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Mine By Blood

Him

“Your eyes.” She whispered.

Her voice cut through the heavy silence. I watched her lips shape the words, a soft invocation that stirred something raw inside me.

There was no enchantment chaining me, no witch in this room from what I could tell, only the relentless pull of blood and need.

I forced my eyes back to their cold, blue hue, steel settling in my gaze. I had never tasted blood like hers.

I lowered myself to a squat, trying to get a closer look at her. Her wide eyes never wavered from mine, flickering with terror and desperation. The pulse at her neck throbbed and I focused on the way her skin vibrated.

There was gauze on her wrists, fresh with wet blood. The scent hit tenfold, seating through my core. She was bled only minutes ago to fill my cup and now all I wanted was to bury my fangs into her neck.

There was no fight left in me; only the urge to take what was mine.

My hand found her neck with brutal intent. Her scream cracked the air, but it was quickly swallowed by a growing whimper, a fading resistance that only stoked my craving.

My fangs pierced her skin, and the flood of copper heat was drowning out everything but her life coursing into me. I drank deeply, harsh and unrelenting, until

her body slackened, breath shallow and ragged.

She pushed against me weakly, but it only deepened the frenzy, the blood fire that consumed me.

When I finally pulled away, the metallic tang clung to my lips. Her eyes fluttered, heavy with loss and surrender, struggling to remain open.

I looked down at her, every inch mine and yet utterly beyond control.

I was predator and prisoner both, bound to her blood, to this desperate, exquisite need.

I would feed from no other ever again, becuase no other could satisfy me.

Her ragged breath whispered against my skin, pulling me close once more. My fangs found the tender curve of her neck again, the hunger unbroken.

I drank for a minute more and then snapped my teeth out of her neck, painting the inside of my mouth with what I had left of her blood. I looked down and watched as her eyes fluttered completely closed, as she succumbed to the overwhelming fatigue.

I had taken too much from her. A surge of regret clawed at the edges of my consciousness, a visceral acknowledgment of the boundary I had crossed. I never lost control, not like that.

But it had been almost impossible to stop. Every inch of me was lit on fire, aching for another taste of her crimson gold. She stirred in my arms, the sound of her chains clanging against each other in the air.

As she continued to slip into unconsciousness, I scowled at the fragility of her mortal existence.

A weak groan escaped her lips while she slowly moved her slitted eyes up and down my face. That groan turned into a high pitched whine, her face and lips forming a pain filled grimace. I could feel her bones, and as I looked her over I noticed the bruises and the scars that lined her body.

“Fucking weak thing,” I muttered under my breath, realizing that if I took her home, I would be committing myself to taking care of her.

She would die if no one looked after her.

She was a human, I expected nothing else.

The chains that bound her to the wall seemed redundant, and with an impatient yank, I tore them away, the sound echoing through the chamber. Her limp form felt weightless in my arms as I gathered her, her slight form cradled against my chest.

I stepped out of the cage, ignoring the sound of whimpering humans as they attempted to hide from me. They thought to highly of themselves. I was not interested in any of them.

They could all die.

“Your M-Majesty.” The owner of the bar walked beside me, his eyes side eyeing the human in my arms.

“I’m taking what is mine.”

His lips flopped like a fish gasping for air. “Your Majesty, I would be more than happy to keep her here for you. As an exclusive bleeder, of course. But… she is mine. She wears my emblem.”

I stopped. Slowly, I lowered my gaze to her ankle.

An iron collar snapped around her delicate limb, a rusted chain trailing behind it, still clinking faintly from her tremble. A crude emblem had been burned into the metal.

His. The same emblem branded into the walls of this piss-stained dungeon. His claim. His ownership.

My jaw twitched.

I reached down, curling two fingers beneath the collar. The metal protested for a split second before it snapped like a brittle twig under my touch. The chain hit the floor with a clang that made the owner flinch.

I shoved the broken collar into his chest.

“She belongs to me.” My voice was low, calm, final.

He nodded quickly, clutching the emblem like it might burn him. “Y-Yes, Your Majesty.”

I turned away without another word, the girl limp and warm in my arms, her blood still thrumming beneath my skin like a drug I couldn’t stop chasing.

She was mine.

I stepped out of the back room, the scent of blood and fear still clinging to me like smoke My fingers curled around her thigh and shoulder.

The main room fell silent as I entered. Conversations froze. Cups halted mid-air.

Andras was still at our table, leaned back with a half-naked woman on his lap. Her neck bore fresh punctures, her mouth parted in a daze of pleasure and confusion.

Andras stilled. He stared at me, then at the woman in my arms. And back at me. He didn’t speak and I held his gaze as I passed.

Without a word, he shoved the woman off of his lap and we headed toward the door together.

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