Rest came easy to Ethan not long after Bela had departed from the dungeon. The exhaustion of it all set back in, and he found himself in a deep, dreamless sleep. It was a change of pace that Ethan was exceedingly grateful for. Even before Chris emptied a magazine into Mia's chest, peaceful sleep had been an increasingly rare treat for Ethan.

The ordeal in Louisiana was still so fresh in his mind, even three years after the fact. All the horrors he'd faced crept into his subconscious when he least expected it. He could be feeling fine and dandy one day and then waking up in a cold sweat the next. Hell, the day Rose was born, Ethan had some of his worst nightmares immediately after. The dark recesses of his mind imagined countless iterations in which Rose was taken from him. Nearly all of those terrible dreams involved the Bakers.

Again, Ethan never thought Chris would be the one responsible for making those nightmares a reality.

Dreamless sleep was bliss. It was a chance to shut his thoughts off, even if only for a moment. After getting ripped up by Bela's sisters, Ethan needed the goddamn break.

When he finally stirred, he awoke to the dim, flickering light of the oil lantern in his cell. Ethan lay on the stone floor a while longer, staring at the dancing flame. What was immediately apparent to Ethan was that the fever had broken. Gazing at the lamp didn't sting his eyes. Every small degree he craned his head no longer sent a wave of nausea crashing over him. The beat of his heart was slow, steady, and calm. Bela's little surgery was a success, and the mold in his system had done the rest.

Goodbye, sepsis.

Still partially sprawled out on the floor, Ethan brought his right hand up for inspection. The ring finger was still missing – he hadn't really expected otherwise – but the rest of his digits were functional and intact. Any semblance of dried blood was long gone, or concealed by his sleeves.

Ethan frowned.

Sleeves?

Bela had snipped the entire right sleeve away after his run-in with Cassandra and Daniela.

With a grunt, Ethan heaved himself up to a sitting position. Looking down, he found himself to be wearing unfamiliar clothing. His outerwear – the beige hooded coat – had been replaced. It was almost identical to what he'd been wearing when this mess started. There was a pocket zipper here or a button there that gave away this hoodie was different. Similarly, his tattered sweater was apparently traded in for a new one. It was made of a thick – admittedly cozy – black fabric, with words stitched onto the front.

Freshly woken, it took Ethan a moment to read the words from this angle.

I (HEART) MY SMART AND HOT ROMANIAN GIRLFRIEND

"What the fuck?" Ethan muttered aloud.

The heart was proudly colored in Romania's blue, yellow, and red.

Bela had to be fucking with him.

Turning his narrowed eyes away from the damned sweater, Ethan checked his jeans – similarly replaced by a fresh, hole-less pair, nearly identical to the last. Ethan felt heat pooling in his cheeks. He tugged on the beltline of his jeans, peeking within and –

Okay, thank God.

It was humiliating enough being stripped down and changed while unconscious. There was some relief to be found that his dignity was at least partially intact, in the form of Bela having not changed his boxers along with everything else.

Glad to know there were lines that even she wasn't crossing in the pursuit of her fucked up sense of hospitality.

His eyes went down to his shoes next. The fine leather shoes, which were in no way, shape, or form designed for all the activity he'd put them through, were untouched. Ethan began surveying the rest of the cell. It was only now he realized that sitting up hadn't been a disgusting affair involving peeling himself off his sticky, drying, gummy bodily fluids. All traces of blood and puke from hours prior were gone. The small space was as pristine as a dungeon prison cell could be. As his eyes ran along his cage, they landed on his family photo of Mia and Rose. The picture was propped up against the side stone wall and within arm's reach. Bela hadn't confiscated it when she changed his bloody clothes.

And speak of the devil, the familiar click of heels on stone began to reverberate off the walls. Ethan let out a soft grunt as he got up onto his feet. He mentally steeled himself as the briefest moment of anxiety passed over him – of what if this was Cassandra coming back for round two? What if it was Daniela – not as torturous, but far stranger than either of her sisters.

If it was either of them, Ethan was dreading it already. His skin prickled; the fine hairs stood on end. The fresh scar along the length of his arm tingled. It almost had a mind of its own, sending the bristling feeling as a reminder of the damage it had endured.

Bela stepped around the corner.

The first thing Ethan noticed was that she had her hood down, revealing her full head of blonde hair which cascaded down just below her shoulders. It was surprisingly neat-looking – not something he really expected from a vampire bug-woman. Not exactly meticulously styled, but certainly cared for, if the thick waves and subtle curls at the end were anything to go by. Her makeup appeared freshly applied as well – dark lipstick, sharp eyeliner, and all. There was once more a noticeable absence of blood smeared all over her face.

Bela carried in her hands a metal serving tray. The familiar crystalline water carafe and the ornate goblet were joined by a large loaf of what looked like sliced sourdough bread. The appropriate utensils and a side of butter accompanied the bread.

Ethan's stomach grumbled at the sight of the meal before him.

"Rise and shine, Ethan." Bela flashed an award-winning smile.

The words caught his attention, distracting him from his newfound hunger.

"Rise and – what?" He narrowed his eyes for a beat. He'd well and truly lost track of time from being in and out of consciousness so much the past few hours. "Is it morning?"

An amused laugh bubbled out as Bela tilted her head. "Well, I certainly was not referring to the shine of the moonlight."

Ethan scoffed. "There's not a single fucking window in here, Bela. How would I know the time?"

Bela pursed her lips as if in serious thought. With a shrug, she asked, "Would you like a clock?"

Ethan glared at Bela. The look he sent her way lacked the venom that it probably should have. Taking his chance to broach the subject, Ethan said, "What I'd like is to find my daughter and get out of here."

Bela blinked once and offered, "I can get you a clock."

Throwing his hands up in exasperation, Ethan sighed, "Fine. Get me a clock. Please."

Before he could forget, Ethan gestured to his new sweater, "And what the fuck is this?"

Another lighthearted giggle before Bela put on an almost rehearsed serious expression. "I, your most gracious host, replaced your torn and filthy clothing myself. You're welcome, by the way."

Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose. He did appreciate getting out of the torn and disgustingly bloody clothes from yesterday. If it weren't for how shitty he'd felt, or how cold the stone floor was, he probably would've stripped down to his jeans before passing out.

"Yeah – I get that," Ethan rolled his eyes and pointed right at the blue, yellow, and red heart stitched amidst the caption. "But what the fuck is with this writing?"

Bela shrugged a deceitfully innocent shrug. "Daniela said it was the only sweater in your size. Don't be so picky."

"Wow," The sarcasm did not faze Bela. "You got her to help too? Did she take a nibble while I was out like a light?"

"No, of course not." Bela huffed, as if it should have been obvious to him. Her brows quirked up briefly as she added, "Well, she will come for a bite sometime later or in the coming days when you are…" She shot him a wink, "No longer unwell."

Was she… covering for him? Prolonging the time before her sisters got their teeth back into him?

No, no – Bela was just trying to keep Ethan for herself. To avoid spoiling his precious blood, or whatever.

In any case, the longer Bela's rougher and far less stable sisters stayed away from him, the better. Bela's motives be damned – as long as he could stay intact a while longer.

"Where'd you get these anyway?" Ethan motioned to his clothes to switch their attention off of his impending feeding with Daniela.

"The Duke provides," Bela said.

The scent of gunpowder coalescing with the pungent aroma of dried fish suddenly came to the forefront of Ethan's memory. When he first met the hefty merchant outside Castle Dimitrescu, it was one of the things that struck him – of course, aside from the fact he'd been addressed by name. The Duke really needed to store his foodstuff separately from his weaponry.

"The, uh – the big guy? The merchant?" Ethan clarified.

"Mhm," Bela hummed, hair swaying as she nodded.

"You trade with that guy?" Ethan wasn't sure why he was so weirded out by this. He'd been mauled by wolfmen, chased by giant fuckers with hammers, and gotten his blood drunk by bug-women. A merchant selling all manner of goods and living out of a carriage, while also doing business with the local freaks, shouldn't be that weird.

"As he says," Bela deepened her voice an octave in a poor impression of The Duke, "Where there's coin to be made… you know the rest."

Ethan shrugged it off for a moment. The Duke and the Dimitrescu sisters' choice of clothing for him was the least of his worries. At least this was comfortable, dry, and blood-free.

Sensing that he was done with the brief tangent, Bela stepped closer to the cell door. She slid the tray in through the slot at the bottom of the door, then placed her hands on her hips. She watched him expectantly.

Ethan took his eyes off Bela to scrutinize the silver tray and its contents.

"Before you get that silly notion that I wish to poison you…" Bela bent back down and reached for the bread. Without looking away from Ethan, Bela took a small slice of bread in her hands – which Ethan only noticed now were ungloved. Her nails were painted black, which seemed pretty on-brand for this castle's denizens, if not a little predictable.

Bela took the butter knife from the tray, slathering a small amount of butter on her chunk of bread. Finally, she popped the bread into her mouth and chewed, all while maintaining eye contact. She spread her arms in a theatric gesture of, "See? It's safe!"

There was nothing for her or her sisters to gain from poisoning him. After the fuss Bela had gone through to ensure he didn't die of sepsis, it would be an unfounded heel turn to suddenly try and kill him.

Plus, the bread did look highly appetizing with its crust a deep shade of caramel brown. The fact he hadn't eaten in a day probably contributed to how good it looked.

It did give Ethan a moment's pause though – seeing Bela chew and swallow the small slice of bread. Or rather as his mind was processing it – the vampire bug-woman eating normal people food. It was worth prodding later.

With a slight sigh, Ethan nodded and got down on the floor to sit cross-legged in front of the tray. That appeared good enough for Bela. She smiled and wiped the stray crumbs from her mouth. Backing up, she leaned against the wall directly across his cell door.

It took Ethan a moment to grip the butter knife properly in his right hand. The amputated ring finger was messing with his grip. Once it was secure in hand, Ethan felt a vague sense of irony. Most captors would be out of their goddamn minds to give their prisoner anything remotely resembling a weapon. Bela and her siblings were no ordinary captors. The butter knife would do jack shit against them. He may as well try stabbing them with a toothpick if he used this against them.

The rumble in Ethan's stomach demanded attention. With little excuse to ignore it now, Ethan got to work applying butter to his first slice of the bread. With essentially three functional fingers, it was one of life's little gifts that holding bread didn't require a high level of dexterity. The frustration and difficulty of holding onto things with that hand would only get worse as the days went by. The phantom sensation of his missing fingers was a bitch. He could feel the bread against his missing digits.

If Ethan could again shoot that dead lycan asshole who'd bit his fingers off, he would. It wouldn't do much, but it would probably give a little catharsis, if anything. There was little else that could be done for his hand at this rate. All he could do was swallow the frustration and the anger – compartmentalize and focus on one thing at a time. In the bigger picture, that was busting out and finding Rose.

In the immediate – it was slathering butter onto this warm bread.

He tried not to notice how closely Bela was watching him, waiting for a reaction.

He brought the bread up to his mouth and bit down. The crust was crispy, but not hard as his teeth dug in. The bread itself was soft and moist, with a hint of maltiness. Ethan could taste a slight sweetness amidst the pleasant sourness (to be expected from its namesake, sourdough). It was probably cornmeal if Mia's recent baking experiments had taught him anything. It was a delectable flavor along with the provided goat's butter. The butter's origin had come to Ethan with a slight delay once he made note of the grassy, earthen notes to the creamy taste. This was a common alternative to regular cow butter in these parts.

Overall, it was really fucking good.

Still, he didn't immediately take the second bite – just to not make it too obvious to Bela. It probably wouldn't do him well to so clearly be enjoying eating from her metaphorical hand.

When Ethan finished chewing and swallowing, and the blonde before him stared at him no less intently, he spoke up, "You here to just watch me eat then?"

That little, almost satisfied smile on her face persisted as she hummed, "Mhm."

The longer Bela smiled at Ethan, the more he was tempted to wipe that look off her face. Not out of any particularly mean or rude urge. More for entertainment than anything else.

Ethan prepared his next slice of bread and asked, "Did you and your sisters hunt down and have some other poor sucker for breakfast?" He felt a tinge of satisfaction seeing Bela's smile turn flat. He pressed on, the ghost of a smirk on his lips, "What – did you eat the DoorDash guy that delivered the bread?"

Bela was glaring at him now. The annoyance was plain on her glowering features.

When Bela didn't answer, Ethan shrugged and resumed chewing on the bread in hand. "Smart. Two meals, one stone I guess."

"Firstly," She took a deep breath and raised a finger, "I will have you know that was handmade and baked right here in Castle Dimitrescu."

Now that Bela mentioned it, Ethan did recall the kitchen they'd passed on the way to the dungeon. Barely two seconds they spent in that room, but Ethan remembered it looked mundane enough. Smelled like any other kitchen. A big oven, some cookware, and most notably, no human body parts hanging from meat hooks. The hanging body parts were honestly what he'd been expecting.

"My compliments to the baker." Ethan swallowed and wiped his mouth. He turned up the sass when Bela appeared pleased by his reaction to the bread. "I hope you don't eat them next."

Bela blew out a scoff. Her lips remained parted for a moment, forming a smile that was equal parts amused and frustrated. Then she licked her lips and pushed off the wall to stand in front of the door with her hands on her hips. "You are awfully lippy this morning. Have you recovered your energy already? Is it time for our next feeding?"

Ethan pressed his lips together and raised his hands in surrender for a moment. He liked his blood where it was – inside of him. If he kept Bela talking, it kept her from feeding from him for the moment. But if he gave her too much shit, she may just go ahead and take a sip whether he consented or not. Hell – it was commendable enough that she did bother getting his consent the one time she drank from him.

That seed of thought was smushed before it could plant roots. Bela had gotten his consent in exchange for his family photo and now-dead flashlight – two items that she, his captor, had taken from him.

All part of her game. All part of the act of being good cop to Cassandra's bad cop and Daniela's weird cop.

Taking Ethan's silence for submission, Bela beamed and returned to her spot leaning on the wall across him. "That's right. Behave, little one."

He didn't have time to protest the odd term when Bela went on, "Secondly… yes, we just wrapped up breakfast." Her eyes closed, as if savoring the taste of whichever human she last ate and –

"I had an omelet and țară pâine."

"… an omelet?" Ethan repeated in disbelief.

"Mhm," Came Bela's now familiar hum.

"With like, bits of minced human meat in there?"

"No." Bela frowned slightly, brows pitching together. Like she was confused by his own confusion. "Some onions, bell peppers, mushrooms, and ham."

It was decidedly less cannibalistic than Ethan's constantly subverted expectations.

"And tara… what?" Ethan asked.

Bela giggled and pointed at the loaf on Ethan's tray. "The country bread, silly man-thing. Same as that."

Still unable to reconcile blood-drinking and people-eating with Bela's very mundane breakfast, he reiterated, "You had an omelet and country bread for breakfast?"

Bela's amusement had diminished in the face of his repeated questioning. Her eyebrows came together in that perplexed frown of hers. She tilted her head to one side and asked, "Why does this confuse you so, Ethan?"

Ethan felt like he was being gaslighted at this point. He wasn't the one that drank people's blood and ate plain-ass omelets that could be ordered from a local diner.

"You drink my blood, Bela," Ethan spoke flatly, "Like a fucking vampire. You and your sisters talk about eating me like fucking cannibals. In the movies, y'know – they don't really show the vampires or the cannibals eating omelets, and – and terror pain."

"Țară pâine," Bela corrected.

"Whatever," Ethan rolled his eyes. "You see what I'm getting at, right?"

Bela, to her credit, appeared to mull it over. While her sisters probably wouldn't give two shits about his confusion, Bela was once again showing herself to be the most level-headed and curious of the bunch. She displayed an almost worrisome level of intelligence in dealing with Ethan's early blood infection and prompt extraction of the foreign body in his arm. Even if Cassandra clearly was the most sadistic of the three, it was beginning to dawn on Ethan that Bela was, should she wish it to be, the most dangerous sister.

With her whip-smart intellect, she could manipulate him to do anything she wished. She didn't need to drug his bread or water. Just using the food and last night's first aid was enough to get him to let his guard down around her. Despite the alarm bells Ethan was trying to repeatedly and manually set off in his head, he wasn't on high alert around Bela. She'd already begun to disarm him.

Ethan prided himself in being a strong, iron-willed man who rose to the occasion in the Baker House.

But Bela was arguably one of the smartest people to stand in direct opposition to Ethan. Everyone else thus far had been out of their goddamn minds and three different flavors of batshit crazy.

In her case, Bela kept him in a cage, tended to his wounds, and fed him delicious country bread. She drank his blood. She stopped her sisters from harming him. And she did it all with a smile on her face – different smiles if Ethan really thought about it. Sometimes amused. Sometimes excited. Often a legitimate sign of her mood.

Other times, oddly distant. Almost melancholic. Like there was something nagging at her.

But what did he know? He was an idiotic man-thing who traded in early-stage sepsis for early-stage Stockholm Syndrome.

Ethan only hoped Bela was as nice as she pretended to be.

He only hoped his drive to find Rose would prove stronger than his fallible baser instincts.

It had to.

In the brief silence that had fallen between Ethan and Bela, the latter had begun taking slow steps around his cell. Her hands were crossed behind her back as she paced, a thoughtful look on her features. Ethan had continued eating in the meantime. The bread was still warm and there was no sense letting it go to waste.

Ethan was still chewing by the time Bela placed a hand on the cell bars and spoke up, "We are not vampires or cannibals, Ethan."

"Yeah? What are you then?"

Bela's dark lips parted for a few seconds before pressing back together in a thin line. It looked like she was having a minor existential crisis. It wasn't Ethan's intention, but it was admittedly interesting to see Bela cycle through different shades of confusion and contemplation.

"It is… easier to answer that by answering what I am not."

Ethan was down to his last few slices of bread and butter. He was hungrier than he realized. While he would've liked whatever omelet it was Bela had for breakfast, he did have to consider his stomach. It was bound to be a little sensitive after the inadvertent twenty-four hour fast and all the puking. The bread was a good, delicious reintroduction to food. Bela had likely thought that out as well. Only her best foot forward to win him over and make him want to be her blood-cattle.

"Cannibals are those of the same ilk who consume their own kind. If a human eats another human, that is cannibalism." Bela spoke slowly and evenly to relay the textbook definition. She kept up the tone as she went on, "I am much, much more than human, as I'm sure you're aware by now. Hence, I cannot be a cannibal."

Ethan listened to Bela while he focused on breakfast. Bela seemed content to parse through her thoughts and speak at her own pace. If he had to guess, this was something she'd thought about and reflected on before. Judging by her tone, probably without any definitive, final results.

"As for vampires – well," Bela cracked a small smirk. "Vampires are a human creation. A myth. This is why you cannot easily label what we are, Ethan. You are viewing us from a human perspective."

"The human is viewing things from a human perspective." Ethan raised his brows. "Shocking."

Bela rolled her eyes and repeated, "My point is that we are neither cannibals nor vampires. These labels do not encapsulate what we are."

"You do drink blood like vampires, though." Ethan gestured up at her with the last slice of bread as he spoke. "I mean, there are vampire bats that drink blood."

"Yes, but the vampires you were referring to were that of the myths."

Bela had a point, but he wasn't about to admit that.

"Besides," Bela tilted her head slightly to the ornate tray on the floor. "Silver does not burn me. I do not recoil upon touching running water." She gave a small smile, "I quite like garlic, personally. And the sun…"

Her eyes closed, and she took in a breath. It came out slow, in a contented hum. Ethan could only imagine whatever memory it was she was drawing from her mind. Maybe a warm Romanian summer afternoon spent under the shade of an apple tree. Perhaps joined by her siblings and their gigantic mother. A picnic? Maybe with sandwiches and potato salad – a severed human finger here or there.

"It has been a long winter." Bela's eyes fluttered open. A certain longing could be discerned in her amber irises. "I would very much like to step outside and bask in the warm glow of the sun again."

Hang on.

It wasn't daylight. That ye olde vampire weakness – that wasn't their problem.

Last night's conversation glinted with a new light.

"What? Don't get out much?"

"Something like that."

It was the cold. It was because the cold kept her stuck in the castle that Bela wasn't personally aware of the desolation of the village. That had to be it. It made sense. They were couped up all winter – maybe even since autumn.

Now the only question was to what extent this problem they had with the cold went.

"I'm assuming you're not a fan of the cold?"

It sounded smoother and much less leading in Ethan's head.

Naturally, Bela caught on immediately. She was too smart to go into detail of how the cold affected her. She gave him a wide grin and placed a hand to her cheek. "It takes effort to look this gorgeous, don't you know?"

Ethan scoffed.

"The cold air dries my skin. It is a waste of moisturizer." Bela effectively shrugged off the topic, but Ethan wasn't ready to drop it so easily. He could salvage this. He could learn a little more about this apparent weakness of –

"I am certain your wife probably shares a similar sentiment."

Ethan's heart skipped a beat.

Mia does – did, Ethan corrected himself – complain about how dry her skin would get. It took quite a bit of adjusting to the climate when they first moved. They consumed moisturizer and lip balm at a rate that would make any of the locals sneer.

"In your photo of Rosemary," Bela tilted her head one side as she prodded. "That is your beautiful wife, is it not?"

Anger was the only thing Ethan could call upon to hide his grief.

"Why do you care?" Ethan snapped.

None of it was fair. He'd gone through all that shit in Louisiana just to lose Mia all over again. This time, irreversibly. Fuck knows where Rose was, or even if –

Ethan's stomach turned.

Was she even still alive?

Bela had told him Rose wasn't in any danger – but her exact condition was anyone's guess. It was a mystery where she was. Bela had given her word at the time, but Ethan could hardly say how far Bela's word went. Just because she was the least insane of her sisters, it didn't mean she was absolutely trustworthy.

Begrudgingly, Ethan knew Bela was all he had down here. Her word was all he had to go on. There was no way of telling while he was stuck in this hellhole. He had to get out but was bound to be gutted and drained dry if he tried. If he stayed, he'd be drained dry over and over again anyway. All while Bela chipped away at his sanity and got into his head by acting like the one spark of hope in this forsaken dungeon.

It was all so fucked.

"You are going to be here for a long time, Ethan." Bela's reminder was as painful as Cassandra's blade. Yet the soft, almost gentle tone she conveyed it with made him want to believe it wasn't her intention.

"I do not want us to be enemies. Like I said last night," She gave a hesitant smile. "Symbiosis."

"Tapeworm." Ethan repeated.

Bela rolled her eyes but didn't protest. She looked at him intently with those intelligent, curious eyes of hers.

The only way out of here was to be one step ahead of the game. Play the part of the good, compliant prisoner. Let Bela lower her guard just as he had. If she was under the impression her manipulation was working, but he held onto a sliver of his sensibilities, then maybe – just maybe, he had a chance to get out of here alive.

Ethan bottled his emotions up as best as he could. He built his walls up high and hoped the foundations wouldn't crack.

"Yeah," Ethan answered the original question. "That was my wife. Mia."

Saying her name out loud stung more than Ethan was prepared for.

Bela frowned, long lashes blinking in succession. "Pardon, what is her name?"

Ethan was fairly sure he didn't stutter, but he repeated for Bela's sake. "Mia. Her name was Mia."

An odd look of relief flashed over Bela's features, the tension easing from her brow. Just as quickly, the frown returned like she'd regained focus on the current conversation. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. With a hint of uncertainty, she asked, "Was?"

Ethan spat it out before his nerves got the better of him, "She's dead."

Bela's face fell. "Oh."

Her eyes avoided his, choosing to settle on the stone floor. Bela tucked a few loose waves of blonde hair behind her ear as her frown deepened. The remorse on her features looked almost genuine.

Maybe it was.

Maybe he was just seeing what he wanted to see.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Ethan. That is most unfortunate."

Ethan sighed, "Yeah. You could say that again."

Bela remained rooted where she was, standing right by the door. Her hand was fixed on one of the bars. She looked lost in thought. Over what, Ethan could only guess. There was no reason the revelation of his wife's demise should have affected her. All Ethan could guess was that it was – again – part of the act of sympathy she played to get under his guard.

The silence that settled between them allowed Ethan a moment to wipe his crumby hands and pour himself some water. As he rehydrated, Ethan considered his options.

Testing Bela's sympathy would be worth a try. He could see how deeply her act as the sympathetic jailor would go. Maybe he'd even get lucky. Maybe there was a heart somewhere underneath all those bloodsucking bugs.

Maybe it was a longshot, and he was way in over his head now.

"Bela," Ethan caught her attention, mirroring the soft tone she'd used moments ago. He got up onto his feet to stand and speak to her at the same level. "With Mia gone, Rosie is all I have left. I just want my baby girl back."

Watchful, almost sad eyes peered at him

He appealed to her sense of family next. "Your mother – what would she do if you or your sisters were kidnapped?"

Bela blinked. As easy as breathing, she answered, "Anything."

"Then you have to understand why I can't just sit here and do nothing," Ethan pleaded. He let his walls down a fraction in the effort to reach out to Bela. It was enough to put the tiniest crack in his voice. "You have to help me, Bela. Please."

The blonde in question visibly gulped, eyes flitting away from his. She gave a small giggle – as if to dismiss the idea altogether and downplay his current predicament. The sound came out strangled, almost like a sniffle.

Bela cleared her throat before responding, "I am sure you're aware I cannot just let you out, even if I wanted to." Her voice raised a fraction in an attempt to drive the point home. It came out soft and despondent anyway, "And I don't want to."

Ethan held onto Bela's tone and the scrap of hope he was getting through to her. "Give me something, Bela. You told me she isn't in any danger – I appreciate that, I do. Do you know where she is, or what she has to do with any of this? How and why do you know she's safe?"

There was a pregnant pause that filled the air. Bela held Ethan's gaze this time, not shirking away. There was a certain light that glimmered in Bela's eyes – something that dared Ethan to believe there was a chance. That she wasn't just a bug-woman that ate both people and country bread.

Slowly, Bela's form flickered. She passed through the rusted metal bars separating them. Her figure solidified to stand before him, hands clasped together. Her head was bowed slightly, and she looked at him through her lashes in an almost shy manner. Like she was trying to present herself as gentle and friendly.

Maybe she was.

Probably not, though.

"In exchange for information," She took a breath, and offered a smile, "Will you relax for me?"

Christ, here we go again.

For Rose, Ethan sighed and nodded. He extended his hand out – as if shaking on it would be enough to keep her honest. "Fine. Deal."

Bela's features lit up, and her smile widened. She grasped Ethan's hand – her own was smoother and softer than he'd expected – and gave him a firm shake. "Deal."

"Let's get this over with." Ethan spread his arms out in open invitation. The sooner this ended the better. The more compliant he was with Bela, the easier it would be to earn her sympathy.

Bela quirked a brow in an expression of pleasant surprise. She took a cautious step around the meal tray on the floor and came to a stop in front of Ethan. Her hands landed flat on Ethan's chest. Her thumb brushed against the heart stitched into his sweater's caption. The little smile she wore had a nearly playful look to it.

Ethan knew it. Bela and Daniela got this sweater for shits and giggles.

Her palm then laid flat on his chest over his actual heart, which still beat rather rapidly. The pre-vampiric-feeding anxiety wasn't so easily banished. Not yet at least.

"Relax, little one." Bela batted her long lashes at Ethan. "Let us slow down that beating heart."

It was, admittedly, better than being called man-thing. Still, he couldn't help but wonder. "Where'd you get little one from? I'm like, a couple inches taller than you."

Bela snaked her arms around his neck, just as she had a day ago. Her slender body pressed against his – close enough that he could feel the rumble in her chest as she laughed lightly. With her lips right by his ear, she whispered, "Maybe I'll tell you someday."

How enigmatic of her. Ethan suspected she got the tiniest kick out of acting this way.

Not that it mattered.

Having nowhere else to put his arms, he wrapped them around Bela's waist. He mimicked her motions, tucking his face in against her cheek. Bela smelled vaguely of fresh bread, not unlike a bakery. The ease with which he held Bela elicited a delightfully startled hum from her. Familiar fingers eased into his hair, running through it in soothing strokes.

"Comfortable?" Bela whispered.

It was. If he were being completely honest with himself, yes, he really needed a goddamn hug after the batshit crazy and awful day yesterday.

"I guess," Ethan mumbled.

Bela gave him a soft squeeze, nuzzling her face into his neck. "Wonderful."

They remained where they were for a while longer. They stood motionless, save for the slightest swaying in place. Ethan wasn't sure if it was him or Bela doing that. It was far, far too reminiscent of embracing Mia. Bela played with his hair, just as Mia tended to do. They had a similar height, with Bela being a tad taller than Mia. They were of a similar build as well. Bela was slender, lean, and strong.

Curvier than Ethan wanted to acknowledge.

When he closed his eyes, he could pretend the blonde hair brushing against his nose was a deep brown. He could pretend the shapely figure pressed against him was the same one that had bore his child. He could pretend the gentle fingers in his hair were the same ones that had pried him free from his moldy prison on that derelict ship.

Ethan held Bela tighter. It earned another contented sigh from the latter, and she returned the gesture in kind. Words could not describe how good it felt to just be held like this. Even if he was just blood-cattle to the person holding him. At least Bela didn't want to hurt him.

He could pretend, even for just a moment, that she genuinely cared about him.

Bela's soft lips pressed against his neck. It wasn't quite a kiss – not that Ethan was expecting one – but her lips brushed against his skin, moving slightly as if forming words that only Bela could hear. It wasn't unlike the times Mia whispered her apologies against his scarred skin.

Warm breath sent Ethan's skin alight with tingling. The two nearly imperceptible pinpricks followed, breaking his skin and drawing blood. Bela's mouth closed over the wound in an instant. Not a single drop of blood went to waste.

Ethan was tempted to ask Bela to go easy on him – to not drink him all up and knock him unconscious in the process. If he was lucky, she might just agree. But no, not this time. Not when information about Rose was at stake. He had to allow Bela to go and feed as much as she desired – at least that guaranteed her end of the bargain.

There was some irony in the idea of Ethan allowing Bela to feed to her heart's content. As if he had any power or say in this situation.

The only consolation was that it was as painless as the last time. All Ethan felt was the heat and dampness of Bela's mouth clamped over the bite. The delighted moan muffled against Ethan's neck sounded lewd enough to make his cheeks flush. Not that it would last long, given the blood being steadily drained from his system.

Ethan kept his eyes shut as Bela's fingers gripped his hair to keep a solid hold of him – as if she were the one that would soon go weak in the knees and need support. Though at the rate she was going, that may just be a possibility. Bela appeared to be enjoying herself even more this time. She might just pass out in a fit of ecstasy – which would be to his favor. He could pat her down for the key to his cell and escape.

He'd probably be accosted by Cassandra, Daniela, or even their mother in the process though. He needed to get a handle on the castle's layout if he wanted to get out of here.

Maybe Bela would take him out for a walk sometime. She'd probably do something to fuck with him – like collar him and walk him on a leash. If he were lucky, maybe she'd only insist on holding his hand so he wouldn't get lost. Bela had nice, soft hands. Ethan wouldn't mind holding them.

That sounded pleasant. Ethan deserved something nice for a change.

Ethan's eyes snapped open as the blood loss induced delirium set in. His eyelids were heavy; they actively resisted his efforts to keep them up. The hands he wrapped around Bela trembled. The rapid beat of his heart pounded up all the way to his skull. He was, once again, disconcertingly low on blood.

His head shifted, brushing his cheek against Bela's hair. Weakly, his mouth opened to call to her – to ask her to let up before she killed him on the spot from overdoing the exsanguination.

Bela beat him to it, pulling her mouth back with a soft pop. Her tongue ran over the wound, cleaning up the stray droplets that remained. Ethan shivered in response to the sensation – or perhaps just because of the blood loss.

"Fuck," Ethan grumbled under his breath. The room was starting to spin in slow circles as his legs were sapped of strength. Bela's hands slid down, seizing him by the elbows before he could hit the ground. Ethan's own hands gripped the fabric of her sleeves. She supported his much larger frame like it was nothing – though just a little off balance as a result of the weight distribution.

The waning control of his muscles showed no sign of slowing down. Bela appeared aware of this as well. She guided him down into a kneeling position, one hand shifting to his side to keep him upright. She soon joined him on her knees, eyes looking him up and down – inspecting him for any visible damage, or severe signs of blood loss. Her bloody, bright red lips held a small smile the entire time.

Her voice took a dreamy lilt to it, "You taste even better today, Ethan."

Ethan ignored the comment in favor of giving her a fading, half-lidded glare. "Blacking out again… and again – it's getting," He panted from the exertion that simply speaking took. He was breathless. "It's getting really fucking old."

His core was giving out. Bracing himself to remain upright was becoming exceptionally difficult. Again, apparently in tune with his body, Bela gently tugged Ethan towards herself. She applied some pressure to his side, guiding him to twist his torso as he leaned forward. Bela fell back onto her rear, leaning against the wall behind her. She cradled Ethan's head and upper body in her arms, close to her chest.

To think, he thought having his head on her lap last night was intimate.

Slipping into unconsciousness so many times in just over twenty-four hours wasn't right. If he were any normal man, Ethan was certain he would have lasting brain damage by now. His sense of time had a wrench thoroughly wedged into it. Doing anything other than just surviving and existing was becoming almost unfathomable. If this was his remaining existence – living from feeding to feeding and bouts of unconsciousness – Ethan wanted nothing to do with it. He needed a goddamn break where he could be up and in control of his faculties for more than a goddamn hour at a time.

"Don't you have a fucking…" Ethan's speech slurred as he fixed Bela with his pathetic attempt at a glower. "… just an ounce of empathy? Using me like – like fuckin' cattle…"

There was that smile again – odd seeing it from this angle looking up at her from down here, but still. There was no twinkle of mirth in her eyes. No little crease of amusement. It appeared to be there just for show. Like a mask to show him she cared not for his troubles.

"Empathy for a man?" Bela asked. She gave a hollow-sounding laugh.

"Tell me, Ethan," Bela placed her free hand on his chest. "Does the wolf pity the deer?"

"Does the fox shed tears for the hare?" The words sounded rehearsed. Like a mantra repeated to oneself to guide thought and action. Maybe something she picked up from her mother.

The hand on his chest inched up. Her pointer finger landed on his chin, grazing the day-old stubble that had begun to sprout. Her hand drew a lazy path up until it cupped the side of his face. What little remained of Bela's smile had vanished completely. She watched him with distant amber eyes and caressed his cheek.

"They do not, little one." She gulped. "Neither do I."

Ethan called bullshit on that.

Mentally, at least. He was lacking the coordination to turn thoughts into words. Anything he tried to say would likely jumble together into incoherent speech. He was fading fast. Keeping his eyes open was challenging enough as is. Thinking about anything beyond his immediate surroundings was proving impossible. It was easier focusing on the things around him:

Bela's gentle thumb drawing unseen shapes on his cheek. The warmth Bela was radiating – which he felt all too well with his head pressed to her soft chest. The slight back and forth rocking she was doing, not unlike a mother putting a child to sleep.

Child.

Rose.

Right – shit – the information.

"Tell me," The worlds crawled out slowly in the effort to avoid crashing into one another. "About Rose."

As darkness encroached Ethan's vision, Bela's face lit up with a smile. She tilted his face towards her own.

"She is here in the castle."

And once again, Ethan took Bela's word for it. He took comfort in that – in Rose being safe and relatively nearby. In the fact Bela was willing to trade information for blood. Perhaps his blood was worth more assistance down the line.

Of his own volition now, Ethan closed his eyes and let unconsciousness whisk him away.

A/N: Many, many thanks for reading! Please follow, fave, and drop a review! I love hearing from you guys and would love to know what you thought of this one.

RE: The sweater - I google image searched "romanian souvenir shirt" to see what funny, touristy thing Ethan might wear. "I 3 my smart and hot romanian hubby" was one of the first hits. So naturally, I went with a tweaked version of that instead. Can we get fanart of Ethan wearing the sweater looking annoyed, with Daniela looking proud of herself, and Bela looking a little flustered? Kidding. Haha!

I also spent way too much time reading about Țară Pâine, and Romanian breakfast cuisine. I'm now really itching to try more of their food.

And lastly - Rose in the castle. Who knows where, or in what condition she's in? Crystallized or fleshy and normal? Time will tell.

Next chapter will probably go up in a week's time or so. If you just found this story on FF and binged it in one go, congratulations, you're all caught up now! I'll catch you guys then at the next update. See ya!