The alley stank of rot, mud, blood, and her. Her scent cut through everything, intoxicating, sweet and sharp, an ache in his throat. It called to every hunger he had.
:: System: END Skill [Frenzy]? (Y/N)
He grunted and blinked the words away.
:: System: Harry. END Skill [Frenzy]? (Y/N)
A guttural sound tore from his throat as he willed the words gone.
She smiled. Eyes locked on his. She came to meet him, steps slow, steady, deliberate.
They met face to face, the heat of her skin throbbed against the chill in his own. He leaned closer, breath shaking, and dragged his face along her neck. Sweat, salt, and something darker.
Her heartbeat pulsed like music under her skin. Through his Blood Sense he felt the long twisting thread coming off her slowly winding around them both. Binding them together.
She tilted her head, a faint smile forming. “Do you want me?”
Her voice, low and husky, poured through him, every word a touch. With one hand she caught her collar and tugged the neckline of her dress aside, baring the curve of her throat.
“Go on,” she whispered. “Show me.”
:: System: Skill [Frenzy] timing out in 10 seconds.
Angrily he blinked the message away.
:: System: Skill [Frenzy] timing out in 9 seconds.
With a snarl he shook his head, ignoring the words. He bent to her neck. She caught the back of his head with both hands, holding him there, guiding him against her skin. Then she hooked a leg around his, pulling them tighter together.
His teeth finally made contact with her neck as his fangs pierced her skin and sank deep. The first drops of blood seeped into his mouth and heat exploded across his tongue. Nothing like the thug's blood, richer, hotter, alive in a way that made his whole body scream for more.
:: System: Skill [Frenzy] has ended.
The red in his vision began to clear. The last of the rage drained away, leaving him weak. His weight sagged, pushing against her, and they stumbled, wrapped together and about to fall. His head came up, exposing the thin lines of blood running from the punctures he had made.
They crashed against the fence behind her and he leaned into her body. She held him up. His breath came ragged and one hand returned to the back of her head, fingers knotting in her hair, pulling her face aside to bare her throat. His other arm locked around her waist, dragging her close. The dagger still in his gut shifted, more pleasure than pain. The scent of her flooded his head again.
:: System: Use Skill [Self-Heal] (Y/N)
He blinked. The words went away but awareness seeped in.
Harry?
No. Not her.
He fought for control, grasped it, and held. Barely. His want for her burned in him, raw and insistent. He tried to pull back but she just clung to him harder.
She put two hands behind his head again and tried to pull him to her neck. “It’s alright. You saved me,” she whispered.
He pressed both hands to her shoulders, pushing away, but the way they were tangled only sent them both tumbling into the mud. He landed on top of her, and she quickly locked both legs around his waist.
She was moving under him, and his body was responding. He was uncomfortably aware of the extra tightness of his pants. Even weakened, she was tempting.
Harry, no!
She had changed tactics and was no longer trying to pull his head down. Instead her hands were between them. Fumbling with his pants.
Is she…? Is she trying to push my pants down?
She definitely was.
Go ahead, Harry. She wants to.
He gave a small, incredulous laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.
No! Bad, Harry. You hypnotized her. It’s wrong. And Martha would kill you.
It was easier now to ignore how good she felt beneath him, how much it seemed like she really had the right idea. Her insistence, her refusal to stop, was starting to make him feel like he was the one under attack.
He twisted sideways on top of her, pushed himself up with one arm, and reached back with the other to pry one of her legs free.
“Miss… please. You don’t want this.”
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Harry had never been a good judge of people, especially women. Cats and wild animals had always been easier. But the flash of anger, and then surprise, that crossed her face was easy enough to recognize.
She stopped struggling as her expression settled somewhere between wistful and disappointed, and she slumped back, relaxing.
He tried to offer her comfort. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”
Her legs unlocked and let him go. For a moment he simply smiled down at her, and she returned it. Up close, she looked older than he’d first thought. But if anything, she was even more beautiful.
He also saw the blood on her neck, and that one side of her face was smeared with it.
He scrambled off of her and tried to examine her head and neck but she fought him, pushing his hands away.
“You’re bleeding. Let me see.”
She laughed and continued to fight him off as she rolled away and pushed herself into a sitting position against the fence.
He followed her movement and tried to hold her jaw to turn her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I’m fine. No…,” she continued to laugh. Low in her throat. It was making Harry rethink his decision. “You refused my touch, you can’t change your mind now.”
That brought him up short. He pulled his hands away and twisted to sit against the fence beside her. He did still try to lean close and examine her, but without forcing himself onto her.
He could clearly see the bite mark on her neck and the twin trails of blood but it looked like they had already stopped bleeding. He couldn’t find any injury on her face. The blood there appeared to have been smeared on.
With dawning dread he reached up and wiped a hand across his face, across his mouth. It came away wet. He looked at his hand. Blood. He smacked his lips and ran his tongue over his teeth. The fangs were gone but the iron taste of blood remained.
He jerked back away from the woman. He thought he should feel nauseous, but he didn’t, not even a little. It tasted good in his mouth and his body remembered nothing but pleasure. That only made it worse. Much worse.
His eyes snapped away from her and scanned the alley.
A body slumped a few feet away in the mud, limbs twisted unnaturally. Another lay crumpled farther away by the wall, half in shadow.
His brow furrowed. Fragments of memories. Ecstasy and blood. Confusion swirled in his gut.
What did I do?
He tried to stand. Too soon. He slumped back to the ground and crawled as quickly as he could to the first body, mumbling the whole way, “no no no no no no.”
Reaching the man he recognized him, dagger man. He looked down at his gut. The dagger had fallen out at some point. A message flickered into view, making him flinch.
:: System: Use Skill [Self-Heal] (Y/N)
He hesitated, then nodded, “Yes.” Another message popped up but slid down to join a whole stack in his lower vision. His meters were changing but he ignored them. Instead he gently turned the body and tried to find a pulse at the neck.
Cold. The body was cold and heavy. Where his finger touched was blood. No pulse. He didn’t want to look but forced himself. He could see the clean imprint of a full set of teeth. Dominated by two puncture wounds where the upper canines should have been.
“No… Harry, what did you do?”
He almost jumped again when a voice answered. The woman.
“You defended yourself. And me.”
He turned. She had moved to kneel slightly behind him. He hadn’t heard her move.
“No… you don’t… I’m a monster.”
She tilted her head, looked at him with a half smile, and whispered, “Aren’t we all?”
Harry clamped one hand over his eyes, pressing on his temples.
Think, Harry.
He looked up, the other man slumped against the wall. He stood, this time keeping his feet, and staggered to the crumpled form.
His breath was fogging the air. Alive. It was easy to see that at least one arm was broken. Harry knelt next to the man, running his hands over him, trying to find any other injuries without causing more.
He looked over his shoulder at the woman. She had moved and was already lowering herself to kneel behind him.
“Do you have ambulances here?” he asked, sounding desperate. “Emergency responders?”
She nodded, “Of a sort, my lord. We have the guards.”
Harry looked at her in confusion, “My lord?”
She ran her eyes over him and he looked down at himself.
My clothes… She thinks I’m a noble. Sir Harold Blackheart.
He shook his head to clear it. “System, do I have any healing abilities?”
:: System: Not at this time.
The woman watched passively, not responding. He turned to her, “We have to get the guards.”
She glanced at the body, at Stan. Harry suddenly remembered his name. She shrugged. “Don’t worry about him, my lord. I know some lads who’ll help. You need to go.”
He slumped back, blinking. “Lads?”
“Yes, my lord.” She moved closer and reached out, resting her hand gently against his chest.
“If you need to… if you want to meet again, come to the inn and ask for Pink Sally. Maybe… maybe you can help me.”
“The inn?”
“The Dusty Lantern,” she said, gesturing at the wall in front of them. “Tell old Pete to get me. He’s usually at the bar.”
Another message blinked across his vision and slid aside.
“What? No... I can’t. We need to get help.”
She shook her head, “You can’t be here.” She tilted her head, exposing the puncture wounds in her neck.
His eyes locked on the wound. More memory returned. How much he had wanted to sink his teeth into her. To drain her. How much he had enjoyed it.
He recoiled, falling back into the mud and scrambling a few feet away.
“Get them… I have to stay. They need to know.”
She moved quickly to be next to him again. Both hands on his shoulders, eyes locking with his. “Please, my lord. It will go hard for me. If you’re here. You don’t know what they’re like.”
He felt overwhelmed by confusion. He was a monster. He’d killed a man.
Think, Harry.
Harry backed away again. Her hands dropped. Dread curled tight in his chest, slow and cold.
This can’t be happening.
The look of sympathy on her face was more confusing than if she’d shown fear. A dull ache pulsed in his gut.
“I won’t…” He didn’t finish. He didn’t know what to say.
He pushed himself up, turned, and fled the alley, stumbling through the mud.
As he ran, his eyes flicked instinctively to the counters in the corner of his vision.
V: 100 | TM: 0%
He’d killed a man. Attacked another and an innocent woman. And he was whole again. Like it never happened.
“No, it’s wrong." His voice cracked. “How did I… I need to stop it...”
***
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