VV
Eben awoke to the sensation of teeth sliding into his neck.
Or, more accurately, fangs, no less than thirty-two, all razor sharp and unnaturally elongated, sinking into well established puncture wounds along the side of his throat, seated around his jugular in a large oval.
Eben could recall the day he acquired those scars with the same, vicious clarity people who survived anything from plane crashes to muggings did.
The whole, 'My whole life flashed before my eyes' coupled with the cliché, 'Time just seemed to slow down.' followed by the classic, 'I didn't think, I just did.' Had been surprisingly real for Eben.
He had heard accounts of other people claiming such things, but he had never experienced anything of the sort himself, even when he had been in serious, life threatening situations, there was no sudden reflection of distant memories flashing across his eyes as he fell through a weak patch of ice on the bay.
Time didn't slow down for him, his body didn't go into auto-pilot… He just followed the same safety protocols that had been drilled into every citizen of Barrow and got out.
But… When those same fangs sunk into the side of his throat that night, Eben swore he could feel time slow to a crawl.
He had watched the Vampire pounce, jaw agape, fangs, so many fangs bared, aimed to kill, and eyes, black as night, alright with fury and triumph.
That was when time began to slow, as death closed in to claim it's prize, It was a beyond strange sensation, things went from too fast to hardly moving.
Eben could feel the cold biting his cheeks with such clarity he could have cried, he could feel every aching, beaten bone he had, the stickiness of his blood clinging to the inside of his jacket, lazily oozing from splits in his skin, fueled by an absent heartbeat…
Then the memories began to crawl to the forefront of his mind.
Some old, some new, very few were relevant to his situation.
Eben knew with an uncanny certainty that he was going to die, one way or another, that night, whether it be by another's hands (Or in this case, fangs.) Or by his own come dawn…
The idea of failure left a bitter taste at the back of his throat however…
His memories fluttered to his friends and family, people he had known his entire life, people who were counting on him, still counting on him…
He thought of Stella… They weren't right for one another, in hindsight that was painfully obvious, but back then, when they were still high school sweethearts, ready to face any challenge thrown their way, they were none-the wiser.
He thought back to the first time she had laughed at a joke he said, the genuine, throw your head back and cry laugh, she had snorted mid giggle and had him swear to never tell anyone she did with a kiss.
He thought back to one of their dates, Stella had gone away for college, Eben recalled missing her terribly, but supporting her anyway he could, calling her every other day, sending her postcards, and treasuring the letters she sent him.
Stella was back in town for a week, they met up at the local café, happily chatting as they shared a milkshake.
Eben remembered there was a new face in the bar, an out-of-towner from who knew where who traveled all the way to Alaska to hunt Caribou, despite them being off season, he had created a big stink down at the station when he was told that he could not in fact go Caribou hunting, and he was making it everyone else's problem.
Eben had been a rookie cop then, still in training, and technically off the clock. So when the out-of-towner began trying to cozy up to Stella out of the blue, Eben did his civic duty, as both cop and a boyfriend, to politely though firmly tell the man to back off.
The out-of-towner had, unsurprisingly, not taken the gesture well.
One thing led to another and Eben ended up suckerpunching the man in the mouth.
Eben knew it was the wrong move back then. He knew that he acted out in haste, in Stella's defense, and he paid the price back then, a three week behavioral examination to be precise…
Punching some thug had been a bad call then.
But that night, Eben couldn't see a better idea.
Unfortunately for Eben, he also couldn't see the black ice underfoot.
His would be suckerpunch to the mouth flew wide as his foot lost traction, allowing the encroaching Vampire to slam into his front, knocking them both back against the truck behind Eben.
The creature hissed and snarled as it bore down atop Eben, it's presence ancient and powerful compared to the new undead struggling beneath it.
When the Vampire finally ripped Eben's hood back, exposing his neck, Eben found himself frozen in place, watching as the older Vampire reared back to mockingly prepare it's strike.
And the only thought to fleetingly cross Eben's mind was, 'This is it…' and a silent prayer that his death would be quick.
Oh how wrong he was.
As soon as Eben's last wish presumably floated up towards whatever god was listening, was he violently and unrepentantly denied his swift death.
Whatever fantastical idea of vampires modern cinema had conjured up was so unabashedly wrong that Eben was certain that any writer, film director, actor or actress who had ever played part in any romanticized vampire flict, had never been bitten in their life.
Eben wasn't expecting a painless death, but he also wasn't expecting his final moments to hurt this much.
The sensation of countless tiny daggers burrowing into his flesh had him crying out, his voice sounding far from human, low and guttural, yet pitched like a wounded animal.
Following his brief stint of surprise brought on by the pain, was a desperate, beastiel idea…
'Not like this.'
As fangs bore deep into the side of his throat, Eben was not ashamed to say he screamed as the older Vampire bit him, it hurt, it hurt more than anything Eben could remember.
The pain was burning and blinding all at once, but through the pain came a clear idea of what was going to happen.
From the initial attack on the town, Eben had seen what the vampire's were capable of, he knew they could easily rip flesh and maim skin, and spill blood.
In that moment, with a full fledged vampire bearing down on him, Eben had no doubt that that was exactly what was about to happen to him.
His throat would be torn out, it wouldn't be clean or painless, and it would all be for nothing.
At that moment, Eben stopped thinking.
He just did.
In comparison to the older vampire, Eben's teeth were small and still dull, not yet razor sharp and long.
He was hardly an hour old, the fact that he had lasted as long as he had against someone with, presumably, a few decades at minimum, over him was astounding in itself.
Still, Eben managed to turn his head to the side and sink his young fangs into the side of the older vampire's throat.
His aim was sloppy, his teeth hardly encircling the other vampire's jugular, hardly sinking into the older vampire's throat the same way his did.
Eben was hardly a vampire.
But his efforts were still enough to lock them into a stalemate.
The older vampire suddenly couldn't pull away without risking the same death as Eben.
A low, guttural snarl abruptly rumbled against Eben's throat and chest as the older vampire realized the predicament they were in.
The one hand gripping his arm tightened while the clawed paw holding his hood disappeared, Eben quickly scrambled to grapple the vampire's wrist, knowing full well that the first person to release their hold on the other's neck would be the one to die.
The older vampire glowered once again, a reverberating, deep sound rung in Eben's ear as he managed to keep the vampire's taloned fingers away from his side.
Then, they were moving.
The older vampire guided Eben into a vicious dance of sorts, running him along the side of the truck in an attempt to dislodge him, even going so far as to drag Eben away from the vehicle only to slam him back against the metal skeleton.
Eben was sure he made some noise when a window broke against his back, a pained sound of surprise, just as horrifically inhuman as the echoing hiss that was pressed against his aching throat when he failed to release the older vampire.
When the car failed to dislodge Eben, the older vampire restored to other tricks.
Eben nearly lost his footing when he was abruptly tugged away from the car and into the open street, he had no time to think about the other vampires slowly creating a circle around them, no time to think about anything but staying on his feet and keeping his teeth firmly locked into the throat of the vampire before him.
The older vampire continuously tried to get an upper hand, feinting one way or another to throw Eben off balance, to trick him into releasing his hold on the throat before him.
More than once did the vampire attempt to jab it's claws into Eben's sides, to either have him flinch or gasp.
With every thwarted attempt to trip Eben up on the older vampire's part, the lower, more snarled and deep and terrifying sounds the vampire made.
Each hiss and growl reverberated from the creature's chest, rumbling up it's throat and against Eben's neck, creating an odd sensation of vibrations rolling along his spine, up into his skull and down to his knees.
If the vampire was trying to intimidate him, it was working, it was working well.
But Eben was more terrified of what would happen to him if he let go.
Unfortunately for Eben, while he was too terrified to see what would happen should he let go, the older vampire's incessant snarling proved to be distracting enough…
The older vampire's victory was abrupt and honestly, a bit cheap.
Eben had been doing his best to keep up with the vampire at his throat, following after him, keeping his footing and the vampire's claws at bay.
He had slipped a few times, nearly tripped over his own feet as well as the older vampire's feet whenever he attempted to knock Eben's legs out from underneath him.
What Eben wasn't expecting was for the vampire to manage to dead leg him.
Hard.
It was a dirty and, given the circumstances, possibly a dangerous move for the vampire, Eben wasn't even sure how exactly the older undead managed it, one moment they were shuffling backwards and the next, there was something slamming into the back of Eben's knee.
And then they were falling.
Eben's back collided with the ground roughly, reigniting the wounds he had acquired during their earlier brawl and knocking all the air out of his lungs…
What finally dislodged Eben's hold on the other vampire however was the full weight of said vampire landing on top of him.
The additional weight on top of his chest combined with his sudden winding had Eben choking on an absent breath, his jaws unlocking from the older vampire's throat as he tried to gasp for breath.
It didn't even occur to him that he wasn't dead yet until he tried to roll onto his side to ease pressure off of his back, the older vampire having him pinned to the ground, fangs still lodged in the side of his throat.
The older vampire remained unmoved atop him, clawed hands pinned his arms in place, the rest of the creature's body positioned over him in a way which prevented Eben from kicking or lashing out with his legs.
What was worse was the way the creature positioned Eben's head, forcing his cheek to the frozen ground, preventing him from returning his teeth to the throat above him.
Still, Eben struggled to free himself from the vampire's fangs as he drew fragile, stuttered breaths into uncooperative lungs.
Eben wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, laying in the frozen street, him pinned in place by deadly fangs lodged in his throat, but it was long enough for him to exhaust himself…
He fought for as long as he could, no one could say he hadn't, but at the end of the day, he was only human…
Well, less human, but still hardly a vampire.
When Eben finally went slack beneath the older vampire, signalling his defeat… He expected the creature to finally kill him, rip out his throat and leave him to die in the street.
Instead…
The older vampire pressed a deep, rumbling sound into Eben's neck, pressing it's fangs a small bit deeper into Eben's throat… Before releasing him.
It didn't let Eben up, it wasn't stupid enough to trust him with staying down.
It kept Eben pinned beneath it, dark eyes boring into Eben's as it hissed and clicked to the surrounding vampires. Eben flinched as the undead cohort howled their shrill cries into the night before maybe half of them scampered away into the streets of Barrow.
Leaving Eben alone with the leader and no less than a dozen vampires.
Eben didn't have much fight left in him by that point, too hurt and exhausted to survive another row with another vampire, but stubborn enough to try.
Not that he'd be given the chance.
Eben was quite sure he went into shock at some point during the night, or at the very least, he suffered a massive adrenaline crash after the fight because as soon as the older vampire got off of him, he was dragged to his feet and the moment he was righted, his vision darkened as an immense pressure settled in his head.
The trip from the town out to the bay was nothing but blurred images and the guttural sounds of the surrounding vampires clicking and screaming at one another.
Eben couldn't be sure whether he was dragged, carried or if he had stumbled alongside the vampire who had bitten him to the ancient and deceptively dilapidated ship seated in the bay... All he knew was that one moment, he was being hauled to his feet, and the next he was out in the middle of a frozen bay, up to his knees in snow, a hand closed tightly around the back of his neck…
And behind him, a lustrous column of fire spouting from Barrow's gas plant…
The initial blast from the explosion was what had knocked Eben out of his stupor. And the sight of Barrow burning, of the realization that he had failed… That tore at something inside of Eben…
He screamed then, his voice pitched and raspy, inhuman in every way possible, he flailed in the older vampire's grip, shrieking in defiance as the surrounding vampires all hissed and howled at him.
The older vampire hoisted him up slightly until he was standing straighter, it looked down at him, eyes black and full of intrigue as it clicked at him in the same strange language it spoke.
Eben wasn't ashamed to say that he was unnerved, he was downright terrified.
But he was also downright pissed.
Eben hissed at the older vampire, he meant to scream at it, but his throat and tongue refused to cooperate to form the proper sounds he intended.
The hiss did the job however, just not in the way Eben expected it to.
The older vampire cocked it's head to the side, staring down at Eben in a way that bordered on a challenge, as it dared Eben to look away.
Eben found himself snarling at the vampire behind him, baring his aching fangs, however little they were, like a beast rather than a human.
Though his snarl quickly became a yowl of pain as the older vampire squeezed the back of his neck, sharp talons threatened to pierce his skin as the thumb of the vampire pressed into the still fresh bite marks on Eben's neck.
Eben broke eye contact to again attempt to wrech himself free from the vampire's grasp.
The older vampire once again snarled at Eben in the same strange tongue, a warning, Eben assumed, a warning he neither understood or had any interest heeding.
That is until the vampire released it's hold on his throat to grab him by the back of his shirt to yank him back.
Eben could remember screaming as the fangs returned to his throat, slipping back into the already established puncture wounds created with the initial bite.
Eben recalled the second bite not hurting nearly as much as the initial bite, but the sensation of far too many teeth finding their way into his neck again was still by no means comfortable.
He tried to flinch away from the sensation, which only caused the fangs to tear into his flesh, Eben cried out at that, a pitiful keened sound of pain as he staggered.
Arms looped around his middle, taloned hands taking hold of his wrists to keep him still.
The vampire growled against his throat again, the same deep, guttural sound as before, as it all but jerked Eben away from the sight of the burning town and towards the ship.
That same low, vibrating growl crawled up the back of Eben's neck, right into his skull and down his spine from the same mouth from the same vampire who had bit him that night.
The sensation of fangs slipping into his neck was no longer painful, more grounding than anything.
Eben lazily tilted his head to side, careful not to dislodge the hold the older vampire had on his throat, there was no need to struggle.
He offered the other a half-hearted glower at the rude awakening before replying to the initial growled greeting with his own, rumbling trill.
Marlow hummed in approval as he released Eben's neck.
Eben stole a deep breath before he slowly rose onto his elbows, he avoided the older vampire's gaze, not waiting to engage in an early morning staring competition that day as he leaned close to return the gesture.
His teeth were no longer so little, but they weren't quite as terrifying as Marlow's or the rest of the coven's either, at a passing glance, Eben could still be mistaken for a human, so long as he didn't smile.
Still, little or not, Eben's fangs found their home in the messy ring of established indents along Marlow's throat, slipping into place perfectly.
He offered the older vampire a softer sound, not quite a purr, but certainly not the low growl Marlow had used. Eben wasn't quite accustomed to the strange language the coven spoke as, for a long while after his turning and subsequent 'forceful self initiation' into the coven, no one really knew what to do with him.
English became difficult to speak, and with no one willing to try to teach him the more guttural language the coven used, Eben was left floundering and mute.
When Marlow finally did approach him, the new language barrier became a prevalent issue, but one that was slowly but surely being chipped away.
The low growl Marlow had pressed against his neck that morning was a simple awakening greeting with a 'time to get up' subtone, Eben recognized it well enough, Marlow had been greeting him in such a way for a while by then.
Eben's own response was similar, if more subdued, a softer 'good morning' with a groggy, 'I'm awake' just to reassure Marlow that Eben wasn't just going to roll over and go back to sleep.
With their little morning ritual out of the way, Marlow rose from the bed to get dressed while Eben stretched, momentarily burning his face into the pillows to steal away what little warmth remained before joining the older vampire with getting ready.
They, the coven rather, were still skulking about the northern hemisphere, and from what little Eben had managed to understand from Marlow, they were off the coast of Russia, preparing for another attack.
At one point, Eben used to rage and cry at the prospect of another town falling victim to the coven as Barrow did.
But at one point, Eben used to scream and cower whenever Marlow buried his teeth into his throat.
It had taken a while for Eben to realize he had lost his humanity, and it had taken him even longer to stop trying to be human.
It had been a slow, torturous process, one that Eben emerged from as something slightly less than he once was.
But he emerged regardless.
Marlow chuffed at him softly, calling to him from the door, not with his name, but with a pet name that Eben had yet to identify the meaning of, Eben quickly tugged on some hoodie over shirt he had definitely stolen from Marlow's dresser as he hurried to the older vampire's side, yawning widely as he did so.
The older vampire crooned at him in a disgustingly saccharine tone that was equal parts genuine affection and playful sarcasm. Eben huffed before snapping his teeth at Marlow, his fangs clicking audibly in the ship's hall.
Had anyone else from the coven dared show their alpha such disrespect Marlow would have culled them on the spot. But Marlow merely chuckled at Eben for his efforts.
There were, after all, perks to being the alpha's mate.