Captured By The Warriors

by Daniella Wright

  “What have you done to me…” I whisper, repeating my prior question. He looks as if he will explain again, but I hold up a hand to stop him. There is no need. As impossible as this situation is, I know now that he has been honest with me. He is a vampire and now, at his hands, I am as well. “What am I supposed to do!? Where am I supposed to go?” I begin quietly, but quickly gain volume. Anger sears my insides just as the sun had burned my skin, and I leap to my feet, stomping towards him. He looks ever ashamed, but not afraid. I want him to be afraid. I want him to hurt. “You’ve ruined me! I can never see my family or my friends again. How would I explain this to them? You’ve ruined my life, and for what… because my blood tastes really good? Do you know how idiotic that sounds?” I snarl, and his eyes flash for a brief moment, but are then awash with sorry.

  “There is nothing I can do to return your previous life to you. I’m sorry it came to this. But you’re right, this is all my doing. I know it is little consolation, but as I have caused you this pain, it is only fair that I allow you the sanctuary of my home.” He murmurs, and I laugh. It is all I can do to laugh to keep from crying. My shoulders shake, and I glance briefly to the door I had tried to escape from. Weighing my options, I’m not sure what is the worse fate. Remaining here with this monster who has ruined my life, or stepping out into the sun and destroying this cruel afterlife. “You will adjust. I never thought I would, but you come to terms with this life… You just need to give it time.” He says awkwardly. I look to him through narrowed eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. It’s as if he knows what I was thinking, but as far I know about vampires, he very well may.

  “Just show me where I am to stay. It’s not as if there are any other options.” I grouse. His expression seems to grow lighter, and I swallow the venom I want to spew at him. There will be time to berate him. It seems I have nothing but time now. I follow him deeper into his house, in the opposite direction of his bedroom.

  “The guest quarters aren’t nearly as nice as the master suite, but I’m sure they will suit your needs.” He murmurs amicably, but I make no move to answer him. He opens the door to these supposed guest quarters and I linger at the door for a long moment, considering what will be my confines for… what? An eternity? “If you should need anything, I should be easy to find.” He offers, opening his mouth to continue. I ignore him, stepping into the guest quarters and turning to face him. He smiles crookedly, an attempt to keep things amicable, I suppose. I hesitate for a moment, baring my teeth in a snarl before slamming the door in his face. He squawks indignantly from the other side, but I simply slip the lock into place and turn to take in my surroundings. It’s not quite as bleak as the rest of the house, but not nearly as extravagant as his quarters, either. The room is decorated with muted shades of blues and green, and though those had once been my favorite colors, I can only look at them with disgust now. I step towards the bed in the center of the room, drawing back the covers to find it immaculately clean. Seems vampires did not have many guests. I breathe in a shaky breath that I belatedly realize I no longer need, slipping into the bed and drawing the blankets up around me. Though I vaguely hope it will help stave off the chill, deep down I know it will not. Nothing will.

  I remain locked in the room for what feels an eternity, and very well may be for as well as I can judge time here. There is no distinction between night and day. Edmund makes the occasional attempt to speak to me through the door, but never breaks through the lock. I’m certain he could if he wanted to, but perhaps it is his attempt to show compassion. A show of restraint that is ironic considering how we got in this situation. The chill that permeates my body has settled in as a constant sensation, but I’m slowly adjusting to it. It’s a bit harder to adjust to no longer needing to breathe. I still go through the motions though I know it’s unnecessary. For brief moments I can almost pretend I am still alive, when I almost slip into slumber. I never give completely into the unconsciousness, however. Maybe it’s some sort of instinct. All the same, trying to sleep feels inconsequential, another facade in the series of masquerades that make up my life now. I’ve never been one to give into my depressing thoughts, but it seems I am left with nothing more than my thoughts for now. It’s not as if I can retreat to the familiar dance floor, where I’m sure the thumping of the bass would be but a cold reminder of my unbeating heart.

  Realistically, I know waxing poetic about my misery will only perpetuate how bad I feel, but I can’t ignore the anger brewing within my gut. My hand clenches at my side, and I sit up, inhaling yet another unnecessary breath before slamming my fist into the mattress at my side with as much strength as I can muster. I can’t swallow the gasp that escapes me as the entire bed frame collapses beneath me. Dust rises from beneath the remains of the bed, and I slowly quirk a brow as I lean down to survey the damage. It’s as if someone has taken a sledgehammer and laid into the area I punched. It seems strange, impossible, but… I rise from the bed for what feels the first time in ages. I consider the room around me, consider all the antique yet sturdy and well made furniture. I take a step away from the destroyed bed, drawing close to a well aged chest of drawers. I draw my fist back, hesitating for a long moment before lashing out with a well placed strike. I’m not sure what I expected, but I still jolt with surprise as the piece of furniture collapses. My eyes widen in comprehension, and I consider the room with new purpose. I dash across the confined space, laying waste to the likely expensive furniture strewn purposefully across the room. A laugh bubbles up in my throat, and I’m struck by how good it feels to be so damn powerful. Even after all the destruction I’ve left in my wake, I’ve not even broken a sweat. I examine my fist, feeling almost as if the power is a physical sensation throbbing beneath my skin. I glance to the door, realizing just how easy it would have been for Edmund to slam the door open and do what he wanted to me. If he has even a portion of this power… well. I certainly haven’t forgiven him, but perhaps this is a step in the right direction. I glance towards the door, considering my options for a moment before stepping towards it. I flick the lock, pulling the door open and peering out into the hall to see if the vampiric male is anywhere to be seen. Satisfied that I have some measure of privacy for the time being, I slip out of the bedroom, seeking out a bathroom. I’m unclear on how long it’s been since I’ve had a good soak, but it seems that now is as good a time as any. I open several doors as I walk down the hallway, surprised to find neither Edmund or the bathroom I’m seeking. At the final door in the hallway, just beside his bedroom, I am rewarded for my efforts. Though the room is dark, I can tell that this is obviously the master bathroom. It looks entirely too extravagant for something as simple as a bathroom, but I intend to take full advantage of the situation for what it’s worth. I step into the room, closing the door behind me and edging towards the tub. It looks large enough to fit two people, easily. While I certainly have no interest in that, it means I’ll have plenty of room to stretch my legs out. I turn the water on a satisfying temperature, plugging the drain and drawing away to slip out of my clothes. My dress is utterly ruined, but I suppose it’s of little consequence. It’s not as if I’ll be seeing anyone from my old life. I kick it to the side, flinging it clear across the room. I swallow a giggle, dipping my fingertips into the water and groaning at how pleasantly warm it is. With little further preamble, I submerge myself in the water, all the aches and pains that riddle my body slowly ebbing away. For a moment, it even feels as if my permanent chill has faded, if only slightly. I sink deeper into the water, examining the plethora of soaps to choose from. Most of them are luxurious to the point of exorbitance, and I’m forced to wonder just how much this man has spent on soap alone. I suppose your priorities change a bit once you’ve been living for… god knows how long. I reach out to grab a bottle that is labelled as being infused with real rose petals, popping the top off with ease and waving it under my nose. The smell is pleasant, if somewhat strong. I dab some into my hand, slowly covering my body with rose scented suds. I ca
n already tell my skin is going to exquisitely soft after this particular soak, and I breathe a remarkably content sigh. I realize this is probably the most content I’ve been in some time, but god knows I wouldn’t let the bloodsucker know that. Well, the other bloodsucker, in this case. Once I am thoroughly soaped up, I sink into the water, washing the suds away from my skin. I remain underwater for a long moment, dragging my fingertips down the curves of my own body. In spite of the anger I feel towards the man, thoughts of the first night I met him surge through my mind. It’s as if I can feel him inside me again. The power I had felt destroying the furniture only invigorates me, and I press my fingers between my thighs, parting my most intimate folds and slowly coaxing myself into pleasure. I gently brush my thumb against my aching pearl, shudders flowing through my body at my own touch. Instead of penetrating myself, I simply continue my assault on my most sensitive area, alternating between gently rubbing around my peak, to direct touches. When I feel as if I can take no more, my body shakes from the sheer force of my orgasm. My toes curl in ecstasy, and I just barely manage to catch myself before inhaling a lung full of water. I emerge from the water with a satisfied gasp, my pleasure being cut agonizingly short as I hear the doorknob turn. Before I can get the words out, Edmund has opened the door and is staring wordlessly at me. More specifically, his eyes are locked on my exposed and utterly heaving chest. For a moment, I am frozen in shock. Then, as if unable to help myself, my eyes are drawn to the stiffness in his pants. My eyes widen comically, and I can almost smell the musk emanating both from him and myself. It seems impossible that he could have ruined this small moment so spectacularly, yet, here he stands.

  “What the hell! Get out!” I blurt, covering my chest with one arm and flinging a random bottle of soap at the intruding male. He jolts, amusement dancing in his eyes as he seems to come to his senses. He even has the audacity to laugh. “Get out!” I repeat, seeking something else to throw at him.

  “Sorry, sorry. Did not know you were in here. Deepest apologies.” He offers, but he seems anything but sorry. He blurts another laugh as he steps out of the bathroom, his voice cracking as he pulls the door closed behind him. I stare after him, fury flushing my skin. For a moment, I consider soaping myself up once more in an attempt to calm down. It’s not as if my bath necessarily has to be ruined by his rude interruption. But the more I sit, the more I stew, and the angrier I get. He had to have known I was in there. There was no way he had come in through sheer accident alone. I find myself growling without realizing it, and I reach out to unplug the drain, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around myself. Somewhat belatedly I consider that I should have brought a change of clothes with me. I hesitate for a moment, debating just following him and giving him a piece of my mind clad in this towel. The only other option evident for the time being is my tattered and bloodstained dress. I consider the garment drolly, exhaling through my nose in distaste before deciding I have little option but to put it back on. It feels disgusting against my skin, and I can’t help feeling as if the bath I’d just taken was entirely wasted. Better than giving the creep yet another peepshow, though. Once dressed, I throw the bathroom door open and march out, surprised to not see him in the immediate area. I glance around, considering calling out to him. That would seem decidedly too desperate, however, so I suppose I’m left little option but to find him. I slip through the halls, peering into the various doors that I left ajar, uncertainty brewing in my gut until I come to the room I had left in shambles. I hear that familiar yet unfamiliar cursing on the other side of the door, and relish in the brief sensation of vindication. Though I had not destroyed the room with the intent of starting an altercation with my… gracious host, it seemed as if a clash was forthcoming whether I liked it or not. I linger outside the door for a moment, just long enough to hear him cursing my existence. I’m briefly struck by the thought of just how much damage I had done. Odds were, he is impossibly stronger than even myself. He could probably break me with a flick of his wrist. Oh well. Better to deal with it now. I inhale deeply, steeling my nerves. Then, I step inside.

  As I step into the room, he casts a cursory glance in my direction before resuming his examination of the furniture. It’s all quite obviously ruined, and I consider making a snide comment regarding it. Before I can get the words out, he exhales a weary sigh, straightening and turning to face me.

  “Most of this is irreplaceable. I can’t believe you would act like such a spoiled child.” He says coldly, and I can’t help but narrow my eyes in annoyance.

  “Well, you didn’t seem to think I was much of a spoiled child when you were inside of me. You also wouldn’t have to deal with a so called spoiled child if you hadn’t drained me.” I bite back, brushing my fingertips to the pinprick wounds on my neck. This time, he narrows his eyes in my direction. His exasperation is obvious, but it’s not as if I’m going to apologize for the scene. What I said was very much true, he had no business forcing me into this life. “What, in your eons of living you never learned any carpentry skills. How sad for you.” I sneer, knowing I’m only making the situation worse. He bares his fangs, taking what is likely supposed to be a threatening step towards me. I watch him, trying to reflect just how bored I am with this entire situation. He levels a deadpan stare in my direction, seeming to consider his next action.

  “Fine. I’m not dealing with this right now. If you hate it here so much, you’re welcome to leave. No one is forcing you to stay.” He says angrily, turning his back on me and slipping through the door. I stare after him, feeling my eyes widen in disbelief. I want to shout after him. I want to curse his name, I want to make him feel as awful as I have felt for these days prior. I glance aside, looking to one of the pieces of ruined furniture. I had not truly considered the pieces before destroying them, but upon looking at them now, it’s obvious the workmanship is impeccable. He was likely right, most of this would be irreplaceable. I try to tell myself that I don’t care, that I don’t care about the egotistical bloodsucker and his exorbitant lifestyle. However, I can’t help but exhale an uncertain sigh. He was right about one thing, at the very least. I didn’t have to stay here, and it seemed as if I had overstayed my welcome. I’m not sure where I can go, what I can do if I leave these walls. I know I have to talk to him, try and convince him to let me stay. A certain bitterness creeps up my spine, and I feel no small amount of distaste for how reliant I have become on this man in a few short days. I breathe in a quaking breath, stepping out of the room I had destroyed and casting a cursory glance across the hallway. I begin to meander towards his bedroom, but I’m distracted by the distinct sound of chirping crickets. I hesitate, looking to a door that stands ajar. It seems to lead outside, and from the looks of it, the sun set long ago. I press my hand to the door, pushing through it and stepping into the brisk night air. I see the man who has caused my misery sitting slumped at a wrought iron table, sipping what appears to be a glass of wine. I’m almost certain I know better than to think it’s actually wine, however. He doesn’t seem to notice my presence, but I’m more inclined to believe he’s simply ignoring me. I clear my throat somewhat awkwardly, and he breathes a sigh, raising his head to look towards me. He looks rather defeated, and uncertainty blooms in my chest as I try to consider what on earth I’ll say to him. Swallowing my pride, I duck my head, slipping towards the table and taking a seat across from him. He watches me with a reproachful expression, and I feel guilty in spite of myself.

  “What am I supposed to do now?” I say uncertainly, folding my hands on top of the table. He considers me curiously, swishing the liquid in his glass before taking a sip.

  “What do you mean?” He says after pulling the glass away from his lips. Desperation floods my insides, but I’m not sure how to appeal to him. I’ve made the first step by approaching him, but I have no idea how to step forward.

  “I have the feeling I’ve… overstayed my welcome. So, I’m not sure where I’m supposed to go from here. I’m… at a loss. I realize I have no right
to come to you with this, considering my attitude towards you. I just don’t know where to go from here.” I stammer out, and he looks somewhat chagrined.

  “I did not mean to imply that you are unwelcome here. I let my temper get the better of me, but considering I’m the one who got you in this mess…” He trails off, and our eyes meet for the briefest of moments. I feel as if he can see into my very soul, feeling more exposed than perhaps when he had seen me in the bathtub. Did my heart still beat, I’m sure a blush would alight my cheeks at the sincere look he offers me.

  “I shouldn’t have acted the way I did. While I still don’t quite forgive you for all of this, I only made things worse. The smart thing to do, I guess, would be moving forward.” I say, trying not to let my voice waver. He reaches across the table, grasping one of my shaking hands in his own. His skin is cold, as cold as my own, I’m certain. However, warmth feels as if it is blooming within me as he offers me a kind smile. He squeezes my hand before releasing it, and I find myself missing his touch in spite of myself.

  “I suppose it’s only fair. I explored my powers none too gracefully when I was first turned, and I did not really offer you any means of expressing them. If you would like… I can teach you more about this life.” He pauses, looking hesitant. “I know it’s not the ideal, but in the spirit of moving forward, I think it would be a good step in adjusting to your new life.” He adds carefully. I tap my fingers on the tabletop, drawing my lip between my teeth and wincing as I nearly pierce my own lip. I’m still not entirely used to my own fangs, it seems. That, as much as anything, makes the decision for me.