to behave and be good. Even if it takes a thousand years….”

Somehow the sincerity in those words was more the enough to quiet him down and Dante spoke no more, waiting for what seemed like an eternity before his Captor pulled away, eyes still on him carefully.

“Fledglings who run away….it never ends well,” he growled softly.

“They are either killed by the elements, their own hunger….or their Sires find and destroy them!!”

Dante shivered in response, shirking back into the wall. The room was coated in heavy shadows so all he could focus on were the two pinpricks of red glaring at him in the dark. He wanted to wet himself out of fear.

“Fledgling….Sire you keep saying those words, at least enlighten me to your madness!”

He winced, thinking he would be beaten, finally dragging the madman into a murderous frenzy. Instead he heard shifting and footsteps coming closer. A hand clamped on his arm and he was yanked down a long dark hall, a door slammed loudly behind them.
~**~
He woke sometime later, feeling tired and wet. Every bone in his body ached but he didn’t understand why. He stared up into the darkness numbly, trying to figure out his bearings. Eyes were gleaming at him; the sound of laughter met his ears.

“Wake again?” the voice purred. Dante hated that sound, it made him cringe. He only blinked, too fearful to speak. A cold hand stroked the side of his face, his eyes turned to pinpricks. Why was he being held here like this? And why was it all so dark? His eyes were hurting so he shut them, shivering.

“You disappoint me for still refusing blood…why do you refuse what you need, Little One?” The eyes softened with brief concern before the Captor shifted away. Dante sat still, wondering what was going on.

“Mine will only sustain you for so long,” he muttered, the hint of a smile in his voice.

“But maybe now that you’ve tasted some you’ll accept this other present I have for you.”

It was then Dante heard muffled cries. Someone was gagged? His heart leapt into his throat.
The sounds met his ears like sharp spikes and it was impossible to block them out as the sounds were dragged closer and closer. The muffled cries sounded wet and drained, as if whoever it was had been sobbing for quite a while. Dante imagined it probably was days, maybe even months. His mouth was dry as a shadow loomed forward, taught against some bindings. After blinking a moment he noticed a man….blindfolded….he was gagged and tears had soaked the rag thoroughly already. There was a strange smell that made Dante sick the closer he got. His head swam dizzily as the man peered at him with bloodshot terrified eyes. Dante could only guess his muffled pleas were ones for help.

He was so lost in staring at this prisoner that he didn’t notice his captor leering at him with a growing smile.

“You smell his fear, don’t you?” he crooned softly. Dante’s eyes widened. Fear? He was smelling fear?
That’s the oddly sweet smell that was making him feel ill? His head swam again and now the urge to stumble forward was hitting him. He licked his lips, finding himself staring at the man’s exposed neck. He wanted to….bite.

But the terrified sounds only repulsed him and he drew himself away as best he could, huddled in a ball, shaking his head, trembling. His captor seemed angry now, the tone in his voice grew strained, like barely contained rage.

“If you do not wish to feed this way…maybe there are others ways to feed you. I could always cut your mouth open with a sharp blade…pry your jaws apart with metal or steel…breaking them.”

“Or…maybe you desire another way…,” the voice turned almost sweet as it purred right beside his ear. All Dante could see was darkness, and the fact his captor was so near yet he saw nothing disturbed him greatly.

His jaws were suddenly wrenched hard and his face yanked forward. Red hot eyes blazed again.

“I could feed you….this way…” And Dante froze when he felt something akin to rubber graze his lips, that same iron coppery scent making him want to bite down. He resisted. Cold lips pressed against his neck then, trying to coax him as the coppery scent filled his nostrils further. He wanted to moan it was almost too much. The lips smiled against his throat, a low laugh met his ears sounding like rot.

“Funny….now is the time you choose not to suck on something. Hmm…perhaps you could pretend it’s that slave’s cock?”

Dante fumed with rage but before he could move an arm wrapped itself around his neck, nearly choking him as sharp claws raked against his shoulder. His captor grinned, hissing in delight.

“You’re still newly made so you still require air for a while. What if I deprive the baby of it, then?” he mewled sweetly, laughing as he watched Dante’s face turn redder and finally shades of blue around his eyes and lips. The man only kissed his lips, still laughing like this all amused him. By now Dante was thrashing and whimpering, strangled for air. But the grip only tightened further and further. Black spot started to fill his vision and that leering demented smile was the last thing he saw before his world turned dark.

He came to shortly after, feeling sharp quick slaps to his face. His shoulder burned with a heavy throbbing pain. His eyes opened, still seeing spots in his vision. A heavy corpse lay by his feet, the captured man from before. Dante stared blankly, numb to any sort of feeling. Right now he only focused on struggling for air and the fact his lungs felt weaker now terrified him. They rattled sickly in his chest.

“Soon that need will leave you,” his crazed keeper spoke with a nod, checking him over briefly. Dante went to pull away, rubbing his face and discovering dark red blood coating his hand. His tongue lashed out suddenly for it, unable to stop. He moaned softly, much to his keeper’s delight.

“Ah, good baby, good Little One! It tastes good hmm?”

As the taste filled his mouth his senses nearly exploded. Suddenly he was ravenous, snarling and biting the flesh of his own hand for more. But all he caused were tiny pinpricks, barely enough for one swipe of the tongue. Then as quickly as the urge came it passed, leaving him in a dazed stupor.

For whatever reason his captor seemed happy and Dante would gladly take that over being strangled any day. Still he shivered at his touch when he drew his hand forward, stroking his face.

He drew him closer, Dante struggling to understand his words now as they sounded far off and hollow. His body was tingling all over and he felt like he could use a nap. This time he followed without disobedience, curling up in his lap. He breathed softly, staring curiously at his mottled skin, his darkened claws. Tentatively his fingers roamed these, searching even the folds of his robes, his brow knitting in confusion trying to piece everything together. After a moment he sighed to himself, nestling against the man’s neck. He found this resting place rather comfortable and it just felt….right as his body finally started settling down.

The man spoke again, his voice still muffled but Dante caught a few words here and there.

Understand….Sire….you….Fledgling…..mine…..eternity….

His dark brown eyes shifted to his throat again, the man leaning back to help expose it more. He patted the soft inviting skin, lifting Dante’s head closer. His lips pressed against the cold dead skin and they started mouthing softly. His little teeth bit down, almost like they were desperate for something….his blood?

After a few moments of biting the man…..his Sire maybe…laughed and drew a blade sharply across the flesh guiding a moaning Dante towards the free flowing blood. He suckled there deeply for a while mewling and whimpering until he felt so dazed and full he could drink no more. His mouth was coated in dripping blood which ran down his throat and onto his chest when he sat back up. It was only then he realized he had been naked for quite some time. His clothes must have been taken when he was out.

His movements were slow and sluggish, he tried wiping the blood with his arm, but that just smeared it everywhere. His Sire just laughed, lapping at some of it with his mouth and tongue. Dante gasped when he grazed between his legs, hips arching.

His Sire spoke again, this time his voice felt clearer.

“You understand what this means? What everything means now? Why you’ve been kept here….down in the dark….why I keep you here?” A hand trailed down his chest, stopping just at his midsection. Dante saw there were many rings on his fingers, pretty rings of all different colours. Where did they come from?

“You understand you are my Fledgling….I am your Sire?” His brow knitted with seriousness, studying the brown eyes before him.

When Dante just stared dumbly the man laughed, rows of sharp teeth exposed in darkness.

“Haha, what a dumb little baby you are!” But his tone didn’t sound angry, only hysterically amused. Still Dante didn’t like it and struggled to get back to his senses. Why was he resting in this lunatics lap anyway?? He tried to squirm away but that vice-grip tugged him back. Dante nearly cried, it felt like the bone in his arm was almost crushed.

“It’s ok, babies learn with time….and we have plenty of it, Sweetling….”

Description
(This New Hunger)

It was dark and he felt cold…so cold. It was the type of cold that got down to your core and made your bones rattle, made your soul fucking shiver. No matter how he tried he couldn’t get warm….and his neck ached something foul. The pain was as deep as the cold, like a sick infection. It throbbed nonstop for a while now, a rabid animal’s bite. He sat slumped on the floor on his knees. He stared down at the floor. There was nothing else near him except a few skittering bugs. He’d been placed here for punishment, not wanting to eat his meals. What meals?

Tears stung his eyes again. He had been kidnapped…yes that was it. Stolen right from the damned brothel and brought here by a crazy man. These beasts didn’t exist!! Beasts with blood-red eyes and darkness so cold that it scared you to look right at them, felt like probing fingers teasing around in your brain. The tears fell this time, Dante let out a low muffled cry. That sight…that fucking sight! It would be forever burned into his memory…that screaming. He woke up in cold sweats because of that sound, always a different dream, too. Sometimes he even managed to save the poor baby. He couldn’t look at the far corner of the room; its corpse had started to decay, causing the bugs to collect in the small room now. The crazed man thought it ‘added’ to his punishment.

His stomach ached for food, for days now he’d had nothing. The baby was meant for him but instead he vomited on his own feet fearing himself going mad then. The infant’s neck had been broken before being tossed aside. It had been three days now, three days for him to finally collapse under his own weight. He looked paled and sickly. He had thrown up again just hours earlier. This time there was nothing except bile and his stomach retched even more.

“Mum…,” he whimpered to himself not caring he was fully grown. He huddled into the tightest ball possible and tried to sleep.

The brush of a hand against his back woke him sometime later. His head was groggy from a restless sleep and pain gnawed in his gut. He turned and stared with bleary eyes, looking miserable.

“My poor Little One,” his captor crooned in a voice so sweet it made his stomach turn and chills take hold of his body. He scooted back as much as he could, but his back pressed against the cold stone wall, keeping them both uncomfortably close.

“You should be over this by now….”

Dante shivered just wishing his unnerving eyes would look away already. His mouth still ached and he wanted to bite on things. For a while he’d been chewing the inside of his mouth. His captor must have noticed because his hand roamed his jaw, lifting his head up. Fingers pried his lips open before he could protest.

“Your fangs are fine,” his captor whispered as he inspected his mouth. His eyes flickered over him shrewdly.

“Yet you still do not eat…”

“Are you purposely trying to defy me?”

Dante’s voice hitched and died in his throat. His lips were red and wet and his thumb ached from near constantly suckling on it during his fitful sleep. What use was it to explain anything to this madman…if he was even a man? He hated looking so close into his eyes, but his face drew so near to his own that such a thing as looking away was impossible. He winced when the hand tracing his jaw tightened suddenly.

“Answer me!” his captor roared violently, making him jolt back so hard he nearly knocked himself unconscious against the stone wall. He wanted to answer….but all that would spill out was frightened whimpers….like a sad beaten puppy. Dante steeled himself for a strike, perhaps another one would land on his already showing bruises, adding to the pain.

But instead of a beating, it was something worse…much worse.

His captor…smiled.

“Fine,” he hissed hotly by his ear, but what made it even creepier was the soothing tone of his voice. It was like honey and Dante had to fight a shudder, snap his eyes shut, and suck in a breath. Lately his lungs had been growing weaker and it felt harder and harder to draw breathe into them. His knees shook as his captor’s hand roamed from his jaw to his shoulder. His nails were like claws, scrapping his skin.

“But you must stop nursing your thumb, Little One…it’s nothing but a bad habit,”

Dante flexed his hand out of reflex, feeling the wetness of his thumb touch the palm of his hand. It was so sore and pricked with blood from where instinct had become too much for him. His captor’s mouth twitched softly.

“Still, that does tell me your instincts are working….yet you still defy them,” he sighed in a dejected manner, clicking his tongue with disapproval.

Dante had shrunk closer to the stone wall; the soft ‘chink’ of rattling chains was heard somewhere far off. His blood ran cold. Was someone else down here with him that he didn’t know about!? His tongue wet his lips nervously, eyes kept down on the floor. This man was insane, and surely he would eventually kill him! His neck injury pained him bad as of late, most times it was hard to see through the haze of pain. He blinked back tears.

“You…..you killed a baby you bloody monster!”

His body shook with rage; fists clenching so hard his nails pricked the skin and made them bleed. Sobs racked his body and this time he was unable to stop the tears from falling. Cold lips pressed on his neck, soft crooning met his ears.

“Mm poor baby…”
Dante shivered, unsure if the words were meant for the baby’s corpse or for him. He swallowed thickly.

“Why do you care?” his voice caressed his ear smooth like velvet. You could practically hear the smile in it.

Dante sat stock still, completely stunned by the question. Why should he care? Bile rose into his throat again, he retched up the sick this time, his vision spotted with flecks of white. He was going to faint, the rotted stench of flesh turning his stomach.

But hands caught him before he could hit the ground, clawed hands that scrapped against his skin like knives. There was a sharp twinge of pain, he had been cut and felt the sticky ooze of blood start to pool from the wound. The feel of a tongue lashed against the wound.

“Get your bloody hands off me!” Dante shuddered, not seeing the flash of rage in the madman’s eyes. He felt himself being jerked forward so hard his arm almost was torn from the socket. The smell of death hit his nose strong now and he gagged, terrified.

“You are mine to do with as I please,” the voice crooned in his ear. The creepy thing was he didn’t sound angry at all, rather disappointed.

“And you further anger me by not eating…I will let you’re outburst go for now, as you are just hungry….” He leaned forward closer, lips pressing against skin.

“But do it again, and your eyes will be torn out of your skull, Fledgling.”

.Fledgling.

For some reason that word made his blood chill him to the core. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard it muttered in feverish rantings. His voice was a hoarse whisper, but it still greatly affected him. His eyes flickered back on the infant’s corpse, stomach turning. He would not! He tried to think hard on what to do. It was clear he wasn’t dealing with the ordinary crazed person. This man was…..something else. His head spun with sickness and fear. If only he had something sharp, maybe he could pierce its heart? But as soon as that thought crossed his mind he saw his captor sneer.

“Try stabbing me if you like, Little One, but it won’t work.”

Dante’s palms started to sweat and his bowls turned to water then. How could this man have known what he was thinking?? The more scared he became the more that twisted smile seemed to grow. He pressed hard into the wall, shivering. There was nowhere to run; he had no idea where he was, having been brought here under a veil of blackness. For all he knew he was in some dungeon somewhere….it felt like one. Tears fell again and he rubbed them away furiously.

He was going to die here…

“Oh, Little One,” his captor whispered, dragging him close suddenly with a vice-like grip.

“You’ve already done that.”

“How can you know my thoughts!?”

Dante screamed, thrashing in a futile attempt of escape. The more he squirmed the tighter his captor’s grip became, until breathing became near impossible. The pressure against his ribs was tremendous and he struggled for air, gagging as he felt stars prick his darkening vision.

“Haven’t you realized by now? I can read your mind, your very emotions flow into me like a beautiful river…..it pleases me very much,” the fading voice crooned by his ear and he thought he felt the sensation of cold lips on his before finally fading to darkness.

~**~

He woke with a pounding headache sometime later. Cold water had been splashed on his face, evident by the dampness of his skin as he roused himself. He tried gathering his bearings, but all that came to him was a blur. From what he could tell his surroundings were the same, it held that same putrid stench of rot and he felt bugs skittering all around. The only difference was the intense gnawing hunger in his gut now. The trilling of a raven brought him out of his stupor. He blinked, feeling cold. The blackened bird stared right through him, its beady eyes gleaming with intent. Dante’s blood was chilled to the bone at the sight, his mouth dry. Suddenly retching he coughed up sick. The smell of rot still permeated the air. He was still trapped.

‘So you are awake again….’

The wheezing voice hissed near his ears, yet he saw no one.

‘I mean you no harm…’
The voice crooned in a sickly mocking attempt at comfort. But Dante was too weak to do much else except lay there. He was so weak he barely could hold his eyes open anymore. His tongue flicked at his lips, searching, desperate. He thought he was moved suddenly, lifted and carried to a darker part of where ever he was, or maybe he had just blacked out momentarily.

Whatever the case he felt himself being cradled now and the arms felt inhuman, ice cold with their touch. He tried to shiver but even that was too much now. The voice mumbled something again but Dante’s head had lolled back, eyes fluttered shut, barely conscious. The arms holding him tried tousling him gently but he did not wake again. Cold fingers pressed to his lips and his tongue tasted a sweetness that brought him back from the brink. He lapped again, wanting more. His head lifted forward; still braced against what he that was an arm. His lips met that cold skin and he kissed weakly, more out of a strange instinct than anything else. He thought he saw claws rake against the flesh and his mouth was pressed firmly to a wound. With a sudden starved fervor he gave in, whimpering when he realized with fogginess what was happening. He was lapping up blood….

He tried to fight but the urge was too strong. His tongue lashed out again, tasting the sweetness. The smell of candles burned his nose. He was so shaky, tired and weak and the taste was just too good to ignore. He went from lapping to nipping with his teeth. A soft groaning laugh met his ears, guttural as he was pulled closer, lips teasing neck. They worked more, teeth nipping harder. In the frenzied needing moment the rotting smell no longer mattered. A desperate whine escaped him, almost gnawing on his Captor’s neck. He wasn’t sure what happened next but in a flurry of movement blood spurted hard into his mouth. Moaning he drank it down in gulps, licking and mewling as it smeared all over his lips and chin. Slowly the fogginess in his brain was clearing, hands held him like a vice, claws pricking his skin, leaving blood-marks.

He was pulled away violently, staring in a dumb stupor as blood dripped off his chin, mouth drooped open.

His Captor smiled as he leaned closer licking away all the extra blood, purring. He suddenly kissed his mouth, Dante nearly gagging at the rotted smell.

“Mmm so pretty,” the voice crooned, but he still would not release him. Blood kept dripping off the wound onto Dante’s lips and each time he licked away the droplets as best he could. He felt so full and sated now….more than food could have given him. His actions were out of instinct now, even as his body screamed in revulsion. He stared up dumbly, not able to comprehend what had just happened. Slowly he whispered the first thing that came to his mind.

“Why did you kill the baby? Why?” he whispered, tears pricking his eyes once more.

There was no answer, only the kissing away of tears and shushing when his cries became soft hiccups. Biting his tongue Dante decided not to go any further on the issue. For now, his Captor was relaxed.

In a brief moment of peace and trying to ignore the burning smell in his nostrils Dante regarded the man with quiet disinterest. He hoped he would just leave him there and maybe whatever hellish nightmare this was he would eventually wake from. He rubbed the tears away trying not to break down again. But the body of the poor infant kept haunting him, chilling his bones. The man didn’t seem to care and was busier attending to the dark raven trilling at his hand, pecking for food. It was then Dante noticed there were bits of corn in his hand. He also took noticed of the sickly rot that was his fingers and he paled a little, quickly glancing away.

The bird pecked at a few kernels, cooing to it-self. Its burning eyes kept on Dante’s form at all times. The man still did not gaze in his direction.

“You ask why I killed the child?” his raspy voice finally broke the silence. Dante’s eyes widened. It sounded like Death speaking. Maybe he was Death…

“Because YOU….were….are more important than them…..humans. I made you and I now care for you, at least for the time being Little One,” His dark eyes flashed in his direction finally. Spots of red met the coal black were white should have been, making it oddly difficult to turn away from his gaze. Dante felt himself drawn to those eyes….pulled into them.

His tongue swiped over his teeth nervously, finding some of them to be slightly sharper than usual. The taste of blood still lingered in his mouth.

He breathed a little quicker now, eyes full of terror.

“Please sir just let me go, please!” he finally broke down.

“I swear I’ll not tell anyone just leave me in peace! Whatever you want I’ll find a way I give it to you. Please just….”

His voice faltered into a hushed whisper realizing the man had no interest in what he was saying, regarding him with a growing cold stare. He was testing his luck again. He fell silent, sitting on his backside with his legs folded.

His Captor was coming closer and before Dante could squirm away he was pressed against him with crushing force. He gasped daring not to pull away this time lest the pain get any worse.

“You’re thinking of running away?” the cold voice hissing at his throat. Lips brushed his neck again as he spoke.

“Then I can chain you here until you learn to behave and be good. Even if it takes a thousand years….”

Somehow the sincerity in those words was more the enough to quiet him down and Dante spoke no more, waiting for what seemed like an eternity before his Captor pulled away, eyes still on him carefully.

“Fledglings who run away….it never ends well,” he growled softly.

“They are either killed by the elements, their own hunger….or their Sires find and destroy them!!”

Dante shivered in response, shirking back into the wall. The room was coated in heavy shadows so all he could focus on were the two pinpricks of red glaring at him in the dark. He wanted to wet himself out of fear.

“Fledgling….Sire you keep saying those words, at least enlighten me to your madness!”

He winced, thinking he would be beaten, finally dragging the madman into a murderous frenzy. Instead he heard shifting and footsteps coming closer. A hand clamped on his arm and he was yanked down a long dark hall, a door slammed loudly behind them.
~**~
He woke sometime later, feeling tired and wet. Every bone in his body ached but he didn’t understand why. He stared up into the darkness numbly, trying to figure out his bearings. Eyes were gleaming at him; the sound of laughter met his ears.

“Wake again?” the voice purred. Dante hated that sound, it made him cringe. He only blinked, too fearful to speak. A cold hand stroked the side of his face, his eyes turned to pinpricks. Why was he being held here like this? And why was it all so dark? His eyes were hurting so he shut them, shivering.

“You disappoint me for still refusing blood…why do you refuse what you need, Little One?” The eyes softened with brief concern before the Captor shifted away. Dante sat still, wondering what was going on.

“Mine will only sustain you for so long,” he muttered, the hint of a smile in his voice.

“But maybe now that you’ve tasted some you’ll accept this other present I have for you.”

It was then Dante heard muffled cries. Someone was gagged? His heart leapt into his throat.
The sounds met his ears like sharp spikes and it was impossible to block them out as the sounds were dragged closer and closer. The muffled cries sounded wet and drained, as if whoever it was had been sobbing for quite a while. Dante imagined it probably was days, maybe even months. His mouth was dry as a shadow loomed forward, taught against some bindings. After blinking a moment he noticed a man….blindfolded….he was gagged and tears had soaked the rag thoroughly already. There was a strange smell that made Dante sick the closer he got. His head swam dizzily as the man peered at him with bloodshot terrified eyes. Dante could only guess his muffled pleas were ones for help.

He was so lost in staring at this prisoner that he didn’t notice his captor leering at him with a growing smile.

“You smell his fear, don’t you?” he crooned softly. Dante’s eyes widened. Fear? He was smelling fear?
That’s the oddly sweet smell that was making him feel ill? His head swam again and now the urge to stumble forward was hitting him. He licked his lips, finding himself staring at the man’s exposed neck. He wanted to….bite.

But the terrified sounds only repulsed him and he drew himself away as best he could, huddled in a ball, shaking his head, trembling. His captor seemed angry now, the tone in his voice grew strained, like barely contained rage.

“If you do not wish to feed this way…maybe there are others ways to feed you. I could always cut your mouth open with a sharp blade…pry your jaws apart with metal or steel…breaking them.”

“Or…maybe you desire another way…,” the voice turned almost sweet as it purred right beside his ear. All Dante could see was darkness, and the fact his captor was so near yet he saw nothing disturbed him greatly.

His jaws were suddenly wrenched hard and his face yanked forward. Red hot eyes blazed again.

“I could feed you….this way…” And Dante froze when he felt something akin to rubber graze his lips, that same iron coppery scent making him want to bite down. He resisted. Cold lips pressed against his neck then, trying to coax him as the coppery scent filled his nostrils further. He wanted to moan it was almost too much. The lips smiled against his throat, a low laugh met his ears sounding like rot.

“Funny….now is the time you choose not to suck on something. Hmm…perhaps you could pretend it’s that slave’s cock?”

Dante fumed with rage but before he could move an arm wrapped itself around his neck, nearly choking him as sharp claws raked against his shoulder. His captor grinned, hissing in delight.

“You’re still newly made so you still require air for a while. What if I deprive the baby of it, then?” he mewled sweetly, laughing as he watched Dante’s face turn redder and finally shades of blue around his eyes and lips. The man only kissed his lips, still laughing like this all amused him. By now Dante was thrashing and whimpering, strangled for air. But the grip only tightened further and further. Black spot started to fill his vision and that leering demented smile was the last thing he saw before his world turned dark.

He came to shortly after, feeling sharp quick slaps to his face. His shoulder burned with a heavy throbbing pain. His eyes opened, still seeing spots in his vision. A heavy corpse lay by his feet, the captured man from before. Dante stared blankly, numb to any sort of feeling. Right now he only focused on struggling for air and the fact his lungs felt weaker now terrified him. They rattled sickly in his chest.

“Soon that need will leave you,” his crazed keeper spoke with a nod, checking him over briefly. Dante went to pull away, rubbing his face and discovering dark red blood coating his hand. His tongue lashed out suddenly for it, unable to stop. He moaned softly, much to his keeper’s delight.

“Ah, good baby, good Little One! It tastes good hmm?”

As the taste filled his mouth his senses nearly exploded. Suddenly he was ravenous, snarling and biting the flesh of his own hand for more. But all he caused were tiny pinpricks, barely enough for one swipe of the tongue. Then as quickly as the urge came it passed, leaving him in a dazed stupor.

For whatever reason his captor seemed happy and Dante would gladly take that over being strangled any day. Still he shivered at his touch when he drew his hand forward, stroking his face.

He drew him closer, Dante struggling to understand his words now as they sounded far off and hollow. His body was tingling all over and he felt like he could use a nap. This time he followed without disobedience, curling up in his lap. He breathed softly, staring curiously at his mottled skin, his darkened claws. Tentatively his fingers roamed these, searching even the folds of his robes, his brow knitting in confusion trying to piece everything together. After a moment he sighed to himself, nestling against the man’s neck. He found this resting place rather comfortable and it just felt….right as his body finally started settling down.

The man spoke again, his voice still muffled but Dante caught a few words here and there.

Understand….Sire….you….Fledgling…..mine…..eternity….

His dark brown eyes shifted to his throat again, the man leaning back to help expose it more. He patted the soft inviting skin, lifting Dante’s head closer. His lips pressed against the cold dead skin and they started mouthing softly. His little teeth bit down, almost like they were desperate for something….his blood?

After a few moments of biting the man…..his Sire maybe…laughed and drew a blade sharply across the flesh guiding a moaning Dante towards the free flowing blood. He suckled there deeply for a while mewling and whimpering until he felt so dazed and full he could drink no more. His mouth was coated in dripping blood which ran down his throat and onto his chest when he sat back up. It was only then he realized he had been naked for quite some time. His clothes must have been taken when he was out.

His movements were slow and sluggish, he tried wiping the blood with his arm, but that just smeared it everywhere. His Sire just laughed, lapping at some of it with his mouth and tongue. Dante gasped when he grazed between his legs, hips arching.

His Sire spoke again, this time his voice felt clearer.

“You understand what this means? What everything means now? Why you’ve been kept here….down in the dark….why I keep you here?” A hand trailed down his chest, stopping just at his midsection. Dante saw there were many rings on his fingers, pretty rings of all different colours. Where did they come from?

“You understand you are my Fledgling….I am your Sire?” His brow knitted with seriousness, studying the brown eyes before him.

When Dante just stared dumbly the man laughed, rows of sharp teeth exposed in darkness.

“Haha, what a dumb little baby you are!” But his tone didn’t sound angry, only hysterically amused. Still Dante didn’t like it and struggled to get back to his senses. Why was he resting in this lunatics lap anyway?? He tried to squirm away but that vice-grip tugged him back. Dante nearly cried, it felt like the bone in his arm was almost crushed.

“It’s ok, babies learn with time….and we have plenty of it, Sweetling….”