Blood Lust: Vessel Of Luna's Maiden

"The most dangerous of them is not the wolf that hides in sheep's clothing، but rather the beast that bares its fangs without mercy."

REALM OF YGGDRASIA

CONTINENT OF EIRENGARD

ITALIA, TUSCANIA

1762

"As smart and adept as you are at your profession, I ought to think you acted rather irrationally and foolishly regarding your plans, no?"

Malice and wrath. There were no better suited words to define the feral aura that oozed from the beast that stood but a mere few feet from her personal space. He appeared in the form of human flesh, yet the dastardly creature that concealed itself beneath had displayed its callous authority quite evidently. How foolish and reckless she had been, overestimating the extent of her capabilities. And for once her solid arrogance did not act as a mediator or saviour in her current situation.

Her wrists were suspended above her head with metal shackles which incited a constant ache in her arms. Muscle strain, no doubt. Her rhythm of breathing grew unsteady due to the lack of ventilation her dark containment offered. There were no windows, except for the miniscule barred opening at the opposite end of the containment.

"You're not making this any easier, Fran." Her captor's exotic features were revealed under the scant moonlight that beamed into the containment when he kneeled down infront of her.

"And what makes you think I'm an easy girl?" She retorted with pride as she raised her chin, as if to imply he was beneath her standing. "Why do you know my name?"

"You don't recognize me?" Her captor sighed in disappointment. "Oh well we'll resolve that later."

She was well aware that her retort was rather audacious. The beastly man had long since exhausted his patience with her, nonetheless she continued to provoke the creature within him. Recognize him? There were far too many people she had met to recall such a man.There was a crimson glint beneath the silver of his irises, it observed her with much needed restraint as his lips curved upwards with interest.

"As much as I would enjoy you entertaining me all night," His voice was feathery, smooth but withheld subtle amusement. He revealed the dagger he wielded in his right hand and traced the length of the ordinary blade, admiring its simple designs of blue swirls. "I don't have time to waste."

Precisely. Her initial task was to occupy as much of her captor's time that she could afford. However, she had not anticipated that the man would indulge her in his twisted hobbies.

"Or perhaps that is what you hope to achieve?" The man arched a brow and his lips flattened with sudden disinterest. "You wish to stall me?" He set the dagger blade on her exposed thigh where her dress was ripped and inflicted an incision that deepened as he grazed the blade further downwards.

The blade carved itself into her smooth skin and drew out the scarlet liquid that trickled down in streams along her leg. Sadistic bastard. She winced and bit back a squeal as he observed her reactions with an unwavering gaze. The beastly aura he exuded had become dangerously apparent as he carved a curve in the incision and sunk the blade further. She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists to endure the antagonizing pain.

"You have a pretty face," He gripped her throat and titled her head to the side to display a better view under the moonlight. "Beautifully nurtured skin," He admired the long gash at the side of her face where the blood had crusted. "But you are no pampered princess."

He cupped her left cheek, brushed over it with the pad of this thumb and smeared a blotch of blood. He basked in the delight of her disheveled hair which appeared like a raging blood fire.

Fran inhaled a deep breath to restrain herself from screaming out in pain. Her malevolent captor had treated her as if she was a mere canvas meant to amuse and satisfy his concepts of art. He had clearly demonstrated the consequences reserved for her but her will and courage to complete her mission was iron-forged.

Her body ached from enervation and newly inflicted pain from each curve and carving of the blade. His attention drifted towards her deeply exposed chest where the neckline of her dress had been reduced to tatters that barely concealed her breasts. He focused the attention of his blade to her neck and carved a shallow incision along her collar bone down to her chest. He halted his actions just above the nearly shredded material that covered her.

With each slight movement, the stone embedded floor beneath her grazed against her wounds and bruises, like rubbing rough sand onto raw open flesh. There would be scars, but not ones that she would wear proudly.

"I'm done playing, Fran," Her captor abruptly ceased carving his masterpiece. He gripped the hilt of the dagger firmly and swiftly thrusted the blade through her left thigh.

The restrained plea and scream for mercy had finally escaped its containment. She released a cry of agony that screeched as he twisted and embedded the blade into her flesh. She desperately fought with the shackles that only reined her back against the wall when she attempted to break free of them.

No doubt, the blade had pierced through bone and vein, the injury would render her out of commission for several months to come. Fran writhed vigorously and kicked away at the stone floors as she bit her bottom lip to suppress another scream. Her captor extracted the blade slowly until there was an antagonizing rush of oozing blood when it was completely removed.

She had become lightheaded due to the excessive loss of blood and her conscious gradually began to fade from reality's grasp.

"You should have devised better when you decided to waltz into the devil's lair," Her captor remarked bitterly, each word was like a spear that impaled her pride. "Now tell me," He tossed the dagger aside. "Where is the empyrean crest?"

The nauseating stench of her own blood razed a burning sensation in her throat. Was that thirst? Incited by the scent of her wounds? Had her cravings become that desperate? By some supernatural means or miracle, her inner self needed to restrain its urges. Her weave of focus had dispersed into scattered threads when a force of delirium invaded her mind. Her unbreakable restraint had finally diminished.

There was a throbbing sensation in the upper gums of her mouth, it grew more severe as the pungent odour of blood infiltrated her senses. A sharp sting, as if a naked blade had been prepared to emerge from within her gums. The emerald hue of her irises ignited into a dark magenta glow which regarded her captor with a threatening gaze. Her lips parted to inhale the scant residues of air from the suffocating atmosphere.

In the excruciating process, two perfectly shaped fangs that resembled saber blades had protruded from the upper gums of her mouth. Her thirst was almost animalistic, as if she was a predatory feline prepared to pounce on her prey. There was a low growl that resonated from her throat, a beastly kind.

Her captor's eyes expanded with sinister interest as he flashed a devilish grin. Psychopath indeed, he resembled one all too well.

"Interesting," He observed her with unwavering intensity. "You've become a blood hound."