Hunger

He had to double check to make sure he was really awake; the darkness that surrounded him was so intense it was indistinguishable from the empty nothingness he'd just dragged his tired mind from. He shook his head to clear the fog from clouding his senses, and the long locks of hair - heavily matted with dried blood - brushed against his cheeks, sending a chilling impression down his spine.

He noticed he was vertical, a realization that was quickly followed by another, far more disturbing one: he couldn't feel any of his extremities. Piece by piece the memory of what had occurred earlier came back to him, and with a desperate lurch forward he found he was trapped. Shackles, if he remembered correctly. Taking a deep, calming breath he assured himself that if he had lost his arms and legs he wouldn’t be bound in such a way. Uncertainly he attempted to move his fingers and toes, and some time later (it could have been a matter of minutes or hours for all he could tell) a sharp, tingling sensation began to crawl up his arms. He winced, and gritted his teeth resolutely: he would bear the pain over the incapacitation of numbness, although he was sure his left arm was broken.

All this time he'd been straining his ears for any sings of his captor approaching. Now, as he tried to shut his mind off from the agonizing throb of weak circulation in his wrists and ankles, he distinctly heard approaching footsteps. They were regular and sharp - clip, clip, clip - she was wearing high heels. He could picture her as clearly as if she were visible in front of him - its hard to forget a creature so magnificently horrifying.

Clip, clip, clip.

As the footsteps grew louder he began to sweat, and he felt his earlier composure begin to fall away - not her! Not now!

Clip, clip...

"Boo."

Without warning light poured into the room: bright, white light that made his eyes water. He screwed his eyelids tight together, but spots began to appear nonetheless. He strained against his bonds, not caring about the agony it caused, he was so desperate to get away from her.

"Now, now pet, no need to hurt yourself," She purred in her silky voice. She took a few steps closer and leant towards him. He felt the air ripple as she approached, and a wave of cold enveloped his bare chest. She was so close he could smell that intoxicating scent that made him want to kiss and kill her simultaneously. "I'll make sure to do a fine job of that..."

He grimaced and opened his mouth to tell her to stay away, but the words became lost, and he emitted nothing more than a hoarse croak.

"Sssh." She whispered, and pressed an ice-cold finger lightly onto his lips.

A surge of white-hot panic coursed through him - she had touched him! - And in a fit of anger and fresh pain he arched his back and let out a terrible shriek. The sudden motion startled the woman, and she stumbled back in shock. In a split second his eyes had opened wide, and the dilated pupils shrank instantly until they were nothing more than a pinprick within the ice blue iris that surrounded them. He stared wildly around him and took in all his surroundings in an instant - large windows, oak door, tiled floor, space, so much space - and with an inhuman roar he forced his body forwards, desperately trying to break the chains that held him prisoner in what he recognized as the reception hall.

By this time she had regained her composure, and with an angry snarl she strode forwards and struck him sharply across the face. A thin line of red quickly manifested across his cheek, and the trickle of it as it ran down his features triggered something, unlocked a feeling inside him.

He stared at her in horror and fear. "You...you..." he whispered hoarsely.

She sneered in response, "Me, me" She mimicked shrilly, "Yes, I did. You got too arrogant, and I could hardly punish you accordingly if you remained in your…previous state, so to say.” Her fake simpering tones were bittersweet to his ears, but they were not his greatest concern at that moment,

“Oh look… you appear to be thirsty." Her disparaging smile grew even wider.

He had turned his head the opposite way to the cut, but had become hyperaware of the blood as it slowly slid down: over his chin, past his neck, to his collar bone and continuing.

"Poor Markus," the woman cooed, "A new-born's hunger is quite insatiable. I heard they always drink their first meal until he's dry.” Her malicious grin widened, “Well... what a predicament I've put you in here Markus."

"You...monster!" Markus panted with the effort of the control he was exacting over his body. God, it smelled so good!

"Come, be reasonable here...we're both ‘monsters’, as you so eloquently put it, now. And, as an act of kindness to one of my own...I feel its only right I set you free. I couldn’t hold you chained up like this, I’d feel so guilty.” Her tone of voice suggested she felt the complete opposite, and whole countenance showed extreme pleasure at the sight of her prisoner.

"NO!" Markus roared, but this time she only smiled and pulled a key from a pocket in the folds of her emerald green dress. "Lydia, you'll pay for this!"

Lydia grinned widely, and her pointed teeth glistened in the bright light streaming from the windows. "If I do, it won't be by your hands."

The vein in Markus' neck pulsed violently against his skin. He groaned and began to thrash wildly.

"Oh Markus, I can see you're going to make this entertaining for me. Thank you. I've had to wait three whole days for an overcast sky in order to do this; you can’t imagine how difficult that was for me to bear.
“Now...drink up."

The lock on a single cuff clicked open, and his hand sprang from its release and clawed at the blood on his skin. Greedily he raised his hand to his mouth and ran his tongue over the red stain. He moaned in ecstasy, and Lydia walked slowly backwards, smiling gleefully as Markus began to scratch desperately at his skin.

A part of him was aware that he was killing himself, but that small part was overrun by an animal desire that she had exacted on him sometime in the past three days after he'd lost the fight. He should have known better than to argue with her.

He closed his eyes tight, determined not to look at the wreck he was quickly becoming. Gasping, frenzied, he sank his teeth into his already bloody wrist and sucked and sucked, feeling the warm liquid running steadily down his throat. When he raised his head his teeth were stained, his arm was limp, and all he could think about was how much more he wanted. The other arm, no, he doubled over, wrenched his other arm free of its shackle, ignoring the snap of the wrist he broke in the process and tore maniacally at his thigh, eager to get past the flesh to the huge pulsating vein below. More, more, more!

Lydia only stood and smiled, watching with a perverse delight as the man before her ate himself alive. She watched as he began to convulse. She met his eye when he at last broke from the self-mutilation and looked at her with penetrating clarity. As he turned his gaze skyward and sank to the floor, pale and breathless in a pool of his own flesh and blood, she blew him a parting kiss.

“Shame about the mess.” She mused to herself as she left the room, and her lover, behind.

This is something I wrote a while ago to try and overcome a writers block on a longer story I'm trying to write, also about vampires. Well...it didn't cure the block but I figured its 'good' enough to put up here. Reviews & critique are, as always, very much appreciated :)