Prisoner
"You will stay here. I must attend to some matters. When I return, I will decide how to deal with you."
Loki was gripping your arm with immense strength, his black nails digging roughly into your skin. He dragged you into a dark room with no windows, no furniture. There was only brick walls, and stone floor.
He threw you to the ground, so hard that you yelped in pain at the impact. You felt something shatter in your pocket, and your heart stopped. Your phone. It couldn't possibly have broken-
"I will return. Until then,"
He bent down, and reached inside his jacket to produce a handkerchief. He raised it to your face, and you flinched. A twitch of irritation at your fear flicked across his face, then he smoothed it back into a smirk.
He wiped something off your face with the handkerchief, and held it up for you to see a smattering of crimson on the yellowed fabric.
"You had blood on your face."
You inhaled sharply, the sound of Victor and Sacha's screams echoing in your mind again. Would this demon do the same thing to you?
Loki held the handkerchief to his nose, and breathed in, closing his eyes. His black eyelashes fluttered as he shivered, and he opened his eyes to stare at you. The pupils had gotten bigger, hunger evident in them.
He dropped the handkerchief and lunged for you in the blink of an eye, one large hand closing over your neck. You tried to scream, but Loki squeezed your neck so harshly that no sound came out. His head lowered to your neck, a feral look in his eyes, his mouth opening to show those gleaming white fangs. You thrashed, kicking, scratching, trying desperately to free yourself from his stone-cold grasp.
His fangs pierced your neck with a pop! And you went limp, fear seizing every muscle in your body and turning them to mush. Suddenly, it was a Herculean effort even to keep your eyes open, to watch the dark curtain of hair fall around your neck. You could feel the blood slowly being sucked out of you, and you wanted to retch at the sounds of Loki drinking your blood.
After what seemed like an hour, but was probably only a few minutes, he stopped, raising his head to stare at you. There was blood smeared across his lips and chin, and his tongue soaked in the crimson liquid, his teeth stained a ruby red. You were still paralyzed with fear.
"You have no idea,"
His voice was a broken whisper, punctuated with him licking his lips.
"How delicious your blood is to me."
He stood, leaving you lying on the ground, blood dripping from twin punctures in your neck.
"Your blood... as sweet as honey-"
He strode to the heavy wooden door, looking over his shoulder at you, something unreadable on his face.
"You will stay here. Until I decide what to do with you, my little pet."
There was nothing in you to scream, to pray, to curse, even to plead. All you could do was stare at him as he closed the door, leaving you in total darkness.
You rolled over in the unearthly quiet, a moan escaping your lips. Warmth was creeping from your neck to your shoulders, and you reached a shaking hand up to feel the wet stream of blood. There wasn't much to see in your new prison, but it was doubtful you would be able to see much even if the room had light. Everything was fuzzy and fading in and out, in and out. Nothing was real. Nothing.
It was a nearly impossible task to reach into your jacket pocket and slip your phone out, and even without light you could feel the shattered screen, pieces of glass sticking in the grooves of your fingertips.
There was nothing you could do. Only wait for the demon to return.
You drifted between dreams and waking nightmares, with Loki a constant presence. Once, he emerged from the shadows and snapped your neck, then left your dead body in a pool of blood. Once, he whispered in your ear that there was no escape, and you screamed and screamed, the sound of it mixing with his laughter.
What was the demon with the jaw-length black hair? With the black eyes? With the ancient, aged clothing, like something out of a twisted fairytale? With the fangs?
There was an image so ridiculous that the details conjured you almost rejected it outright. Dracula?
That had to be some stupid joke. Dracula, locked away in an abandoned castle Romania? The one country that Transylvania was said to exist in?
A stupid joke.
Wasn't it? Just a stupid joke. A nightmare.
Yes, that was it. You would wake up in the morning, rub the sleep gunk out of your eyes, wrestle with your hair and trudge to your wardrobe to pick out an outfit.
Desperately wishing it to be true, you closed your eyes, curling up on the cold floor.
It was all a bad dream.
Nothing was real.
xxx
The sound of a lock clicking woke you from your fitful sleep, and you blinked several times to take in the scene before you.
You were in a room that was a complete shift from the dark one you had fallen asleep in. This room was lit with sunlight, that was streaming in from a window high above you. There were cobwebs on the ceiling and around the room yes- but it was so much better than the previous room, you didn't mind the layers of dust and decay.
There was a queen-sized bed in the room, and that was what you were laying on, and the smooth white cotton against your skin had never felt more comforting.
There was one thing in the room that was out of place, something that distracted you as soon as you noticed it. Or rather, him.
Loki.
The vampire was sitting in a chair beside the bed, looking at me, hunger still gleaming in his black eyes.
You was certain of what he was now. He was a vampire. The sooner you accepted the truth- however insane and crazy- the sooner you could escape.
"Hello, pet. Do you like the room?"
You gulped, and Loki stood up from the chair, his eyes never leaving you. His face was cooly indifferent, but he flicked his tongue over his lips swiftly, and fear pulsed through you again. You didn't want him snacking on your blood all the time. You would have no strength left if this demon drank too much of your blood.
You nod minutely, testing the waters. You didn't know what he wanted, and you figured the safest option was to wait until you knew what he planned to do with you. You've seen how he can dispose of people, so there must be a reason you're still alive.
Loki sauntered over to the bed, sitting down on top of it. You shrank back from him, and Loki leaned forward to snatch up your hand before you could pull it away. He held your hand as your blood turned cold and your heart threatened to burst out of your chest, and he just stroked it gently.
His hands were as cold as marble, his eyes still searching your face.
"Now, pet, I want you to be happy here. I want to keep a little snack for me to help me build up my strength after all these years of forced sleep."
He reached out to grasp your chin, tilting your face up to meet his eyes.
"You're only still alive because you serve a purpose,"
The grip on your hand became a vise, and you couldn't hold back the little yelp that comes out.
"But if you cause trouble,"
His eyes gleamed, and you see that he means every word he says.
"If you fight me when I want blood, if you become an annoyance, if you try to escape,"
Loki pulled your face closer, your faces inches away from each other.
"I will have no use for you any more. Have I made myself clear?"
You broke the silence, your voice hoarse.
"Yes, I understand."
Pushing you back down onto the bed, Loki held you tightly in his arms, spooning you.
The smell of blood on his breath makes you want to vomit, the closeness of him made your body stiffen and you had to dig your fingernails into your palms to distract you from the fact that the demon who had murdered your friends and was using you as a walking blood bag was cuddling you like you were his girlfriend.
He pressed his nose to your neck, his cool breath revolting on your skin.
"I have to do this so you don't escape while I am asleep..."
He inhaled against your hair, a rumble in his throat.
"You do smell so delicous."
You are frozen with fear, even though every nerve in your body is screaming to run, or fight, or do something.
"I hope you won't disappoint me. It would be a shame to have to kill you."