1
In the Cage
Her footsteps sounded as empty as her heart and the abandoned streets she traversed. She had prayed for death for so long, she was sure it would never come. Her eyes locked upon the broken street sign which marked the entrance to Deathbringer's Alley. She clutched her ahgrimorah to her chest as she stepped into the shadows.
Almost immediately, she heard what sounded like a great bird swooping overhead. She gulped, digging her nails into the book's leather binding. She bit her lip and started to turn around, just as he landed in front of her. "Good evening," he said in a growling barritone. He bowed and cocked his head to the side. "I am Vicosh," he smiled widely, exposing his already un-sheathed fangs, "your Deathbringer."
She squinted hard, finding it difficult to adjust to the blinding light. She heard pounding footsteps stomp toward her. A loud metal-on-stone scraping caused her to grasp her ears in agony. The sound of her own breath barely drowned out the slow hammering of her heart. She felt a warmth as she had never felt before press against her lips. The pain she had just began to notice slowly subsided, as a warm, satisfying liquid poured down her throat. As she swallowed, she felt herself lull back into the void.
Her eyes fluttered back open; the light was now tolerable. In spite of this, she closed the sensitive pools of green and listened. She could hear the flapping of a light linen valence, and the flap of heave velvet curtains. She heard the wind flowing through the large open window. She felt the cool breeze against her oddly clammy skin, and breathed in, noticing the smell of rain in the night air.
It was then that she heard a faintly familiar swooping. Her eyes shot open to recognize the Deathbringer, Vicosh, landing on the opposite side of the immense chamber, next to the opened balcony doors. The red valence and black velvet curtains matched his cloak which blew open to reveal a nobleman's attire of fine black leather boots and sleek, black, silk pants, which matched his ruffled silk shirt. The only spot of color laid in the red velvet which, at the time, matched his blood-red eyes, and intricately off-set a delicate black in-laid fluer-de-lis pattern on his vest.
She was terrified that a Deathbringer, her Deathbringer, was now gliding toward her with a cool calmness, as if she didn't exist at all. It wasn't until he reached the barred door that she realized she was in a cage, bound with strong rope at the ankles and wrists. The same metal-on-stone scraping rang in her ears, though it didn't seem as intense as before. "What are you going to do to me?" she squeaked. She was startled by the sheer volume of her own voice as it echoed around the moon-lit room.
Vicosh chuckled coldly, as the bewildered girl attempted to cover her ears in vain. "Relax," came his baritone sigh. "Your body is trying to comprehend its newly-enhanced senses." He chuckled once more, "At least, you aren't going mad again." Before she knew what was happening, he whipped out a dagger and pulled it across his own wrist. He pressed his wound to her lips, and the warm, comforting feeling she experienced before engulfed her once more as she drank.
With a full stomach, her senses didn't overwhelm her as much. "Now, Nacarah, if I take off these ropes, you have to promise to cooperate," Vicosh resonated. She merely nodded in agreement, and the ropes fell to the floor. Nacarah looked to her wrists and ankles which left no trace of ligature. She wondered how she didn't notice that the ropes had only a simple enchantment binding them to her. Her eyes slowly rose to meet Vicosh's, which were now a deep blue. His dark eyelashes and eyebrows seemed to intensify his piercing stare. "H-how did you know my name?" she stammered.
Her ahgrimorah hit the floor with a loud smack. Nacarah rushed to retrieve it, her eyes narrowed in disgust. She clutched the sacred book to her chest as he remarked, "It's all on your first page," Silent Speaker, she heard in her head. She looked away, feeling violated. She gave her ahgrimorah another squeeze.
Vicosh smiled cruelly, as he ran a soft fingernail down her cheek and neck, stopping at the crest of her collarbone. You are quite the tease, Darken. His fingers softly slid up and spread around her neck, then grasped forcefully, as Nacarah's eyes froze widely in fear. He pressed her against the wall, gripping her throat, sliding his hand up to her jaw, and forcing her head to the side. She bit her bottom lip, and felt her heart beat hard once. I was hoping to drink you dry!
"Then why didn't you!?" Nacarah gnashed, taking Vicosh by surprise. She briefly managed to stare him down, before he regained his composure and slammed her back into the hard stone wall. He laughed condescendingly, before letting her go roughly. He turned toward the cell door. "You begged me to stop." The door slammed behind him, and the lock clicked.
She drifted in and out of sleep. Why would she have begged him to stop? The question nagged her almost as much as her heightened senses. Every time the wind blew, she felt like she was watching a Wind Elemental twist tornadoes. She could smell Vicosh as he flew in and out of wherever they were. Occasionally, a tiny mouse thumped about the room collecting scraping little bugs and crunched into them loudly. Nacarah tried to keep her eyes closed, for every time they peeked open, she saw the cobwebs on the ceiling twelve feet above her, and the spiders who made them.
She smelled Vicosh coming, and heard his swooping cloak. She pulled the thick down blanket over her head. Maybe, if he thought she was asleep, he would leave her alone. She was wrong. Vicosh bursted into the cell, smelling of fresh blood. Nacarah could feel something strange happening, as he ripped back the covers and grinned, fangs fully revealed. "Hello, Nacarah," his red eyes smiled menacingly as he sat down on the bed beside her. He pinned her arms down, grasping her wrists and pressing them to the sheets. Your eyes grow red, Darken. She could see, hear, even smell every coursing vein and artery in his body. She wanted to feel just one... to taste just one.
He leaned down, giving her a chance she couldn't refuse. Her hollow teeth sank deeply into his neck, sucking up the sweet sustenance. In the ecstasy of it all, she relaxed, and his hand left her wrist to caress her face. His fingers softly grazed her cheek down to her neck and rested on her pulse. He moved his head slowly to his fingers, flicking his tongue in between them. She felt his nails pull across her neck, and his hand rested on the pillow beside her. As his teeth pierced her skin, she moaned softly, continuing to drink of him. His fingers ran through her curly black hair, at almost the same time she reached euphoria.
She stood and looked in the mirror as her red eyes slowly returned to green. She looked back at Vicosh, who was passed out on her bed. The emotions running through her head were tormenting. She was so confused, she needed answers. Her eyes darted from Vicosh to the open door. You can leave whenever you want, Nacarah. Her eyes widened with surprise. "The only problem with that," he said as he came behind her and moved her hair to the side, biting her neck softly where he had drained her before, "is my blood flowing through your veins." He breathed in her scent. "You know I would find you if I wanted to, and worse yet, so would my enemies." He let go of her and returned to her bed, sitting nonchalantly. His dark blue eyes met hers of emerald green. And I know everything you want to.
