Chapter 13
"I'm not going to let you go until you tell me that you won't leave me." Zander leaned down to bring his lips to my ear. "Did you miss me like I missed you?" His breath felt like needles to my sweaty skin. I hadn't left the small rooms of this filthy, abandoned apartment in what felt like weeks. There was nothing around. The dilapidated hardwood floor creaked whenever I started to pace. The air was thick and warm- almost chokingly so.
There was a grey haze in the three rooms during the daytime as the sunlight seeping through the single boarded window mixed with the thick dust in the air. The kitchen held uncleaned counters, and nonworking appliances covered in rust. It was furnitureless, forcing me to spend my days and nights sitting and sleeping on the bare floor. It was hot, even at night, making sweat continuously stick to my body, and there was no running water through the pipes to help me wash the sweat and grime off of myself.
Standing in the middle of the room, I had just finished pacing the empty living room, desperate to find a way out of this prison. Zander had left me during the day, a common occurrence. I had watched eight sunsets with wide eyes through the decrepit wooden boards covering the intact windows, providing me with the amount of time I had been taken captive. Looking through the small holes past the glass, I could just see the ground below. It was maybe the second or third floor of a building. I couldn't remember anything past leaving the hotel and my Viking vampire, so the city we were in, non the less the state, was a currently a mystery to me.
He returned with a book in hand, and nothing else. The vampire blood in my system made my muscles feel like they were constantly clenched. Looking at the inhuman standing above me, I couldn't keep the snarl out of my voice, "Like a fucking disease." My voice was rough. No water for the past few days should have made standing a struggle- but Eric's blood kept me stable and upright, thankfully.
Zander's smile looked truly villainous in that moment. Stalking towards me, his wiry frame continued forward until I backed myself into one of the many empty corners in the bare living space. He smelled like sulfur and axe body wash-I gagged.
"Come on BC, you're telling me you're not a little nostalgic for the good old days?" I didn't recognize his voice anymore when my old nickname filtered through his dry lips. It no longer held the charming tenor from the years prior. He sounded as if his vocal chords were being controlled from the inside. My face cringed at the thought of being so close to this intimidating stranger with the face of my former fling.
His chest pressed against mine. Through my dirty shirt, I could feel his rapid heartbeat pounding out of his skeletal frame. He no longer had the lean muscles that first attracted me to him. It reminded me of a dog struggling to live on the streets.
Keeping back another gag as I took a deep breath to speak I answered, "Go fuck yourself Zander."
He growled, the darks of his iris spreading through to the whites of his eyes. If I didn't think he was a demon before, I was sure of it now. He wasn't human, he was entirely a newly created creature of the underworld. "What do you want from me?" I questioned.
"I want you to see what you could have."
"What I 'could have?'" I replied to his otherworldly tone, "You? Or this luxury apartment?"
Zander's warm breath was hot and uncomfortable on my face, "Everything. I can destroy whomever and whatever I want. We could take over cities, own races, build empires." His black eyes seemed to be focused on a reality all their own, "I could be king of the fucking supernatural world. Shifters, even vampires would kneel before me. And with you by my side, I would own all that I wanted."
"You don't own me you fucking psychopath," I spat.
Sharp boney fingers trailed up my arms to my wrists where a vampire's fangs had been just days ago. My body shook in fear. I wanted Eric, and I wanted him now.
I could feel the bruises on my wrist forming the tighter he held my arms, "You'll see it my way soon, BC, "He let go of my left hand to point toward the thick book he had dropped on the ground in his fury, "I'll make you see. You're going to forget all about that weak vampire of yours."
Without warning, he backed away. The black of his eyes shrinking down, and returning to his iris as he continued away from me. A grey smoke appeared behind him, and he disappeared in front of my eyes. It was a neat new trick, I'll give him that.
I could feel my chest heave with a sob, as tears raced down my reddened face. Zander wanted me to be his right hand as he took everything and everyone he wanted. A feeling of panic once again came over me.
My bones rattled in my skin, and I continuously rolled my shoulders back in an attempt to get this new coat of anxiety to fall off of me. It didn't.
Desperate eyes bounced from the unopenable windows to the padlocked front door for a few minutes. The sun was setting at a rapid pace, threatening to bring another long night with it. Not in here. I wouldn't spend another fucking night in here.
Running to the windows, my fingers trapped themselves in between the broken boards. Hissing softly, I felt the collapsing wooden pieces prick into each and every whitening finger. Hoping that the vampire blood would continue to come in handy, I pulled away from the window as hard as I could. The planks creaked under my grasp. Tightening my grip, causing the small wooden splinters to further themselves into my skin, I was getting desperate for my freedom.
A snap echoed throughout the room. My body flew backwards, bringing the broken timber with me. Looking up, I gasped. There was a foot-wide expanse of window, unshielded to me. A city expanded in front of me. I could finally see the buildings, cars, and people cascaded in dwindling light.
Looking around, I saw nothing of use to me in the apartment. No dirty rags or leftover wrappers. For a shitty dirty apartment, there was absolutely no clutter. Letting out a small sigh, I sat on the floor and leaned down to tug at the bottom of my jeans. Groaning at the lack of pull, I bent my back further, to rip the dirty fabric with my teeth. 'Krrrr' the jean finally gave way to my pulling and chewing. Snapping it off once the material reached midcalf, I stood and reproached the window.
Wrapping the frayed fabric around my right hand, I closed my eyes in preparation of the pain I was about to feel. The wooden plank budging proved that the vampire blood strength was still in effect. I took in a slow breath, making sure my brain was working correctly to continue to build this last-minute plan.
Bringing my elbow back, I exhaled as my fist was sent forward into the single paned window. The small bones in my hand bounced around unhappily, as they contacted the glass. It didn't shatter, but a perfect circle of cracks was left in the clear surface.
Not taking my hand out of their clenched position, I brought my hand back once more. Instead of leaving a circle of cracks, the window gave way, splattering and exploding in shards. My knuckles started to feel warm, without looking down, I could tell that blood was dripping at a rapid pace. It didn't matter right now.
A breath escaped me as I stuck my head out of the apartment for the first time in nine days. The warm summer air felt light and airy compared to the stuffy heat of my current prison. Opening my eyes, I hadn't even realized I closed them to truly feel the wind brush past my cheeks. Taking in the sight below me, my plan started to grow into a full-on mission.
The garbage can.
Below my dusty, broken window was a garbage can. Not just any garbage can, but a straight up, full to the brim, fucking miracle dumpster. I wanted to cry. Never in my short life had I been so excited to see fucking trash.
I did what anyone else would have done. I jumped. No thought ran through my mind. There was no final moment where I pondered the true evil of Zander and the future that would be thrust upon me if I stayed. Never did I reminisce of the red headed man with the boyish smile, and the charm to match. No. No thoughts. No hesitations. No second chances. No other time.
My throbbing, bleeding hand clutched desperately to my wrinkled shirt, while my remaining palm played the pivot point for my legs to heave into the hole in the window. Glass points stung as my entire weight leaned down upon them, ripping angrily through my denim pants.
As my butt lifted into the air, I didn't bother to close my eyes as my body went weightless. Most people have never felt this feeling. It's described as "fight or flight". Most assume it's a moment- where you either decide to fight your battle, or run from it. But it was never a moment. It was knowing the entire time what I was going to do. Fight or flight is not a momentary thoughtful instinct. No, it is a predetermined choice, where no thought is needed. So, when the taste of freedom met me, I was not upset at the possibility of missing my target from a few floors up. I instead was happy with my choice- flight.
Eric hadn't heard from her in days. The moment she vanished from his sight, he felt his chest heave. She was gone. She was his, and she was gone. To save him from a…a monster? That felt mildly ironic. Like
His pale fists still clung to the doorframe minutes after she exited it. Her brown eyes as she turned back to look at him was an image burned into the front of his mind like an emotional screensaver. The longer she was gone the harder his hands fisted the wooden passage. She wasn't coming back. He fucking took her. That little demon bastard took his Brooke, and he would not stand for it. While his anger radiated in his actions, he was not worried about consequences. Any damage he created in the luxurious hotel room would easily be paid for.
As the couch that Brooke was sitting on not moments ago, flew across the empty room, disappointment filled his tall frame. Godric did not raise him to be a vampire who backed down. Absolutely not. This type of lunacy would not be brought upon the woman he… sought after?
His club felt empty and dark without Brooke. Although hundreds lingered and chatted in his themed bar, no one dared approach his throne. Sitting silently, his gaze lingered on the wall across from him, ignoring whatever and whoever was in his line of sight.
Eric returned to Fangtasia three days after seeing the demon with his own eyes. The bleeding from his ears, eyes, and nose indicated the lack of rest he had gotten during the first 72 hours of his human's disappearance. His vampire speed allowed him to search every facet of not just Dallas, but most of the state of Texas. She was nowhere. Her smell, heartbeat, and smile had vanished in an instant. He hadn't contacted Pam and could feel her worry of his safety.
Once back in the state of Louisiana he pondered his next move. Would he reach out to other vampires of his status to inquire their knowledge of this beast? Should he employ their help in his quest to find his woman…would this make him seem weak in front of his potential enemies? He continued to sit on his next move as hours swam by him.
In times of silence, he would call upon Brooke to reach him. Whether that be by phone or by blood. Eric continued to sit, feeling pairs upon pairs of eyes on him, but felt uninterest towards them all.
Although he had continued to feed during the course of her disappearance, Brooke's connection still sang to him under his pale skin. It wasn't a radio, there was no tuning involved to get in touch with her. Instead it felt like a constant buzz that reminded him that his human was still alive. Her blood was a constant reminder of his failure, and that his human was alone, and unable to contact him at a time when she needed him most.
This new connection with Brooke wasn't simply blood related. There was something further. Something that drew the Viking towards her from the moment he saw her sitting by herself in that rinky-dink human bar. It was a feeling of overwhelming need the minute her small, tanned face came into his view. Her air of calm intelligence peaked his interest, and made him want her company even more, almost forcing him to sit down across from her. Almost as if she was a piece of him before he knew her.
Eric flexed his fingertips against the arms of his throne, in a soft drumming pattern. His mind ran through that night again. Her scowl after he kissed her in the vampire bar stained his memories, and almost made a smile grace his lips. Before he could bring himself back to the present, the image of her leaned over his wrist, lapping at his blood streaked across his mind's eye.
Before he could register the feeling, Eric sprang up from his lavish seat. Freedom. Escaping. Flight.
Like due North to a lost hiker, Eric was out the door before neither his staff nor his clientele could see him leave. Her blood guided him to her. No, she guided him. Eric Northman was on his way to Los Angeles to get back his Brooke.
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