Vampiric Interdiction

[34] Not So Bad

Enough to realize he would not hurt her. 

There might have been shards of thought snagged over the jagged edges of his mind —  when Karolinna had accidentally brushed his icy skin, the mental patterns surging through her own head like lightening — that were violent and unrelenting, but they had always been of times past. Times he deeply regretted. 

Grabbing her jacket from where it was messily folded and thrown atop the toilet seat, thumbing the tear absentmindedly, she carried it into the next room where Villahr was undoubtably waiting for her there. He was. Perched on the due of the bed with an infradai in one hand and a torn piece of fabric in the other. He had just finished dragging the blade along the length of his forearm when he looked up to see Karolinna standing before him. She tossed her jacket with expert precision onto the back of her desk chair.

He stared at her, frozen, for a few more beats before looking back to his torn flesh, watching the blood slide upwards and back down, whatever direction he moved his arm. He watched as the drops trickled down with the direction to make long streams of silver. When certain he had let enough, he willed the wound shut, speeding up the healing process ever so slightly and then blocked it from sight with the damp cloth.

“I can fix that,” he said monotonously, unfisting his hand and rubbing at the small pool of essence at the dip in his wrist.

Karolinna shook her head, then realizing he couldn’t see her, expressed her gratitude for his offer but that she could do so herself. Mending it would only take a minute or two anyway.

Denaii’s scent was all over her. It was obvious and strong, but Karolinna didn’t quite mind it anymore. Villahr, however, felt like he was being suffocated by a cloud of smoke. He cleared his throat for emphasis, scrunching up his nose as he bundled up the dirtied cloth and stowed it away in his pocket. He would deal with that later.

The smell was beginning to sting his eyes. He was not used to it. Metallic, iron. Sharp and distinct. According to Karolinna, Denaii took to feeding before he came to her, so as not to put her off too much with the stench of his meals or the sometimes unpleasantness of a poor animal in pain should the paralytic in his venom not kick in in time before he bit down upon it. But the smell was still quite strong.

Villahr had noticed the smell on Karolinna before, but back then he was sure it couldn’t have been what first came to mind. Although the mortal blood smelt a deal different than their own, the vici knew the difference. He must have at first suppressed the knowledge, his denial cloaking it like he would himself from the fury of the moon, because back then he didn’t pay it much mind. There was no way Karolinna would have done something so stupid.

It was stupid to assume that. He knew this now.

Karolinna’s guard rarely ever came down, and the few times it did it had been for Villahr. He’d always been able to break through without much effort, and perhaps there was a reason for that but Villahr never felt the need to delve into great thought on the reasoning as to why. What he had noticed as of late though was that the gates had been left open for a while now, and although he knew exactly why, it still baffled him. She left it open on purpose, and for a vampire none the less.

Denaii wasn’t any ordinary bloodsucker though. It made Villahr’s fangs itch uncomfortably whenever the thought came to mind. Whenever the thought of Denaii alone plagued him, to be completely honest. 

Sometimes they would push through his gums beyond his control, anxious to sink into something deep, and draw out every bit of essence they could reach. It send a chill down his spine when he thought this way, because the idea that he could be anything like that creature in the slightest made him want to crack his own skull in half like an egg.