Chapter Twelve
Harry carelessly traces random patterns on Louis's chest, causing the older man to tense up. His cold, lifeless fingertips feel like ice against his skin. His gold-tinted eyes burn with hunger, and his stomach aches for relief. He craves the strong, metallic taste of warm blood on his tongue, filling him with revival. As he sits on Louis's lap, forehead pressed into his neck, he feels his body unwind with weakness.
Louis's hands roam up and down his back soothingly. His breathing is slowing down gradually, becoming rough and fatigued. He needs to eat. His body is starting to shutdown to conserve energy, so they need to act quickly. Louis knows that naturally, fledglings need more blood than full-grown vampires, so this intense thirst is relatively normal.
"Harry," Louis speaks softly. "You need to eat."
He pauses. "Need to rest," he grumbles.
"No," Louis says sternly. "You're starving yourself."
Harry stiffens at the accusation. He lifts his head up slowly, revealing pallid, sickly skin and dark circles beneath his eyes. His lips are chapped and pale, almost white. Louis misses the bubblegum pinkness that once filled his delicious, kissable mouth.
"You're coming with me, whether you like it or not," Louis huffs with exasperation. "I'm not losing you again."
Harry sighs like an upset child. His movements are slow and syrupy, filled with exhaustion and lethargy. He steadily slides off of Louis's lap with his head hung low.
"Okay, Daddy," he teases.
It's supposed to be a light joke, a prod at Louis's protectiveness, but it definitely catches him off guard. He gulps and examines Harry's face, searching for any sign of sincerity, but he only finds weariness. Apparently, Harry's tired mind can't think clearly. His hunger distracts him from the obvious innuendo.
"Don't call me that," Louis orders.
Harry bites his lip shyly. "Sorry, Daddy."
Louis's hands tighten into fists. A look of dominance crosses over his silver, shining irises. He resists every urge to pounce on Harry and ravish him completely. He just lets his brain burn with sexual frustration and keeps his dirty thoughts to himself.
"C'mon," Louis says abruptly, grabbing Harry's wrist.
He pulls him off of the couch. Harry's body feels like a heavy weight, dragging along with resistance. He follows Louis obediently and doesn't bother asking questions. After all, Louis tends to be spontaneous.
They exit Harry's flat and walk out to find Louis's shiny Porsche parked along the curb. Harry paces silently and instinctively squeezes Louis's hand. He never realized it until now, but his hands are incredibly petite, and the rope tattoo that wraps around his wrist makes him seem even more delicate. He's a contradictory masterpiece— the perfect combination of daintiness and masculinity.
Louis opens up the passenger side door, allowing Harry to slide inside. The comfortable, soft leather swallows him with warmth. His head lolls to the side tiredly as Louis closes the door and climbs to the other side, behind the steering wheel. He starts up the engine.
Harry frowns and picks at his nails passively. His head feels cloudy, like he's elsewhere, not in reality. The sensation of drowsiness starts to fill his veins.
"Where are we goin'?" Harry croaks curiously.
Louis's throat bobs with nervousness, but he doesn't say anything. His cold eyes stare through the windshield as they start driving towards the run-down side of town. When Harry looks outside, he sees crumbling houses and prostitutes lining the streets. Empty vodka bottles and discarded beer cans fill the neighborhood lawns. Harry's lips quiver slightly.
He's fairly familiar with this neighborhood. It has a bad reputation. Sometimes, Liam visits these streets to find new dancers and potential customers.
"This place is crawling with evil humans," Louis explains eventually. "It's like a vampire's buffet."
Harry freezes. "Louis, I can't—"
"I'm taking you to a brothel," he interrupts. "Niall says he hunted there a few days ago."
Harry tenses at the word hunted. He hates feeling like a predator. Even if these people are bad, he doesn't want to kill them. It contradicts everything he learned in life. He can't comprehend the idea of taking somebody's life away for his own selfish gain. And the act of murder in itself, with all the blood and gore, sends a shiver down his spine.
It's ironic, Harry thinks. The one thing that keeps him alive also kills his conscious morality.
"Hey," Louis says abruptly, cutting off his train of thought. "Stop overthinking it. You're just doing what you need in order to survive."
Harry scoffs. "We kill people. Don't you feel guilty?"
He shakes his head without hesitation. "No, I don't feel guilt anymore."
"Why not?"
"Because we kill people who deserve to die."
Harry falls silent. He just focuses on breathing as he stares out the smudge-covered window. Louis's opulent car probably looks out of place in this poverty-stricken neighborhood. He doesn't know if he agrees with Louis, necessarily. A lot of people are bad, but that doesn't mean they deserve a death sentence.
"You thought I was a bad person when we first met," Harry murmurs quietly. "You thought I deserved to die, too."
Louis chews on the inside of his cheek for a few seconds. "But I didn't kill you, did I?"
"You almost did."
"But I stopped myself."
"Doesn't matter. Your judgement isn't perfect, Louis," Harry argues.
Louis frowns. "I can't let you starve to death. We're bonded, and you're my responsibility."
Harry crosses his arms over his chest. "I'm fine on my own—"
"No, you're not!" Louis shouts.
Abruptly, the car comes to a screeching halt as Louis presses the break. They both shoot forward, and Harry braces his hands on the dash. He sends Louis a sharp glare, but he just rolls his eyes and pulls over to the side of the road. He quickly puts the car in park to give Harry his undivided attention.
"You're not capable of fending for yourself," Louis snaps with intensity. "You almost died. Do you know how scared and useless I felt? If something happened to you, I— I don't know what I'd do. So, please, let me help you."
Harry sniffles and ducks his head. "I'm fine."
"You're freezing cold, Harry," Louis points out, pressing his palm to Harry's forehead. His skin feels like frost that covers windshields in the winter. "You're dying."
Harry blinks away his tears. He doesn't want to cry. "I'm okay."
"Harry," Louis chokes out. He sounds like he's suppressing the urge to sob. He's built up a wall to hide his vulnerability, but now Harry can see that it's starting to breakdown. "Please do this for me. I need you. You mean so much to me."
The green-eyed boy pauses momentarily. "I'm really scared," he breathes.
Louis gives him a sympathetic frown. He reaches over and grabs his hand, squeezing it. His fingers feel like stiff, brittle icicles. It's as if he can see the health, happiness, and strength draining from his body.
"It'll be alright," Louis promises. "I'll be by your side, always."
Harry gives a small, weak smile. Even though his nerves are rattled, he feels safe. He knows Louis would never let anything harm him. That's what bonds are for, after all. It's a mutual trust of protection and love.
Louis leans in and pecks his cheek. Then he starts driving again, keeping one hand possessively on Harry's knee.
~
The brothel is, as predicted, filled with disgusting men and brainwashed hookers. One of the pimps meets Louis and Harry at the front door and guides them inside. He's a tall, scrawny man with deep, sunken eyes and rotten teeth. Red marks and bruises from heroin injections stain his forearm. Harry hides his internal fear and clings to Louis's side.
"We need girls," Louis says simply.
The man scrunches his nose. There's a grey couch behind him, and the cushions are filled with cigarette holes, exposing the underlying yellow foam. An ash tray rests on the coffee table with discarded joints and smokes. The air reeks of marijuana, sweat, and sex.
Dirty tiles cover the floor, filled with cracks and dirt. The walls are painted a horrible shade of olive green. Harry tries to ignore the blood-covered needles and empty liquor bottles. He may be a stripper, but he's never been exposed to this kind of living before.
"How do I know you're not a snitch?" the man spits.
Louis hums and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a large stack of cash and hands it over, slapping it into the stranger's veiny hand. He looks down and smirks. Then, his eyes flicker between Harry and Louis.
"Alright. How many do ya' want?"
Harry bites his lip. He can't believe these men treat these poor, defenseless girls like property. It makes him sick to his stomach. Now, he doesn't feel guilty about wanting to suck this man's blood and kill him slowly. He just desires.
"Two," Louis shrugs.
The man grins wickedly. "Alright. The girls are all upstairs. You can go help yourself."
Louis hums thoughtfully. Before the drugged-out man can react, he pushes him against the nearest wall with his superior strength. His hand clamps over his mouth to muffle his shouts. He hopes that none of the prostitutes wander downstairs. He doesn't want to hurt them, too. They've probably suffered enough already.
"How about we help ourselves to you instead, hm?" Louis growls.
The stranger's eyes widen. Suddenly, Harry hears a crunching noise. Judging by the way Louis's arm is pressing against his chest, he assumes it's the man's ribs breaking. He tries to scream, but Louis just clamps his hand tighter to silence him. The pimp nudges against Louis's chest, but he's much stronger.
"Bite him, Harry," Louis orders. "I'll hold him."
Harry loses control. He can't resist the strong, addictive scent that boils beneath this man's skin. His blood smells heavenly. So he latches onto his throat, piercing his fangs into his neck. The man screams, but it's barely audible behind the pressure of Louis's palm. Relief floods into him as he begins to suck greedily. The warm, bitter liquid flows into his mouth. He gulps it down easily.
The man becomes limp in Louis's grasp. When he stops fighting back, he knows he's dead. Regardless, Harry continues to slurp against his flesh. His animalistic instincts kick in, and he knows he won't be able to stop, no matter how hard he tries.
Eventually, he pulls off. Red blood drips down his chin, so he wipes it off with the back of his hand. He licks his lips with satisfaction.
"Fuck," he rasps. "That felt incredible."
He looks down to see the man completely lifeless. He looks significantly paler, almost as white as snow. His eyes are still open, and it makes Harry's stomach churn with disgust. But at the same time, he feels like he's done these girls a favor. Nobody deserves to be locked up in rooms, waiting to be used and traded like objects.
"You done?" Louis asks Harry, biting his lip hesitantly.
Harry nods in silence.
With that, Louis digs his fangs into the other side of the pimp's throat. He sucks the small amount of blood that remains in his body. It's barely one liter, but it fills his veins with warmth and relief. Harry can't help but stare at the way his biceps flex, how he pins the limp man against the wall with powerful force.
When he's finished, he drags the dead body towards the couch and lays it down. He steps back and sighs, wiping the excess blood off of his reddened mouth.
"We can't just leave him here," Harry grumbles.
Louis shrugs. "Why not? It'll look like a drug overdose," he says, glancing at the nearby heroin needles and bags of cocaine.
Harry frowns. He drags his finger over the two red, bloody wounds that cut into the side of his throat. "I doubt those girls will believe that."
"Nobody gives a shit about men like him," Louis insists. "They're pigs."
Harry gulps. He's probably right.
"Let's go home, yeah?" Louis says, throwing an arm around his shoulder. "We can head back to my cabin and cuddle."
Harry chuckles as they walk out of the brothel. "Sounds great."
They climb into Louis's Porsche, as if nothing ever happened. As if they didn't kill a man five minutes prior.
But as they start driving back towards the main city, Harry's phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out and narrows his eyes at his bright screen. It's an incoming call from Zayn. He furrows his brow curiously as he slides his thumb over to answer.
"Hey, Angel."
He hears Zayn fumble with his phone. " 'ello, mate. What are you up to?"
Harry pauses. He can still taste blood on his teeth. "Not much. Yourself?"
"Just chillin'. I was actually wondering if I could talk to you and Louis about... something. About what happened earlier at your flat."
Harry raises an eyebrow. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No, but I— I think it's a conversation we need to have in person."
Harry's stomach sinks. Louis notices Harry's discomfort and glances over for a brief second before returning his attention to the road. He wonders what's causing him so much distress. He can faintly hear a voice muffled in his phone, but he can't decipher the dialogue.
"Erm, yeah," Harry murmurs. "We're actually on our way to Louis's place now. Wanna meet up there?"
Zayn doesn't respond for a few seconds. Harry feels nervousness burn in his chest. Whatever Zayn wants to discuss, it sounds serious.
"Sure," Zayn huffs out. "See you soon, Rose."
And then he hangs up. Harry gulps as he pulls his phone away. He blinks a few times to clear his confusion.
"You alright?"
Harry exhales a deep breath. "I dunno," he admits. "That was Zayn. He wants to talk to us about something."
"Something?"
"About what happened at my place."
Louis swallows the lump in his throat. His cold eyes, which have softened from silver to an icy blue, stare through the windshield mindlessly. "Well, he saw you when you were all... loopy. When you were going through bond separation. That probably seems abnormal to him."
Harry bites a hangnail on his thumb to distract himself. "Do you think he knows?"
"About what?"
"That we're vampires."
Louis considers it. "I don't think so," he concludes, "but he's probably suspicious."
Harry huffs sadly. "Being a vampire is so complicated."
Louis laughs with agreement. Keeping one hand on the wheel, he smooths his thumb over Harry's nape. He plays with his loose, soft curls, and twirls them around his finger. Harry reacts like a playful kitten and leans into his gentle touch.
"Thank you for saving me," he sighs. "I'd probably be dead right now if it weren't for you."
Louis smiles. "It's my job, babe. I'll always keep you safe."
Harry hums, pleased with the response. Regardless of what the future has in store, he and Louis are strong enough to conquer it together.