by Kallysten
"And you killed him by feeding from where?"
That word, again, made it sink a little deeper what she had done exactly. She would have given her existence at that instant if it had meant that Ian's heart would beat again. He would certainly have a right to push a wooden stake into her chest when he woke.
"Answer me, Childe!"
Swallowing hard, Eyrin mumbled, “His neck."
For several minutes that felt like as many years, her Sire remained silent. Wondering what he might be thinking, Eyrin opened her eye again and raised a hesitant gaze toward him. He didn't look as angry as he had sounded so far, but he seemed extremely tired. Squatting down next to her, he reached toward her face and she couldn't help flinching as he delicately traced her wounds.
"Something terrible happened to you.” He spoke softly, his voice gentle now. “And I know it has been hard on you. But why, Eyrin? You knew better than to feed from his neck."
His calm words made the tears rise again. “Because he offered,” she explained in a murmur, conscious that it didn't excuse her in any way.
Her Sire sighed and looked toward the bed. “Foolish, both of you.” Standing again, he offered her his hand and pulled her up to her feet when she gingerly took it.
"What is his name?” he asked, his eyes still on the immobile figure on the bed.
"Ian."
"Ian,” he repeated. “He's one of my Childer, now, but I don't think I would have chosen him. He was too young."
Eyrin bit her tongue not to answer and defend Ian. He was strong, she would have argued, loyal, and he learned fast. Saying as much was of no use now, though. Ian would have to prove himself to the Master.
"He's your responsibility,” he added, his back to her as he strode to the door. “You will teach him to feed, and fight, and live with us."
She blinked, surprised beyond words. As far as she knew, the Master had given their first lessons to every single one of his Childer as a way to bond with them. That he asked her to do it for Ian felt like an incredibly difficult task. A task she didn't feel she was worthy of.
His hand on the latch, he turned to look at her. “Odela will be leaving in a few days, and when she does we will have the extra blood gift we now need. Until then, you will feed from humans, and Ian will feed from you afterwards."
She started protesting at that—she didn't feel ready to leave her room and confront the gazes that waited in the common room—but she belatedly understood that it was part of her punishment. Swallowing a heavy sigh, she nodded.
"You still need to heal, though,” he added thoughtfully after a few seconds. “You may ask another Childe for more blood every other night. None of this would have happened if you hadn't been starving yourself."
She didn't reply. There really wasn't much that she could say, but the truth of her Sire's words was all the more bitter for her silence.
"Since it is so late already, he won't be rising tonight,” he continued, and now it seemed he was talking to himself as much as her. “I will send a messenger to inform his village. Be sure to be near him and ready to offer him blood when he wakes tomorrow night."
Again, she nodded; her Sire left. For a long moment her gaze remained on the now closed door, although she wasn't really seeing anything. In her mind, the events since Ian had entered her room, his words and her own kept replaying in a loop as she tried to understand her mistake. There had been so many points at which she could have done something different, something that would have saved his life. Absently touching the woven bracelet Ian had slipped on her wrist what seemed like hours earlier, she fought back the tears coming up once more to her eye. How much had he lost, by her fault? The sun and its warmth. Fields of ripening grain and blooming flowers. His family, present and future. She had lost as much when she had been sired, but it had been her choice, she had accepted it before it happened. Ian had been given no such decision to make.
Would he ever forgive her?
Feeling numb, she slowly approached the bed. With dark curls fallen over his face, Ian seemed asleep. She wished she hadn't known any better. She climbed on the bed next to him and lay down, careful not to touch him as though she might disturb his sleep and wake him. They had napped together a few times, resting after sex, but as Eyrin watched him now, so utterly still next to her, other memories haunted her.
She remembered a fifteen-year-old boy, wide eyed and a little fearful, who had been in awe when she had thanked him for offering her his blood. She remembered the flowers he had brought to her after that, fresh ones in the spring and summer, dried ones when the weather had turned cold, sometimes large bouquets and sometimes woven wreaths. She remembered playing with him, talking with him and laughing with him. Humans usually remained only long enough to offer vampires their blood, but Ian had been one of the exceptions. More than once, she had needed to accompany him back to his village after nightfall. She also vividly remembered, the feel his lips upon hers, the clumsy kiss he had surprised her with, once, and the first caresses they had shared.
She had known she would lose him, eventually, like she had lost other lovers over the years. It hadn't saddened her, it was the natural course of his life, and hers. She just hadn't realized it would be so fast, and of her own fault.
Time passed as Eyrin mourned Ian's death, until she could feel the sun disappearing beneath the horizon with the familiar prickling sensation at the back of her neck. Throughout the lair, she knew, Childer were getting ready for battle; their Sire was in the common room, giving orders for the night, and if she had focused just a little more Eyrin might have been able to make out his words. She didn't try, though. She used to be one of his lieutenants, used to ride at the head of a group of other Childer to hunt down demons. She doubted she ever would again. She wasn't sure she'd be able to fight before a long time, but at the very least she had proved, to herself as well as to her Sire, that she was not fit to lead. Two errors of judgment in a few days had left her wounded beyond healing and cost a human his life. Who could tell how much more damage she would cause next time to her clan or to the villages it protected?
For hours, the lair was utterly silent, giving Eyrin the odd feeling that time had stopped, leaving her to contemplate the young man next to her and the consequences of her mistakes. Then, one group after the other, her fellow Childer returned, some of them quiet as they cleaned up and went to bed, others loud as they shared the fights of the night with one another. No one came to her door, and Eyrin did not seek anyone.
She must have fallen asleep, because when she roused next, the fireplace was cold and her senses were telling her the sun was high in the sky. That meant humans had to have arrived to give their offerings. She wished she could have forgotten that she would need to face them, but Ian's motionless form on the bed next to her reminded her all to clearly of what her Sire had required from her.
She waited until late afternoon to get out of bed, when the bulk of the humans would have left already. She took more time to clean up than was necessary, all too aware that she was only delaying the moment when she would need to leave the room. Carefully brushing her hair, she let it hang loose, drawing part of it to rest over her face. She touched Ian's hand with the tip of her fingers before walking out, to give herself courage. He would wake soon and be hungry; she had to be ready to offer him blood. It seemed like a fitting reversal of their roles.
The first thing she noticed when she entered the common room was the presence of her Sire. It wasn't uncommon for him to be there, far from it, but when he cast a brief look toward her, Eyrin had the feeling that he was there to keep an eye on her and prevent her from killing anyone else. It should have upset her that he would deem her unworthy of his trust, and a few days earlier she certainly would have complained about it. But at that moment, it reassured her. If she faltered once more, her Sire would be there to stop her before it got too bad.
A woman came to her as soon as she had sit down and offered Eyrin her wrist. Her hands were shaking when she gently took hold of it an
d brought it to her mouth. She never looked up at the woman's face, unwilling to see pity, compassion or horror on unknown features. She didn't take much blood at all before she released the woman and thanked her, her head still bowed. Some part of her was incredibly afraid to take too much again. She caught her Sire's eyes as she was leaving, but where she expected approval, she received a small frown. Only when Odela caught up with her as she was reaching her door did she understand why.
"You didn't take enough,” the older Childe pointed out. “How do you expect to heal and feed him if you don't even feed enough for yourself?"
"I didn't want to hurt anyone else,” Eyrin tried to defend herself.
Odela smiled gently. “I know. But it doesn't change the fact that you didn't feed enough."
The gesture was familiar. Older Childer often shared their blood with younger ones who needed to heal, and Eyrin had been on either side of the sharing more than once. But she felt like a fledgling again when Odela pulled her to her neck and invited her to bite. The added strength of Odela's blood was welcome, of course, but with the first mouthful of it Eyrin flashed back to the previous day, to Ian's hands urging her closer even as she had killed him. She pushed back from Odela with a gasp and shook her head lightly when asked what was wrong.
"I should get back to Ian,” she explained, not quite meeting Odela's eyes. “I have to be there when he wakes."
It was an excuse and they both knew it, but Odela let her go nonetheless. Eyrin was shaking when she reached the bed and sat at the foot of it, her arms wrapped around her legs in front of her. The silence was echoing in her mind, louder than it had any right to be, reminding her oppressively of the stillness of Ian's heart.
When his eyelids first twitched, she thought she was imagining things. But they moved again, and he drew a shaky breath as his eyes finally opened. He sat up on the bed, looking confused until his eyes fell on Eyrin. She still hadn't moved, unsure on what to say since she didn't know how he would react to her presence. The hesitant smile he offered her wasn't what she had expected; it tore at her heart just a little more.
"You must be famished,” she said, her voice breaking. “Here, feed from me."
He weakly tried to protest when she thrust her wrist at him but she had little trouble shushing him. She remembered her first awakening well, and the incredible hunger that had only been sated when her Sire had given her his wrist. She felt even guiltier at the memory; because of her, Ian wouldn't have a normal relationship with their Sire. He wasn't even present for Ian's awakening, something she had never heard of.
"Just bite,” she instructed when he seemed to hesitate. “Your fangs will come out. Then drink, take as much as you need to make the hunger go away."
She winced as her flesh was torn. Young vampires needed a few tries to learn to feed without inflicting too much pain. She would teach him, next time.
Just as she was thinking as much, he stopped feeding. She could see that he had trouble letting go of her, but after a few instants of hesitation, he did.
"You need to feed more,” she said at once. “That wasn't enough."
"Not from you,” he murmured, his voice a little rough.
The rejection felt like a slap and sharpened the shame and guilt Eyrin felt about what had happened. “I am sorry for what I did,” she blurted out. “But you need to feed more and I'm the only one here for that."
Both his hands clutched at her wrist when she tried to push it closer to him.
"You were hurt,” he protested. “You still are. I can't take your blood when—"
"I took yours,” she interrupted. “I took all of yours, or almost."
His features reflected total incomprehension. “Eyrin, I—"
"I took your blood,” she repeated, unyielding. “And you need to take mine now."
For long seconds, his eyes remained on her, his frown still as pronounced. She almost sighed in relief when at last he reopened the wounds at her wrist, a little more gently this time, and started pulling on her blood again.
Chapter Three
Awakening as a vampire was nothing Ian could have imagined.
The hunger was beyond what he had ever experienced, and to be offered blood to calm it right away was certainly the best thing that could have happened. But through the hunger, he remembered. Eyrin had been hurt. Feeding him right now was painful, if he was to believe her tightly pinched lips. He had to battle himself to stop, had to battle the hunger and that very fundamental instinct to take blood, as much of it as possible, and worry about consequences later. But he did manage to release her wrist. He couldn't bear the idea that he was causing her pain.
But she didn't let him stop. She argued and prodded him on and in the end, a second instinct took over. He had to please her, in any way she asked, in any way he could. Something anchored deep inside him, in the same feelings he'd had for her before becoming a vampire, requested as much. So he did what she wanted, and drank, until his mind was singing with the power and taste of her blood.
With the hunger appeased, another need took precedence as he realized, belatedly, that his cock was hard and aching. He had been hard for Eyrin when he had first come to the lair, but this was different. He could taste her still on his tongue, could feel her, her strength inside him, could smell her soap and that scented oil she put on her hair and an edge of blood from her wounds. She seemed, at that instant, more attractive than she had ever been, and he had never wanted her as much as he did now. However, when he shifted on the bed to get on his knees and move closer to her, she pulled back. And when he reached for her with his hand, wanting only to touch her face, she scrambled off the bed.
"Why—” he started, but she didn't let him finish.
"I will show you the rest of the lair. Almost everyone is out hunting, but you can meet those who stayed behind tonight."
Before he had time to say a word, she had crossed the room to the door and opened it. Only then did she look back at him. Her hair still hung over most of her face, hiding her wounds and making her features harder to read. Unsure of why she was acting like this, Ian slid off the bed and joined her. He wanted to ask if he had done something wrong or broken a rule, maybe, but already Eyrin was walking away and all Ian could do was follow her.
The experience was intensely confusing. The two vampires he met looked at him with undisguised curiosity but were nice enough. They were both injured in some fashion, he noticed. When he asked Eyrin if that was the reason why they weren't out and hunting, she stiffened and confirmed his suspicions before leading him away. He had seen most of the lair before, but through his sharpened eyesight everything seemed different.
The near darkness wasn't hindering him, even at this time of night when the only sources of light were torches on the walls. He commented aloud on the scent of the torches, which he had never noticed before, and Eyrin tersely answered that it wouldn't bother him if he simply stopped breathing. The comment stung, as did all of her attitude toward him. She had never been as cold toward him as she now was. It was as though she had never talked to him before, as though he were a perfect stranger. Ian couldn't understand what he had done to upset her.
"Our Sire asked me to teach you how to fight,” she said as they entered what she had called the weapons room, forestalling any question Ian may have had. “Most of us fight with swords. Go and pick one on that wall."
As Ian did as she had asked, Eyrin went around the room and lit additional torches until the room seemed almost too bright. He held the sword he had chosen in front of him for her to see. Ian looked at her and waited for a nod of approval or a comment on his choice. He got neither. Going straight to business, she instructed him on how to grip the hilt before directing him through basic exercises.
Ian had never held a weapon before, humans were forbidden to even own one. But he had seen Eyrin train with other Childer, and he had a small idea of what she expected of him. So he did his best, trying to follow her directions as well as he could, craving a word from her
to let him know he was on the right path. She never met his eyes, never smiled, never praised him.
He kept hoping, as the night advanced, that Eyrin would soon be back to the charming woman he used to know, that she was only showing this terse side of herself because training him was far more serious than teaching him to play Stones and Water had ever been. But when morning came, he found himself alone in a cold, empty bedroom, and was distressed to realize Eyrin hadn't even touched him since he had released her wrist after feeding from her.
* * * *
"Again."
Eyrin's voice was cold, devoid of any feeling, and it was fitting her mood. She felt nothing as she watched Ian obey her orders and repeat the attack she had just explained to him. She was entirely focused on his execution of the movement, on the position of his feet, hands, shoulders and head. There was place for nothing else in her mind.
"Again. This time make sure to keep your shoulders level. You drop the right one and open yourself to a counter attack."
She noticed the way Ian's lips compressed into a thin displeased line, but he didn't say anything before repeating the movement again. He put more strength into the blow this time, and the sword made a swishing sound as it cut through the air so heavily that he lost his equilibrium and wavered.
"Sloppy move,” a voice commented next to Eyrin before she could express the same sentiment. “Do that in a battle and you'll be lucky not to get your head sliced off."
Her arms tightening where they were crossed around her middle, Eyrin struggled not to turn toward her Sire. He had stepped on her blind side, and as focused as she had been on observing Ian, she hadn't noticed him. It wasn't the first time it had happened. She was still learning how to adjust to her new conditions, just as Ian was. He was adjusting far better than she was so far, even if he still made stupid mistakes like the one that had brought their Sire's attention to him.
"You did warn him that losing his head would kill him, Eyrin, didn't you?"
Standing as stiffly as Ian was under the calm reprimand, Eyrin finally turned to face her Sire.