The sharp clicking of Bela's heels echoed off the walls of the stairwell. She came to a halt when she reached the top, which opened up into a modestly sized and well stocked armory. Armor stands cluttered the room, adorned with gothic armor fit for the noblest knights of old.

Shields of wood and steel lined the walls; some were as untouched as the day of their smithing, while others were painted with the Dimitrescu family crest. Joining the shields were an assortment of weapons – spears, swords, axes, maces – you name it and the armory had at least one match. On yet another wall was a collection of bows, ranging from the massive English longbow to the modern recurve bow. To one side, century-old cannons aimed outside the small firing ports. It wouldn't have surprised Bela if they were still in working condition.

Away from the proud display of medieval and renaissance armaments was the stash of equally deadly modern weaponry – Bela could smell the gunpowder from here. They were tucked into crates here and there, or cut half open in crude experimentation on the workbench. Opposite the entrance to the armory was the fireplace, which bathed the room in its soothing, warm glow. Two torches mounted either side of the mantelpiece to provide additional light. The exposed flames were, to Bela's standards, far too close to the equally exposed gunpowder on the workbench.

Not that Bela would bother lecturing Cassandra about that. Her younger sister had already blown a small hole open in the wall. Bela glanced at the shelf haphazardly blocking the broken stone. It created a chilly draft, which the fireplace worked hard to counteract. That was what she got for toying around with homemade explosives. Bela thought that would have been lesson enough. Apparently, it didn't stop Cassandra from continuing her tinkering.

The woman in question was right where Bela expected to find her. She reclined on her armchair by the fireplace, with legs propped up on the workbench. In her hands was a short, ornate dagger. The weapon's golden teardrop pommel and equally glimmering guard hinted that the dagger was originally smithed for show – maybe as a status symbol. Cassandra honed it to a fine razor-sharp edge regardless of its initial purpose. She could turn anything into a functional weapon. Cassandra's ingenuity when it came to all things that caused humans pain was truly a sight to behold.

Unfortunately for Cassandra, Bela wasn't here to applaud her sister's remarkable knack for hurting people.

No. Tonight, Bela was rather upset.

Bela took long strides around the crates and loose scraps of armor in the center of the room. The smell of metal polish and cured leather coalesced with the wood fueling the fireplace. It would have been a homely scent if not for Bela's flaring temper.

Cassandra lazily rolled her head in Bela's direction as she came into view. She ran the dagger over a whetstone in her other hand, producing a sharp shing that grated against Bela's senses. Ever eager to get the first word in, Cassandra spoke up.

"Well, well. What brings my dear sister to my abode at this late hour?"

Bela flung the rusted, blood-stained chip of metal onto the stone floor. The blade tip she had extracted from Ethan's arm landed with a light clink. Cassandra knew her blades better than she knew herself. It was impossible that she hadn't noticed she chipped the blade she'd used on Ethan. Yet Cassandra put on a show of playing dumb. Her face was an emotionless, indifferent mask.

"I would love to be in bed by this hour, Cassandra," Bela remarked through a terse smile – more like bared teeth than anything else. "But do you have any idea what I was up late doing instead?"

Cassandra hummed and pulled her legs off the workbench. She crossed one over the other, eyes glancing at the chip of bloody metal on the floor. Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Enlighten me, o wise one."

Bela consciously bit back Ethan's name on the tip of her tongue. "The man-thing. Your twisted desires would have tainted his blood had I not interfered."

"Ugh," Cassandra groaned and mumbled, "Here we go again with the blood tainting."

Her voice then raised to argue, "A little adrenaline in the bloodstream never killed anyone, Bela. Don't be such a baby."

"Your filthy blade got caught in his arm!" Bela pointed at the scrap of metal glinting in the light. "He had a blood infection. You know – something that would have ruined his flesh and blood for all of us? Something that would have killed him if left untreated – incurring the full wrath of Mother Miranda – do you understand?"

"Big deal." Cassandra delivered her sarcasm with a wave of her dagger. "You got the blade out and fixed him. He'll be good as new and ripe for feeding before you know it."

It was typical of her. Deny any ownership of her actions, then let big sister Bela clean up the mess.

"The big deal, sister, is that you do not respect my wishes." Bela crossed her arms over her chest as she glared at Cassandra. "You can have the man-thing's blood, but if you keep tormenting him, you will spoil it for all of us. How many times do we have to play this game?"

"Respect?" Cassandra's brows reached her hairline in the very picture of exasperation. She uncrossed her legs and motioned towards Bela with the dagger. "That is rich coming from you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Bela's own frown deepened.

Cassandra paused for a beat to tilt her head at Bela – as if in disbelief of what she was hearing. The mannerisms only served to tick Bela off further.

Last Bela checked, she was not the one who gored the arm of their latest catch – all while knowing full well that Mother Miranda wanted him alive. Worse yet, Cassandra had done this without knowing of Ethan's odd regenerative properties.

The man could have died on Bela's watch. He wouldn't have been the first, and he certainly wouldn't have been the last. Bela could count on one hand the number of men that had lasted more than twenty-four hours in the dungeons. Those that did hardly made it to the next day. More often than not, Cassandra was responsible for that.

It was downright wasteful. It was unnecessarily cruel. It didn't make for great tasting man-blood.

"If there is anyone who does not respect her sisters' wishes – it's you. What about what Daniela wants? What I want? Whenever you catch prey, they become your prey. All you care about is," Cassandra scoffed and shrugged one shoulder as if at a loss, "Babying your prey and playing doctor."

"That is not true," Bela huffed. "It's not my fault that you are too shortsighted to understand that I am trying to set us up with a sustainable blood source."

"A-and Daniela," Bela stuttered – how unbecoming of her – now that her hackles were raised by Cassandra's verbal jab. "She is just as welcome to feed from our guest."

Cassandra's eyes all but rolled into the back of her head. She resumed sharpening the dagger on her whetstone and replied, "Keep telling yourself that, sister."

Bela squinted amidst the shrill, irritating sound of the blade being refined – like damn nails on a chalkboard. "I am serious, Cassandra. I am not babying him. I simply want him to last long enough that we may all enjoy him."

At Cassandra's doubtful look, Bela added, "You may feed from him as long as you play nice."

"Where's the fun in that?"

Where it was that Cassandra got her sadistic whims from, Bela truly did not know. Bela herself was no angel – she had her own mean streaks in the past. There once had been no shortage of catharsis she'd gained from tearing apart her prey as she fed from them. If you combined all of her victims' screams into a single, powerful shriek, it would be enough to deafen the world.

These days were different. People didn't need to suffer so damn much.

Ethan had thanked her for patching him up. He was the first man she'd taken captive to do so.

That had to count for something.

It had to.

"As I've told you before," Bela forced a smile to her lips, "There is more to life than torture and man-flesh."

Cassandra didn't acknowledge the sentiment. She drew the dagger along the whetstone in slow, precise strokes.

Truly, Bela didn't enjoy being angry at Cassandra. They got along swimmingly on most days. But the past few months were not most days. This time of year always drove Cassandra up the wall. It made her far angrier and more stubborn than her usual aggressive self.

"I know this winter has drawn on for too long. Being couped up in the castle…" Bela watched Cassandra's eyes narrow her way. "I do not blame you for having cabin fever, sister. I only ask that you do not take it out on our guest."

"Do not psychoanalyze me." Cassandra's lip formed an irate curl. "If you want to play therapist, then do it with your man-thing."

There was an air of finality in her barb. Bela knew her sister well enough by now. If she kept prodding and poking at Cassandra, that dagger was going to be chucked her way. It didn't matter whether Bela kept talking to pour fuel onto the argument, or out of her genuine concern over how high-strung Cassandra was lately. She could tell when her younger sister was at her limit.

With a slight sigh, Bela turned on her heel and began making her way out of the armory. She had just placed a foot on the first step of the stairs when Cassandra spoke up. Her voice was cold and taunting. "I must say that finger of his was delicious though. I might just come back for another when I visit and," Her cruel laughter was enough to make Bela tense. "Play nice."

Bela paid Cassandra no mind. She kept her fists tightly balled at her sides as she departed. She was not going to let Cassandra get into her head. This was exactly the kind of thing she had a talent for. The games she played with her catches were as mentally torturous as they were physically. Bela had no doubt in her mind that Cassandra genuinely enjoyed Ethan's flesh. But at the same time, she did doubt that Cassandra would go so far as to put Ethan through the ringer again so soon. After the lecturing Bela had given her in Ethan's cell and again here, Cassandra was bound to stay her blade for a while longer.

Bela's form partially dispersed, allowing her to hover a foot off the ground as she took flight. Her fluttering swarm of wings moved of their own accord while she lapsed into her thoughts.

Was it so wrong of her to chastise her sister for brutalizing their guest? Was it so unreasonable of her to wish to set Ethan up as a sustainable, renewable, source of high-quality blood? It was impossible to get out these days thanks to the weather. They were running short on staff as is. Some were taken and drained for the wine, and the others for her and her sisters' sustenance. If they culled any more of the maidens, Bela and her siblings would be stuck polishing silverware and dusting shelves for months until replacements were hired.

If Cassandra had her way, the castle would be void of servants in no time. Bela tried to be the big sister that their mother needed her to be. Truly, she tried. But with how stir-crazy Cassandra had gotten, it was an insurmountable task to make her keep her blade to herself.

She would hate to see Ethan strung up and gutted. The man was far too tasty to be drained dry in a single night. He was also, admittedly, entertaining. Not many who made it to Castle Dimitrescu's dungeons had much of their sanity left by the end of their first day. Add to that his odd healing abilities and that daughter of his – well, Bela suspected Ethan would soon prove to be the castle's most interesting guest in a long time.

Not to mention that handsome face of his. The fine, strong nose. The messy, dark blonde hair. Those deep grey eyes.

That quick, dry wit.

A deep, dull ache settled over Bela's chest. Ethan reminded her of –

"Bela, dear – I'm glad I ran into you!"

She perked up at the sound of her mother's voice. Bela's form solidified, allowing her heels to land on the fine marble floor of the main hall. Lady Dimitrescu stepped off the spiral staircase, extending a long arm Bela's way in invitation.

Bela eagerly closed the distance, wrapping her arms around her mother's waist. She pressed her face into the fine, soft fabric of her dress; it was just enough to suppress the ache in her nonexistent heart. Lady Dimitrescu's hand eased into Bela's hair, pushing her hood down. After enjoying her mother's comforting touch for a moment longer, Bela looked up at her and smiled.

"I take it you are happy to see me, daughter?"

"Always, mother."

A very welcome break after dealing with Cassandra's standoffishness.

Lady Dimitrescu gave a fond chuckle and laid her much larger hand on Bela's back, steering them down towards the Hall of the Four. The blood Ethan had dripped everywhere when Bela and her siblings sickled him had long since been cleaned up. The fine marble floor was as spotless as ever.

As if reading Bela's mind, her mother asked, "Is our guest taking to his new living arrangements well?"

If being tortured and nearly succumbing to blood poisoning counted as taking to it well – then sure. He was acclimating just spectacularly. Bela bit down on her bottom lip for a second. The urge to rant about her younger sister had to be consciously suppressed.

As objectively and emotionlessly as possible, Bela reported, "He will not be taking to much if Cassandra has her way with him."

"Hm," Lady Dimitrescu hummed, "As you know, Mother Miranda wants that man alive. He need not be in pristine condition. I'm sure Cassandra can enjoy toying with him without killing him."

Ethan would be dead by now if not for his condition. That was worth bringing up as well.

"Make sure you share the man-thing with your sisters, dearest." Her mother's tone was borderline reproaching, yet still gentle. "I know you pity those impertinent humans far more than they deserve."

Damn. Bela could not catch a break with her family making her out to be some kind of man-thing sympathizer. It's like the idea of a long-term supply of blood was lost on them. Was treating their guest with a little dignity that unthinkable? Contrary to popular belief, it should be possible to keep a man alive for his blood without making his existence a living hell. These things didn't have to be mutually exclusive. It was just a waste of time and energy being unreasonably cruel.

To steer the topic away from herself, Bela began, "About the man… he has a condition."

Lady Dimitrescu frowned down at Bela in perplexity. She tilted her head as a gesture to continue.

"He is able to heal at an advanced rate. His regenerative abilities are unlike any I have seen before. After disinfecting a major laceration, all it took was pressing the sides together and his flesh mended."

Bela watched a certain realization dawn on her mother's face. The side of her lip quirked in a thoughtful expression. Alas, she did not key Bela in to her thoughts. Whatever revelations dawned on her were kept to herself.

"See if you can find out more. I will pass this on to Mother Miranda. She may be interested in your findings."

A smile crept up to Bela's face. It was another reason to avoid prematurely draining Ethan dry. She'd take it.

"Try not to pry too hard, though," Lady Dimitrescu cautioned, "You know how easy to spook their kind is."

"Yes, mother." Bela nodded obediently.

Lady Dimitrescu appeared ready to turn and leave when she paused as though remembering something. "Oh, and one more thing."

"Yes?"

The family matriarch's eyes narrowed by a smidge at Bela. A noticeable, suppressed irritation was clear in her voice. "The doorway trim in the dining room. Don't think I did not see the damage you and the man-thing did to that."

Sheepishly, Bela looked away. She ran an awkward hand up and down along her other arm as her mother went on, "That is your mess – you fix it. Am I clear?"

Bela gave a snappy nod. She did not know the first thing about woodworking or fixing broken doorway trims. That would be a problem for later. She'd figure something out.

"Of course, mother."

Lady Dimitrescu flashed Bela a charming smile. Any annoyance she held over the damage was abruptly swept under the rug. She stooped down to plant a kiss to the top of her daughter's blonde head of hair.

"I must go for now, darling." A look of disgust crossed her features – this time no longer directed at Bela. "I have a meeting with that fool Heisenberg."

On cue, Bela stepped back towards the stairs to avoid the breeze that would waft in once the doors opened. Lady Dimitrescu crossed the hall with long, graceful steps. Her head swayed over her shoulder. From beneath her large hat, she tilted her head to meet Bela's gaze and reiterate once more, "Share the man-thing, Bela. I don't want to hear your sisters complaining to me that you've been selfish."

"Take care, mother!" Bela forced a smile and pointedly avoided the request. Her mother's eyes squinted with a hint of suspicion. Ultimately, she dropped it. She had bigger things to worry about, surely. Lady Dimitrescu bent low and made her exit out the door. The brief chill that drafted into the hall left as quickly as it came.

Standing up for Ethan was going to lead to Cassandra flipping out. Sharing him was going to get him killed, regenerative abilities or not. Bela was caught between a rock and a hard place. Or more appropriately, caught between her homicidal sister and Ethan's untimely demise.

Maybe they were right. Maybe she did just care for the damned man far more than he deserved. So what if he got killed? There would always be more men to use for blood. It is not Bela that would get into trouble if Cassandra went overboard and killed Ethan after all.

She was taking much more responsibility for Ethan than she needed to. It was causing her far more undue stress than necessary. Bela had not stood up for their other catches nearly as much as she had for Ethan. She was biased. For a being of a higher lot in life than frail, mortal humans, she sure was thinking with her emotions like one. All because he vaguely resembled –

"Sister!"

Bela nearly jumped up in surprise. A solid weight landed on her back, followed by a pair of arms encircling her neck, and legs locking in front of her waist. Bela stumbled forward to catch her balance. Daniela simply pressed her cheek against Bela's and beamed at her ear to ear.

Bela laughed in spite of it all. She hooked her hands under either of Daniela's legs to support her weight, then rolled her shoulders to get comfortable. Bela craned her head to look at Daniela, who appeared very comfortable on her back. "What are you doing back there, Daniela?"

Daniela squeezed Bela once and answered, "You were making that face again."

Bela frowned, straining her neck further to see eye to eye with Daniela – which was a challenge as she was still perched on the former's back. "What face?"

"You know – that face."

Daniela furrowed her brows together in a slight, upset frown. Her eyes were downcast, and her lips pursed ever so slightly in a pout.

If Bela still had a normal human's circulatory system, this would be the part she started blushing.

"I – I do not make that face." Bela looked away. She was a very mature and serious woman. She did not pout and frown like a dejected child.

It prompted Daniela to swing her legs free and hop off Bela's back. She stepped around to face her sister, setting a hand on either of her shoulders. With an encouraging smile, Daniela asked, "What were you thinking about?"

She trusted Daniela. The woman was a sweetheart and knew how to keep a secret. But just the same, Bela had no plans of opening up to Daniela about this. There was no easy way to explain how she would really prefer that Ethan not be drawn, quartered, and eaten alive. She was beginning to sound like a broken record with her talk of long-term and sustainable blood.

Besides, how could Bela talk to her sister about this when she herself was still trying to wrap her head around it all – of her pesky sentimentality fueling and bolstering her reasoning for keeping the man alive and healthy.

She really should just shrug it off and be done with it. It was all too much of a headache to deal with and internalize over. She wasn't Ethan's keeper. She shouldn't let the bias and remnants of human emotion affect her judgment.

As Bela's lips parted to tell Daniela it was nothing, she inadvertently looked to one of the fine wooden doors in the great hall. Beyond that door, The Duke had setup shop.

Ethan's wincing, pained face, and the filthy, bloody clothing he wore came to mind.

"Sweetheart," Bela smiled at her sister. "How about you do me a favor?"

The term of endearment perked Daniela up instantly. Looking eager to please, she asked, "What is it, sister?"

"Our guest in the dungeon – his clothing is ruined." This was not shrugging it off and being done with it. This was not how to relinquish her role as Ethan's keeper.

Bela instructed Daniela anyway, "Would you be a dear and buy a change of clothes from The Duke? Something warm."

Fuck it. She could grapple with her jumbled mind some other time.

Fuck it?

Bela winced internally. The man's crass tongue was rubbing off on her.

Daniela, in the meantime, had been eyeing Bela. Not quite suspiciously, but definitely curiously. Lucky for Bela, Daniela didn't question her motives and reasons. She only asked, "What's in it for me? Do I get quality time with the man-thing?"

"You may have some of his blood when he has recovered, but," Bela put on her big sister voice, "Play nice. I do not want you going all Cassandra on him."

"Perfect!" Daniela reeled Bela in with a sudden hug. Bela laughed softly, running a fond hand through her sister's hair. It elicited a soft purr from Daniela, who squeezed Bela tighter.

Daniela was far less likely to give Ethan sepsis or some other condition that would taint his bloodstream. Bela would make it a point to be around at the time of the feeding as well – just to be sure Daniela didn't get a little too zealous. Her sister was the sweetest, but she did have a bad habit of occasionally letting things get out of hand.

While Daniela handled procuring Ethan's change of clothes, Bela felt like a tiny bit of self-care was in order. It was an odd hour of the night now, but she needed to blow off some steam.

Because in spite of it all – Cassandra and her mother's implications may very well be right. Maybe she was doomed to fuss over her prey until they were inevitably killed. Outsiders in this castle all came with an expiration date. Ethan wasn't going to be an exception, and she needed to remember that. The moment Mother Miranda lost interest in Ethan, he would be a dead man. Bela only wished she could mitigate any unnecessary suffering.

There was no longer any joy she derived from hearing her prey squirm and squeal.

Bela was too much of a damn softy for her own good. Cassandra would call it weakness. Her mother would be disappointed in her if she found out how much sentimentality she kept locked away. The thought of upsetting her mother was enough to bring another round of worry prickling down Bela's spine.

It was too much to think about. Her temples were beginning to throb.

Bela needed to busy herself to avoid brooding so much. She was long overdue to kick the servants out of the kitchen, shut her brain off, and do some cooking of her own. It would be a welcome stress reliever.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Do drop a fave, follow, and a review if you enjoyed and let me know how you liked this chapter. I plan to drop a few "Bela Interludes" from time to time among the Ethan chapters. The main bulk of the story will stay in Ethan's POV, but we'll have the occasional shorter chapters giving a glimpse into Bela's mind. I hope you guys enjoyed this little experimental first interlude.

For the Cassandra fans out there, I do apologize for how antagonistic she is at the moment! I promise we'll be getting more of her in the future chapters and she will, ehem, *play nice* in her own way.

I'll catch you all in the next update. Ciao!