A/N: Well, here's the third chapter! I know it's kind of short, but definitely action packed! And the relationship between Steve and Darren is getting more complex! The next chapter will have some real Darren/Steve action (finally!) and an appearance of Gannen.

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Silence. Dead silence except for the furious pounding of Steve's heart.

Leave, he silently willed the person outside his tent. No such luck. The person neither left nor came in.

This, to put it lightly, was making Steve nervous. Extremely nervous. Who could it be? The person who tied him up? But who was that? Immediately three faces came into Steve's mind.

The three people who hated him most in this world.

The three people who wanted nothing, nothing more to see him drown in a pool of his own blood, pained screams echoing into the night.

His three worst enemies: Darren Shan, Vancha March, and Harkat Mulds.

Steve's blood turned to ice at the thought of it being one of them. He'd rather it be a 900 ft. tall monster with teeth as sharp as needles and long, deadly, razor-sharp claws. At least then if it killed him, the vampaneze would triumph over the vampires, and Darren would fail.

Oh, how he wanted Darren to fail… to watch his clan disintegrate before his very eyes… To make him suffer the way Steve himself had suffered when Darren had left him, betrayed him….

Fear took over as Steve imagined what the hunters would do with him. He was so wrapped up in his terrifying fantasies, he didn't hear the tent flap open and feet walk in.

Not until someone was standing right over him. He could feel their cold eyes, menacing glare.

Panicked, Steve tried to twist to see who it was, but the ropes held him tight. There was a harsh laugh from above which chilled him to the very bone.

"Can't move, can ya?" came a gruff voice. "All tied up? Poor thing." Another laugh. The voice was slightly familiar, but before Steve could decipher who it was, a knife was thrust deep into his shoulder, tearing his shirt and making blood begin to trickle down his arm.

Fuck! Steve nearly screamed, but bit down on his lip instead, not wanting to give his attacker any satisfaction. The man laughed again and pulled the knife out, making Steve gasp in pain as blood gushed from his wound. The person walked a bit to the right until he was in line with Steve's vision. There was a sinking feeling in Steve's stomach as he recognized the purple animal skins and messy green hair. Vancha March, Vampire Prince, a hunter, and a person Steve definitely didn't want to face.

The Vampire Prince had a wild look in his eye as he gazed down at Steve, and the Vampaneze Lord couldn't help but shiver. Dammit! What the hell am I going to do? He thought, gritting his teeth against the pain. I can't fucking move because of these damn ropes….

Steve glared at Vancha, trying frantically to think of some way to escape. His mind was blank. The throbbing in his shoulder was making it impossible for him to think at all.

"You're pathetic," Steve scoffed, breathing heavily, trying to buy some time. "You're going to attempt to kill me when I'm injured instead of when I could fight back. You're afraid you'll lose. And you would! I could easily beat you if I were in top shape!"

These words had an effect on Vancha all right, a bad effect. Before Steve realized what was happening, the prince's blade came down again, slicing into his other shoulder. This time Steve really did scream. He couldn't help it; the searing pain was unbearable.

Vancha looked pleased, Steve saw, as he looked up at the vampire through hazy eyes, vision slightly blurred. Damnit! Steve gritted his teeth once again, attempting a glare. He didn't want to please the vampire. He could take this, he was the Vampaneze Lord, after all.

"You will burn in hell," Vancha hissed, eyes gleaming. "You will suffer unimaginable pain. You'll pay for the suffering you've caused!" Vancha raised the blade up high and brought it down again, this time into Steve's thigh. The Vampaneze Lord let out another scream of pain. He was bleeding immensely now, and wondered how long it would be before he bled to death. Probably not soon enough. The vampire would want to make him suffer as much as possible before he died, wouldn't he?

But no, it seemed the vampire was now losing patience, Steve observed as he looked up at Vancha through half-closed eyes. Vancha's face was contorted in rage and the dagger was once again raised high in the air. "This is for Larten," he whispered, before slowly lowering the dagger over Steve's heart.

"No!" came a sudden scream from the doorway, and Vancha's hand came to a stop, the dagger inches away from Steve's heart.

"Vancha, no!" And then Darren was there, looking down at Steve, and the lord felt his heart flutter. Not because the blade was inches away from it, either.

"Vancha…." Darren seemed to pleading with the other prince, pleading for Steve. But why? Why in the world would he do something like that? Didn't Darren want Steve dead as much as Vancha did, perhaps more so? After all, Steve had killed his mentor….

Steve tried to focus on the scene taking place before him, tried to ignore the pain in his shoulders and thigh, though it was getting harder. He thanked God he was half-vampaneze. An ordinary human probably would have bled to death by now.

The two princes were locked in a staring contest. Suddenly Vancha turned on his heel, and, with a growl, stalked out of the tent. Steve let out a long breath he wasn't aware he had been holding. "Ha, the bastard couldn't kill me," he gloated through gritted teeth. "I'm far too superior! He was afraid to kill me! Soon I'll kill him, just like I killed Creepy Crepsley! The vampires will fall and the vampaneze will win!"

Before Steve could continue, Darren whirled around and picked up the knife Vancha had dropped. The half-vampire was panting and his eyes were alight with anger. Steve didn't have time to wonder who the anger was for before Darren brought the knife down, making a long, painful scratch on Steve's neck. The Vampaneze Lord's eyes squeezed closed and his hands clenched into fists. Had Darren just sent Vancha away so he could finish the job?

There was a long moment of silence and Steve slowly opened his eyes to see Darren watching him intently. His face was still full of rage, but there was something else there too… was it… pity? Immediately Steve frowned. He didn't want pity from anyone, Darren especially!

Darren turned away before Steve could study him anymore, and dropped the knife, walking toward the exit to the tent, leaving Steve lying in a puddle of blood.

The Vampaneze Lord was sure he really would die here and was starting to hyperventilate in panic. He couldn't die now! He still had so much to do! And especially not by the hands of Vancha and Darren! That meant the filthy vampires would win!

Before he could panic anymore, the flap of the tent opened once more and Darren was there again. The prince's face was now annoyingly blank as he slowly walked toward Steve and kneeled down next to him. It was then Steve saw the bandages the other held in his hand.

Steve clenched his teeth as his wounds were dressed, thoroughly confused. Whose side was Darren on? Why was he helping him? Fuck, his mind growing foggy...

When Darren finished with his wounds, the lord was barely conscious. He was aware enough though to know Darren was watching him again. Watching them with those pitty-filled eyes. Steve wanted to curse at him, to tell Darren not to look at him that way, but he lacked the strength.

As vampire turned away, got up, and walked toward the exit, he said something quietly that just reached Steve's ears. "Be careful..."

Or at least that's what Steve thought he said as the young prince left.