Chapter Twenty-Five | Such Sweet Pain

Accepting momentary pain in exchange for something good was a concept Karou found easy to wrap her head around. She'd done many things in her life that had involved a painful tradeoff; this would be one of those times. Trusting Warren allowed her heart rate to steady, and she relaxed in his hands. He enacted a series of movements that disarmed Karou. Moving her was no task; she felt so light and docile. Laid back against the cold leather couch, her shoulders twitched in response to the cool temperature. On all fours over her, Warren coiled his left arm under her neck to cradle her head comfortably close to him and keep her still in case she struggled. At such close quarters, he could admire the blue kyanite colour of her eyes. In the low light, the golden flecks within the ripples of blue twinkled. Open wide and searching, they found him. Warren's black, thirsty gaze and bared fangs weren't frightening because his kind smile and soft kisses washed away her wariness.

For months, he'd been eyeing a particular spot on her neck—on her right side, between her tendons, was an ideal fleshy part where her skin looked supple. Be gentle. He warned himself at the last moment when his lips laid agape about her throat. His fangs pressed against her skin, and while simultaneously praying she wouldn't stop him, he prayed he'd find it within himself to when the time came. One small contraction of his jaw sunk his fangs into her until his mouth locked around her neck.

As promised, it hurt. She already had her hands clung onto Warren's upper arms but dug her fingertips into his skin when the pressure behind his fangs built until they pierced her skin. Karou yelped and grew ridged against him, though it was fleetingly. Karou's small outcry excited the predator at her neck—it caused him to purr against her skin. He was enjoying her and that gratified her too, comfort was found holding onto him while his strong body loomed over hers, paradoxically safe.

Something about the primal nature of becoming Warren's prey was sensual. Subconsciously, her body surrendered its self to him, she'd bound her legs about his thigh that'd come to rest between hers. The way her hips had pushed up against one side of his pelvis was enough to leave her flustered, but it'd been so unintentional, so instinctual. Now she understood what Warren meant about Vampiric feeding, easily taking a turn for the sexual. Had her actions revealed her secret desire for him? Being intimate with Warren was all-consuming. Though aware that it was likely bloodlust that had moved him, she felt so wanted when he clung to her as if his life depended on it. It was easy to let go and be overwhelmed by the sensuality. Her chest swelled, and her eyes watered; a sense of deep contentment came from being sheltered by Warren's body. In submission, she felt free.

Warren retracted his fangs after the first initial bite so there would be no more pain. There was no need to drive them deeper when the wounds he'd made were sufficient. That way, he could drink from her as if he were kissing her and hoped she'd enjoy that part; he certainly was. The cold pallor of his skin dissipated as Karou's hot blood ran down his throat and warmed his chest from the inside out.

Karou's heart rate lulled, and how her head rolled back signalled that she was starting to feel light-headed. It was time for the hard part: stopping. The moment she lay incapacitated beneath him, he felt dizzy with power and thirsty for her in a way that he'd never experienced since he'd been a starved and feral fledgeling. But with training and age, he'd amassed a fair amount of control, enough to enact his savagery as gently as possible. The moment her blood touched his tongue was the beginning of his fight. Calming the feeding frenzy that threatened to take him over was all that filled his mind—how dizzyingly delicious she tasted felt like he was swallowing great mouthfuls of warm summer evenings. Karou was just as mouth-watering as she looked, but he wouldn't dare admit that aloud. How someone could taste and smell like memories he didn't own, he couldn't fathom. Yet, Karou's essence aroused all of his sensory recollections of sunlight.

How sinfully the fact she trusted him enough to sacrifice herself to his fangs flattered his ego, even if it was just her relentless curiosity. Not letting sentimental notions run wild in his head was another battle. All the misleading sensations of feeding combined, and he couldn't shake the desire to have her closer.

Her soft skin next to his, hands all over and tangled together. A voice blew through his mind like the wind; while one hand combed into the tresses of her dark brown hair, his other rested over her ribs again. His thumb reached, daringly, to cup the under her breast. Warren was neither reckless nor ungentlemanly enough to grope her blatantly, but the presence of his hand teased that he wanted to.

The pleasure of being rooted inside her, making her moan and selfishly claiming her for his own. The voice grew deeper, more sultry. It was practically impossible to keep innuendo out of how he touched her, especially when Karou had bound her legs about his thigh. In her dazed state, she'd writhed against him, making it difficult not to reciprocate and reveal just how riled up he truly was. Ngh, Karou… Isn't it enough that I'm giving in to this urge?

His internal voice only threatened to get whinier when he realised; Her heart rate is labouring. Damnit! It's already time.

Warren took his last sup wistfully. The only way he could reason his way back from her neck was to tell himself that if he stopped now, he might get to taste her again. If he didn't, he'd kill her, and she'd be lost to him forever.

They simultaneously exhaled a sigh as they parted. Karou was content, if not slightly sleepy, due to the blood loss. Warren was satisfied too, but quite the opposite of Karou; he was vitalised. Irrespective of his buzz, the steady flow and heat of the new blood he'd taken had warmed him into a cosy state of tranquillity. Warren backed away enough to see the state of her wounds and was pleased to see that the bleeding had almost slowed to a stop.

Karou's eyes fluttered open just in time to catch Warren slicing open the pad of this thumb over the tip of one fang. "Mmm, what're you doing?" She asked in a docile voice.

With a feather-light touch so as not to further bruise the traumatised skin around the punctures, he rubbed his blood into the wound pits and watched as her skin knitted together, leaving a barely noticeable scar. "Making sure your wounds heal," He explained briefly before lapping up any blood that remained on her skin. When his lips returned to her skin, she craned her neck into the cradle of his hand to facilitate him.

"Hmmm." She hummed, a lazy smile on her face.

"Did it feel like you thought it would?" Warren asked in a hushed voice so as not to disturb the mood.

"I don't know. It felt good, though. It only hurt for a couple of seconds." Flickering opens her eyes again to focus on Warren's face; despite how sleepy she looked, they suddenly widened, "Oh my God, your eyes!" She exclaimed, reaching up to trace her fingertip over the skin beneath.

"They're blue?" Warren asked, a little confused; she knew well that his eyes changed colour with his thirst.

"No… They're almost silver. Do they always look like this when you feed on a live host?"

"Please, don't talk about yourself like that." Warren frowned. "But… I wouldn't know. I've never taken any notice of what colour my eyes are."

"Uhm, okay. But, really, the colour—it's incredible..." she said, nibbling at her lip shyly. Her lack of confidence made her inch her hands back from his bare shoulders, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from his. "So… How was it for you?" Karou asked, consistently sheepish.

"You're as delicious as you look."

"You mean smell?" Karou remembered how he'd asked why she smelled the way she did before, but he'd never mentioned how she looked other than when he admitted she was 'attractive'. In weighing up other things Warren had said in passing, she'd figured he meant attractive in general terms, having implied that she was appealing to others, which he'd noticed when she hadn't.

"That too. Haven't I made my opinion on both obvious already?"

"Don't ruin tonight by making fun of me, Warren," Karou whined.

"I'll desist 'cause it upsets you so much."

She closed her eyes and dipped her head to hide her face from him, but her head came to rest against his chest due to their position. Her objective to distance herself had failed; she'd only gotten closer, and now it was too late to move and keep face. "Y—you're warmer than usual," Karou mumbled, having noticed now that her face was practically nuzzled against him. When Warren didn't reply, she pulled back to look and found him yawning. "I'll stop talking. I'm boring you."

"Not at all, but it is nearly three AM."

"Oh… " Karou yawned, too, and agreed, "Right. Bedtime then." Although she could have laid there with him all night, sleep beckoned. As much as she'd enjoyed their interaction and closeness, she knew it would have to end eventually.

Without another word, Warren pried himself away. When he stood up and steadied himself. But Karou got to her feet abruptly and stumbled. Giving and taking blood was a dizzying activity. She staggered a few steps around the coffee table before Warren rescued her from an inevitable accident. "Whoa… You can remember how to walk in the morning when your body has replenished what I've taken." He kindly insisted and scooped her into his arms to carry her to her bedroom. Warren set her down on her bed, but before he'd turned to leave, she reached for his wrist. "Warren, thank you for tonight. I know you'll sober up in the morning, and it won't be the same, but thank you anyway,"

He watched her curl up in her tiny bed; she looked so meek. Her expression was peaceful, and she would fall asleep happy. Yet what she said pained him. It hurt because he knew it was true. He could give her short periods of warmth, but ultimately, he'd deflect back to his usual self once he settled into his daily routine.

He bid her "Goodnight" and kissed her forehead. "Karou, I wasn't that drunk."

✷✷✷

Karou fell asleep quickly, happy with the peace of mind Warren had given her as he tucked her into bed. Although she wasn't sure whether to trust what he'd said, she thought it was thoughtful of him to tell her a white lie to keep her happy.

In contrast, Warren didn't sleep well at all—too much life rushed through his veins. He tossed and turned in the sheets until he'd worn himself out, but even then, he only caught an hour or two's sleep. Upon waking, Warren sat bolt upright, with eyes as round as saucers. In the glaring bathroom light, he'd jumped at the sight of himself in the mirror—Karou was right; his eyes really were silver and shone like white orbs in the luminescence. Moving further toward the mirror's face, he pulled down his lower lids to inspect them closely. As fascinating as their colour was, it was just something else to add to how strange he felt. He wondered whether he was still asleep and dreaming up this warm, dizzying feeling that milled about his innards, but when he splashed his face with cold water, he didn't wake up. Unsure what to do with himself, he'd tried to sit on the couch, reasoning that the calming quality of the cool leather would allow him to collect himself, but he couldn't sit still—that's where it had happened, after all. The daily newspaper didn't distract him because the words were jumbled on the page, and he was too wired for coffee. On his feet, again, he paced the unit's lounge, and no amount of hair combing soothed him. At least there was one thing to be thankful for; that day didn't have to be usual because it was his birthday. Considering the state he found himself in, he doubted he could've concentrated on work. His morning routine had gone entirely out of the window, just like his evening routine had the previous night. The night before was all he could think about.

The locks and hinges holding the unit's front door closed may as well have been made of paper, for they were effortlessly torn asunder beneath her wrath. There she stood on the threshold, a dark apparition smouldering with rage—his resentful lover, come to take her vengeance. "You think I can't feel what's going on in your head?!" Ellis screeched. "You've betrayed me."

"Ellis, don't overreact," His external calm was purely for the sake of appearances, to disguise how high and jittery he felt on the inside. The truth was that being close to Karou felt natural once he'd stopped overthinking. He was internally thankful that she hadn't appeared out of her bedroom because he knew that regardless of whether he attempted to reason with her, Ellis would enact her violence—better that it was directed at him than her. The idea that he might physically betray his secret feelings if he had to defend Karou frightened him.

"How could you do this?" Elis wailed, playing the victim.

Warren didn't dare answer; it wouldn't matter what he said anyhow; his Sire was untameable in her emotional outbursts, and anger was the one she portrayed best. Braced for whatever would come next, Warren stood awaiting his fate.

Although Karou was tucked up in her bed and had been sleeping deeply and dreamlessly, the yelling woke her with a start. Warren's hopes had been in vain because Karou was on her feet and out of bed in a flash. Peering through the gap in her door, she saw him first, and though she couldn't see Ellis yet, she knew she was there because she could hear her hysterically screaming insults. Her wild and wide eyes promised how far she was willing to go to keep Warren in his place. The look of fury that distorted her beauty terrified Karou and froze her body into place, yet she could not look away.

Amidst the verbal barrage, Warren had merely shaken his head, but his subtle gesture of disappointment was enough to tip Ellis over the edge. Suddenly, the crazed Vampiress lunged at him. Fangs bare as she snarled and went in for the kill. Warren stumbled backwards when they collided, but Ellis' manicured fingernails anchored into him, gouging at the skin over his shoulders like harpoons. Soon, the red lipstick she wore mingled with blood as splatters burst onto her face from Warren's neck and shoulders. Like a viper, rapid and unforgiving, Ellis didn't bite once or twice but several times, and each time, she'd snarl, recoil, and strike again, inflicting yet another set of deep wounds.

Inside Karou's mind, she screamed for Warren to 'stop her' and 'do something'; she couldn't fathom why he didn't put up a fight and just stood there immobilised despite knowing full well that he was stronger than his Sire.

The disturbing truth was that even if Warren had desired to defend himself against Ellis, he couldn't have; her Sirely hold over him was formidable, and she had him locked in a paralysing mental chokehold. Warren had suffered this punishment so many times that he'd become desensitised by now.

There was one saving grace that allowed him to escape Ellis' assault; the memory of the night before still lingered at the forefront of his mind. Consequently, Ellis' bites didn't sting as much as the thought of what she was taking from him did. The small part of Karou he'd consumed was being leached away, and he could feel the zest it had given him trickling away, leaving him colder. It was painfully poetic how his Sire staked her claim on him and deprived him of anyone else so that only she remained.

Once Ellis finished, she stepped back, grinning and revelling in successfully asserting her dominance. Warren's wounds might've healed at a phenomenal speed, but in their wake remained evidence of her brutality in the form of long trails of blood that ran down his bare chest and soaked into the waistband of his pyjama pants. Like a scalded dog, he hung his head to stare at the floor with hollow black eyes. Completely unflinching in the aftermath of the storm that had just passed through the tiny unit. Nothing more was said or done after that. Ellis left with her point triumphantly made.