Mastering the Darkness Ch. 02

"Master?" Her little murmur filled the room as she met his eyes. He saw fear there, such deep fear, and the tightening in his chest returned.

"It's ok. There will be no more pain now." He spoke firmly and she looked at him questioningly, hesitantly; clearly disbelieving. He lowered his voice again, growing involuntarily more tender. "I didn't know. I didn't know they were hurting you. I'm sorry." Callan felt weak, for the first time in centuries; he felt as if he had been brought to his knees, a situation out of control. And he didn't like the feeling. She continued to stare at him, blinking every so often, trying to hear what he was saying through the pain. He didn't know; he was sorry. Aria didn't know why she should, but she believed him. She couldn't not believe him, when his eyes were full of sorrow, pain mirroring hers. She dug deep to find the energy to reply, her voice still a whisper, so that she had to struggle to hear herself above the loud pulsing of her heart in her ears; but loud enough for him to hear.

"Can you..." another deep, difficult breath. "...make the pain stop?" At that, his fangs immediately came out, gleaming white and threatening over the sides of his mouth, and his eyes flashed from a green to a dark red. Uncertainty crept over her. What was he...? "Master?" In another second, he bit into his wrist, and, blood seeping out, he held it to her mouth.

"Drink." It was a dark command, his eyes boring down into hers. Would this make her better? Did she have anything to lose, any other option? With all the strength she could muster beyond the pain, she licked hesitantly at his wrist, tasting the bitterness of the copper as it seeped into her mouth. His wrist did not move away. She licked again, and again, becoming surer of herself, until he shifted his arm slightly so that the blood trickled more easily into her mouth, so that she more of the liquid could seep down into her throat. She drank, looking to his wrist and then to his eyes, seeing a strange emotion there. After a long moment, he gently touched her chin with his other hand to stop her, and removed his arm, licking at his wrist to close the wound as he fought down the surge inside him at the sight of his blood round her mouth, mixing with hers. He watched as the bruises began to fade to a paler hue; she wouldn't be fully recovered, but he couldn't let her ingest any more of his powerful blood - it would have been too much for her. She had at least had enough that the pain should ebb away now, at least considerably. With a little sigh, her head moved back against the pillow, feeling the blood work its way through her. She looked up at him again through hazy eyes.

"Thank you." He stared back at her, mesmerised by the bruises fading, by her features underneath returning to some form of resemblance. Her eyes closed, her breathing becoming deeper, and he sat there for a long moment until the shock and emotion of what had happened washed away, the tightening in his chest had gone, and he was able to check himself, to get a hold of himself again.

With one last look back at her, Callan rose off the bed and left the room, moving next door to his bed chamber. He removed his clothes and slipped underneath the sheet, laying with his hands behind his head and gazing up to the ceiling above, waiting for sleep to take over him, waiting. His mind whirled over the day's events; what would he do with the girl, the girl he was meant to have killed in five days' time, now asleep in his spare bedroom? What would he do about the Pothos, and the potential danger that they held being out of his hands when they had been stolen; how would he struggle to contain the power of the Pothos jewels? And, lastly, darkly; why would anyone have hurt the girl? Why did anyone - the guard, or whoever had commanded him to do it - think that it was acceptable, or what he, the Master, would have wanted? And how would he punish their actions?

Yes, sleep took a long time to come for Callan; and when it finally did, his dreams weren't filled with his dilemmas: they were filled with her tongue licking at his wrist, the feeling as she drank from him, and, finally, those eyes - those big, blue, haunting eyes.