A continuation of "What You Taste Like" !!!
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It had been a few months since your... altercation with Sir Loki.
A good four months since you stepped out of that darned room he insisted he clean you up in. You still wished he had killed you then and there. Perhaps by then, you wouldn't be thinking of him day and night.
It had also been four months since you stepped outside in his shirt, blood along its collar, and declared the treacherous vampire lord as dead. Even though he was perfectly alive, a gray plume of smoke, drifting through the air.
Four months.
Yet not a day passes where you don't think of him.
You lie there awake at night, thinking about Loki. Has he changed his identity yet? Has he travelled outside of England to settle somewhere else? Has he found himself a nice and secure home to rebuild his empire?
So many thoughts and questions about him lay unspoken from your mind. And they should remain that way. No one has to know that you try to remember how he touched you that night. No one has to know your futile attempt in mimicking his sinful ministrations in your most private parts when you feel particularly lonely.
No one needs to know that.
If given the option, you'd ask the gods and all the devils to forget about it too.
You, however, shall carry the burden of that memory. With a pointless hope in your heart that you may see him again.
What will you do when you see him though? Thank him for such a wonderful night four months ago? Tell him you've been thinking about him during your every waking hour?
What in the hell were you going to do when you actually see him? It would only be a matter of time before Loki got his nimble hands on a lord that looked similar enough to him and claim his "inheritance".
He would definitely make quick work and-
"We must stop meeting like this." That excruciatingly familiar voice echoed in your mind. What were the chances, eh? Another ball, another meeting.
"Lo-"
"Ah, ah," he tuts. "I'd rather you call me 'Thomas' in public, darling. In case you've forgotten, I'm technically-"
"Dead." You continued for him. "Loki's dead."
"Indeed, he is," Loki replies, wordlessly holding up his hand as an invitation for you to take and dance with him again. Your eyes briefly flicker to his palm before slotting your hand in his.
Unlike before, where he quickly whisks you away to the dance floor, he shows you off quite dramatically this time round. He had your hand held high, parading you around the dance floor before claiming a spot somewhere near the middle.
"So," Loki begins. "If Loki is dead, what are you doing here, my sweet?"
"My hunts doesn't stop with the death of Loki, I'll have you know." You bore a knowing smirk across your face. Loki feels your gaze leave him and dart somewhere beyond his shoulder.
"There," you say quietly. "Lord Gideon Atwood."
Loki discreetly turns his head to follow your gaze. There, he sees a blonde man, whose hair was coiffed to the heavens. He had an unnatural pale palor like he did, but his eyes were bright red.
He smirked. He knows of Lord Atwood. That man slighted him a few decades ago when Gideon forced Loki to stand down at a particular auction. Loki wouldn't mind him dead at his feet.
"Would you like my assistance?" Loki asked, his thumb tracing circles on your corseted waist again.
You gawked at him, taken aback. "You want to kill your own kind?"
Loki shrugged. "Humans do it all the time. Why does it have to be different with us? Besides, that bastard slighted me 50 years ago. I would take pleasure in ending his pathetic immortal life."
You clicked your tongue, hesitantly nodding at his words. It was quite a concept to try and understand. "If you want to take your revenge, by all means, take it. But," you say strictly. "Don't blame me if you get hurt."
-
It took quite the effort to corner one Lord Gideon Atwood.
After the lord caught a glint of your silver cross pendant— which, Loki found incredibly amusing that you still used it— he became a sweaty mess in the ballroom. He was desperately holding conversations with random nobles, out of hope that you won't approach him because he was preoccupied.
However, stalling could only do so much.
As the party began to slow down, some guests started to leave. Lord Atwood dumbly hoped that he could whisk past the exit without harboring your attention.
He was briefly stopped with a firm hand to his chest— courtesy of Loki— and was shoved back inside the venue.
You hooked you arm around his, while Loki stayed firmly pressed against his other side, a hand gently patting Gideon's back.
"P-Please," begged Gideon. If his heart still worked, it would be beating a million times per second right about now.
You pouted mockingly at the lord. "We haven't even started, Gideon, dear."
Loki leans in and deviously whispers, "We are going to have an awful lot of fun."
"I-I I don't understand," Gideon stammers and turns to Loki. "You're just like me. Why are you condoning this?!"
Loki chuckled darkly in reply. "I am not a simple-minded cretin like you, Lord Atwood."
"I thought you died! She killed you, didn't she?!"
"Yes," you answer for Loki. "I did kill Loki. Though, I don't remember slaughtering a certain Lord Thomas of Pennybrooke."
You and Loki exchange a knowing smile. It was sinister.
The two of you continued to lead Lord Atwood down winding corridors, occasionally laughing dramatically when passing by unsuspecting party guests. You didn't worry about them thinking other things, given how drunk most of the guests were already, they're most likely to remember practically nothing.
You figured this would be quick work. Unless, Loki decided he wanted to torture Gideon slowly for the absolute maximum amount of pain.
Upon reaching the end of a hallway, you unhooked your arm around Lord Atwood. Loki, without missing a beat, threw Gideon against the wall. You see the pathetic man try to scramble to his feet, but to no avail.
You held your silver revolver to his face. "I wouldn't do anything rash if I were you." You threatened.
Loki held Gideon against the wall by the collar. He quickly turned to look at you with feigned innocent eyes.
"Darling," he drawls sweetly. "May I borrow a stake, please?"
"Of course," you reply just as sweetly, before taking out a rather large wooden stake from your skirts. You see Gideon's eyes widen in response, his panic now more palpable in the air.
"Now." Loki pokes the sharp end of the stake on Gideon's chin. The man on the wall whimpered in fear.
You were enjoying this. You were terribly enjoying this.
"This going to hurt you so much more that it will ever hurt me." Loki spoke in a low voice. He pointed the stake directly above Lord Atwood's undead heart.
"You're betraying your own kind!" Gideon exclaims, tears and snot now flowing freely down his face.
Loki only chuckles in response. "You crossed me all those years ago, Lord Atwood," says Loki, venom dripping from his words. "I want you to look me in the eyes as I drive this stake to your heart."
A second passes before you hear the squelch of Gideon's flesh being pierced by the wooden stake in Loki's hands. Loki had a smile on his face as he killed Lord Atwood. There was a wild look to his eye. And Loki swears he has never felt more alive.
You hear a crunch of bone as Loki drives the stake in deeper. He doesn't stop pushing the weapon in his hands even when Gideon's body goes limp.
Loki pushes and pushes until the stake collides with the wall, pinning Lord Atwood's dead body into it.
"Well," you say to break the silence. "You're creative."
Loki was unknowingly panting with adrenaline. When you caught his frenzied gaze, his pupils were dilated in his green irises.
"I'm fun. Not efficient."
You raised an eyebrow at him, arms folded across your chest.
Loki rolled his eyes and sighed exasperatedly.
"Would you like your stake back?" He asks rather petulantly, like a child who doesn't want to return a borrowed toy, as he tries to appease you.
A grin begins to tug on your face. You shake your head fondly at the vampire before you.
You turned and started to walk away from the murderous scene at the end of the hallway. You beckoned Loki to walk beside you, leaving your wooden stake wedged deeply in Gideon Atwood and the wall as evidence of your presence and your work.
"Where to next, my dear?" Loki asked.
You peered at the Moon through an ornate window. It was nearing the horizon. In a few hours, the Sun would begin to say hello to the world again.
"Loki," you say. "It's nearly dawn. You should go home."
Loki pouted at you— yes, not frown, pout.
"I do your job for you and now you push me away? How unbecoming of you." Loki said sarcastically.
"You insisted to kill him, mind you." You replied. "Besides, it's for your... safety." You say the last bit of of your sentence with apprehension. You didn't want Loki to think you were actually concerned for him.
Loki groans rather childishly. "Come on," he says pulling you by the hand towards a set stairs. "One last favor for me, dear."
"If you suggest balcony sex, I'm out." You frowned.
He knew you were joking, though it wouldn't hurt to further annoy you with it. "You're no fun." He frowns. He couldn't hold it though. His frown was quickly replaced by a mischievous grin as he continued to lead you up the steps towards a specific bedroom.
"Whatever you're thinking," Loki prefaces, his hand on the doorknob. "It's not. Alright?"
You nodded, still holding his hand.
Loki opens the door, revealing an empty yet luscious bedroom. The room, like the rest of the mansion, was ornate and smelled of old wood and stuffy fabric. Its defining trait, however, was the fact that it didn't have any windows. Instead, there was a balcony.
"Are we finally killing each other?" You ask in a lighthearted tone, squeezing his hand.
"That would we wise," Loki says, pulling you towards the balcony. "I, however, am anything but."
You let your hand slip from his, opting to rest your elbows on the metal handrail. You close your eyes for a moment and sigh a breath of relief. You let yourself find solace within the cool night air nipping at your cheeks.
When you opened them, you turned to your right, to find the Moon nearing the horizon. You sigh and look at Loki. He knows what he's doing, you think. He knows how to protect himself when morning comes.
Loki mimicks you and leans over the handrail on his elbows. He gazes at you, face serene and glowy from the moonlight. He looks... human. Almost.
"Do you ever wonder why I didn't drink your blood?" Loki asks, breaking the comfortable silence in the air.
"Yes," you admit. "Too much, I think."
He chuckles softly in reply. He found delight at the thought of you being restless at night because of him.
"Would you like to know why?" Loki suddenly speaks with an air of vulnerability.
You smile sadly at him. "I do. Although, only if you want to tell me. You don't owe me anything from that night, Loki."
Loki sighs, instantly tired from your immediate kindness and respect for his boundaries.
"Well," he begins. "Darling, I haven't always been like this. I had been ruthless during my early years. I turned whoever I wanted, ate whoever I wanted, fucked whoever— it didn't matter. I was, and still am a horrible creature," You see his eyes harden as he tells you his tale.
This was peculiar, you noted. No vampire ever thought to tell you their story for pity points and sparing-from-certain-death points.
"Then, I grew tired of it all. Blessed with immortality, and all I could think to do was torture innocents. The guilt only continued to grow over the next few centuries. Dramatic as I am, I grovelled in self-pity. I only ate when I absolutely needed to. I let myself starve,"
"Loki," you breathed. You had no idea what emotion twisted in your heart just then. All you knew was that you wanted to reach out to him, whatever way you can. But, you stood frozen on your spot.
"I had an epiphany of sorts a century ago. I began drinking from the worst of the worst. Murderers, rapists, slavers— that kind. They all tasted horrible. They were bitter and acidic, nothing like the sweetness of your blood. Although they tasted horrid, they quenched my thirst and my guilt."
"Why didn't you want to drink more of my blood? You said I was sweet."
Loki smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Because I don't deserve to indulge in something that would make me want to believe in a god again. I don't deserve it."
You were left speechless. Of all the things you expected from seeing him tonight, a confession wasn't one of them.
"I'm sorry." It was all you could think of to say. How in all the nine hells were you going to empathize with all of that? You don't know immortality.
You reach for his hand. It was cold. It always was. But, it brought you comfort in the oddest of ways.
Before you caught his gaze, you caught the Moon disappearing into the horizon. It would only be a few minutes more before the Sun would rise.
"Loki." You say firmly.
"Yes, my sweet?"
"It's nearly morning."
Loki merely grinned at you. "I know."
"Do you have a death wish?"
He brings up your hand to his lips, gently kissing over your knuckles. "Not particularly," he says. "Although, this wouldn't be a bad sight to die to."
You frowned. You saw light begin to creep its way above the horizon.
"Loki, you have to go home." You insisted.
"Why would I? When I have you here all to myself." He continues to trail kisses along your knuckles, then the tips of your fingers, then towards your palm. He could feel your pulse beat from your wrist. You smelled so sweet.
You shove him indoors with forceful hands. The Sun was now half-way up the horizon. Its bright yellow rays begin to blend with the navy night sky in shades of purple and orange.
"Describe her to me." Loki requests.
"Describe what?"
"The Sun," he emphasizes. "Describe her to me, my darling. I haven't seen her in so long."
You smile sadly at him.
"It's beautiful. She's beautiful." You tell him as you look to your East. "A big, orange ball of wonder and life. Indulge in her for too long, you might get hurt. But, I can't help it. I can't help but bask in her greatness."
Loki watches you in awe. The rays of the Sun washing over you in a gorgeous yellow glow, the high points of your face casting shadows over your other features. His dead heart contorted in ways he hasn't felt since it beat its last.
"Right." Loki replies. Your words resounding too closely to whatever his undead heart sang.
"What about me?" He asked.
Your gaze snaps to him, head slightly titled in confusion.
"What about you?" You return.
"What do you see?"
You could almost laugh. "Don't you have enough painted portraits to remind you what you look like?" You step out of the Sun and closer towards him. Your tone was lighthearted. So, the tortured look to his eyes confused you a tad.
"I know," he says softly. "But I want to know what you see. I want to see myself through your eyes." Loki sounded almost... pleading. But, you wouldn't tease him. Not right now. Not when he just revealed how broken a man he truly was.
You nodded, pursing your lips in thought.
"I see your bright green eyes."
"Alright."
"I see... you've cut your hair."
Loki raised a hand to the nape of his neck where tapered ends of his black hair sat. "Obviously."
You roll your eyes at him.
"I see... a person desperately trying to cling onto his humanity."
Loki scoffs. You cup his face in your hands in reply.
"And," you whisper. "I see a person who wants to be known. Who wants to be loved. Who wants to be worshipped."
You tilt his face down to meet your lips in a chaste kiss. In that moment, Loki remembers how good you tasted. How good you felt against him. He would've been lying to himself if he denied any thought of you these last few months.
"Careful," Loki warns in a low voice once you parted. "Don't speak of words you cannot achieve."
You tilt your head at him, a challenging look washes over your features. "Who says I can't?"
"Darling, you don't know what you're getting into."
"Maybe I don't," you confess. "But, that won't steer me from trying."
Loki clutched your hands that rested on his face. "You'll be ruining your life."
"Loki," you breathe, staring up at him. "It's already been ruined. From the moment I decided I wanted to hunt you, my life was no longer mine. It's yours. Yours to deal with. Yours to maim, to ruin, to claim. So, what will it be? Will you have me?"
"I—" Loki was speechless. He couldn't even stammer out a response from the utter fervor he heard in your words.
"I'd want nothing more."
So, from this day on,
You considered yourself perpetually and utterly ruined.