Chapter One: Now

Dorian pushed the sharp edge against the vampire's throat until blood began to bead. The wound hissed as the silver's poison ate into his veins.

"Where's Maltheo?"

"I already told you... I don't know!"

"Liar!"

The hunter leaned into the blade and the boy stiffened. Dorian's hand fell to his side, where several silver stakes hung from his belt. They were several inches long with a deadly tip.

"P-Please..." The vampire's eyes were wide, pleading.

Dorian sneered. "I'm sure that's what your prey says when you're in my position. You show them no mercy...why should I be any different?" The tip of the stake hovered just above the vampire's heart, ready to drive its way through.

"Where. Is. Maltheo?"

"Honestly, why do you feel the need to keep attacking my family?"

The voice, though icy, was smooth and Dorian recognized it immediately. He spun around, his blade thrust out but the stake stayed pressed against the fledgling's chest so he didn't try anything.

Maltheo leaned against the building, arms crossed over his chest, and the light from the street lamps cast shadows on his pale face. His blond hair stuck up all over as if styled that way in a rockstar-like manner and he had the short beginning stubble of a beard. His eyes were a dark red, the color of rich wine, and on his thin lips was a smirk.

"You know, you could just ask for me in Nightshayde. I'm always there... No need for violence."

"You know why," Dorian growled.

Mal frowned. "Let my boy go. He's got nothing against you."

"How do I know he won't turn and stab me in the back?"

The vampires looked skeptical. Dorian shot them a glare and the fledgling's hopeful smile dropped to a grimace once again.

"Does it look like I'm armed?"

He paused, considering it for a moment. No, he wasn't armed. He had grabbed the boy right out of the library, where he was pretending to be normal. Slowly, he lowered the stake and slid it back into his belt. "Then get lost."

The boy sent a fleeting, panicked glance at Maltheo but took off running down the alley. Dorian turned his attention to the remaining man.

Mal smiled lazily. "So what did you need?"

Dorian's expression remained blank. "You."

Mal flashed his fangs and stepped closer. "Again? I thought you'd sworn vampires off your menu..."

The hunter's hand fell to the stake at his side to prove his point, but Maltheo didn't seem put off. "Quit playing games," he muttered. "You shouldn't flatter yourself."

"Then I assume you're fucking a Citadel witch then?"

Anger boiled up and with a growl, Dorian swung the blade out. Mal, of course, was out of reach seconds before the silver touched his skin, and before Dorian had time to react, the vampire was behind him, pressed close, one arm draped lazily around the hunter's waist and his lips brushing the flushed skin.

Dorian stiffened and his breath caught in his throat. No, not this time. Slowly, his muscles relaxed and he let his weight ease into the other man's arms. The vampire grinned and his guard lowered. "I didn't think you'd comply... I had already planned to take you with force."

"Mal..." It took all his strength not to jerk away as delicate fingers fiddled with the buttons on his shirt.

One way into a vampire's heart was through sex – they were entranced by it in a way, and even the most dominant on the street could turn into a moaning, whimpering slave in bed. And though this particular sort of sex – with vampires, not with men – disgusted him, Dorian knew how to play his cards.

Lips brushed gently at his earlobe and he let down his reserve. Make him think he was losing himself. Mal was conceited and the submission from the hunter was all it took to make him open himself up completely.

Maltheo didn't jerk his shields back up until the powerful jaws of a Hellhound crunched into his arm, snapping bone like a toothpick. He tore away with a snarl of pain but by the time Dorian swung to bury his blade in the vampire's heart, he was halfway down the street.

"Get him."

The Hellhound took of after him, her paws pounding the pavement with soft thuds. Her body stretched out in a long run and her ears flattened with the thrill of the chase.

Stashing the blade in his coat, Dorian followed. Persephone could sniff out the track of a single ant's whereabouts when on a trail, but he couldn't discount Maltheo. He wouldn't hesitate to draw heat and kill her dead if given the chance.

He hit the soft earth running, leaving the safety of the city lights. Soon, Afterglow was just a pale smudge behind bare tree limbs, but he couldn't stop. Any farther behind his hound and he'd lose her.

She stood deathly still at the edge of a thicket. Her body was tensed and her dark eyes fixated on something in the distance. Maltheo? He laid a hesitant hand on her back. She didn't even flick an ear. He wasn't there. She was in a world all her own and he knew he'd have to be careful.

Slowly, he started forwards, alone. There was rustling sounds and heavy breathing. Dorian nearly jumped out of his skin as a scream echoed in the air. He fell backwards, hitting a tree hard. Persephone bolted past him in a flash of black and silver fur.

The single, lone pegasus screamed again, his broken wings beating wildly against the werewolves who were shredding them.

The Hellhound was met head on by the pack alpha. Her teeth sliced into his face and his massive jaws closed around her throat. They flailed for a split second and he threw her to the side. She screamed, claws hardly protecting her as the other three wolves pulled flesh from bone.

Dorian covered his mouth and closed his eyes to keep from vomiting when he saw the soft shine of blood against a spilled intestine. The werewolves lost interest in her when she stopped moving and turned their attention back to the winged beast that stood in wait for his slaughter.

It wasn't until her head flopped back and her eyes, soulless and dead, stared out of a mask of blood and broken teeth that he gagged.

All heads spun around and their golden eyes locked on him. He lurched to his feet but they were faster.

Claws slammed into his back and threw him forwards. Scrambling, he grabbed a stake and thrust it down between the shoulder blades of a wolf. It fell, a scream dying on its lips, and pain rippled through his gut as fangs sunk deep into his shoulder. Another set of jaws grabbed his calf and the two began to tug.

Dorian fell limp between them after several moments, his breaths coming out quick, shallow, every inch of his body in shock, feeling as if he was in a pit of fire. The alpha stared down at him, a smirk in his dark eyes and on his head were the horns of Hellhound heritage. Dorian shivered. He knew the hunter was alive.

After what seemed like forever, they killed their original prey, fed, and their footfalls faded into the night. Dorian dazed out only to come to again, looking up into the haughty red gaze of Maltheo.

"No one will come looking for you," he said simply. "You're a dead man...but..." As his words trailed off, he grinned. Dorian knew the look all too well and even in agony he had the spirit to snarl at him.

"Fuck yourself."

"Such a waste of beauty..."

For a moment, Dorian thought he'd feel the bite of the blade against his skin, but Mal only shook his head and walked away.

The hunter struggled only to fall back against the damp earth with a helpless whine. The poison of a Hellhound bite was deadly but only if it was pure... Not that it didn't burn any less.

His torn muscles relaxed and as time passed, he slipped in and out of the world. The last time he fell under, he didn't figure he'd ever wake back up again. He was too broken...